#And bought them food and shit and painted patches with them

[ratmans-notebooks]

heartbreaking: local rat trusted someone it really should not have

[n30nwrites]

Which of the Lost Boys do you think is the most likely to…

Paint your nails?

Know how to cook or at least make something edible?

Have a tattoo(s) or to get one?

Borrow something and not return it?

Shoplift?

Take home a zoo animal?

Take the longest in getting ready or do their hair?

Talk or snore in their sleep?

Want to do karaoke?

Eat a spoonful of wasabi?

Get hangry before a meal?

Pie someone in the face as a prank?

I actually love this shit, I’m currently writing through some asks rn but please send in more stuff if you can, college is hectic rn and this stuff makes me happy.

1. It’s Paul 100%, David would sure as hell mess it up, Dwayne doesn’t like the smell and Marko would mess it up worse. Paul 100% knows what he’s doing when painting nails, not a professional but at least he won’t gag at the smell (Dwayne)

2. It’s gotta be Dwayne. David orders out all the time and your telling me you’d actually trust Marko and Paul in the kitchen? Marko will set fires on accident and make a huge mess and Paul will walk off, completely forgetting about the food. Dwayne has the patience to cook and can actually understand the instructions. Marko can convince Dwayne to help him with Pot brownies though, Paul can’t convince Dwayne.

3. Tattoos are tricky. I think Paul and Marko are willing to get one, just haven’t yet. I believe David has one and is willing to get more (especially to show off cause my man has an ego) and Dwayne has a few. They just depend on what story you go by. Go by the prequel he has a few tattoos he got to impress girls, going by the story where they all met separately, he has tribal tattoos from the Huron tribe.

4. Assuming Borrow something and not return it means from you or the other boys. It’s 100% Marko. My man will take the others shirts and turn them into patches or cut them up. Paul will at least return it eventually whilst Dwayne just likes his stuff. David doesn’t care to take it but if he has it he won’t say anything, just discretely put it back (don’t confront him about this)

5. Shoplifting, it’s David. David is the type of guy where if he wants something he’s getting it, especially if his partner wanted something, well then they are getting it. Paul and Marko will do it if they get into the mood, Dwayne is the same just with more class (if he gets caught he totally gaslights them into thinking he already bought it)

6. Paul - only in the case of fighting it. Marko - only in the case of keeping it as a pet.

7. This one takes me a sec to think. I believe Dwayne would brush out his hair but only to keep it nice. David probably has hair gel but it’s a tie between Marko and Paul. Paul because of his hair and Marko because of his outfits. It’s clear on his jacket he cares about his looks but I think they are tied for this.

8.Dwayne talks in his sleep, David snores so loud. Paul and Marko also snore but David could cause the second earthquake with his snoring

9. I can only think of Paul. David has enough toxic masculinity to not do that, Dwayne just doesn’t really sing and Marko doesn’t seem like the type either. Paul just seems like if it will lead to a good time, he’ll do it.

10. David because he wants to prove he isn’t scared so he’ll take the spoonful and regret it a few seconds later but won’t ever admit it.

11. Marko is insatiable, he wants his food all the time. If he could he’d just be eating 24/7.

12. Paul, to David. He pies David and thinks it’s funny, won’t try it with Dwayne though, too scared of that.

[seokiloquy]

Chocolate Croissants - Tendou Satori

Au: Bakery/ Regular (timeskip)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, excessive swearing

Word Count: 2.6k+

Looking back on your accumulated experiences and knowledge, you couldn’t fathom why you had ever chosen to become a pastry chef. Sure the food tasted good, but having to do anything other than bake in the kitchen of your run-down home was proving to be a drag.

You’d spend mornings starting a 5am, hiding in the back of your first floor, staring at the cracking walls. At the same time, you worked on batches and batches of dough till your hands either felt like they were drowning in thick oil or were dried to the bone. Then, you’d get out of your kitchen while everything baked and wipe all the surfaces clean in case of chipping paint or falling chiprock that might have ruined your clean-up from the previous night. 

Once the clock hit 8am, it was time to open your door, get all the freshly baked goods on display, and put on a brave face while customers waltzed in to grab their croissants and coffees before work. You’d get to breathe before and after lunch until 4pm. Then at 7pm, you cleaned the shop, closed the door, and worked on more dough that would wait in the fridge until the following day. You’d relax for a couple hours, sleep for five, then repeat it all again and hope that your building didn’t collapse with you inside of it.

But hey, you made excellent croissants.

Due to your hefty schedule, going out was impossible unless it was for essential purposes. However, most of your ingredients could be bought in bulk without worrying about them going bad for a while, and you had a couple lovely workers that would go buy you anything else you might need. You hadn’t even noticed that the store that had previously been next door had moved and been replaced until the owner of the new establishment came to knock on your bakery door a half-hour before opening.

You were wiping off some fallen pieces of wall from one of your tables when he appeared, body pressed against the glass door as he knocked and waved to get your attention. The sight of a shadow at your door made you jump.

“Eh! Asshole, don’t do that!” You cursed, rushing to the door, towel and spray bottle in hand. “Your stained the glass!”

As you pushed it open, the man sprung back, jumping high into the air before dropping down and continuing to hop about. His white unbuttoned jacket bounced with him, flopping about.

Wiping the glass, furiously trying to get rid of the smudges left behind.

“Good morning, neighbour.”

“Neighbour?” You glanced to the shop next door. “Since when?”

“I started moving in a couple weeks ago. Did Pierre not mention it?”

“That man never mentions anything.”

“Figured.” He kicked the paved road before jumping to follow you as you walked inside. You didn’t invite him, but before telling him to leave, he was already talking again. His hands fell on his hips as he stared at your crumbling wall. “I was hoping to ask you about this. There’s damage on my end as well. Do you know anything about it?”

You sighed, ripping off another piece of the wall to expose the wood beneath it. “Not a thing. I asked Pierre when I started, hoping he’d patch it up, but nothing came. The building is at least a hundred years old. Who knows what people have done to it over that time.”

“I’ll try asking him myself then.”

An alarm rang in the back of the room, making you grumble and turn to the red-haired man. “You do that. You should also return to your place, I have to open, and customers will be arriving soon.”

“Sure thing,” He spun dramatically on his heel, one leg in the air. He paused by the door, however, straightening up as though he released he’s forgotten something. “Oh, before I leave. What’s your name?”

By the time he turned, you were already out of sight.

“Sir, for the last time, we don’t make hot chocolate here. I’m not sure where you got that idea but go somewhere else. Stop harassing my employees with a ridiculous request.”

“But online—”

“Online says jack shit! This is a bakery, not a ski lodge. Take your tourist ass somewhere else!”

The bell on your door chimed, making all eyes in your shop turn in its direction. 

“Sorry!” It was your red-headed neighbour. “But I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Overhear? You looked at the wall, cursing Pierre under your breath at the sight of a hole letting in light from the other side.

The lanky man with his toque blanche and now buttoned double-breasted white jacket blinked at the tourist before you with wide uncaring eyes. “Sir, we share a building but are two different establishments. If you come next door we offer hot chocolate there.”

The man refused to apologize as he walked out, nose high in the air. Once gone, the rest of your guests returned to their food and coffee as if the incident never occurred. You couldn’t dwell for long, though. Soon, the door shut behind the pair, and you were running in search of anything to fill the hole with.

You used a piece of styrofoam to fill it, but before you did, you caught a glimpse of the shop on the other side.

The base wasn’t different from your own. A light off-white covered the walls, the decorative pillars were the same, and the layout was symmetrical. But then there were dark brown treats, displayed around every edge of the place with a couple of tables in the centre. 

The smell of chocolate filled your nose, washing into your mind and pulling out memories you didn’t remember. Back home with your parents as they gave you treats for the holidays, various gifts for valentines day, and chocolate-filled croissants your mother would make you for your birthday.

Oh, how the taste seems to linger in your mind. Sadly you never managed to make them yourself.

Taking one last breath, you shoved the styrofoam into the thin wall and returned to work.

Later that evening, one of your employees who worked at the counter came to you as her shift was about to end and handed you a note.

You took it with a cautious hand. “If this is your two-week notice, get out now and don’t come back.”

She laughed. “No, no, Satori dropped it off earlier.”

“Satori, who?”

“The chocolatier next door. Red hair? Came in to help with that one tourist?”

“He wrote me a note?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re the one he gave the note to!”

“He just said to give it to my ‘cute boss with an attitude doesn’t really give me much of an idea why he wrote you something!”

You glared at the envelope apprehensively before snapping it out of the girl’s hand. “Alright, go home. Don’t forget your tips. The idiot tourists were kind enough to leave them.”

“You got it, boss!”

The door to the kitchen swung shut behind her.

You couldn’t read the letter right away. Sadly, you had dough-making to do. But once you were upstairs in your home, out of a shower and about to relax, you noticed the letter sitting on your table, waiting to be opened.

Flopping onto the couch, you flicked the envelope open and slipped the letter out. 

You flipped it over and scoffed at the wax seal. For a simple note, he surely was dramatic.

An invitation for chocolate tasting.

It was late at night, and most shops like your own were closed up. Despite this, the loud (usually) tourists didn’t seem to care for the sleep of others, insisting on keeping their day as lively as possible, even down the darkest streets. 

The sound of people walking by and talking much louder than considered respectable set you on edge as you sat in your apartment upstairs. Why couldn’t they take a different street or maybe just speak quietly? You weren’t keen on hearing another story about someone’s abysmal love life —you had your own— and didn’t want to keep resisting the temptation to stick your head out the window and yell “dump him” to whatever angry pedestrian was stomping down your street.

Then again, maybe those fleeting encounters were preferred. It saved you the fear of the possibility of a break-in. You didn’t have anything people should really want to steal, nothing that would garner any monetary gain. But, some people would try to steal even the simplest of things, like a spoon, if they could. So you dealt with it, letting your night go by until you eventually fell asleep.

Sadly, you couldn’t sleep yet. You heard movement. Not the usual skidding of shoes on stone from outside your window, but a deep quake-like feeling from below.

Eyes open, you jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to your bakery, where the following thud came from.

The temptation to yell at passersby was easy to resist. An uninvited stranger in your locked home, however:

“You pig dick, stop snorting around my shop, or I’ll change my career and become a butcher!”

“Why are you up this late? You’re usually in bed by now, no?”

You screamed, feeling as though your skeleton jumped out of your skin. Satori Tendou poked his face through the blossoming hole in your shared wall.

“I’ll forget that you know my sleep schedule in exchange for you telling me what you’re doing.”

“Oh, just trying out some new chocolate mixes. Would you like to try some?”

You paused, glancing to the stairs you just ran down from and back to the face in the wall with a puzzled expression. “Have you been here this whole time, just making chocolate?”

“Well, I did drop a few things here and there, almost took a nasty fall, but ya, just chocolate.”

“And you heard nothing else. No sounds, no rummaging, no breaking in?”

“Nope, just me.”

“This building will be the death of me.”

“Only if it collapses on you.”

You looked at the cracks surrounding his head, spanning over the wall length, front to back.

“Tha might happen sooner than you think, Tendou.”

“Call me Satori,” He smiled, his cheeks pressed against the wall on either side of his head.

“Tendou, are you still offering to taste test that chocolate?”

“Sure, come over!”

The hole in the wall had gotten larger. A crack that had formed beneath it started to break apart, falling into larger chunks as the days passed. With a falling heart, you would watch the shop on the other side of the wall with an unobstructed view.

“How naive was I to believe I managed to find a good place with cheap rent?”

“Well, it is cheap,” one of your bakers said while he set fresh cookies on the display case.

“Sadly, not good. If with place continues to crumble, we may have to move shop.”

“But that would mean you must find a new place to live.”

“Some sacrifices must be made. I could sleep in the lounge.”

“And our pay would likely decrease due to rent increase.”

“That is harder to find a solution for.”

Hearing a crack, your head shot back to the crumbling wall. In it, a familiar man with shaved red hair straddled the lower end of the gap before lifting his other leg high in the air and tumbling through it. As he hit the ground, pieces of the wall covered him like powdered sugar on a cookie.

Your stomach sank, but before you could curse out the chocolatier for doing something so childish, a large chunk of wall, peeled off, hung by a tiny bit of paint, then dropped onto the man with a crack, breaking in two. People gasped on both sides of the wall.

Cursing —not at the man— you ran over.

“Ah, damn it. This fucking wall. Tendou! Why did you climb through it like some sort of spider? Are you looking to get smacked?”

“Hey, I told you to call me Satori!”

Grabbing his elbow, you heaved him up until his legs managed to get beneath him. He shook his body head to toe, making leftover dust fall to the floor.

The wall was crumbling, and with it, your sanity.

You could see everything in Tendou’s shop and everyone buying chocolate. They could see everything on your side as well. In a dramatic sense, it felt like you had woken up during surgery and watched the doctors look into your stomach. A bit self-consciously, you’d imagine them with ghastly expressions under their masks like they had found something from a horror film in their digging. 

The more you think about it, maybe that would’ve been preferred.

“I’m going to call Pierre. This is too much to deal with.”

Pierre, for once, did something about it. But in doing something about it, he told you and Tendou to close up shop and leave the building for a couple days while repairs were made. Breaking your usual schedule made the days seem to go by much slower than they should have. Still, once you could leave your poor employee’s apartment and make it back to your home, you were ecstatic.

Until you found out what Pierre thought ‘fixing’ meant.

“I’m going to beat that old man into his grave and bury him in the Seine.”

The wall was gone. Front to back, the wall had been entirely torn down as if it wasn’t meant to be there in the first place.

“I give up!” you screeched, tossing your bag onto a table and falling to the floor. “This wasn’t meant to be. I’m going to quit and work at a fast-food restaurant that doesn’t even make good food.”

You lay there, face pressed into the freshly polished floor, arms spread wide like you were incorrectly making snow angles. But what else could you do? 

“Are we gonna change the names and merge them? Our lounge space looks to be doubled, nice, nice! Ooh, we could use the middle space for some dancing! Eh, wouldn’t that be fun?”

Turning your head to press your cheek into the floor instead of your nose, you watched Tendou prance around the newly wide-open space with intrigued eyes. At your silence, he began humming a tune and moving tables around unprompted. Then he went to your side of the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Re-orienting the space.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a great opportunity.”

“Tendou, this really—”

“Satori.”

“Satori, this really isn’t ideal.”

Setting one of your tables down, Tendou jogged over. Using your wrists for leverage, he turned you onto your back and stood over you, stepping on either side of your hips. You grunted as he pulled you up, head falling back to see your now shared counter space upside down.

“Come on. This is great!”

You eventually got to your feet, rubbing your cheeks while watching Tendou get behind the counters.

“Hey,” He called, “How do you feel about chocolate croissants?”

Your head tilted, hands falling from your face into your pockets. “My mom used to make them for me as a kid.”

Satori grinned, “How about we try and make some ourselves?”

This is not originally how I wanted to write this. But my brain just isn’t cooperating. The original idea was like a culinary school rivalry, so… sorry about that - Bacon

You could still write the culinary school rivalry *the emoji that are the eyes* - Kiwi

Posted: 03/07/2022

[whaleofatjme1920]

Right Back Where You Started

Right Back Where You Started

[Masky/Timothy Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight blood, slight violence, language]

[AN: Four of my OC's are in here! This was also requested from a friend a while ago.]

The beauty about being able to live a life outside of murdering people and being at the whim of a monster that fancies itself as a god is a variety of your own accord.

For instance, you can wake up whenever you feel like, take a job wherever there’s openings, meet new people and not have to bash their brains in just for asking about your life and only need to pick up a blade to cut food or occasionally packages you impulsively bought on the nights that feel like too much and not enough all in one. You can breathe and not worry about inky black tendrils crushing your throat for doing so without his permission. You’re able to sleep at night knowing that no higher up in your group will attempt to kill you in an act of proxy related hazing. You can clear your mind temporarily of the thoughts of what may come next in trade for semi-normalcy even though you know those thoughts won’t go away anytime soon. The weight of what you’d done was too much to bear, and Atlas can only disappear for so long.

When you first decided to betray your boss, the tall man in the woods, the faerie that steals children away, you acted on impulse. It was an impulse that was born from being all too exhausted with risking your life, committing sin upon sin and other terrible, no good things that should ever be uttered. The decision you made on impulse had no foresight or planning, and when you decided to run, you ran as far and as hard as you could away from him. Away from them. Away from it all. Of course, you know there were going to be repercussions for running like so few others did.

The ire of the Slender Man being the worst.

Most days, you try not to think of him. There’s no point - well, maybe there is a healthy fear you still have - but to worry yourself into a stupor would be silly now. You’ve been free of him for a year. He hasn’t sent you any signs, nor has he sent anyone… Maybe you weren’t important enough to set him off like some of the others had.

These are the things you like to think about as you sit on your couch watching the late night news that’s barely audible as you scroll through your phone. You never really did like the total silence an empty house provides. There’s a simmer cup of tea on the coffee cup and a few snacks laid out that you have little plans of eating while you relax and enjoy the midsummer night. Outside, you can hear crickets sing and cicadas accompany them. It’s peaceful, and while your mind would like to think of it as such, you can’t ignore the ringing in the back of your head. Things have been pleasant, too pleasant. There’s bound to be a storm due to roll in.

Still, you try not to think of these things, and instead focus on the content that scrolls in and out of your vision. It’s nothing particularly interesting, but helps get your mind off the things that often keep you up. And you continue to sit there on the couch, wrapped up in a light blanket to combat your AC as the hours of the night tick by. Your mind is completely off of really, any higher cognitive thought, when you hear something. It’s soft, low, sounds like two, maybe three people and they’re out in the distance. Must just be stumbling onto the borders of your ‘farm’.

See, the funny thing about trying to integrate into normal human life is that you physically can’t. You can follow all their customs, get into their society, look like them, but you’ll never be fully human. You want to know why? Proxies can never go back to what they used to be. They’re forever changed, and no force on heaven of earth can ever get rid of that. He can take your memory and dump you on the side of the road, but your biology has forever been changed. In most cases, it’s a nice thing to have: faster healing, better pain tolerance, heightened senses, and a better sense of problem solving than most people. Other days, it’s a hindrance for reasons you can’t quite explain. Some call it Slender Sickness, and the only way to remedy it is to be under the tall man’s care.

Because you’re not, you’ve found other ways to remedy the sickness he inflicts on practically everything he touches. Pills. You find them in odd, strange places, but they get the job done. So long as you have them, you can be free of his grasp and his connection.

But goddamn, the hearing is mostly a hindrance. On the account of you living on the edge of a college town, you’ve got land and are surrounded by farmer’s fields. You heat it all- critters in the night, teens messing with the patches, arguments, sometimes crimes, and it keeps you up at night. That’s a downside to not having him in your life- he’s not there to dampen its effects when it becomes too much. However, in this specific instance, your heightened hearing is a blessing.

The feeling in your gut only furls together tighter as you hear the three strolling down your dirt road. They’re close, much too close. You know that they’re here for you.

Frantically, you jump off the couch and start to damage control by making the place look like no one inhabits it. The TV and lights are turned off, the mug emptied of its contents, snacks put away and other leads buried. Your heart pounds a mile a minute - you know that if he finds you, it’s all over.

He’ll kill you - the Slender Man is not known for his mercy.

You feel like a chicken with its head cut off as you look around the house for weapons before settling on the kitchen knife. It’s cliché and reminds you of someone you once heard whispers about, but it’s all you can think of in this moment. When you left this life, you left the physical parts of it as well. All your gear, weapons, they’re hidden in a place that’s too risky for you to even attempt getting. Armed with the kitchen knife, you debate running out the back or hiding, then running. You always were good at staying out of sight, hiding it is.

Your eyes dart to the basement door and you slip through right as you hear the three outside your front door. There’s a window that opens in the direction of the town. If you slip out of it, you’ll be able to get a good headtstart through the field. The moment you start booking it down the stairs, you hear your front door get blown open.

“Wallace, what do you think?” You hear a male’s voice ask.

“Someone’s been in here recently,” a deeper male voice responds - must be Wallace, eyeing over your living room.

In the darkness, you quietly maneuver the crowded, cluttered basement, mentally cursing you left your phone upstairs in your haste.

“It feels like someone’s been in here,” Wallace’s voice continues. You can practically hear him smelling the air. “Ruth, tell Nyein to sniff this one out.”

You hear boots scuff against your wooden floor and stop somewhere in the doorway. “You could always just ask them yourself,” the female voice identified as Ruth verbally shrugs. She clicks her tongue, and you hear even more steps. How many of these people are there? You hope it’s just four. That’s a well sized group, come to think of it. “Ny, can you please sniff this one out? Seems like they’ve done a good job at scent covering.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Don’t give us any attitude,” the first male voice hisses slightly. “Do what you’re told-”

“Theo,” Wallace sharply reprimands.

You hear Theo sigh right as you reach the window. You pray to whatever deity will have you that it won’t squeak or make any loud noises, but the thing hasn’t been opened in gods know how long. You use the blade to lightly cut through the layers of off-white paint before the window is free. You mentally smile before attempting to lift it.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Nyein got your scent. Their pupils dilate upon realizing you’re the one the Slender Man has requested alive. You hear someone rapidly padding to the basement.

Panic fills your veins as you struggle to get the window open, not even caring that it’s making all the noise in the world. You need to get out!

“She padlock this thing?” You hear Ruth ask before she grunts. The door can’t hold them back forever.

You frantically push up on the window - it's a quarter open, not near enough for you to slip through. Shit, shit, shit! You need to go NOW.

“Jesus- just break it already,” Wallace sighs.

A few more grunts and you hear the wood splinter. You hear them descending the steps quickly.

“There!” Theo points.

You hold your breath and push the window up with all your strength before hosting yourself up.

“Shit! Out the front! Ny, keep on her,” Wallace commands as he smacks Ruth and Theo’s shoulder, the two quickly following him up the stairs.

You begin to shimmy out the narrow window as the being called ‘Nyein’ eyes you down. You don’t think you’ve ever seen an independent like that before. They look absolutely feral, and the scent of you has them locked on your crawling form.

Their eyes narrow, teeth bared, and they quickly lunge across the space for you, right as your legs reach the windowsill.

You cry out in surprise as their clawed hand digs into your ankle, drawing blood you know you can’t afford to worry about.

“Get off!” You shout in retaliation, kicking at their face. Freed, you begin to sprint into the field.

Nyein snarls and crawls out the window as well, running after you with a speed that has you on edge. You continue to run. Behind you, you can hear the other three quickly gaining on you as well. How badly does the Slender Man want you? Your lungs light on fire as they chase you through the field. Soon, you’ll be hitting the small stretch of trees before you reach the town. With other people, you’ll have a better chance at being safe. But the stretch of woods is an awful mess of brush and loose soil. You can’t afford to misstep now.

You take in a deep breath as you hurl into the small stretch of trees, all too aware of the proxies and independent that are hot on your trail. In the back of your head, you can tell they’re tired of you. Good. They should be. You narrowly avoid twisted roots and piles of mud and grow closer and closer to other people.

It’s so close that you can almost touch it.

Lost in your thoughts and too tunnel visioned in on reaching the town, you fail to recognize the steel jaw trap in the darkness and send your shoe right on it. It clamps down, bites, and holds you. You screech and fall forward, careening into the forest floor. The pain in your leg is absolutely agonizing, and you claw at it in vain to free yourself as your pursuers close in on you.

“Gave us quite the chase, Reader,” Wallace says with a slight scowl as he crouches a healthy distance from you. “Should let you rot here,” he muses. You can’t see his face both from the darkness of the night and the fact he’s wearing a mask, but you can tell he’s upset.

“Or let Ny eat her. Been a while since they’ve last had anything,” Theo adds on, glaring at you through the eyeholes of his mask that’s the head of a pig.

“He said he wanted her alive,” Ruth chimes in, a sigh in her tone. “She’s already fucked herself up enough, let’s not rub salt in the wounds.”

“Put her to sleep then,” Wallace shrugs.

You look up at these people like a caged animal, your eyes narrowing and slightly watering at the pain of the steel jaw trap. You feel yourself inching closer and closer to the earth subconsciously as Nyein eyes you like a prize.

\ They reach their hand out to touch you before you smack them away. Their snarl, their eyes traveling down to your ankle where the blood smells the strongest.

“Do it before they eat her,” The deep voiced man says again. “Though, last I checked, Ny doesn’t eat proxies.”

“She’s a traitor, not a proxy,” Ruth lightly corrects, her gaze alone shushing you from making any noise.

Not wanting to work yourself up, you settle for cursing them under your breath.

Without any other words, Ruth comes up to you, resting her boot on your chest to keep you down. You attempt to grab at her leg, throw her off balance, but she’s stronger than you on account of still being an active proxy. Her dark eyes scan you up and down before she reaches into her back pocket. “Take a deep breath for me,” she murmurs before smacking the rag to your mouth and nose.

You flail about, screaming and cursing before reluctantly taking that breath.

“... Thank you, you’ve done well. Head out to - yes, that’s right, Theo - head there and I will give you further instruction.”

You blearily come to on the carpet of an office you hoped you’d never be back in. The smell of jasmine and incense hangs in the air. You hear a door shut and catch the boots of the people who brought you back to him leave the room. He must be sending them out to their next assignment; it’s probably some poor other bastard that won’t escape like you did. You take in a few timid breaths and allow the light to filter in.

There he is, your boss. He stands in front of you like a god. He has no face, but you can tell he’s more than upset.

“Miss Reader, what a pleasure,” he says in a deep, authoritarian tone.

On instinct, you feel yourself shrinking.

“Really?” He muses, inky black tendrils sprouting from his back. “You have the nerve to run from me, suppress me, and now you do this? You dare show your submission?” He hisses. The tendrils move like bolts of electricity as they wrap around your exhausted, terrified form.

You cringe as the tendrils take over every part of you, squeezing as if they’re threatening to break your bones if you so much as breathe out of turn. Tears well in your eyes as you remember the fear you used to feel rushing back and overloading your senses.

“You’re absolutely pathetic,” he spits as the tendril wrapped around your neck begins to constrict. You notice his body language bristle as he looks at you longer. “I could pop your eyeballs out of your sockets. I could tear you limb for limb,” the Slender Man continues like it’s nothing.

You feel nothing but malice radiate off his form. It’s heat that singes your very soul. “S-Sir,” you gasp out. “Why would you b-bring me here just to k-kill me?” You attempt to reason, eyes watering and vision going fuzzy. You weakly attempt to use your fingers as a barrier between the constrictor and you. You can’t take this low oxygen any longer - not with him physically inhibiting you.

A cold chuckle reverbates in your head while the vision of wolf’s teeth smile at you, as if they’re ready to snap. “You always were smart,” he notes, loosening his grip ever so slightly. “I could rip your head from your shoulders and it would make none of the difference.”

“Answer my observation,” you weakly cough out before he holds you tighter. You struggle to move your limbs. Your blood feels hot.

“Masky,” he suddenly calls out, hand gesturing to his office doors.

You’re barely able to move your head and settle on shifting your eyes instead to those large, oak doors as they open just a crack.In slips a man in a tan coat. He’s got dark hair, bags under his eyes, and he looks exhausted - more exhausted than you feel. He doesn’t look at you but instead focuses on the Slender Man.

“Sir,” he greets, bowing his head slightly in reverence.

The Slender Man hums, clearly pleased. You see the wolf’s jaws smile in your mind’s eye.

“Reader, you will be under his care now,” the Slender Man says. “If you successfully spend half a year at his side, I will reconsider tearing you apart.” He says it so nonchalantly that you feel chills run up and down your spine.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Do you oppose me?” The Slender Man asks. “I am being more than generous, aren’t I?”

“Don’t take this offer for granted,” you hear Masky quietly add. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you can hear Masky telling you not to push him too far.

Hesitantly, you nod, voice too weak to say anything physically.

The Slender Man’s tendrils suddenly retract from you, sending you roughly to the carpeted floor.

You yelp as you come into contact with the carpet and slowly gather yourself as you try to push down the aches and pains that bloom on your joints and shins that hit the ground particularly hard. You cough a bit as air returns to your lungs and struggle to stand.

“Do what you must,” the Slender Man waves off, turning his back to both you and Masky.

Masky finally breaks from his stance and moves quickly to your side to help you up.

At first, you try to smack his hand away, but upon realizing you’re too weak to even see straight, accept his hand and his arm when you’re standing upright. He smells of cigarettes and some out of date cologne. It’s not bad.

The two of you hobble out of the Slender Man’s office with Masky’s eyes never leaving your form. After all, you are his responsibility now. He continues to lead you through a mansion you’ve grown to despise and out into the warm summer morning. The Slender Man could never imitate the beauty of earth to its entirety, that much was apparent.

“Where are we going?” You ask in a rough voice, attempting in vain to clear it by coughing.

“Stop that,” Masky sighs as the two of you cross the lawn. “To the parking lot, getting in the car, then driving across the border to Mississippi. We’ve got a temp there,” he murmurs. “You good?” He’s mentally wondering why your healing hasn’t damage controlled this yet. Probably the boss still being mad at you is the best reason he can come up with.

“Do I look like I’m good?” You dryly respond, eyes squinting slightly as the fog begins to kick up. You know you’re reaching the end of his reach. Once the fog clears up almost as quickly as it appeared, you realize the Slender Man’s practically kicked you both out of his realm. The walk was always longer when you truly were his. He must be severely pissed off at you. In a way, you’re lucky he didn’t kill you from the get go.

It’s best not to dwell on that thought though.

The rest of the walk is quiet and you’re in the car before you can count to 100 (your numbers are very jumbled though). You slide into the passenger seat and feel a little better at being able to rest.

Masky slides into the driver’s seat and sighs as he grips the wheel. “You have any questions, you ask them now in the car. I’m not putting up with your bullshit when we get to the temp.”

You roll your eyes and look out the window. “Who are you?”

“Masky, you heard him,” he’s pulling out of the parking lot and mentally thanking the gods he wasn’t killed alongside you. When the boss is in such a questionable mood, there’s no telling what’ll happen.

“You know damn well what I meant,” you cough slightly.

Masky scoffs before reaching into the backseat for a moment. His fingertips brush a water bottle, and upon realizing that’s what it is, grasps it and then tosses it to you.

You nod and take a sip, mentally frowning that the water’s been heated in the morning summer sun.

“I’m a group leader. Probably haven’t heard of us though, we’re not terribly monumental,” he begins as he flicks the turn signal on. “You’ve got three other people to watch out for. Hoodie, he’s the right hand, Toby, he’s essentially our middle child, and Kate. You’re replacing her and the hazing process will start up,” he finishes, now matching pace with the other cars that sparsely decorate the expressway.

You pout slightly and press your lips into a thin line as you gaze out the window at the rolling scenery. You’ve been here before. You’ve brought people back here this exact way before. They’re all unwanted memories. In response, your body language becomes unreadable.

This does not go unnoticed by Masky. “Yeah the attitude isn't gonna work,” he says as he glances over at you. “C’mon, you’ve been through this process before. We all have - what gives?”

With a sigh, you flick your eyes over to him to gauge his mood. He seems genuinely curious. “You do know that I ran away for a reason, right?”

Masky nods. “Sure, it was stupid though.” He takes a hand off the wheel for a moment to open his window. “What did you think would happen?” Sounds like he’s trying to pick at your brain.

“Anything but this,” you gesture angrily to your current situation. “I hoped to never see him again,” you groan, clearly frustrated. You chug some more water.

Masky breathes out slightly, as if he’s judging your answers. “Whatever. Forget about pulling something like that again because I’ll personally come after you if it comes to that,” he claims in a tone that’s far too serious.

You roll your eyes slightly, “sure, like you’ll-”

His eyes shift on the expressway, and after ensuring there’s no one that’ll cause a pile up on behalf of him, he hits the brakes, sending you lurching forward into the dashboard.

“What the hell?” You cry out in an exasperated tone, struggling to peel yourself up from the dashboard. You cry out in shock again as you feel his hand at the back of your head, successfully grinding your skull into the heated polyvinyl chloride.

“Get that thought of your fucking head,” he hisses, raising your head slightly before smacking it back down.

You growl back and relent. Once the pressure from his arm is gone, you shove him off of you. The car picks up pace again and you notice him wave to a person who passes by - they have a mildly concerned expression - and he smiles like he didn’t just slam your skull into PVC.

Welcome back to the proxy life.

You make it to Mississippi by mid afternoon. Masky brings the car down some dirt path where a house lays right on the Mississippi river, and you can smell traces of blood. They must’ve cleared the previous residents out.

There, on the porch in a muscle tee holding a can of coke is a man with his left cheek missing. He twitches slightly as he waves at you and Masky.

“T-This her?”

Masky nods.

“Can’t b-believe she g-g-gave Wallace’s g-g-group the s-slip,” he says in a slightly amused, slightly annoyed tone.

“Word travels that fast?” Masky replies with a slight chuckle.

The proxy before you nods with a small smile, “c’mon. I wanna g-g-get out of this h-heat. It’s a-a-awful out here,” he says with a playful grimace as he slowly rises from the front step where he had been sitting.

“Is Kate happy?” Masky asks as he watches Toby head in, then nods for you to go.

With a small frown, you do so. At least it’s air conditioned.

“Over the moon,” a feminine voice cuts in from the kitchen. She’s stirring a thing of lemonade.

Masky smiles slightly and takes a seat at the table. “We weren’t that bad,” Masky notes as Kate slides a glass of lemonade to the group leader.

She raises a brow at Toby who glances down to his open pop can. “So, this is the one he wanted alive for this term?” She questions as she glances at you, silently asking if you’d like some.

You mouth a ‘please’ before getting comfortable at the table.

“Weirdly, yeah,��� Masky replies before taking a languid sip. “Thought he was gonna go for someone with more street cred, but, whatever. She’s our problem now,” he shrugs.

You look down into the pastel yellow liquid and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance. All of this, it was wrong. You hadn’t had to play by proxy rules in a year, and here you were, bottom of the rung, the runt. You hadn’t been a runt in gods know how long.

Conversation begins to flow between the three people around you as glasses of lemonade are poured. You sit in silence, listening because you know it’s not your place to speak. As far as proxy culture goes, you don’t really have any rights. Well, you’re in a better place than independents, but according to other proxies, you’re a glorified errand boy. They say to jump and you’re supposed to ask ‘how high?’ Your group’s word becomes gospel.

Apparently, Kate was this group’s runt before you came in. But, runts only stay runts for a certain amount of time. It’s possible for groups to not have runts - and that’s essentially what this group was doing. Kate had outgrown her runt status and was well considered the youngest (in experience) member of their group but had the same social standing as Toby. While it was a joke to refer to her as a runt, they hadn’t had one for a while.

That’s where you come in. You’re the first member to be considered a runt in quite some time. And you can tell they’ve been itching to take it out on someone.

“Where’s Hoodie?” Masky asks as his fingertips trace the lip of his glass. “Should be thrilled to see we’ve got another one.”

“Only t-thing holding h-him back from h-hurting you is the f-f-f-fact the O-Operator asked f-f-for us to t-take her,” Toby giggles slightly as he crushes another pop can. “He’s h-h-handling something, Should be c-c-coming back now, though.”

“Speak of the devil and the devil will appear,” you hear another man’s voice chuckle as the front door swings gently open.

Standing in the doorway holding a crowbar and wearing a white t-shirt is Hoodie - sans hoodie. It’s much too hot to be wearing one anyways. He haphazardly tosses the crowbar to the floor before closing the front door behind him, then begins walking towards the kitchen.

“This is her?” He asks as he takes a seat next to Masky, silently thanking Kate for the lemonade.

“Disappointing, right?” Kate lightly jokes, making Hoodie smile.

“In this form, sure,” Hoodie observes as his hazel eyes rake over your form. “She looks weak, scrawny, low endurance, probably forgot all her skills, what, with her being missing for a year?” He says it like it’s a game but looks at you like he despises you. “Not training her. Not my problem, and especially not in this heat.”

“She’s part of our group,” Masky replies in a slightly exasperated tone.

“No-Nose goes,” Toby suddenly blurts out.

Everyone presses their index to their nose except for Masky, who sighs dejectedly.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Let’s go, Reader. You’ve been awfully quiet.” The brown haired man says in a less than pleased tone, picking his glass up and momentarily pausing to place it in the sink.

You quietly follow in suit, nodding to your other comrades before following him out.

The nice thing about waiting for Hoodie to stir things up was that it was the late afternoon. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and a breeze was beginning to shift through the air. It wasn’t near as hot due the sun no longer beating down on you. Besides, it was nice to get out of the house for a bit.

Masky and his group must have been staying here for a while, because he walked into the woods on this deer path like it was nothing and led you to a clearing. There were a few training things, but nothing of any substance - just a temporary fix until they were somewhere more permanent. Proxies are nomadic, after all.

“You still have a knife on you?”

“I would’ve stabbed you with it.”

He shoots you a look as if to tell you to watch your mouth and you holds your hands up.

“I’m joking,” you defend. “When I meant I wanted to never look back, I truly, deep down to my bones, meant it.”

Masky’s hand goes to his belt loop where he takes out a knife. It’s… severely dulled. Looks like he doesn’t trust you just yet.

“See that dummy? Show me what you remember and I’ll decide if we’re out here until midnight or not.”

The dummy in question looks gods awful. It’s missing an arm, the stuffing is all over the grass, and the poor thing looks like it can’t support its own weight anymore. You wonder which one of your comrades got it to this state of if this was a group effort.

You narrow your eyes and get a hold of the blade in your grasp. It’s much nicer than a kitchen knife - reminds you of what you used to use when you were but a shadow in the night. You glance at him, then the dummy, and decide to get to work.

There’s no use in running. The Slender Man will hunt you down regardless, and he won’t be as merciful the second time around.

“Stop stalling,” Masky chides.

You take in a breath, and do as told.

To say six months passed with ease would be a lie. It’s been six months of hell - and that’s mostly because you’re a runt paired with the fact you never wanted to be back here to begin with.

It’s been strange, you’ll give it that. The proxy in you took over faster than the human side of you could and you integrated back into proxy culture and society far easier than anyone expected. Of course, there were some moments where your group members would ruffle your feathers and put you in your place, but that was expected. To be a proxy is to be put under fire until you prove yourself otherwise.

You’ve gone on operations with them. Took lives again. Stole things again. You settled back into the life you originally left behind as if you’d never departed to begin with. That’s how deep the proxy mindset and muscle memory is embedded into those it takes hold of. It sets itself out to be the only thing you’ll ever know. You live by it, you die by it.

So, where have you been for the past six months? Well, still in Mississippi. About two weeks after you first arrived with your new group, you and the group moved down south near the ocean and have been staying there the entire time. Luckily, this place was considered a temp house for the people who owned it - they liked spending time in Europe - which left this place as yours. Besides, the Slender Man likes having you close. He was able to periodically check in on you with you being a few hours away as opposed to days. Why he was so interested in you, you’ll never know.

According to both him, and Masky, you’d been making good progress. By the end of your six months (lovingly referred to as a “trial run” by your group), you were half way back to what you used to be. It was disheartening to only hear “half” but it was better than nothing. A part of you wonders why you’re so inclined to get better when you should be focusing on leaving.

It’s not like you didn’t try.

You tried so many times that your group started a tally board and whoever found you first got a mark under their name. Whoever hit five before the board was reset got the next operation (or operation of their choosing) off. For the first few weeks when you were but a stranger with them, the punishments were harsh and unforgiving, like they hate you to your core. But, as the months went on, they went from fists to phrases. Eventually, you stopped trying to run so they no longer had to beat you. Every time you got that far off look in your eye, someone would reprimand you. It’s probably because they cared about you.

That’s common for proxies, bonding with your teammates on a level outsiders can’t understand. It’s mostly to keep you safe while out in the field. And unfortunately for you, you’ve been feeling that way towards your group. You’ve covered for each one at least once, and that gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re in a strange place, if you’re being honest.

Take for instance now, back in the passenger seat of a car and heading back to Rosswood with Masky (he told you his real name is Tim) to talk with the Slender Man face to face. While the others in your group have been keeping up with him regularly, you haven’t seen him in person since well, six months ago. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach as you draw closer to the woods you once considered home.

“You nervous?” Masky hums as he turns the radio down.

“Yeah,” you reply, gazing out at the rolling fields again. “What if he-”

“It’d be stupid of him,” Masky cuts you off. “Six months of putting all this time and effort only to off you? Just… Just don’t say anything stupid,” he reminds you, a slight teasing tone lingering on his words. He looks at you with gentle eyes.

You scoff playfully. “Eyes on the road, weirdo.”

Standing in the Slender Man’s office this time as a welcome guest is weird. There’s still the scent of jasmine and incense, but there’s also something sweeter - like a memory he’s trying to provoke specifically for you. It’s warm, but not uncomfortably so, and it doesn’t feel near as suffocating as did that first time.

“You’ve certainly changed,” a deep voice says with an audible smile as it reverberates through your head.

“Sir,” you bow your head slightly.

“I’m going to make this short,” the Slender Man begins. “Miss Reader, I am satisfied with your progress these past six months.”

“Thank you, Sir,” both you and Masky reply.

The tall man hums. “However, you have only reached half of what you used to be. I believe the longer you stay in this group, the better you will become.”

You take in a sharp breath.

“Does that bother you?” The Slender Man doesn’t sound mad.

“I…”

Masky mentally clicks his tongue at you, and you glance over through the corner of your eye.

You decide to respond carefully. “I know normalcy… Sir, I don’t know if this life was ever meant for me, but,” you take in a deep breath and ball your fists to ground yourself. “If this is what you want of me, I will do it.”

The Slender Man chuckles. “Timothy, you’ve done an excellent job with this one. Perhaps I should have placed Pariah with you,” he emptily thinks aloud with another slight laugh. “I regret to inform you Miss Reader, that normalcy was never an option. You will go back with your team and you will continue to better yourself until I say otherwise.” He makes no move to stand from his desk, but his hands reach out.

Taking that as a nonverbal cue, you and Masky stand and each take a large hand.

The Slender Man’s fingers close around your much smaller hands before his hand leaves your grasp entirely. Instead of striking you, he gently cups your cheek. “Now go. I look forward to seeing you in six months.” The warmth is gone from his tone but lingers like doused coals in a still simmering fireplace.

“Thank you for your time,” Masky bows slightly, nodding for you to follow.

Without any other words, you nod to your boss and follow Masky out. The two of you trade silent conversation as you exit the mansion and back to the car. You slip in just like you did six months ago, and so too does Masky. The car comes to life, and you begin to peel out of the parking lot, back to Mississippi.

“How are you feeling?” Masky asks as he pulls down the sun visor after squinting at the beams of light.

“Not as bad as I thought,” you say in slight surprise. “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Or,” Masky begins. “You were always meant for this.”

You laugh in response and smack his shoulder lighter. “You know you’re not slick, right?” You tease as you stick your tongue out.

Masky chuckles deeply and gets back on the expressway. “I try when I can.”

“Oh really?” You pretend to be shocked. “Where was that smooth talking when I first met you?”

“Out the window because I just met you,” he retorts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You are literally the worst,” you teasingly scoff.

“Right back at you,” Masky breathily laughs. His dark eyes stay focused on the road as

you get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Really though,” you say as you stretch slightly. “Thanks for not killing me.” You look at him with such gentle eyes that he can’t help but smile just as genuinely in response.

Masky won’t lie, he was admittedly worried for you in the beginning. What with you running away all the time, speaking ill of literally everyone, almost getting everyone caught by the cops… You were colorful, for lack of better words. It’s been nice cultivating that into something better. Maybe you’d make something of yourself out of this garbage fire of a hiccup.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs. “It’s my responsibility to watch out for you anyways,” he says as before honking at someone who almost swerved into your lane. “Besides, you’re not all too bad, and as long as it’s me making sure you don’t set shit on fire… Think we’ll be just fine.” He looks over at you and smiles warmly - it feels like the sun - before he turns back to the road.

You hum contentedly as your hand reaches for the radio. You turn up the music and let it play, a serene, comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long  making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.” 

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors. 

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?” 

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?” 

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint? 

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.” 

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way.  “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer.  “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today. 

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.  

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones.  “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I’m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set.  “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

--------------------

The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her. 

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.” 

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her.  Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.” 

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.” 

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there.  Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her. 

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?” 

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes. 

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed. 

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat​  @sugaslittlekookies​  @janeelizabeth1216​ @deeepvibes​ @gxldenhunny​ @livelyjay​ @niniita-ah​ @bobbyboops​ @honeysunandsoil​ @deathkat657​

[h2bakugou]

Hi idk if i asked but can i get bakugou, todoroki,tamiki ,shinsou, with a s/o who get distracted easily? Like maybe they are out on a date at a garden or art museum and all of a sudden they just disappear? Onky to find they're s/o looking at a painting or a butterfly that caught they're eye. Thank you if you do write this !!! :)

a/n: this is so cute! thank you for the request love! i hope you enjoy it

headcanon: them with a s/o that gets distracted easily

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

The date was Bakugou’s idea. He’d wanted to take you somewhere nice, and well despite wanting to go see some all-out arena battle, he settled for an art museum.

You were excited, and happy to be going with Bakugou. You didn’t get the chance to go out off-campus very often, and being away from the class’ prying eyes had its advantages.

Such as holding hands.

With Bakugou’s hand in your own, the two of you walked around the art museum. With paintings and sculptures spewed along the walls and the floor, it was mesmerizing.

Bakugou hadn’t noticed when you slipped away, walking down the pro-hero hall.

However, Bakugou did notice the lack of your hand in his own after a few seconds. That and the look of a few people when he realized he was talking to himself.

Bakugou whipped his head around searching for you. But you were nowhere in sight.

As Bakugou looked for you, you stood in awe of a beautiful All Might painting.

It was truly a work of art, it seemed so cheesy, but it was gorgeous.

It was almost minimalistic, with no details, just color in the shape of All Might holding his fist up.

The background was a beautiful sunset sky, stars seemingly jumping off the canvas.

The words ‘Our Symbol Lives On’ was printed at the bottom in cursive white letters.

Bakugou finally turned the corner, his eyes spotting you. But he didn’t charge at you, yelling at you for wandering off. Instead, he just looked at you, basking in your beauty.

Bakugou’s expression ultimately softened as he approached you, his eyes turning toward the painting that had caught your attention.

He rested a hand on your shoulder and smiled.

“Holy shit.” You said, jumping out of your daze. You smiled and looked at Bakugou.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Bakugou said softly, admiring the artwork.

“I got distracted, sorry if you had trouble looking for me. It’s just, I saw this and well...”

Bakugou knew your feelings. It was hard for everyone, and you knew his. Bakugou didn’t need you to say what you wanted too, he understood completely why you’d take a minute to admire the painting.

“He’s amazing.” Bakugou whispered, taking your hand back in his.

“Yeah. I don’t know how we got so lucky to have been blessed with such an amazing Symbol.” You sighed happily. You looked at Bakugou and cracked a laugh.

“I can’t wait to see your picture in here one day.” You nudged him.

“Oh, you better believe it will.” Bakugou grinned. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a hug.

“You’re gonna be the best hero anyone’s ever seen.” You kissed his cheek, causing him to blush.

“Well, you better be standing right next to me when I am dipshit.” Bakugou had to admit that he was aiming for the top, but he wanted more than anything to reach, with you standing right next to him. 

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Todoroki wanted to take you somewhere special. He would’ve taken you to a museum of soba, if it existed. There was truly no better place than that, but because of circumstances, he settled on a garden.

The garden was beautiful, every walkway seemingly lined with flowers and gorgeous plants.

You walked hand in hand with Shoto, each of you pointing out little things that caught your eye. 

Todoroki didn’t notice when you stayed behind, watching a group of birds fly by. One of which landed on your shoulder.

A few people stopped to take photos of how the bird rested on your shoulder, and eventually, you just went with it, admiring how the scenery made it look like something out of a fairytale book.

A little kid pushed past Todoroki, pointing at you.

“Look, mommy! Look at the pretty fairy!” He exclaimed. Todoroki turned to see what the commotion was, now noticing you weren’t beside him.

His eyes widened at the sight of you.

The sunlight made you sparkle, your eyes shining as you smiled. You were beautiful.

Todoroki approached the small crowd that was now dispersing after taking a few pictures.

“O-Oh hey.” You spoke to Todoroki.

“I got distracted by some birds, and I guess one got distracted by me.” You motioned to the little bird on your shoulder. You lifted your arm, extending your pointer finger. The bird cautiously moved to rest on your finger.

Todoroki moved closer, his cheeks turning red.

Every second he fell more and more in love with you.

“It’s alright.” Todoroki smiled. It was nice to see him smile. You wished more than anything that you could see him smile more, but sometimes just a smile every now and again was enough.

The bird sat on your finger for a few more seconds before it flew away, catching up with its friends.

“You look like an angel.” Todoroki complimented you. You blushed. 

“Thanks. You look like an angel too.” You compliment him back making his chuckle.

“Did the Shoto Todoroki just laugh?” You question. Todoroki hums happily, placing his hand back in your own.

“Let’s get going, angel.” Todoroki guided you along, heading to look at more of the garden.

»»————-　★　————-««

tamaki amajiki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tamaki wasn’t big on social gatherings. That was a given. But he wanted to take you somewhere nice for a date.

The two of you took a train to the next town over, heading to a garden.

Tamaki was immediately a little taken back by the number of people, but he was brave.

He had you after all.

With your hand in his, he was stronger.

“Look, Tamaki!” You smiled, pointing at a beautiful patch of dark purple flowers that matched the color of his hair.

“T-They’re beautiful, like you.” Tamaki stuttered. You blushed and smiled.

“They remind me of your hair, and your pretty eyes.” You turn and look and look at him. Tamaki’s cheeks burn red at the thought of you thinking about him.

You two were together, but he still got so flustered by you.

You leaned in a placed a kiss on his cheek, pulling him along.

Tamaki stopped to look at some koi fish in a pond. You watched for a few seconds before getting distracted by a butterfly exhibit. 

You walked into the room, surrounded by large flowers and plants, butterflies fluttering around.

One landed on your nose.

Tamaki was searching for you. He couldn’t find you, until he saw the light pink sweater you were wearing. He followed the blob of color peeking through plants into a butterfly exhibit.

As he got closer, he was taken aback by the beauty that was you.

A light purple butterfly rested on the tip of your nose. He quickly snapped a picture of it on his phone, reminding himself to set it as his background later.

“H-hey,” Tamaki said, getting your attention.

“Meet Tamaki!” You said softly. Tamaki tilted his head.

“I named him after the best person I know.” You blush, pointing to the little butterfly on your nose.

“I love you.” Tamaki blurted out. The tips of his ears turned pink as blush flooded across his face.

“I love you too.” You replied, eventually watching as the butterfly flew away.

“Sorry for running off, It looked so pretty in here.” You apologized for leaving him alone.

“It’s alright. It is pretty, but not a-as pretty as you.” Tamaki complimented you again.

You gave Tamaki a hug, his arms wrapping around you.

“You’re the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for.”

»»————-　★　————-««

hitoshi shinsou

»»————-　★　————-««

Shinsou would rather stay in and cuddle and watch terrible horror movies with you but he does admit that taking you would be nice too.

After somewhat avoiding dadzawa’s questions of where the two of you were going, you and Shinsou begin your trip to an art museum.

The place was a little ways away, but you made it there before lunch, Shinsou being the man that he is, bought the two of you some food before heading in.

The museum was more modern and definitely had some rather questionable pieces. It wasn’t your typical painting and art museum. It was almost creepy, but it fascinated the two of you.

“I think they should give you a spot here for not sleeping for four days.” You joked, your hand resting in Shinsou’s.

“Ha, I think that would be a great idea.” Shinsou smiled. This boy really only slept because you had fallen asleep next to him.

While Shinsou was distracted by a modern cat sculpture, you slipped away to look at a painting.

Shinsou eventually turned to make a comment about the art piece when he noticed you were gone. He whipped his head around, lavender locks whipping around.

He searched for you until his eyes landed on what he assumed to be you. As he made his way closer, he recognized more of your features.

Your (h/c) locks, and his dark sweater that rested on your shoulders.

He stopped to look at the painting that you were looking at.

Shinsou was almost certain it was a picture of him. A black and white painting of a male with dark circles under his eyes, spikey hair that framed his face. Beside the man was a painted woman her arms resting over his shoulders.

Shinsou would’ve bet money that it was a picture of you two now that he looked at it closer.

“I thought I lost you for a second, kitten.” Shinsou smiled, putting his arm around your waist.

“It looks like you.” You smiled, looking at the picture.

“I was going to say the same about you.” He grinned. You let out a small giggle and eyes the painted man.

“You’re a work of art, Hitoshi.” You complimented him. Shinsou blushed, his eyes widened for a few seconds before resting again.

“I love you so much, kitten.” Shinsou planted a kiss on your forehead, smiling as he pulled away.

“I love you too.”

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[petersasteria]

okay but the disney theme is kinda cute????? can i have a do you wanna build a snowman with peter parker??? like i think that would be super cute and fluff omg

first of all, I just want to apologize before you start reading sksks at first I thought it was cute too but my mind went to a dark place and thought of serving you angst. But since I love you and I saw that you were excited, I decided to meet halfway with your request. 

trustfundparker, meet flangst. This is based from my two previous works. This is the ‘in between’ part of the two sksks

Prequel || Sequel

Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Peter Parker

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧?"

1.5k words... now THIS is the longest piece from the Disney requests sksks

Age: 1

“Andy’s first Christmas!” Peter cooed at his one year old son. He dressed Andy up and smiled before picking him up and carrying him downstairs. You looked at them and grinned. You immediately took out your phone and said, “Wait! I’ll take a picture!”

Peter stopped and tried to make Andy laugh which was easy. Andy was always cheerful. You were able to catch a lot of candid pictures that you were going to treasure your whole life.

The three of you went outside your house and started playing in the snow. Peter carefully set Andy down and both of you watched your son admire the white blanket that covered your yard. A few moments later, you were throwing snowballs at each other and soon, you were building a snowman.

Andy put the last stick on the side of the snowman and he giggled. Peter chuckled and kissed the top of Andy’s head. You caught Peter’s eyes and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Peter sighed happily. This was all he ever wanted; a complete and happy family.

Age 5

Little Andy was upset that he couldn’t play in the snow because he had a slight fever. He actually hated you for putting him to bed, so while you were crying in your shared room with Peter because your son said he hated you, Peter went to see Andy.

“Hey, buddy.” Peter said softly. Andy slowly sat up and smiled at his dad. “How’re ya feeling?” Peter asked as he sat beside Andy.

“My nose is wet.” Andy pouted. From the first time Andy started saying that, you and Peter didn’t know what he meant. As time passed, you later found out that it was his way of telling both of you that he had a cold.

“I know, buddy.” Peter sighed and ran his fingers through Andy’s hair. “You can’t play in the snow today. But you know what we can do?”

Andy smiled at his dad, “What?”

“We could do a little bit of painting?” Peter suggested. “Or we could play with your toys? Your uncle Ned bought you Legos... we could build something with those!”

“We build snowman?” Andy asked. Peter chuckled, “Yeah, we can build a snowman with your Legos.”

Andy cheered and hugged Peter. He hugged back and said, “I love you, Andy.”

“Love you, daddy.”

Age: 7

The tragic incident of Andy’s death was heard by everyone. Your neighbors, aunt May, the Avengers, your colleagues, and other parents. For the first month since Andy’s passing, you and Peter received about a hundred gift baskets. You lightly joked that you didn’t need to go to the grocery store for a while, but Peter just gave you a tight-lipped smile. Peter shut everyone out after that.

The second month, Peter barely spoke to you anymore. Peter was a stay-at-home husband and he was always looking forward to your stories from work. In exchange, you were looking forward to hearing Peter’s stories about what happened while you were at work. It was always about what he and Andy did, but now Andy’s gone. So, Peter had nothing to say.

“So, uh, Mary Jane got engaged recently and she’s inviting us to her wedding.” You said quietly as you ate the dinner you bought for the two of you.

“Good for her.” Peter whispered. He took a sip of water and continued to eat.

“I heard it was going to be grand and she deserves it, y’know? After all she’s been through, she deserves this kind of happiness.” You tried making conversation, but Peter dropped his fork on the plate and the sound shocked you a little.

“Y/N, babe, can you just-” Peter rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with both of his hands before setting his hands down on his lap. 

“Just shut up, alright? Congrats to Mary Jane and shit. I know she’s been through a lot and I know she deserves to be happy, but what about us, huh? We’re going through something so difficult right now, Y/N. We lost our son; our only joy. Don’t we deserve happiness too?” Peter said. His voice was hoarse because he wasn’t talking a lot. He was tearing up just thinking about Andy, “I know he’s not coming back, but-”

He took a deep breath, “I just want some closure. I want to know if he’s okay wherever he is right now and I want him to know that I love him with all my heart. I want him to know that I miss him so much and that it hurts my heart to see a school bus full of kids because I know he won’t be in it. He’s not coming home from school and I won’t make sandwiches for him anymore.”

“So Y/N, please, for the love of God; just shut up. You don’t have to talk to me about what happened at work because it reminds me that Andy isn’t here anymore.” Peter sniffed and wiped his tears before getting up from his seat and walking up to Andy’s room.

No one has seen Peter since. He wouldn’t go outside and he would only come out when you were at work. On weekends and you were home, Peter would avoid you.

Months later and it was already Christmas. You decorated your whole house just so it didn’t look depressing. You knew Andy would’ve loved it. It was his job to put the star on the tree, but now that he’s gone, you just left the star on the fireplace mantel next to Andy’s photo from when he was 4.

You cooked a lot of food because aunt May, Happy, and the Avengers said they were visiting both of you to celebrate Christmas. You appreciated it and you knew Peter would too.

Thirty minutes before everyone arrives, you smoothed out your dress and knocked on Andy’s door. When you didn’t get a response, you knocked again.

“Peter?” You said through the door. “I know you’re awake because the lights are open and I know you can hear me, so I’ll just start talking.”

“You know, everyone’s wondering where you are and I honestly don’t know what to answer them. I just say the same thing over and over. I keep telling them that you need some time to grieve. You’re not the only one hurting, Peter. I miss him too.”

“It’s so hard to be strong for myself and it’s even harder to be strong for the both of us. I need you to cooperate with me, Pete. I can’t face this alone. If I can go out and live my everyday life, so can you. I’m here for you, honey. But I can’t be there for you when you keep pushing me away. It’s hard to accept that it’ll only be you and me for the years to come, but right now I feel so alone.”

“I don’t know what to do and I’ve just been winging it.” You cleared your throat, “Anyway, the Avengers, Happy, and aunt May are coming over in a few minutes. You’re more than welcome to come down and join us. I’ll keep your seat warm just in case you want to join. It would mean a lot to all of us; it would mean a lot to me if you did. I’ll go downstairs now. I hope I see you later. If not, Merry Christmas, Peter. Good night.”

Peter laid down on Andy’s bed with tears streaming down his face. He’s been holding back his sobs when he heard you talking. You were right. He didn’t have to be alone and you didn’t have to be alone either. Both of you could work through it together.

So, Peter got out of bed and wiped his tears. He walked out of Andy’s room and went straight to your shared room. He took a quick shower and got dressed for the occasion. He heard a lot of voices downstairs and smiled a bit to know that there are people around both of you  who are willing to help you both through your rough patch.

Peter went out of the room and slowly walked downstairs. He didn’t see anyone in the living room, so he went to the dining room. It was packed. Tony was the one to see him first and he smiled, “Hey, kid.”

Everyone looked at Peter and you got up from your seat to pull him in for a hug which he returned. “I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too.” Peter said quietly and kissed your cheek. He pulled away and said, “If you can push through everyday then, so can I.”

You nodded and gave him a smile that he admittedly missed too. Aunt May hugged him next and everyone else did too. Tony was the last.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but it’ll get better. I promise you that.” Tony said as he pulled away. Tony turned to everyone and said, “Enough of the sad shit. Let’s all be happy!”

“Tony is right.” Thor said. “Little Andy would want us to talk about happy things.”

“That’s right.” Aunt May nodded. “Let’s just say the happy moments and I know there are 7 years worth of that.”

Peter sat next to you and held your hand as the celebration began. He knew it would take some time, but he knew that as long as he has you, he’d be alright. Everything will be alright.

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag​ @harryismysunflower​ @buckys-little-hoe​ @justanothermarvelmaniac​ @itstaskeen​ @heeeyitskay​ @slytherin-chaser​ @quaksonhehe​ @yaya4302​ @lil-mellow-bunbun​ @starlight-starks​ @swiftmind​ @alexx-stancati​ @sovereignparker​ @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​ @pearce14​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @cherthegoddess​ @chewymoustachio

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @petersholland​ @osterfieldnholland​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @perspectiveparker​ @hollands-weasley​ @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @holland-styles​ @halfblood-princess-505​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @justanothermarvelmaniac​ @unsaidholland​ @musicalkeys​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @hufflepuffprincess24

[lihikainanea]

I think we need to talk about an at home spa/self care day w Bill & Tiger.. Bill is overworked and sooo tired. He’s a bit pouty and tries his best to get some proper sleep in but it’s just not happening. So Tiger takes it upon her self to make a whole self care day for him. She kinda has to force him in at first bc he’s the kind of person to try to finish work w/o stopping. But no! Tiger’s determined. She has to steal Bill’s expensive skincare he never uses (I can see tiger wiping off his face mask and is just in awe of how glowy and pretty Bill is). But they’re also grooming nails, getting v tipsy, napping, watching a tv show they’ve put off way too long, baths, massages & ordering ridiculous amounts of food. -🐝

oh sweet emojbee, indeed LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS.

I will never forgive dudes for two complete atrocities committed against humanity: 1) their long eyelashes, and 2) their glowing skin. Seriously. These motherfuckers wash their face with a bar of hand soap on a rope and only do it like TWICE A WEEK and they fucking glow. Last month I bought a $360 La Mer serum (which I returned because it was bullshit) and it only made my skin look a little better.

Bill, in particular, has great skin. God I could have punched him back in September when he was promoting TDATT, with his glowing complexion and his rosy cheeks. Fuck you, asshole.

But yes, look, we’ve talked a little about some home pampering before. And one of the great things about attending all of these big events and red carpets and shit is the goodie bags. Tiger let it be known that she will like, NEVER walk a red carpet with him--it sounds awful--and that she won’t ever attend any huge press event or party. But she’s real happy to be waiting up for him back at the hotel wherever he is, dressed only in his shirt with carts full of room service, and all she wants is that goodie bag. She thinks celebrities are insane. One time, there was a Rolex in there--a legit Rolex, gifted to like 75 guests who could afford like 100 Rolex’s on their own.

To tiger, it’s madness.

But there’s also always a lot of beauty goodies in there. Coupons for Botox (tiger laughs until she cries), but also some real high end products. And Bill uses them sometimes; before red carpets it really is a primping event for him when his groomer comes in, but otherwise on the day to day he doesn’t do much.

But Bill always liked being touched--he especially loves it when tiger traces his features softly. And he’s been tired, he’s been overworked, maybe she’s visiting him on set somewhere--and she packed up a few things so they can just have a relaxed, self-care night at home. And she’s real glad she did, because the poor dude just looks awful--some dark bags under his deep-set eyes, his skin an ashen colour.

She tags along with him to set the next day, and sits in his makeup trailer with him. And that’s kind of when he mind is made up for tomorrow, which is his day off--because for two hours, tiger watches them paint shit all over his face. Just...pure gunk. Prosthetics everywhere.Heavy paint. This terrifying spray called Skin Guard. He’s layered with latex and glue and paint and aerosols and it just looks so uncomfortable--but you know, the end of the day is even worse. Because when they take it all off, they’re scrubbing and rubbing and by the end his skin is bright red and irritated, his eyes a little squinty, patches of a red rash going down his neck. Tiger has ideas.

So listen, the next morning, they both sleep in. Tiger finds the laundry room in the hotel and warms up their bathrobes, wrapping him in one as he starts to wake up. She gets him his coffee, for once, giving him all the gentle head scritchies while he drinks it. She pulls him into the shower to start--does he get shower head? He totally gets shower head--and she soaps him up, washes his hair for him, CONDITIONS IT (because how boys don’t know about conditioner, I’ll never know) and then when they’re done, as he steps out she helps him dry off with the towel--and then she moisturizes him. Bill never moisturizes. Butshe takes her time, helps rub out some of his sore muscles, and just massages in some of the best smelling lotion he’s ever known. She gets him back in his bathrobe and orders a breakfast feast, and she sets up her stash while they wait for it.

And it’s just a full day of pampering for Bill--and really, he’s letting it happen because it’s just so much of that good skin contact that he needs, and he’s complete mush. Tiger sets up with a bowl of warm water, a few rags. She pulls his head into her lap. She starts off with a real good head scritchie session that just seems endless, her nails scraping gently at his scalp, and only when he’s slack-jawed she’ll move onto his face--just take her time and run her fingertips all over his features, massage out some of the tension he keeps in his jaw and temples. She’ll wet the warm rag and drape it over his face, getting the cleanser ready.

And it takes hours, but it’s just so zen--for both of them. Bill gets all those soft touches that he needs. Tiger gets to revel in turning her Good Dude to absolute mush, being able to stare down and admit how beautiful he is like this, steal all the kisses she wants. She goes all in. Bill gets exfoliated, he gets a toner and an eye mask and a face mask another cleaner and a serum and a moisturizer. Tiger just takes her time with it, massages down his chest while she waits for the products to sink in. And by the end--god she could kill him--he’s glowing.

She pushes a glass of scotch in his hand, crawls in his lap, and he’s still all sleepy and slack-jawed and he just murmurs his thanks softly in her ear.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.17

Lind A: bring me lunch!

It was after eleven. She should be getting up and opening the dojo. This argument wasn’t quite enough to compel her legs to move from the bed, however, so Nairi lifted her phone and answered the text instead.

What do you want?

Lind A: idk get something you like and we can share Lind A: im at my studio!!

k

The ‘a’ button on her keyboard was sticking something fierce, and the black coating was worn away on the space bar and surrounding keys. Maybe she should get a new phone. She let the blackberry slip back down to rest on her chest as she went back to staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. The blanket was too hot where it was wrapped around her legs, and her shoulder was starting to ache where it had been pressed into her pillow and mattress for too long.

What did she like to eat? What did she like to eat that Linden also liked? Or, well, what was between here and Linden’s studio that had vegetarian options and food Linden liked, was probably the better question.

It was another ten minutes before she could make herself stand up and find a pair of jeans.

Almost an hour after that she’d made it to Linden’s studio, coffee and pastries in hand. Loud music was pumping out the propped-open door, grungier rock floating past the concrete paint can in sharp opposition to the cheerful pop from the last time she’d been here. Nairi stepped inside with her offerings, looking around for Linden.

“Oh hey, I thought you’d abandoned me,” said Linden cheerfully, and Nairi tracked her gaze down to see her sprawled on the floor. She was grinning up at her, hips twisted with one knee folded over her thigh, back pressed to the ground.

Nairi held up the paper bag by way of explanation. “Never. There was just a queue. Are you okay?”

Linden nodded sagely and shut her eyes, rolling her hips back down and shaking out her leg. “I had to pick up a box of glue off the craft shop floor this morning and I foolishly bent with my back instead of my knees, so now I must pay for my hubris.” She groaned as she sat up, taking a coffee from the proffered tray and grinning at Nairi. “Twenty-seven is way too young to even be having these issues, I swear to god.”

“Maybe your back’s just advanced for its age,” said Nairi, setting her tea and the pastries down on an unoccupied stretch of counter space.

Linden got to her feet and laughed brightly as she leaned over to her beat up ipod where it was sitting in a dock on the sill, spinning the volume almost all the way down. She straightened to grin at her head on as she reached out for Nairi’s hand. “Dad always said I was precocious. Come on, I made something for you!”

“Oh, what?” said Nairi, feeling the corner of her mouth twitch up as she let Linden tug her across the studio. “I only just figured out how to hang the last thing you painted me.”

Linden laughed again, letting go of her hand to reach up and pull down one of the two jackets from a hook on the back of the far door. “Well, this one hangs in a wardrobe, so I’m sure you’ll figure that out on your own.”

Nairi looked at the leather being offered to her, then back up at Linden, who jiggled the coat hanger at her.

She took it. It was a heavy, white motorcycle jacket, with two crisp stripes running the full length of the sleeves in red and green. The cuffs were zipped with sturdy silver tabs, and the pockets looked to fall just under the ribs with the same zips as closures. It was high-necked and padded in a way she instinctively approved of, with extra buckles at the neck and waist over the front zip. On the back Linden had painted an ourobouros of a dragon in green and black, its eye the same bright red as the stripe on the sleeves.

“Try it on,” said Linden eagerly, nodding at her. “I snooped in your drawers before I bought the jacket, so it should be the right size.”

Nairi felt her mouth twitch again, and she slipped the jacket on over her shoulders. It was comfortably snug around her arms, and heavy in a way that made it feel like it belonged there. The leather was a little stiff, not yet worn in, and the zip sufficiently toothy so that it took a second try to tug it down again. “It’s great,” she said, looking up and smiling back at Linden. “Thank you, you didn’t have to get me this.”

Linden was reaching up bring down its twin, and she glanced back over her shoulder at Nairi as she pulled it on. “Look, I saw them as I was walking past and I wanted one for me, and then I saw the white and I just hadto.” Hers was dark, crimson like her favourite wine-red lipstick, with thick, soft, elasticated fabric around the cuffs and waist hem. The painted embellishments were little lines of matchstick fires around the wide pockets, and a cherry tree in full blossom on the back, with a vintage style painting of a pair of cherries over one shoulder like a fake patch. “It gave me an excuse to break out the good paints too, the ones I haven’t used since I was a student. I had a lot of friends who did costume shit for theatre, the hardcore kind, it was nice to use them again! And like, I know it’s totally the wrong time of year for warm jackets and I should’ve held out for your birthday ‘cause it would’ve been perfect, but I got excited when I finished them and it’s been hard enough keeping my trap shut while I waited for them to dry.”

“It’s totally fine,” said Nairi, watching Linden give a little spin to show off her jacket before she shrugged it off again. “It’s just an early birthday present. Very early—preparatory, so I don’t have to wait for my birthday once it starts getting cold, and now you don’t have to worry about getting something for the day as well.”

Linden laughed again, ushering her back across the studio towards the pastries. “Oh, nice try, but you’re not escaping the birthday fun that easy,” she teased, picking up her coffee and nudging her broken chair towards Nairi with one foot. “Come on, sit, eat, give me the good goss, tell me how you and Aggy are going.”

“There’s not a lot happening, really,” said Nairi blandly, taking her tea back from Linden and sitting gingerly. The chair held, thankfully, if with a little more bounce than she’d been expecting. “You know, everything’s just kind of… fine.”

Linden pouted over her coffee before proceeding to loot the pastry bag. “Oh, that’s boring though! You two never do anything exciting, and you’ve been dating for like, months now. Seriously, nothing new?”

The impulse to laugh bubbled high in Nairi’s throat, and she swallowed it, wondering briefly where it had come from. “I think I’m okay with boring, honestly. Is your dating life not exciting enough?”

That got a snort as Linden resettled herself to lean back against the counter, raspberry crown in hand. “It’s a little cooled down at the moment, I won’t lie. Like, Simon and I are technically still ‘on’,you know, we’re just not, doing as much.”

“Tapering off, or just laying low from Nicholas?” asked Nairi with a small grin, catching the pastry bag as Linden tossed it to her.

Linden rolled her eyes, taking a drink from her coffee. “Si’s a big boy, he doesn’t need Nick barging in to tell him how to live his life. He’s still fun, it’s just, you know, reaching the point where people start making comments about taking him home to meet Dad and it’s definitelynot that kind of relationship.”

“Because you’re not expecting a ring or because he’s not up to scratch?” asked Nairi, tearing at a croissant.

“Yes,” said Linden, laughing. “Fuck, jesus, I’m nowhere near thinking about that, much less with Si’! That and Dad would eat him alive, he’s got an English degree—the only thing worse would be fine art.”

She hadn’t said it with any malice, so it was probably a normal sort of joke to make? “High expectations to meet?”

Linden grinned wolfishly. “Any partner I nail down better be ready to jump,” she joked with a darkly amused tone to it. “Dad’s good at what he does so he has high standards—typical lawyer shit, you know?”

Nairi shrugged. “Most of the lawyers I’ve met have just been dicks, but I think it’s different when you’re working with them as opposed to like, being raised by one. Is he defence or attack?”

Linden laughed loudly at that, hiding her grin behind her coffee cup again before answering. “Prosecutor, he’s a DA,” she said, sounding a little lighter. “Highest conviction rate in the state, only the best efforts for his job.”

“Damn, alright,” said Nairi, raising an eyebrow. “Kind of a bigshot?”

Linden nodded, setting her cup down. “Yeah, he gets kinda high profile sometimes—I don’t know if you remember a couple of years back, uh, Maxim Bailey? That guy?”

Oh yeah, she’d heard he’d been arrested. Nairi nodded, making a general noise of affirmation, and Linden nodded along with her.

“Yeah, he’s still salty he didn’t manage to get him on the murder charge, despite getting the other convictions,” said Linden, still nodding like a bobble-head. “Caught a little bit of media at the time, too.”

“Hell of a job,” said Nairi. Her thigh vibrated and she set her tea down to tug her phone out of her pocket.

“Stressful, he’s been talking about changing up careers for a couple months now,” said Linden, finally stopping the motion of her head.

Aga D: How’s your day? Any students for the first couple of classes?

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek as her thumbs hovered over the buttons.

“Is that your giiirl-friend?” asked Linden, her drawl long and amused, and she lifted a leg to prod Nairi’s knee with her toe, making the chair spin a little.

Nairi glanced back at her phone, tapping out a response quickly. “Yeah, she’s just checking in.”

A couple yeah. Just having a quiet day.

Aga D: I’m glad! I’ll let you get back to teaching and stop distracting you :)

She tucked her phone away and picked up her tea again, suddenly not feeling much like eating anything.

Linden’s eyes were unreadable over her coffee, but she was smiling when Nairi looked at her. “That’s nice of her,” she said with a funny note in her voice. “I’m really happy for you two, you know that right?”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shuffling her unappetising croissant back into its bag to avoid Linden’s piercing eyes. “I’m, um. I’m glad you both, sort of, uh, adopted me? Even if it’s in different ways. It’s been good. Really good.”

She covered her expression with her tea, not really tasting it as she drank. Why had that been hard to say?

Linden’s mouth twitched at the corner, just a hint of her normal dimples. “I’m glad you let us,” she said warmly, and suddenly her eyes were back to normal. “You looked like you could use a couple of friends when we met, and god only knows Agatha needed a relationship that actually worked out after her streak.”

“Yeah?” said Nairi, leaning to set the pastry bag back on the counter.

Linden nodded, giving her a rueful look. “Yeah, I mean, she told you how we met, right? Her boyfriend of like, ten years or some shit was one of my regulars, and when she found that out she showed up on my doorstep in tears, it was kind of fucking rough.”

“Oh, damn,” said Nairi, for lack of anything better. Ten years?Agatha had left that out.

“Yeah,” said Linden with an exaggerated grimace. “I mean, fuck, I’m pretty mercenary when it comes to cheating and the job, but even I felt bad. I helped her do some vandalism on him, and then I introduced her to Flo and some nice single people who helped her figure out she was into women, so like, it all worked out eventually, but it was kind of a rough time for her, you know?”

“Yeah,” echoed Nairi, feeling the pastry sink to the bottom of her stomach. “I’m glad it worked out, in the end.”

“Like I said,” said Linden, nudging her again with a wink and a smile, “she just needed someone like you to swoop in and be the good, stable girlfriend for her.”

Her tone was light and teasing, and Nairi made herself swallow more tea before she answered. “Right, yeah. I don’t know how ‘good’ I am at the whole, Prince Charming thing.”

She’d been trying for a joke, but it fell flat between them.

“You’re doing fine,” said Linden, her tone softening a little, and she looked at Nairi with earnestness in her eyes. “Seriously, Princess. You’re doing fine.”

End of book 1.

[puroalgarete]

HALLOWEEN SPIRIT WEEK TASK

THIS OR THAT?

1. The smell of pumpkin or the smell of fresh autumn air?

The smell of pumpkin. Porque hay tantas cosas que puedes cocinar con calabaza. Y me encanta la comida. (Because there's so much you can cook with pumpkin. And, I'm all about the food.)

2. Sweet pumpkin seeds or salty pumpkin seeds?

Salty. Las semillas siempre tienen que probar salado para mí. (Seeds always have to taste salty for me.)

3. Store bought pumpkins or pumpkin patch pumpkins?

Pumpkin patch. Porque se siente como una experiencia más personal. ('Cause it just feels like a more personal experience.)

4. Wool sweaters or knit sweaters?

Knit. La lana me pica como una mierda. (Wool itches the fuck outta me.)

5. Halloween party or exploring haunted places?

Exploring haunted places, for sure. A party's a party. Pero visitar un lugar embrujado con tus amigos más cercanos parece mucho más divertido. (But checking out a haunted place with your closest friends, seems like much more fun.)

6. Candy corn or mellowcreme pumpkins?

Candy corn, always. ¿Sabes? Por la nostalgia. (You know? For the nostalgia.)

7. Apple cider donuts or pumpkin spice donuts?

Definitely pumpkin spice. Porque si quisiera sidra de manzana, la bebería. ('Cause if I wanted apple cider, I'd drink it.)

8. Apple pie or pumpkin pie?

Both. ¿Qué? Me gusta la comida. Demándame. (What? I like food. Sue me.)

9. Scary costume or silly costume?

Whatever happened to them sexy costumes, huh? We like wearin' them to feel sexy af too.

10. Cool, silent nights or rainy, windblown nights?

Rainy and wind blown. When shit's too quiet it feels like some shit's 'bout to go down.

11. Hocus Pocus or Halloweentown?

Is that a trick question? Hocus Pocus. That whole cast, fuckin' priceless.

12. Witches or ghosts?

Ghosts. I don't need nobody hexin' me, life's fucked up enough as it is.

13. Fun Halloween decorations or sophisticated fall decor?

Fuck sophisticated. I wanna see all kinds of crazy shit round my place durin' the weeks leadin' up to Halloween.

14. Ouija boards or ghost stories around a campfire?

Ghost stories, 'cause fuck them demons and shit. No necesito esa mierda en mi vida. (I don't fuckin' need that shit in my life.)

15. Frankenweenie or The Corpse Bride?

Frankenweenie. Always had a sore spot for Frankenstein. Never knew why.

16. October or November?

October. I'm always about them horror films and haunted houses, ghost tours and shit. Shit gives me life.

17. Black cats or owls?

Black cats. What the fuck am I gonna do with a fuckin' owl?

18. Fireplace or candlelight?

Fireplace. Whole lot cozier than a fuckin' candle.

19. Monster movies or their classic novels?

I like 'em both. Like everythin' else, kinda depends on the day. Sometimes ya wanna kick back, watch a good movie and other times ya wanna read how books that helped inspire some of the greatest writers and film directors to ever grace us with their shit.

20. Carving pumpkins or painting pumpkins?

I'd rather carve the shit outta some pumpkins and put a candle in 'em. Some traditions are worth keepin'. Solo para que lo sepas. (Just so ya know.)

[palettes-and-prompts]

40 Prompts!

Prompts for the Sunshiney Character/Storm Cloud Relationship

1) A and B go to a theme park and B notices how much A keeps staring at the games where you can win stuffed animals and while A's back is turned B wins them a huge stuffed animal. 2) A realizes they've never heard B laugh before and so they spend the whole day telling them lame jokes to get them to laugh but they never do. It isn't until something bad happens to C in front of them that B lets out the hardest laugh A's ever heard. And while they're terrified of B's humor they're in love with their laugh. 3) A tries to find out more about B's interests but since B is very secretive it's hard for them to find anything out about them. But when A hears B watching wrestling they get B tickets to a match and suddenly B's out of their seat cheering for a wrestler to hit the other with a chair. A's never seen B happier. 4) While grocery shopping A is putting junk food into the basket and B is taking it out and putting in healthier options until they get to the dairy section and B puts four gallons of chocolate milk in the cart, absolutely shocking A. When B tries to explain themselves A tells them they're going back and getting the junk food they want. B lets them and doesn't take out a thing they put in after that. 5) A wears shorts and one of B's t-shirts and A keeps thinking B's sick because their face is flushed all day when they look at A. 6) A gets B some flowers because they're trying to show more affection but it backfires when B begins sneezing and getting watery eyes. (Bonus if A goes back to the store and gets fake flowers and allergy relief medication.) 7) A and B go into a haunted house and A doesn't have time to be scared because B's lightning fast reflexes keep knocking the scare actors flat on their ass and A keeps apologizing while B's trying hard not to keep doing it every time someone pops out. 8) A and B get their face painted and while A who is sunshiney gets something scary B, the storm cloud, gets a cute animal and then they go out for food. 9) A and B go to the zoo and while in the part where you're allowed to pet the animals A is trying hard to get animals to like them B is the one all the animals keep swarming and rubbing against. 10) A and B go to the beach and even though B doesn't like the beach. While A has fun in the water B has fun when the seagulls begin attacking people who brought food. (Bonus if it ends with B saying they now love the beach.)

Fluffy Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) Everyone warns A about B being a vampire and one day when they're out with friends B casually mentions that they smell good and everyone is wide eyed until B's like "I was talking about their perfume/cologne." Which makes them all give a sigh of relief and the group spends the whole day trying to make it up to B because A really likes them.

2) It's hot outside and so A hugs B to stay cool. And for once in their life B's kind of glad they're a vampire. 3) A who is like ice feels bad they can't cuddle with B so they buy a ridiculously warm onesie and gloves to hold them. (Bonus if the onesie is extremely tacky because they got it last minute.) 4) A's jackets are in the wash so they wear one of B's without telling the. (Bonus if B spends all day looking for it since it's their favorite one.) 5) A feels bad B can't enjoy food so they spend hours researching until they find a few recipes B can eat since they're mixed with a lot of blood. (Bonus if they messed up the recipe but B thinks it's the most delicious thing ever.) 6) A can't see their reflection so B spends the whole day figuring out if there's a way for a vampire to see their own reflection. 7) In a world where humans can become blood donors as a job and pick the vampire they work for A gets lucky enough to meet a wealthy B. B is excited because A's cute and has a rare blood type. 8) A celebrates a birthday or holiday where gifts are involved and everyone thinks B's favorite color is red because they're a vampire. But they tell everyone they actually hate red and so everyone tries to figure out what their favorite color is. 9) A reads trashy vampire novels to B, a vampire, who does nothing but lay their head on A's lap and go  "Oh my god, we don't even do that! That's such bullshit, that's not even what happened during the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. I should know, I was there!" 10) A hasn't been around humans in a long time and is very confused when looking at certain technology or clothing B wears.

Hurt/Comfort Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) A has always hated vampires and when they become one B shows them how to survive in their world. 2) A gets injured and B can't help them because of their blood lust. B is incredibly jealous of C for being able to take care of them when they can't 3) A almost drinks B's blood when A accidentally cuts themself. Later A buys some rosary beads for someone at work to ward off a vampire they work with who's getting handsy or whatever. But when B finds them they're worried A doesn't trust them anymore. 4) A gets injured running away from vampires and B is a vampire who finds them and patches them up. 5) A can tell what turns B on because they're constantly listening to their heart rate. Imagine A being incredibly jealous when B sees C because their heart rate spikes. (Bonus if B just really hates C so it's nothing more than them preparing themselves to be annoyed for the day.) 6) A rescues vampire B from a mad scientist who was conducting experiments on B to see if vampires could be changed back and how much pain they can endure. 7) A is a human who's lost everything and B is a vampire who grants them eternal life and revenge against those who wronged them. 8) A hates vampires and works for a group of vampire hunters but when they stumble upon B and see how scared they are it reminds them of their past and they help them escape, this leads B to become attached to A and curious about them. A hates it until they think it's actually kind of cute. 9) In a world where humans are kidnapped and kept alive for their blood A is leading a rebellion until they're captured. B, a vampire in the cell next to them, befriends them and tells them the guard schedules and personalities and tells them they'll help them escape if they get them out too. (Bonus if A is going to betray B until their time together makes A feel things.) 10) A is the most heartless human and B is the most compassionate/alive vampire. The two meet and change each others lives, but is that for the better or worse?

Crack Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) A makes garlic bread and B spends hours trying to figure out what they did wrong. Turns out A forgot that B couldn't have garlic bread and didn't remember when they bought, they just thought "Wow, haven't had garlic bread in a while." 2) A cuts their finger and before B can react A sucks the blood from their finger. And it wouldn't be a big deal except for the fact that B moaned when A did that so now things are weird. 3) A and B go grocery shopping and afterwards they check the police records for any criminals in the area for B to drink from. 4) A is a nurse who works at a hospital in charge of blood and B is a blood thief A is constantly spraying with holy water to keep out of the room where they store all the blood. When new nurse C arrives they panic until A comes and spritzes them. When C is like "???" A is like "They do that all the time. They don't bite humans, they drink animal blood. But sometimes they're tempted to drink human blood so you gotta spritz them when you see them." 5) A wonders why B never feeds in front of them and B just tells them they wouldn't want to watch anything like that. But when A finally convinces B to actually have dinner with them they feed in front of A. (Bonus if A is horrified and lowkey loses their appetite but tries to play it off) 6) A can't see their reflection so B is constantly drawing dicks on their face when they're asleep. 7) A thinks it's hot when B speaks a different language, but when B catches on and uses it during an argument A is constantly telling them to stop flexing their knowledge. B thinks it's hilarious though but stops for a while so when A's in the mood B can talk dirty in another language. (Bonus if by the time B does that A can speak the language too.) 8) A has been staring at someone B hates all day and when B thinks A might have a crush they get sad until A admits they just have a gross blood type and can't stand the smell. 9) "You look really peaceful when you sleep, very beautiful." "Please don't watch me sleep, it's so weird, dude." "We have sex all the time, do not call me dude." 10) A getting mad at vampire B before they go out and saying some shit like, "You have something on your face by the way." And not telling B where it is because they know B can't see their own reflection to wipe whatever it is off. (Bonus if A is smug the whole time and B is like "Come on, lets not fight tonight and just...just tell me where it is! Is it my nose? My teeth? What is it?!?")

Sorry this took so long, @zoliis I wanted to give you at least 10 prompts for each one, hope these are kind of what you’re looking for maybe? If not just let me know and I’ll do some more! :)

[divine-draws]

lov: vigilante (2 of ??)

The afternoon sunlight filtered in through the blinds of the Leagues’ “base”. The building was an older slightly run down building that Shirakumo happily bought for the ragtag group. Over the years the walls got patched in places and got a fresh coat of paint. The furniture consisted of odds and ends and there was the necessities for a group of vigilantes: first aid supplies, a kitchen that was in various states of being stocked, a couple rooms to crash in if needed, concealed storage for their gear, and of course video game systems. It was far from the nicest place, but to the League it was basically home. 

A meeting about some future ops and a schedule for patrol had ended an hour ago and each member went off to do their own things. Currently Dabi sat on the couch with Shigaraki’s head in his lap and his hands in Toga’s hair. He planned on taking a nap, but clearly that plan went to hell. Toga chattered on about class and everything else that day as Dabi did her hair. He hummed occasionally and was in fact listening to what she said. He was partial to who she had a crush on and what teachers were dicks. He knew which of her coworkers she gelled with and what music she was listening to on repeat. He might be a dick but he had some decency and Toga was basically a little sister to him. 

Once he finished up the last braid and pinned it into place, she hopped up off the floor, planting a dramatic kiss on Dabi’s forehead. She effectively dodged his lazy swipe at her and giggled as she ran off to somewhere else, most likely looking for Twice to talk with now. Dabi leaned back with a sigh, though his peace was quickly disturbed once again. Shigaraki shifted some and made a noise in the back of his throat, not looking up from his Switch. 

“You guys are fucking leaches,” Dabi grumbled though he burried his fingers in Shigaraki’s hair this time, scratching at his scalp. Shigaraki quickly melted under the warm touch.

“Not my fault you’re a walking space heater.”

“I’m going to start charging you guys.” That didn’t get a response instead there was a quiet hum as Shigaraki tilted his head some to get Dabi to reach a certain spot.

“You’re like Monchan,” Dabi grumbled though his voice had an affectionate lilt to it. The aforementioned dog perked up at the sound of his name, looking at Dabi from where he lay on Shigaraki’s legs. Mon laid his head back down after a moment as Dabi continued to massage Shigaraki’s head and play with his hair. A comfortable silence fell over the two of them only broken by the occasional content hum. Despite all of his complaints, Dabi didn’t mind giving the others attention like this, especially Shigaraki. They’d known each other the longest and both had come far in many ways. Dabi could easily recall a frail and angry Tenko who would flinch anytime he would touch others or be touched by someone else. A scared kid who didn’t have nearly enough support or therapy, who could barely even stand to look at his own hand and who would pick and scratch relentlessly at his skin. The 20 year-old who laid sprawled out on the couch, leaning into his touch, was far from that kid. Shigaraki had issues, yes. He still would pick and scratch but he’d gotten better. He still had times where the thought of his own hands and quirk made him sick or left him shaking after nightmares. He was still prickly as ever but it’s not like Dabi had room to speak on that matter. Honestly, it wasn’t just Shigaraki or Dabi that had immense improvement over the years. Everyone who became part of their little family came out better than before. Society and many heroes may have failed them in one way or another, but the all found their way back onto their feet stronger than ever.

“Awww, when you two aren’t at each other’s throats, you can be so cute.” The cooing, quite literally, voice startled Dabi out of his thoughts. Shigaraki, who had his eyes closed and Switch resting on his chest, glared up at the newcomer. Hawks just grinned down at the two of them, preening a bit at the fact neither of them noticed him come in.

“Sorry to interrupt. Just thought I’d drop by.” 

Hawks made his way around the couch. He pushed some empty glasses out of the way before sitting on the coffee table across from them, careful to not knock anything over with his wings or tail. He clearly just got off work seeing as his hero costume was still on. He idly pushed his goggles up and out of his face, pushing his unruly hair back with them. 

“Don’t sit on my coffee table, you oversized chicken,” Shigaraki grumbled, continuing to glare at Hawks, though it was weak and the the complaint just sounded annoyed at best.

“Wow, is that how you treat all of your guests?” Hawks asked with a light, dramatic gasp. Drama queen. “I thought at least one of you would be excited to see me.” His gaze shifted over to Dabi as he said that.

“Listen birdie…” He let his sentence trail off, fingers still in Shigaraki’s hair. “Go get changed and then we’ll talk.”

“I was gunna wait until we got home but… If you insist.” He shot Dabi a lopsided grin before standing up. The edges of his smile looked a bit strained and his shoulders were too tense for his easy going demeanor. As Hawks turned tail and headed to one of the spare rooms where he had a change of clothes, Dabi noticed the way Hawks shook his hands some before clenching and unclenching his fingers. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to notice the anxious tells. Shigaraki sat up and nudged Mon who hopped off the couch. 

“I’m gunna go take Monchan for a walk,” he said as he got up and put his Switch away. They were all aware, at this point, of Hawks’ situation. They knew more than enough about what the Commission did and still does. Just like the actual members of the League, they all cared for Hawks and did their best to support him.

Dabi got up off the couch and headed for the room Hawks slipped away to as Shigaraki went about putting Mon on a leash. It was mostly quiet in the building. The distant sound of Toga and Twice talking could be heard from another room and the building made noises as it settled, but it was a peaceful afternoon for the League. Dabi knocked on the door, one hand on the handle as he quietly listened for a response. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in.” 

Dabi opened the door, quietly closing it behind himself. Hawks was already out of most of his costume, the compression suit being the last part he had to remove. Hawks gave him a small smile as he quickly slipped out of the suit. The halter top esque design of the suit made getting and out easy for him. He quickly went to put on pants and a loose shirt, sending some feathers out to make his wings small enough to easily slip through the slits in the back. Dabi sat on the edge of the bed as he got dressed, silently holding out his arms once Hawks was done. A moment later, Hawks sat in his lap and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Hey Kei.” Dabi’s words were soft and just loud enough to be heard by only them. 

“Hey Touya,” came the shaky reply. Hawks trembled for a moment before slumping against Dabi, taking in the heat.

“Wanna talk about it?” He ran his hot hands along Hawks’ back, pressing into sore muscles and working out knots as best he could from this angle. 

“Just a meeting and a rough debrief.” Hawks nosed at Dabi’s chin before sighing. “Just wanna relax a bit…” Dabi hummed and continued to rub his back.

“Let’s lay down for a bit,” he eventually said, shifting away some as he spoke. Hawks got off his lap so Dabi could scoot back and get under the covers. Hawks was quick to follow, curling up against Dabi’s side, laying mostly on his stomach to allow his wings and tail the room they needed. Dabi alternated between playing with his hair, rubbing his back and arms, and smoothing out the feathers he could reach on his wings. Hawks stretched out his wings some, doing the same with his taloned feet, finally free from the confines of his work boots.

“Do you want to take a nap? I can make some food for when you wake up,” Dabi suggested. Hawks chirped softly.

“Is Toga here still?”

“Yeah. I’m sure she’ll want to do facemasks later. We can preen your wings too. I have no idea how you get them so fucked up all the time,” he teased lightly.

“Well it’s a good thing I have you guys then.” 

Dabi pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah… Alright birdie, I’m gunna go start making some food. You stay here and get some rest.” Hawks whined a bit when Dabi began to move, taking his warmth with him, but he remained in bed anyway.

“Nooo you’re so warm.” Hawks looked up at Dabi with a pout and half lidded eyes.

“I know, Kei. Get some rest, and I’ll warm you up again later, okay?” 

“Fine,” he relented with a huff.

Later, when food was made and everyone who was there ate, they found themselves once again in the living room. Hawks laid himself out on Dabi’s chest, basking in the warmth as he carded his fingers through the bleach blond hair. Toga and Shigaraki each took a wing, correcting feathers and coating them in the protective dust the downy provided. Being cared for and preened took Hawks a bit of getting used to, but it was something he needed desperately and the others were happy to provide. Dabi typically took charge of this, but Toga was ever eager to help just like Hawks was eager to do Toga’s hair even if he was shit at it at first. It took Shigaraki some warming up, even with the great improvement of his touch aversion and fear of hurting anyone with his hands. The first time a feather came back as dust in his hands he wouldn’t touch anyone for a week, Hawks explaining it was because, like birds of prey, he didn’t have oil glands and instead some feathers would create a dust. Eventually, after plenty of time and reassurance, Shigaraki eagerly took up preening his wings, even if he acted like he wasn’t.

[beckzorz]

Chips and Crack and Jacket 2

Pairing: biker!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cocaine Prompt: “You’re safe now.” with biker!bucky. 1.45k A/N: A follow-up to Chips and Cracks and Jacket, thanks to another fun prompt from @littledarlinhavefaithinme​! It’s another over-the-top drunk drabble for @the-ss-horniest-book-club <3 Hope you enjoy!

You’ve gotten good at talking to strangers over the years. Well, more not talking than talking, you suppose. Easy enough to catch someone’s eye, see them nod. Harder to get a sense of what they want when they’re disguising it all with words, words, words. Those conversations with the chatty ones, about sports or the weather or a party you’d never be invited to—all that layered over the top of a deal, sometimes it’d throw you off.

Not anymore.

This morning, you’re free.

Debt all paid, hands finally clean—well, maybe not clean, not quite, but they’ll be clean, from now on. No more selling, no more stuffing cash in your bra, no more dropping coins in your shoe and dressing like a hoe for a job.

The paint cracking on the wall is bright and ugly now you’ve pulled your cheap-ass window blinds up all the way. It’s been months since you let all the light in. Maybe even years. You don’t care much. Chipped paint is the least of the bullshit in this place. At least you haven’t got cockroaches anymore. Thank god for tenant protection laws and exterminators.

The mouse that haunts the kitchen is another story, but it’s not like you have much food in there anyway.

That’ll change soon.

It better, anyway. You might look good, but you feel every damn bite you should be eating missing in your knotted gut.

At any rate, today you can at least dress for yourself. Ripped jeans, a nostalgic band shirt from your younger years soft against your skin, and a hoodie you’d nabbed for a buck at a thrift store. And socks. Last night, with your extra cash leftover from what you’d needed to make, you’d bought socks.

You fiddle with your phone in the hoodie pocket. There’s a napkin in front of your crossed legs, spread out as smooth as it can be with the wrinkles. You glance at the leather jacket hanging with your ratty towel on your door, a sliver of the star patch on the far arm visible..

Well, you’re free.

And Motorcycle Man’s been waiting.

—

Seven texts between you, and you’ve got a—a date? An appointment? Who the fuck knows. All you know is that Motorcycle Man sure as hell doesn’t waste his words, and he’s a lot less flirty in writing. If he even had been flirting back at the sub shop. You’re not sure anymore.

Fuck him if he was just being kind.

—

There’s a coffee shop not too far from where you’d met, just enough blocks away to be respectable and not decrepit, creepy, illegal, whatever. Big windows, tinted glass, artsy font. Even a chalkboard sandwich board out front with puns on it. Inside, clean tables, clean floors, even with the crowd with their fancy laptops and books and handbags. There’s nothing for sale under two bucks. Except maybe a pad of butter, but even that’s pushing it.

You haven’t bought anything in a place like this for…

Forget it. You don’t know. You don’t want to think about it, either.

You spot Motorcycle Man just as he spots you—he’s at a little rickety round table, a round mug steaming, two fingers hooked absently in the handle. He looks as delicious as when you’d met, even if he’s not wearing a leather jacket or motorcycle gloves and his expression is more shocked than sexy. When he stands up you’re impressed he doesn’t knock the chair over. But he’s careful, even if he is a hunk and a half. Impressive. And—he’s got a splint on his left hand. Interesting, if irrelevant.

“Well hello,” you say.

“Hey,” he answers. His eyes skim you up and down, and your nose twitches.

What was he expecting? You’re not dressed like when you met. No, you’d gone to the thrift store, gotten a few new things. Well, new to you. Some jeans, not ripped for a change, and a sweater that’ll be enough if he wants his jacket back. Because of course you’re wearing his jacket. It still smells like him.

But that look, that up and down, that scan without any sort of feeling behind it… Yuck.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.

You shrug. “If you like.”

There’s no line, and all you have to do is rattle off the name of your favorite hot drink. He gives his own name—Bucky, of all things, what the hell kind of name is that?—and his own cash. Six damn dollars, minus the change, just for something to warm your bones.

Well, if he is just being kind, you’re gonna eke it out for all it’s worth. God knows your next job won’t be much better than your last one. Even if it will be legal.

He doesn’t make small talk as you wait, and neither do you. A heavy awkwardness settles between you. What are you even doing here? This guy might’ve thought you were cheeky in your sexy outfit last week, but now that you look like a regular person…

Well.

It’s pretty damn clear he doesn’t think so anymore.

Well, if Bucky—god, what a weird name—thinks you’re just a pity case, you’ll walk right the fuck out, even if it means taking your enormous hot mug that smells like absolute heaven with you.

If the smell is heaven, that first sip is paradise. Indulgence isn’t exactly familiar territory these days, but damn. No matter how sanctimonious this Bucky turns out to be, the drink’s made it worth it.

When you open your eyes again, once the warmth from your drink has settled in your belly, Bucky’s grinning at you.

“Good?” he asks.

You can’t help but smile back. “Delicious. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He settles back in his chair—he’d been leaning forward to look at you, hadn’t he?—and takes a swig of his coffee. “I’m glad you texted.”

Ah, here it comes. You steel yourself, muscles clenched.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He looks into his coffee, his lips still quirked up. “Is it weird if I’m glad you’ve still got my jacket?”

“Why, do you want it back?”

“Not really.”

You pause, eyes narrowed over the rip of your mug as you take another sip. When you respond, your tone is only chilly, not murderous. “Why, ‘cause I’m clearly a charity case who needs all the help she can get?”

He narrows his eyes back at you. “No-o,” he says slowly. “Cause it looks good on you. And that patch on your sleeve means you shouldn’t ever get bothered, least not in this neighborhood. You’re safe now.”

“What? Why would I get bothered? Why would I need to not get bothered?”

Bucky leans forward, elbows on the table and his blue eyes boring into yours. “We both know what you do,” he whispers. He’s just loud enough to hear.

“Not anymore,” you tell him. He scoffs, and you sigh. “I mean, I’m done with it. All my debt’s paid off.”

“Wh—really? You’re not just shitting me?”

You roll your eyes. You’re not answering that. Like hell. He wants to drag you out, keep you safe like it’s his job or something… He can damn well do with some humbling. You drink until your mug is just about empty as Bucky tries to decide whether to believe you or not.

The thunk of your mug back on the table has him sitting back, face pinched.

“Are you serious?” Bucky asks.

“Ugh, yes, I’m not a fucking liar, Bucky.”

Weird name, but it still rolls off your tongue easy as pie. You’d like to say it again, maybe without twenty shades of annoyance.

“Okay.” Bucky lets out a breath between his teeth, shakes his head, and looks at you with a fresh glint in his eye. “Good.”

You suppress a shiver at the sudden hunger in his gaze.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Good.”

“Very good.” Bucky’s smirk is just as heart-stopping as it had been in the sub shop. “Cause now I don’t have to worry about taking up your valuable work time to ask you for a proper drink. If you drink proper drinks, I mean.”

“What if I didn’t?” you ask, skin prickling all over.

He leans close again, and the look in his eyes has you leaning in too. He curls his hand round your neck and turns your head until his breath is hot in your ear. 

“I’d suggest we skip the formalities and go straight to bed.”

You tilt your head, hum. The warmth from your drink still lingers, but it’s got nothing on the heat tingling in your cheeks, your belly, your chest.

“Whaddya say?” he murmurs.

You sit back just enough to look him in the eye. “I say yes.”

[lalka-laski]

Do you like eating sour things? It’s one of my favorite flavors, and my top choice for candy. Specifically sour patch kids! Are your nails painted red? Nope, they’re bare. Which is unusual for me! But I’ve had to tighten my budget lately. Do you like pickles? Another one of my favorite foods Last message you were sent on Bzoink? What on earth is that lol Do you have any drinking cups with Disney characters on them? Several Disney Princess cups! 

Are you holding off on doing something right now? Not at this exact moment. It’s midnight on a Saturday (well, Sunday technically) and I’m cozy in bed with a beer in my hand and a Britcom on TV! The life! Excited for anything you’re doing tomorrow? We have our usual Sunday brunch with Glenn’s family, then a couple errands to run. Then maybe a nice Sunday afternoon nap if I’m lucky. 

Will you be moving anytime soon? Funnily enough, I just re-signed my apartment’s lease. So I won’t be moving for at least a year  Have you ever been on a baseball/soft ball team? I have no athletic ability whatsoever!  What’s the temperature today? It was in the mid-high 50s but it weirdly felt much colder. Spring is strange! What type of science class are you in if any? I’m done with school. And I was always horrendous at any of the hard/natural sciences. And come to think of it, I wasn’t great at social sciences either Is there a television on in the room you’re in right now? Yep! I’m watching Keeping up with Appearances, it’s such a comfort show for me! Have you ever written a book? Someday Perhaps you are writing one right now? No, although I had somewhat of an epiphany the other day and thought I really should behin work on one... Favorite flavored milk shake? Chocolate malt! Do you like graham crackers with peanut butter and jelly? I’ve never tried that but I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t Have you ever grew watermelons? No. I don’t even EAT watermelons so, no thank you. How’d they turn out? – Was there a carousel inside of the last mall you were in? Yep Favorite piece of jewelry? Welllllllll I’m gonna have to go with my engagement ring! *hair flip* Are you going to a library tomorrow? Nope Did you ever have a really close friend move away? I did, it was quite devastating at that age! What’s something you’ve always wanted to do? Write/publish a book, travel to both of my parents’ respective homelands, see the Northern Lights, have kids...  Do you know how to swim? Mhm. Although I could be better! Are you cold right now? I’m hardly ever cold. I’m quite content right now. I have a light quilt on me but the room is slightly chilly.  Read any good books lately? The best (and really only good) book I’ve read lately was Water for Elephants. Every other book I’ve read or attempted to read recently was shit!  What do you like to dip your popcorn in, if anything? I don’t “dip” it in anything but I love lots of salt & butter!  Last form of exercising you participated in? Yoga! Which I loved. And I’m also starting a cardio kickboxing class soon with my sister and I’m quite excited.  Did you plant any flowers today? What a weirdly specific question! And no. What’s your favorite flower and why? Chrysanthemum, because it’s the title of my favorite childhood picture book.  Have you ever worked with clay? Yeah, in art class. I was never great at it though.  What’s the most creative thing you’ve ever done? That’s a tough question. Creativity is kinda my lifeblood so I’m not sure I could rank what is my *most* creative endeavor. I try to be creative in any and every way I can.  What’s the most creative thing someone has done for you? Again, that’s hard to quantify. And I’m dating another artist so he does PLENTY of creative gestures for me.  Have you ever had a dream that you were taking a survey? Ha that’s funny, I actually don’t think so! What’s the last thing you said aloud? I’ve been alone for the past several hours so I actually don’t know  Last song you sung? Weirdly I’m not sure. I usually have a definitive answer for this  Do you or your best friend play in a band? I do not... but Glenn did at one point and he’s one of my best friends so Do you have a lover? Sure do  In school, did/do you find yourself alone a lot? By choice more than anything Who is your truest friend? All my friends are incredible and can’t be ranked Have you ever played with moon sand? Mhm! Have you ever bought a book about a religion, besides the bible? Uhhh I don’t believe so. At least not a book that was exclusively about religion.  Nearest thing to your left? Why is the item where it is? My phone and a can of beer. And well, ‘cause I love both.  Last time you used a highlighter? Couple weeks ago at work  Last song you listened to and what does it mean to you? A reimagined version of Unwell by Matchbox 20. I listened to it because Rob Thomas tweeted about it and well, what Rob Thomas does...  Is the sun shining today? It was earlier!

[cruezins]

       ☣  ;  (  KIM TAEHYUNG  ,  24  ,  HE/HIM  )  coming up next on rebel radio is OPAUL by FREDDIE DREDD  .  this tune goes out to SIWON RYU  .  rumor has it they just rolled into town and are fightin’ for the GHOULS  .  they’re AFFABLE  ,  INQUISITIVE but also AIMLESS  ,  MERCURIAL so watch your backs out there  .  we wish them the best of luck here in our golded city of light  .  stay vigilant  ,  stay dirty rock ‘n rollers and we’ll catch you for the next one  .

𝐎𝐎𝐂  :  hello  !  i’m deni and i don’t know what editing is  .  i use she/her pronouns and live in the gmt+9 timezone  .   i’m terrible with ooc chats and half the time just want to vibe a connection or plot idea  ,  so please don’t hesitate to throw a half-formed thought at me because i swear i’ll do the same  .  my discord is gay fairy#6371  .  anyway  ,  here is siwon  ,  someone i’ve been work-shopping for a while  !  looking forward to writing with you  ♡

                     ☣  ;  𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇  .

cw  :  drug mentions  ;  stop me if you’ve heard this one before------

       his dad’s a junkie and he hasn’t seen his mom since some fatcats bought their restaurant for a steal a few years before  ,  but that’s the way of life for a lot of people in the underground  .  young  ,  bored  ,  and desperate to hear and smell anything that wasn’t the rottenness of his own childhood home  ,  siwon found himself on the streets more nights than not  ,  spray paint in one hand   ,  painting nights in greens and purples until reds and blues chased him away  .  makes his first steal before he can tie his shoes  .  creates alliances with the neighborhood kids  ,  sneaks around to watch how the haves live with their pretty  ,  pretty screens and their ugly  ,  ugly words  .  school isn’t anything special  ,  either  ,  and while siwon can’t remember shit that he reads from a page he can work with his hands  .  fast and efficient  ,  nimble fingers whether they’re flying across a keyboard or fucking around with some screws  .  you can make something of yourself  ,  some of his teachers tell him while others can’t stop bitching about homework or tardiness or the way he falls asleep in the middle of class  .  but what’s siwon supposed to make  ?  he and his ragtag group of weirdos he calls friends  .  when he gets older and nights get hungrier  ,  siwon learns to stop relying on the benevolence of neighbors and finds a job  ---  he’s fast  ,  after all  ,  with a sweet face and wide eyes  ,  makes a helluva getaway after years and years of running  .  

       thieving’s a natural grift  .  he’d been training for this his whole life  .  then he catches the eyes of a boss man who isn’t nearly as mad as he should be catching some kid with his wallet in his hands  .  courier comes next  ,  ferrying messages from a bunch of suits all over the city  .  siwon never opened the packages  ,  never second guesses the credits that start bloating his account  .  desperate  ,  he does what he’s told and does it well ------ and that’s the real kicker  ,  isn’t it  ?  that after a year and some-odd months of dedicated service they leave him high and dry with some bullshit he doesn’t have any involvement with  .  after years of running  ,  boys in blue finally catch him and he’s left to take the fall of some dumb fuckery  ,  man  ,  and he’s pissed  .  steaming in jail  ,  it’s a wonder some other gang didn’t get to him first  .  the longer he sat and talked with that ghoul member  ,  the more he grew to despise the rich  ,  the ones who left him to rot after all the shit he did for them  .  what was even the point anymore  ?  dog eat dog kind of bullshit  ,  no sense of loyalty or shit anywhere  .  the law and all that money was out to get him from the beginning and siwon had enough of it  .  a few months locked up but he learned and leaned and learned  ,  only able to get out on a technicality  .  the second he stepped back out into the sun  ,  siwon followed the map given to him and signed up for the ghouls  .  city of light be damned  .  the only lights he wants to see are flames eating this hellhole alive  .

                    ☣  ;  𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  .

➤  full name.  ryu si-won ➤  date of birth.  january 29th ➤  hometown.  city of light ➤  gender.  cis male ➤  affiliation.  ghouls  ➤  primary occupation.  drug runner  ,  pickpocket  ➤  secondary occupation.  network manager at an internet cafe 

➤  sexual attraction.  pansexual ➤  romantic attraction.  panromantic ➤  character alignment.  chaotic neutral ➤  personality type.  enfp ➤  temperament.  sanguine ➤  wants.  power  ,  family

       stands around 5′11  .  broad shoulders  ,  slim hips  .  floppy  ,  messy hair and sun browned skin  .  half legs  .  a few pieces of silver in his ears and a small hoop on his bottom lip  .  dresses somewhere between a washed up rockstar  ,  your college weed dealer  ,  and a miami vice reject  .  style’s a whim with a closet’s chaotic mix of anything he thrifts or patches together  .  most of the time he’s sporting cuffed jeans  ,  vintage blouse  ,  a denim jacket or tweed blazer and thick ass boots  .  keeps all that hair back with a bandanna or a headband  ,  hair ties on his wrist  .  nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal —— or simply just a steal  .  likes colors just as much as he likes his neutrals  .  wears a black air filtration mask and fingerless gloves  .  considers his floral button-up shirts fancy material and his trousers cut off at the ankles  .  likes the smell of old leather and the breathing of fringe on a jacket  ,  the weight of heavy rings on his fingers and sunglasses swooped low on his nose  .  wears a monocle because he can’t be fucked with reading glasses  .   his hair’s been every color of the rainbow and he’s always changing it up thanks to temporary dye  .

                                    ☣  ;  𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄  .

       hustles at arcade halls  ,  scarfs down ramen and burritos like they’re gonna disappear  ,  looks as comfortable in a dark  ,  dirty alley as he does standing under all those lights in the neon district  .  pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips  .  likes cheap beer and cigarettes  ,  fast talking and smooth smiles  .  gets up when the sun goes down  .  who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep  ,  but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere  .  seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee  ,  at the internet cafe one moment and grabbing fried cheese sticks in the next before crossing the bridge to watch the street races and venturing to the tunnels for the fighting rings  .  complains about being broke but puts down bets faster than anyone  .  lives for the feeling of wind in his hair so the window of his top-floor one bedroom shit hole stays open all the time  .  feels the rain on his skin  ,  plays with matches  .   learned how to assemble a gun in less than sixty seconds and stays packing nowadays though he can’t really shoot for shit  .  spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls  .  looks like an angel under all those holographic lights  .

       rides a motorbike and his skateboard  .  can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy  .  can barely stand to sit still  ,  always moving except when there’s a computer screen in front of him  .  gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary  ---  people  ,  food  ,  liquor  ,  feelings  .  craves that intimacy  ,  craves that closeness that’s always been denied to him  .  has a loud as fuck laugh and a love for sneaking into places where he doesn’t belong  .  catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease  .  still sees his family  .  not as much as a good son would  ,  but he sends cash when he can and looks after his younger sister  ,  makes sure she stays well and clean  .  they don’t know half of what he’s gotten up to since he was let out of prison  ,  but they might have some idea --- after all  ,  who’d pay a crooked boy with a record as well as he seems to be  ?  when the sun starts to come up and he crashes into bed  ,  siwon stares out the window and thinks about how in another world  ,  or in another time he probably could’ve been something  .  could’ve made something great  .  but for now he’s just got a whole lot of anger  ,  raw like a fresh wound he can’t stop picking at  .  

                           ☣  ;  𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔  ?

➤  bonds.  my loyalty to my friends is unwavering  ;   i owe everything to my mentor --- a horrible person who’s rotting in jail somewhere  ;  i fleeced the wrong person and must work to ensure this individual never crosses paths with me  . ➤  flaws.  once i pick a goal  ,  i become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life  ;  when I see something valuable  ,  i can't think about anything but how to steal it  ;  i have a weakness for the vices of the city  . 

       he’s friendly  ,  but he doesn’t make friends easily --- the ones that he has made  ,  he’d do anything for  .  because that’s how he’s gotten this far  ,  right  ?  all those people who looked after him when others tried to stomp him out  .  he’s still close with his teen friends who threw a few grifts with him  ,  gaming buddies that he knows only through a screen  .  little escapes from all the other bullshit going on in the world  .  even though he isn’t a club guy  ,  he runs into more than a few faces on his rounds  .  maybe they’re bad influences or sweethearts who help that touch starved affliction that comes from living in a city so wired  .  on the flip side  ,  there’s some enemies --- competitors in the runner world  ,  antagonists he meets at the races or rings for whatever reason  (  insane bets make tempers run hot  ,  who knows when they’ll flare for good and siwon’s learning the hard way how to keep his mouth shut  )  .  he’s fixed up a few cars or weapons for people recently because he misses working with his hands  .  y’know  ,  making nice  .  then there’s people he’s caught in a crossfire with  ,  where they’ve met something nasty one too many times before over turf  ,  territory and clients  .  a newer face to the ghouls  ,  he’s bugged someone into mentoring him  ,  and gone on a few runs with someone he loves to call a coworker  .  

       eager to prove himself as more than a green kid with a keyboard and an eye for detail  ,  find him cutting deals and making trades in smokey barbecue houses  ,  hole-in-the wall ramen shops or by taco tents  .  a full bellied class of clients are happy clients in his opinion  ,  and siwon isn’t above not making deals with the other groups who’s names aren’t violent delights  .  speaking of which  ---  there are definitely some skeletons there he aims to confront  ,  some old demons to fight from that class of people that fucked him over  .  there’s an ex lover in there somewhere  ,  probably met in that pre-prison childhood phase when he mingled past class lines more  ( ~1.5-2 years ago )  .  someone he’s healthily fearful of for whatever reason  ,  and maybe a vendetta against the family that scammed his parents out of their business and basically sent his life spiraling  .  there’s someone who isn’t what they seem  --- he doesn’t know who they really are  ,  and maybe they don’t know who he is  ,  either  .  they’ll learn eventually  .  someone he’s protective over  ,  someone who protects him in ways he doesn’t even know  ,  and those he looks after because they grew up on the same side  .  desperate for connection  ,  desperate for a place  ,  he finds it all in heaven and hell  .

[artificialqueens]

Trick or Treat (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: Vanessa takes her sister trick-or-treating, and Brooke answers the door. Cue Vanessa doing anything she can to knock on Brooke’s door again. Please leave some feedback if you’d like!

—

“Isn’t 12 kinda old for trick-or-treating?” Vanessa asks Izzy.

“Isn’t 25 kinda old to spend Halloween watching Hocus Pocus?” her sister shoots back, plastic pirate sword swiping at Vanessa’s face. “And Mom said you have to take me.”

Vanessa resists the urge to take credit for teaching Izzy to read so finely when the read is directed at her.

“Fine. But make it quick. Silky and A’keria are coming back with my pizza soon.”

—

They make their way up the apartment building as brightly-wrapped candy piles into Izzy’s pumpkin. Izzy pounds her fist on a white door, and Vanessa notices the person answering for the first time. She has to crane her neck just to see the blonde’s face, wide pink lips contrasting smooth, fair skin and bright green eyes. Her lips stretch into a smile.

“Trick or treat!” Izzy bellows. The woman laughs and tells Izzy how great her costume is as she offers her a skull-shaped bowl overflowing with king-size candy bars.

Blondie’s got the good stuff, Vanessa notes.

“You, um, you live on the 7th floor, right?”

It’s several seconds before Vanessa even realizes the woman is talking to her.

“Apartment 712!” Vanessa shouts. Shit. What is she doing? This woman is a tornado tearing through her usual supply of smooth lines and flirty grins, and all Vanessa can do is grit her teeth and hope it looks cute as Izzy pulls her away before she even learns the woman’s name.

Now I gotta knock on this bitch’s door again–

She looks over at Izzy, lifting her pirate eye patch to examine her jumbo Snickers that could feed a family of four.

Bingo.

—

Silky and A’keria sit at the kitchen table expectantly, munching on pizza, when Vanessa trots in, thinking of how she can get Izzy to agree to this scheme.

She hands her sister the largest slice of pizza in the box, flourishing her hand so the cheese stretches like it always does on TV, figuring food is a decent bribe. She’ll use money as a last resort. Izzy’s 12, five bucks is probably enough to get her to do anything. What’s a 12-year-old need money for anyway?

Vanessa keeps her tone casual. “Hey Izzy, you wanna put on my old witch costume and go back to the 6th floor? They had some good shi–stuff down there.”

Izzy raises an eyebrow, one of Vanessa’s own gestures directed at her, like looking in a mirror. “Is this ‘cause you want to talk to that tall-ass blonde?”

“Tall-ass blonde?” A’keria inquires, head turning like it’s on a spring. “The one that works at that dance studio across the street?”

“No!” Vanessa barks before A’keria and Silky can start giving advice, which usually came in the form of roasting her. She doesn’t even know if Blondie likes girls, but that smile, and those eyes… Vanessa has to try. “And you ain’t supposed to swear, Izzy.”

Izzy shrugs. “Don’t tell Mom, and I’ll put on your costume.”

“Deal.”

—

After instructing Silky and A’keria to work on more costumes, Vanessa finds herself back in front of apartment 620.

“Trick or treat!” Izzy calls again.

Blondie extends the bowl once more and Izzy sinks her hands in. Vanessa tries to peek inside the apartment, but Blondie is almost as tall as the doorframe and she can’t glimpse much. The kitchen behind her looks neat, but that’s all she can get.

“Back again?” she asks pleasantly.

“You remember me?” Vanessa bats her eyelashes.

“I wouldn’t forget that face.” Blondie’s cheeks turn pink. “Also, it was only like 10 minutes ago.”

“Right,” Vanessa laughs. “You’ll be seeing me some more tonight. Got tons of siblings. Figured I’d take ‘em one at a time so I don’t lose anyone.”

Maybe it’s the Halloween moon, but her smoothness is returning. The lie flows out with no thought, and just like that, Vanessa’s bought herself another few trips to her door.

“How many more siblings do you have?” Blondie asks, and Vanessa can’t tell if she’s asking out of curiosity or to clock her for the lie. The gleam in her eyes makes Vanessa thinks she’s on to her, but she can hope.

Vanessa does some quick math–never her strength–in her head and figures she can scrape together three more costumes. “Three.”

“I guess I’ll see you soon then.” Blondie smiles shyly.

“Yes, you will.” Vanessa grins back.

—

“How we doing on costumes? We’re gonna need three more,” Vanessa informs them when she’s through her own door, Izzy tearing off a Reese’s wrapper behind her.

“Going old-school with this one.” A’keria holds up a white sheet. “Silky found your old vampire cape, so we can do that one next. And we found your angel costume, but I don’t think you want your sister wearing that.”

“Heck no.” That costume was her pride and joy last Halloween, phone numbers and drinks flying into her hands like she had a magnet. Maybe she could put it on for Blondie–no, that’s way too desperate.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Silky demands.

“I ain’t gonna look desperate!”

“Because dressing your sister in any costume you can find to pretend she’s several different children isn’t desperate at all,” A’keria mumbles dryly as she finishes cutting eye holes in the sheet.

Vanessa shoots her a look and hands Izzy the sheet. “Put it on.”

“I don’t wanna be a ghost,” she whines, “That’s lame.”

Vanessa leans in. “You want more candy?”

A nod.

“Then put it on.”

—

“So, you been in this building long?” Vanessa asks as Izzy digs in the candy bowl. “I think I woulda noticed you,” Vanessa adds, stepping on Izzy’s foot when she rolls her eyes.

“Just a few months. I got a job at a dance studio nearby. I don’t go out much, to be honest, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t noticed me.”

A’keria was right.

“I’m, um, I’m Brooke, by the way,” she continues. “I don’t think I told you.”

“Vanessa.” Before she can stop herself, she throws her arm out, wraps her hand around Brooke’s, and shakes it. Who the hell does she think she is, a white businessman? But the mystery of what her touch feels like is too much to resist, and Vanessa’s heart misses a beat as she meets Brooke’s skin, soft and a little cold in her grasp.

Izzy nudges her, and Vanessa realizes she’s still pumping Brooke’s hand up and down, the blonde’s whole arm shaking with the motion.

“Guess I better go get the next kid,” she says, sadly pulling her hand away.

“Guess so.”

Brooke sounds just as sad to have her hand back.

—

“Alright, vampire is ready to go,” Silky says, gesturing to a cape and white shirt. “We even got some face paint.”

“If you’re doing makeup and everything, I want money,” Izzy insists.

“How much?” Vanessa’s fingers curl around the five-dollar bill.

“Ten bucks.”

Damn. “How about five?”

“In this economy? Please,” her sister scoffs. “I want ten.”

“Fine.” Vanessa parts with the money. She’d pay triple that for another minute with Brooke.

—

As Brooke tells Izzy what a scary vampire she makes, Vanessa finally tears her eyes off Brooke’s face and takes in her clothes for the first time: white Converse, dark jeans roaming up her mile-long legs, and a loose black sweater on top.

“No costume for you?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke shakes her head. “Nah. I was with this dance company for a few years, and after putting on makeup and costumes for hours every night you kinda need a break.”

“I get that.” Vanessa nods. “I do people’s makeup all day, sometimes I don’t even wanna do my own after.”

“I think you’d be beautiful either way–not that it’s any of my business, of course,” Brooke offers.

“I could let it be your business,” Vanessa winks mischievously.

“Are you gonna move? I want candy!” someone yells, and Vanessa whirls around to face an irate, waist-high Captain America, shield raised menacingly.

“Sorry.” Vanessa pulls back into the hall. “I’ll be back,” she calls to Brooke.

“I’ll be waiting.”

—

“This is your last chance, V,” A’keria warns. She hands Izzy the princess dress and Silky scrubs off the face paint. “You’re out of fake siblings, unless you want to tell this woman you adopted a child in the last hour. Just give her your da–dang number already.”

“I know, I know.” She digs through her junk drawer for paper, hoping Brooke won’t mind it’s a sheet from the Disney notepad Izzy left here, the image of Moana staring up at her.

“At least you closed your mouth when you stared at her this time,” Izzy says, tugging on the dress.

“Hey!”

“You know you did it, girl,” Silky insists.

“Probably drooled, too,” A’keria adds.

“I don’t see either of you in a couples costume tonight!” Vanessa snaps. She triumphantly lifts the paper with her phone number like an Olympic medal. “I’m gettin’ my girl.”

—

“This is the last one, huh?” Brooke asks. She sounds genuinely sad about it.

“Yep.”

“Amazing how they’re all the exact same height.” Brooke bites her lip and Vanessa knows she knows but couldn’t care less.

“Yeah, real amazing.” Vanessa grins. “Anyway, I got a little something for you.”

“A treat?” Brooke raises her eyebrows.

“If you want it to be,” Vanessa says coyly as she slips the paper into Brooke’s hand.

“Thank you,” Brooke says sincerely. “And I like the Moana theme,” she compliments.

Vanessa shrugs, straining her neck for last one peek at Brooke’s eyes. “It’s my sister’s.”

“The real one?” Brooke teases and Vanessa can’t hold back her laugh. “Don’t worry, I think it’s kinda sweet,” Brooke reassures her. And then Izzy steps back and the moment is over all too soon, with nothing to do but wait for Brooke to call.

“Well, happy Halloween.” Vanessa shuffles down the hall.

“Happy Halloween.”

—

The sky is dark, the living room still littered with popcorn and candy wrappers from the annual Dreamgirls showing of Hocus Pocus, when the doorbell rings.

She yanks it open with a sigh. “Look, it’s midnight, I ain’t got cand–oh.”

A lacy black dress pops against Brooke’s milky skin, exposing her strong shoulders and the top half of her chest in a deep V that really needs to go a bit deeper. Her lips are red as blood, eager eyes framed in heavy black makeup, blonde hair hidden by the tulle rising from her head.

“Thought you said you didn’t like costumes,” Vanessa manages as her knees turn rubbery, mouth dropping open.

“Well, I had this in my closet, and I thought I’d make an exception for you,” Brooke says, stroking the rubber snake slithering around her neck with black-gloved fingers. “Now, what do you say I take you downstairs and give you a real treat?”