#In memorial of his fairy floss hair

[justjiseoks]

I just woke up to the most horrific message possible…

anyways…. thanks tristan, I will no longer be talking to you ever again.

[rockingrobin69]

Sugary-perfectly-sweet

It was cold in the kitchen. Draco curled around his cup, warming his nose on the steam. His bones felt melted, stretchy, so tired and so sated. Honey-filled veins, candy-floss head. It still felt like a dream when he snuck out of bed, still so far beyond possible it was silly. But now, watching the day break over the old chestnut tree—now was something else. Draco drew a deep breath, closed his eyes.

Potter took his tea sweet: two and a half teaspoons of sugar, far too much milk. Maybe Draco should surprise him. Come back to bed before seven in the morning with a full breakfast tray. He could smile, be horribly tacky, say something like ‘sweet tea for my sweetheart’, all awful and brave. But he didn’t move. Leaned against the counter, shook himself a little. It smelled like Potter here, in his kitchen, in his hoodie Draco stole off the floor. He wondered what it made him, a bit of a thief, a bit his. Perhaps too much. Soft, though, the fabric, and so nice on his bare skin. Draco decided to keep it. He hoped Potter might feel the same way.

The fingers of the old chestnut tree waved in the wind, yellowy-orange. Leaves littered the whole garden almost on purpose. Like Potter in his mind, everywhere-everywhere-everywhere, colourful and strangely sweet. Draco tried shaking himself back, making his cotton-wool-head work. It was too early. Maybe he should go back to bed, slide under the heavy duvet, back to Potter’s intense heat. Maybe he could wake him up, make him say all those things again, in the light of day. Make him mean it. Maybe he’d be brave enough to do it.

But he kept standing there, holding a long-cold cup of tea. Too happy and too scared. Bare feet on cold tiles, real, here, real. Maybe it was enough for now.

He could feel it still, the ghost of Potter’s gentle touch on his skin. Warm, hungry fingers, tiny kisses sprinkled everywhere. Draco’s hand rose, automatic, to trace their path: behind his ear, the back of his neck, slipping down beneath the hoodie. His toes curled on the floor, heating from the memory alone, from the feeling of Potter in his honey-blood, in his fairy-floss-head, in his dream-filled-eyes—

No, it was actually Potter, the real one, shimmering in the new light. “Hey,” he said, pyjama bottoms with no top, hair mussed and incredibly, destructively handsome. Draco blinked for a long moment.

“Aren’t you cold?” Potter asked, coming closer. Slotting behind him like the most natural thing in the world, as if they belonged like this, together. “C’mere. God, you smell good.” Then, after a beat: “I thought—when I woke up, and you were gone. I thought…”

Draco turned around, swallowed the gasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Potter didn’t answer, just buried his face in Draco’s neck. Soft and impossibly real, impossibly bright, like the start of a new day. Sweet and so warm.

(First day of @flufftober! find all Robin’s Flufftober ficlets here or on AO3! )

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cotton Candy Day 

Head over to your local funfair for an airy, spun-sugar treat or whip up creative cakes and cocktails like cotton candy cupcakes and fairy floss martinis.

There exists in the world small clouds of utter delight, floating multicolored strands of spun-sugar all wrapped around a stick or served in a bag. Everything from the machine the produces this treat, to the men and women who operate it, and the very flavor it leaves in your mouth is purely magical.

When a treat has gained notoriety around the world and utterly defines what it means to attend a country fair, you know that it deserves a holiday of its very own. That’s where National Cotton Candy Day comes in, celebrating this best of the bestest treats!

Learn more about National Cotton Candy Day

Do you have a sweet tooth? If so, you’re going to love National Cotton Candy Day! You may think that the only type of people who don’t love National Cotton Candy Day is the dentists of the world! However, you may be surprised to learn that it was dentists who invented cotton candy, to begin with. Back in the day, it was known as fairy floss. Today, it is the go-to snack when going to a county fair. For most people, their childhood memories would simply be incomplete without this sugary delightful treat.

There are a number of different reasons why we can’t seem to get enough of candy floss! The main reason is that candy floss is essentially made from sugar, with the dye simply transforming the appearance of it. Who doesn’t like sugar? Another reason why we love candy floss is because of the appearance of it! It has a fun and exciting image. Did you know, though, that a cotton candy thread is thinner than a strand of human hair? Just because candy floss is thin does not mean it cannot be long. The longest cotton candy stretch over 1,400 meters. It was created back in July of 2009.

You may also be surprised to learn that cotton candy has different names all around the world. We love the name it has in France: barbe à papa. This means papa’s beard. It is known as suikerspin in the Netherlands, which means sugar spider. In Finland and Australia, it is still known as fairy floss. Moreover, in the UK, it is called candy floss, rather than cotton candy. If you are going to make your own cotton candy on this day, you may even want to come up with your own name for it!

History of National Cotton Candy Day

The history of National Cotton Candy Day is, quite simply, the history of cotton candy itself, and to find that history we’re going to have to dig a bit deeper than you might imagine. Unsurprising considering the number of names that the treat itself is known by, including candy cobwebs, hawai mithai, candy floss, and our personal favorite, fairy floss. So what are the origins of this treat? Well, it all depends on who you ask.

Cotton Candy is often suggested to have come into existence as a form of spun sugar in 19th century Europe, and back then it would have been as precious as gold. While today’s technology allows us to produce cotton candy with a simple machine and a little time, the process would have been incredibly labor-intensive and no doubt expensive, leaving Cotton Candy as the treat of the financial elite. Unsurprising considering that it was hand-spun at the time… Yes, you heard that right, by hand.

In 1897 the world of spun-sugar came to the masses when John C. Wharton and a dentist friend of his William Morrison (we’ll let you take a moment to suck in that irony) created a machine to make Cotton Candy and presented it at the 1904 World’s Fair. Since then it has exploded throughout the world and can be found in almost every culture you can imagine, from America to the Distant East.

How to celebrate National Cotton Candy Day

Celebrate National Cotton Candy Day by getting your favorite flavor and sharing it with friends. Ok, we’re just kidding, don’t share it, just eat it up until you can’t eat another bite, and write your dentist an apology note. Or, given that a dentist invented it, perhaps it’s you who deserves the apology note, hmm?

There are so many fun activities that you can try on National Cotton Candy Day. Of course, the goal is to always eat some cotton candy! But how about making your own? There are a lot of great recipes online that you can follow. Typically, you are going to need some food coloring, flavored extract such as raspberry extract, salt, water, corn syrup, and sugar. Recipes can differ, but these are the sort of ingredients you are going to need. You can have fun experimenting with your own candy floss recipes, and even more fun when you eat them afterward.

There are lots of exciting dessert recipes that call for the use of candy floss as well. This includes everything from cotton candy s’mores to cotton candy donuts and cupcakes! Sounds pretty delicious, right? The suggestions don’t end there either! You can make fairy floss whoopie pies, fairy floss ice cream sundaes, and much more!

Or, how about creating your own candy floss cocktail? There are lots of delicious options here too! This includes cotton candy champagne cocktails, prosecco and gin candy floss cocktails, and fairy floss martinis. There is something for everyone. Plus, if you are having friends around these sorts of drinks are certainly going to impress.

Source

[sluttyminghao]

✧ pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader ✧ word count: 4k ✧ genre: smut, a bit of comedy ig? friends to lovers plot                                                        ✧ contains: best friend!vernon, reader is a huge overthinker, soft dom!vernon, oral (f. receiving), vernon cums on reader’s stomach lol ✧ a/n: written for @hotgirlvernon bc i promised a ftl vernon fic, but also i rlly enjoyed writing this!! i hope u love it!

taglist: @hotgirlwonwoo, @hotgirlmingyu, @hotgirlvernon,  @98-liners, @leeseoksmile​, @underratedlovedone​

please let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

“Vernon! Over here!”

Your best friend’s head popped into view and he jogged towards you through the throngs of people. You had to stifle your laugh as he stumbled over his feet in his haste to get to you but was silenced quickly by him running into you and pulling you into a hug.

He was warm and you could smell his cologne, it drifted over you and you felt a sense of comfort wash over your body at the familiar scent. “I’m so glad you decided to come with me to the carnival, I had to bring my best friend!” Vernon piped up, tousling your hair before slinging his arm around your shoulders and walking in the direction of the food stands.

Vernon had practically dragged you to your town’s annual carnival, only after he gave you his best puppy dog eyes. You have to admit, your heart definitely did skip a beat when his eyes lit up in excitement when you reluctantly gave in to him, but you would never tell him that.

He had become your friend in high school, standing up for you after some kids decided you would look good with a milkshake poured over your head. He had taken you to the bathroom, cleaned you up as well as he could and even given you his sweater to wear until the end of the school day.

You had been inseparable since.

“Hey!! Come back to earth!” You blinked rapidly and shook off the memory, following Vernon in a post-dream daze. The sun was beginning to sink over the horizon, a hue of pinks, purples and oranges painting their way through the sky. It was almost dreamlike, and felt even more like a dream when you felt Vernon lace his fingers through yours; something he had always felt comfortable doing with you.

Your heart began racing when he tugged you along, almost pulling you into his back. Your eyes widened with glee at the sight of the food stalls, colourful rides and stuffed animals that were abnormally large. There were so many things to do, yet somehow there wasn’t enough time to do it all.

Vernon pulled you to a bunch of rides first, “so that you don’t feel sick” he said with a grin and practically skipping into the lines. You both chatted about anything and everything that came to your mind, squealed with joy on the rides and Vernon even attempted to take some candid photos for you to post on Instagram.

Now, after riding all the rides twice and eating as much fairy floss and pastry as you could both eat, it was time to start winding down with some of the other slower rides. You had been eyeing off the Ferris wheel for almost an hour, and when Vernon followed your line of sight he immediately pointed and tugged you towards it.

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” He exclaims excitedly, smiling as wide as his face as he joins the short line to get on the ride. Not once did his hand slip away from yours, seemingly getting tighter the closer you got to the front of the ride.

As soon as you and Vernon had been allowed onto the ride he jumped in and patted the spot beside him, eyes crinkling with how wide his smile was. You sat next to him and as if on instinct, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. You hoped he wouldn’t notice your sharp intake of breath, or how your pulse quickened just from his strong arm pulling you in.

“Tonight has been so fun,” Vernon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts for the second time that night, and you hum in agreement. You let your head rest on his shoulder and for another few moments, it’s silent. The silence isn’t awkward though, it’s a nice and comfortable silence that you would share with him often.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as soulmates?” His question makes you look at him incredulously, but his unwavering stare proves to you that his question is genuine. “Well, I guess so?” Your voice tapers off at the end of the sentence, and Vernon prompts you to continue. “I mean, surely there’s someone out there for everyone right? There’s always a yin to the yang kinda…I hope I’ll find my soulmate soon” your voice trails off once more and you feel Vernon squeeze your shoulder, almost like a sign of moral support without saying a word.

“I agree,” he replies quietly, eyes flickering from your face to the city below you. He stayed relatively quiet for the rest of the time you were at the carnival, besides asking if you wanted food or to go on a particular ride. You wondered if you had struck a nerve with the soulmate conversation, but brushed it off for the time being, instead focusing your attention on the giant fairy floss you had been handed.

“It’s getting late, I should probably get you home soon” Vernon pipes up after a while, slipping his phone into his pants pocket and fishing out his car keys. You pouted but agreed anyway, thinking that maybe something had rubbed him the wrong way and he wasn’t in the mood.

The ride home was silent, besides the soft music playing on the lowest setting. He kept his eyes trained on the road, knowing to be extra careful when you’re in the car with him. “Are you okay?” You speak quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peacefulness in the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond verbally but rather nods quickly before turning into your street and parking on the side of the road.

“I had fun tonight with you” Vernon gives you a soft smile and a quick squeeze of your hand. You notice how late it is before directing your attention back to him, not wanting him to be driving the streets. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’m sure I’ve still got some of your clothes here from the last time you stayed over, and we can order something for breakfast in the morning” you spit out quickly, eyeing your best friend for a response.

“I don’t know…I have a bunch of errands to run tomorrow…” he stops, hesitating on his decision before shrugging his shoulders, muttering a small ‘what the hell’ under his breath and stepping out of the car, a grin spreading across your features. He follows you from a short distance, probably texting his roommates that he was staying with you for the night.

 As soon as you unlock the door to your apartment he steps in and takes his shoes off, eyeing the apartment as if something had been changed since he was here last.

“Everything looks different in here” he comments, peeking into each room like he’s an inspector. You can only laugh and drag him to the couch, putting on some weird film and grabbing some snacks for the both of you. He settles next to you and pulls a blanket out to cover your legs. 

You can feel his hand placed carefully on your knee, his thumb grazing the skin softly and causing goosebumps to rise. It was a seemingly innocent act on his behalf, but your dumb brain had to go and overthink things and make the situation seem more sexual than it was. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until your lungs could take no more and you exhaled loudly, garnering Vernon’s attention.

“Getting tired already? The movie is just getting to the good part!” His voice cracked dramatically and you could only laugh. The rest of the evening was filled with mindless chatter over a random bottle of cheap wine you had found at the bottom of your fridge, as well as Vernon’s hand creeping up your leg in small intervals.

By the time the movie had finished, his hand was now grazing your upper thigh, and your heart was racing faster than an F1 car around a race track. You couldn’t help but notice he had also shifted his body so that he was pressed up against the side of you and his breath was lightly fanning against the back of your neck.

It was hard to tell if his movements were intentional or not, and from the outside, it would certainly seem like you were a couple. 

“I should probably get to bed, it’s late and I have some errands to run tomorrow,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair and standing up. You follow his footsteps, down the hallway and into your room where he has already made himself comfortable on your bed, a cheeky grin covering his face.

You were lucky to have a best friend like him, who was comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed as you without wanting anything in return. You turned away from Vernon to change into some sweats and a cropped bra. What you failed to realize was that Vernon was unashamedly staring at your ass, and subsequently, feeling his dick begin to twitch in his pants.

His eyes widened at the realization and he buried himself in his phone in response, inhaling loudly when he felt your side of the bed slump down when you hop in beside him. “It’s been great hanging out with you like old times Vernon,” you smile at him, cuddling into his side and inhaling his slightly musky scent.

Vernon smiles at you and places an innocent kiss on your forehead, settling under the covers and closing his eyes, hoping for dreams of you.

—---------------------------

You tossed and turned for a few hours, not being able to fall asleep. It was a mixture of Vernon’s body being an absolute fucking furnace beside you, and overthinking every single detail that had occurred hours prior while watching the movie with him. You wanted so badly to be more than friends with him, but you were sure he didn’t feel the same.

The bright light of your phone indicated that it was 2 am and you sighed once more, closing your eyes and drifting into a dreamless slumber.

When you awoke the following morning, the sun was blaring its bright beams into your eyes. You grunt as you squint your eyes open, only to halt all movements when you hear what sounds like soft moaning coming from behind you. 

You carefully shift your body so as to not cause a disturbance within the covers, and your jaw goes slack at the sight before you. Vernon had discarded his shirt at some point through the night and you could see his toned torso, seemingly carved by the gods and looking a million times better with the rays of sun pouring onto his milky skin.

In his sleep, he shifted his body so that he was closer to you, and instinctively he wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched and your eyes widened, waiting to see what his next move would be even while unconscious. He let one of his legs drape over yours and that’s when you felt it.

It was normal, you thought, he’s a man after all and he’s going to have these occurrences. It was the first time, however, that you had seen his and you honestly didn’t know if you were shocked or turned on.

Your body made that choice for you.

Your heart raced and you felt yourself begin to throb, your body was heating up and only got faster when you felt him begin to rut against your thigh. A squeak escapes your lips and you feel your panties beginning to stick to you as his cock thrusts weakly against you. You’re torn between watching his face or watching his hips, and you opt for the latter eventually, carefully moving the covers away from your bodies and feeling your body heat up even more, if that was possible.

His boxers gave a great outline of his cock, and you could see a small wet patch beginning to form on the fabric. Your eyes shifted from his boxers up to his face, which seemed to turn the butterflies in your stomach into a rampage of elephants. His eyebrows were slightly pinched together and his lips parted, soft sighs escaping them.

As if the situation wasn’t hot enough, you could feel your ears burn when your name passed his lips in a low moan. Your panties were practically sticking to your skin now, your body felt like it was on fire, and even more so when Vernon peeked his eyes open, noticed the situation he was in and his cheeks immediately turned red.

“I-” Before he had a chance to speak his mind, you crashed your lips onto his. You weren’t sure if it was temptation or you wanted to save himself the embarrassment of trying to explain himself, but it felt good nonetheless. He was stunned by your quick movements at first, but soon fell into a rhythm with you before pulling back and smiling at you dopily.

“You’re a really good kisser” he compliments, hand coming up to stroke your cheek. Just the feeling of his hand on your skin made your heart skip a beat, and by the small smirk that appeared on his face, he knew it.

 “Are we just going to skim over the fact that you were humping my leg in your sleep?” You tease, and you can see an emotion not identifiable to you flash over his eyes before he’s pulling you even closer. You can feel his breath on your lips and he’s staring straight into your eyes, maybe even down to your soul.

“You’re quite oblivious, aren’t you?” Vernon quips; your eyebrow raises but he brings a hand up to silence you before he continues. “I’ve been dropping hints for weeks, no, months, about how much I like you, and it’s only now when I’ve gotten off to you in my sleep, that you’ve noticed?”

You’re stunned into silence by his confession. Now that you thought about it, some of his actions towards you and around you had seemed a little different than normal. Your face heated up at the thought until you were brought back to Earth with Vernon beginning to talk again.

“You know when I asked you about soulmates the other night? That was one of my hints. I guess my hints were forward enough for you…” he trails off, letting his fingers skim across the waistband of your sweats teasingly. Your breath hitches when his fingers dip below the waistband and get dangerously close to your now soaking underwear.

Sucking in a shaky breath, you look him in the eye and let one of your hands crawl up his thigh and rest it against his hip, letting your thumb graze the skin. “If you had been more forward with me, you would have been able to feel how wet I was for you last night” you guide his hand down to your underwear and he lets out a groan.

Vernon’s eyes darken slightly and it’s not long before he’s shifting his body so that he’s hovering above you, strands of hair dangling over his eyes. You watch his eyes dart from yours to your lips, and back up. Without a word, you push yourself up and press your lips to his again, tangling your fingers into his hair.

Without looking, he brings his hands down to your chest and begins massaging your boobs through your shirt, the whimpers and moans escaping you only making his dick twitch. He moves one of his legs between yours and lets himself grind lightly against you, only making your moans seem louder. With a swift movement, he pulls away from your lips and shimmies your shirt over your head, your boobs now in his line of sight.

He’s speechless at the sight of you, eyes widening and tongue peeking out to wet his lips in excitement. You can only giggle and pinch your nipples teasingly, watching Vernon shift and pull his bottom lip between his teeth. One of his hands comes down to replace your hand and cups at your breast, thumbing over your nipple and making your back arch up.

“You look so pretty like this,” he mumbles, briefly pausing his movements to bring his mouth down to your nipple and take it between his teeth, tugging gently. You didn’t think you could soak your underwear anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong. “I wanna eat you out, can I?” His eyes glistened with wonder and excitement, and you can only nod back excitedly.

He brings his attention to your lower body and carefully removes your underwear. Your legs close together instinctively but he knows better and is able to push your thighs apart. “God, you’re so fucking wet” he sounds like a kid in a candy store, his voice filled with awe. You whine and wiggle your hips, getting impatient with how long it’s taking him to put his lips on you.

A small laugh escapes him as he settles between your thighs, his tongue peeking out and experimentally lapping at your folds. When he sees your thighs shake and your whines increase in pitch, he gets a little bolder and circles your clit with his tongue. Hearing your lips spill profanities when he licks over the sensitive bud sends him into overdrive, and the grip he has on your thighs tightens.

When he sucks on your clit though, you can see the fireworks explode behind your eyelids and your ears begin to ring. Your hands weave through Vernon’s hair and tug on it tightly, eliciting a groan from him and only making his tongue work faster over your pussy. “You taste so fucking good,” he moans out between sucks and licks, and your only response to him is pulling his head back to your clit and letting his tongue send you into a mind-blowing orgasm.

As Vernon works you through your orgasm, he makes sure to collect your juices and lets them coat his tongue, savouring the taste. All you can do is bask in the post-orgasm glow with heavy breaths and watch Vernon as he licks his lips and grins at you, before resuming his position above you.

“That was…amazing” you comment, tucking some of Vernon’s hair behind his ear. You look down quickly and take note of the large wet patch on the front of his boxers. “Can I return the favour to you? That looks…painful” you continue, and he merely shakes his head and pecks you quickly on the nose.

“Maybe another time, I just want to make you feel good now,” he replies, quickly standing up to discard his boxers to the end of the bed. Your eyes widened when you saw the length of his cock, slapping up onto his taut stomach. He wasn’t overly thick but the length was enough to make you gulp and your pussy began to throb once more.

He grins when he drinks in the sight of you from his view at the side of the bed; hair messy and eyes glassy, your body trembling from the orgasm. He climbs back into bed with you and hovers over your naked body, and can’t resist leaning in and pressing his lips to yours heatedly.

When he pulls away from you he leans down and begins to guide his cock towards your pussy. Teasingly, he slaps the tip of his cock against your clit to watch you jolt and whine, before letting the head slide in.

He groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him and momentarily stops to take the feeling in. “You’re so tight,” he moans out, his head dropping to the crevice of your neck and leaving soft kisses on the skin. 

“You feel so good, make me feel…full” your mind is already in overdrive and slowly turning to mush, especially so with his sweet comments and how his cock was already hitting all the right spots inside of you. Your hands move to his back and your fingernails dig into the flesh, a hiss escaping Vernon at the feeling.

When he bottoms out inside you, he can’t stop himself from teasing your nipples and tugging on them with his teeth. He can see how sensitive you’ve become and doesn’t want to drag it out any longer, so when you stare at him with big doe eyes and tell him to move, he doesn’t need to be told twice.

His thrusts start shallow and slow, both of you getting used to the feeling. It’s only when you dig your heels into the small of his back and your fingernails are pressing against his shoulders that he begins to pick up the pace, thrusts now getting rougher but not hard enough it hurts you.

You can barely comprehend anything he’s saying to you, let alone string together words to form sentences. He has you drunk on his cock and probably doesn’t even know it. Your overthinking mind has been put to the side temporarily and you’re finally letting yourself live in the moment, not caring about any potential consequences. 

He’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but they slowly begin to fade out and your ears begin ringing at the feeling of your second orgasm creeping up quickly. He can tell you’re getting close by the way your walls are fluttering, and it’s getting harder and harder for him to maintain his composure, especially with his own orgasm chasing after him.

Vernon can sense you’re tipping into the tail end of your orgasm and it’s just within your grasp, so he decides to tilt you into your orgasm by pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing in slow circles. The moan that comes from your lips at the feeling and your orgasm washing over you sends Vernon into his own orgasm, pulling his cock out and milking his cum all over your stomach and thighs.

He falls next to you with heavy breaths and a goofy smile on his lips, and he’s pulling you in close. “Let me get something to wipe you up” he speaks quietly, briefly getting up and heading to the bathroom for a washcloth. He returns moments later and gently cleans the cum and sweat from your body, an endearing smile taking over the goofy one.

When he’s cleaned you up, pulled his sweats up your legs and given you his shirt to wear, you wonder where you both sit now. Will you remain friends? Is it going to turn into a relationship? You don’t realize how much you’re overthinking until Vernon snaps his fingers in front of your face to garner your attention.

“I’ve been thinking…about us…and I think I want to be able to get to know you on a deeper level” he states, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your hip. You can see he looks a little nervous asking, his teeth chewing his lip in anticipation of your answer. 

“I think that sounds like a great idea, and I would love to be able to continue doing this with you” you reply, and you swear you’ve never seen Vernon’s face light up as much as it had now. He cups your face with his hands and brings you in for the sweetest kiss the two of you had shared.

[bitch-butter]

1, please, because it's a classic h/c line and I love it

A classic, love that Energy~

1. Shh, it's ok. I'm here

“Hello?”

“I’m losing it.”

Not the most graceful way to open a call, but then Joe has never considered himself the most graceful motherfucker on the planet. Certainly not now, with his hands shaking like a tree in the wind, his guts feeling as weak and spindly as floss knotting up and turning into gauzy clots, hairballs of stress stopping him up like a soggy drain.

“Joe?” Web’s voice echoed down the line, bouncing around his ear like a voice in a seashell.

Huffing, Joe fought not to physically kick out at the wall beside the phone. “Who else would it fucking be?”

“What’s wrong?” the other man pressed immediately, voice lowering as the sound of shuffling rattled through, the sound of Web likely ducking away, finding somewhere dark, quiet.

“You get calls like this often? Why do you always have to make sure it’s me?” Joe continued on, irritation biting through his voice.

The sound of a sigh made its way through, and he couldn’t be totally sure whether he wanted to be there to see Web’s fucking face or whether he wanted it somehow even farther away. 

“What’s wrong?” Web asked again, slow and patient.

Joe chewed his lip, one hand coming up to shield his eyes as he slumped against the wall. He needed to try to be quiet, accounting for his new upstairs neighbors and the unusually silent landscape of the first floor, but all he wanted to fucking do was let fly through the phone, vomit this particular strain of bile out and send it through and make Web clean it up. Anything to get it out of his own body, away from his head that was already beginning to pound with the pressure of choking it all back into rough hisses.

“Lieb?” Web urged again, and just the gentle press of his voice, like a swell on the shore, made up his mind that if he wanted anything else for the rest of his goddamn life it was to have him here. He’ll take his stupid patient expressions, the put-upon niceness of his eyes when he’s looking at Joe splitting apart, he'll take it all just to not be alone like this.

Pulling in a hard breath, he kept his eyes covered. “I can’t talk about it to them,” he said roughly, the admission sitting like a ball of fire in his neck. 

“About what?”

“About the fucking -” he started, harsh, hand clawing up in the air before pounding dully, once, on the wall beside the box. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Ribs, trains, the smell, it lived close under his skin, virtually a muscle memory.

Silence fizzed through his head, and he shifted on his feet like an animal in a cage, shaking the tension out of his shoulders only for it to take up residence in his stomach. 

“Joe,” Web said finally, before a strange exhale of a sound. “You don’t have to talk about it to them.”

“I do, they’re my family.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Joe ground out. “They’re fucking asking me questions, I don’t want any questions, I’m fucking, I’m…” he pulled in a thin, wobbly breath and tightened up a fist against the continued shaking of his hands.

“Listen, will you take a breath?” Web said, maddening and solid. “Breathe.”

He wanted to fight, but he wanted to breathe more, and pulled in a long breath that sat in his chest like water. Letting it escape in a long spiral, he closed his eyes again, throat feeling dry, cracked.

“Web…” he started, before losing the thought, getting himself lost in the other man’s name, the memory of his face, the thought of how bad he didn’t want to be alone burning up behind his eyes. “I’ve lost it.”

“Shh, Joe,” Web hushed through the phone, the warm distilled by miles upon miles of telephone wire. “It's ok. I’m here.”

“You’re not,” he bit, hating the truth and hating that he had to say it.

Pausing once more, Web’s voice faded off into the snowy cascade between them. “Will you indulge me for a second?” he asked, not waiting to hear Joe's reply before he continued. “Just imagine I am there, alright? Imagine I’m right there with you.”

Nose scrunching up at the absurdity of the request, Joe’s mouth half opened to tell him to take his fucking fairy tales somewhere else, but his tongue was flat, his face dried up and hot and losing steam to make way for the long, long, spread of cold over his heart. Silently, stubbornly, he closed his eyes against it once more and nodded.

“Ok,” he breathed out, still rough.

He made himself see Web, standing there just beside him, made himself picture the lines of his neck, the dimmed blue of his eyes, the tall, beautiful breadth of him. It hurt to see, it hurt to think about.

“I have my hand on your neck, and then in your hair,” Web said, soft, and his voice seemed to be becoming more and more clear the longer Joe let himself feel, let the gentle sparks of his imagination take the familiar shape of Web’s hand, petting through his hair, smoothing down his scarred neck. “You can let it go. Let it leave.”

Joe shuddered, muscles clenching up before releasing with a forced exhale as he continued feeling Web’s hands, letting them ghost over his neck, his face. “How?”

“Let me take it, I’ll hold it for a while.”

A disparaging laugh got caught up in his mouth, his eyes opening to look tiredly into the shabbily painted wall. “If you were here -”

“I am here,” Web said, finite.

[ineloqueent]

o lady moon

Brian May x Reader

cannot remember where this gif is from. if it’s yours, drop me a line!

synopsis: for all of Brian’s perceptiveness, he just can’t seem to understand that you could love him.

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1974

It was late, but then again, if it hadn’t been late, you wouldn’t have been able to see the stars, and then the point of your excursion to the outskirts of town would have been void.

There was going to be some sort of meteor shower or another, and Brian, of course, would have risked his life to see it. In fact, he had already risked both his life and your own twice this night, because he was reading the map as you drove, and relying on the fairly-dim glow of the winter moon to be his guiding light. He yelped instructions at the last second, forcing you to make hairpin turns and hope that the road wasn’t slippery, because you were on the universe’s schedule.

But though lives were risked, they were not lost. Eventually, your little car pulled into a muddy parking spot in Morden Hall Park, a place which boasted an impressive dark-sky spot, for being only a thirty-minute drive from central London.

Brian was out of the car faster than you could’ve said “Geminids,” and you laughed to yourself at his unsuppressed enthusiasm as the car door slammed and the boot opened, and Brian lugged out the supplies he’d packed.

“Come on!” he called to you, barely waiting up as you slung on your scarf and locked the car.

You followed his striding gait, albeit with a little difficulty. You caught up to him just as he crossed a bridge and made for a grassy clearing, where the trees rustled silver-toned leaves in the dark of night, and daphne grew like starbursts.

The picnic blanket was soon deposited on the ground, and Brian himself atop it, lithe and elegant, with his arms folded behind his curly head, and his eyes already upon the sky.

With an amused smile, you settled down beside him.

“When does—”

He made a shushing noise, and you bit back a giggle.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, “When does it start?”

“Any moment now,” he murmured back, and you buried your nose further into your sweater, with a little sigh. Brian, momentarily distracted from the stars by your sigh, blinked at you, then sat up and pulled off his sweater. “You’re cold,” he announced, and pushed the sweater into your hands. Satisfied that you would not try to hand back the garment, he lay back down on the picnic blanket.

You curled your fingers around the cashmere in your hands, and tried not to notice how pleasantly boy-ish the sweater smelled— soap and fresh earth and just a little bit flowery— as you pulled it over your head and became swallowed in the fabric.

You glanced over at your companion as you lay down, observing the soft rise-and-fall of his chest, the pale pink curve of his lips.

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you like the stars so much?”

The smile reached his eyes and lit them as surely as the night sky. “How can you ask?”

Looking back up at the sky, you conceded to his point. “Fair enough.”

There was a silence, then, in which there was only the faint hum of the nearby stream, the cadence of the swaying trees, and the dispersal of your breath and Brian’s, spiralling in ephemeral clouds upon the cool night air.

“Brian?”

A faint note of amusement was in his voice this time. “Yes, Tinkerbell?”

The childhood nickname had stuck with you, equally for your obstinacy and your chattiness, and to hear Brian use it made you a little lightheaded, because his voice was soft and his eyes were too, and you were falling for him harder with every second that passed.

“I don’t see anything.”

He sighed, but it was only with feigned dismay. He shuffled a little closer to you, and to say that your breath did not stutter would have been a lie, as he took your hand in his and raised it to the sky, curling back four of your fingers to leave your pointer arched in the direction of the constellation Gemini.

“There. See it now?”

You refixed your eyes upon the spot he’d held your hand to indicate, determined not to let your disappointment show as his contact ceased.

Then a smattering of starlight sprung from around the constellation, and you stared in wonder at the sight.

Brian, too, let out a little gasp, and as the noise caught in his throat, you once more abandoned your view of the stars to gaze at him.

“Brian?”

He didn’t say anything this time, just turned his head to look at you. When his eyes met yours, a prolonged tingle touched the ridges of your spine, as nimble as Brian’s fingers upon that guitar he loved so much.

Every part of him was so perfect, so disarmingly beautiful, and the words which next came out of your mouth could not have been stopped by an imminent asteroid strike.

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

Brian’s mouth fell open, and his already-wide eyes widened more. “P— pardon?” he balked, his cheeks flush with heat.

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” you repeated, a little louder now, with a strangely acute increase in confidence. You did not know where that confidence came from; you knew only that when he looked at you, you felt invincible.

That strangled gasp revived itself from him, and parted his lips. “Are you… are you flirting with me?”

You felt your skin grow warm as well, and, suddenly shy, your eyes flitted down to your fidgeting hands. “You finally noticed?”

The hitch in his breath was audible, and you could hardly believe that you should be the one to make it so. “Yeah,” he murmured, and your heart beat a little faster. “I noticed.”

When his fingertips brushed the hair at the side of your face, and trailed to rest against your neck, you found yourself struggling to breathe as much as he.

“Would you mind awfully,” said the ever-polite Brian, “if I kissed you now?”

“I’d mind awfully if you didn’t,” you whispered.

In a moment, he had covered your mouth with his, the touch of a rose upon your skin, a wealth of warmth which swept the entirety of your being, as his gentle kiss turned you tender.

The sweetness of his lips was unmatched even by the soft clouds of pink which often graced the summer sky, reminiscent of fairy floss from childhood. Yet, it was mingled with something that spoke of an older love, grown from memories and weighted upon hopes of future kisses, lasting and true, more constant than the abundance of stars above your head.

He kissed with gentleness, but with fervour too, and you weakened beneath the softness of his mouth.

When he finally broke away, it was with one word. It shattered your heart a little.

“Me?”

You shook your head, not understanding. “You?”

“Why me?” he murmured, as the pad of his thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth. “I’m not… I’m not anything special.”

You kissed his fingertip, and whispered to him,

“My love, you are everything.”

And for his smile then, you would have traded the sky.

[sunsetminho]

stardust - h. jisung

summary: the first time you kissed han jisung, he had galaxies in his eyes and rose petals on his cheeks.

pairings: reader x han jisung (stray kids), non idol!au

word count: 0.8k

warnings: nothing much...lots of fluff! a kissing scene :)

the first time that han jisung saw you, you had two pigtails and flowers in your hair.

saw was the only word for it, because twelve-year-old him had never made any attempt to talk to you, even though every time he looked at you he’d find himself stupefied by the glow of your smile, the golden joy that always haloed you.

he told himself that he just wanted to be a bittaller before he talked to you.

two years later, he was still a tiny boy, even for a fourteen-year-old. you became more distant in his memory as he became friends with more of the boys in his class, got into music and sport and art, and stopped thinking so much about—well, you.

it just so happened that you sat next to him in english class the next year, and as quickly as you’d faded out of his mind, you’d reappeared with vigour and an immense amount of energy.

he spoke to you for the first time that year, despite having gone to the same school, even been in the same grade, as you for over three years.

it happened that you already knew his name, and there was no need for introductions.

‘you’re han jisung, right?’

‘h-huh? oh, uh, yeah, you’re y/n.’

‘i am, yeah,’ you’d said, as you flipped through your notebook to find the right section for this class, ‘nice to meet you.’

his crush on you wasn’t sudden, even though he could never pinpoint exactly when it began. he remembered realising it one day, the revelation washing over him like the ocean on a clear summer’s day—it had barely been a surprise, even though he wasn’t sure why the thought felt so familiar; comfortable.

maybe it was after then that he started to notice the little things you would do sometimes. the times you would brush your arm against his whenever you were writing, how every monday, you were always so excited to tell him about your weekend. he’d always listen, and he found your enthusiasm cute; he liked the way your tone would be so bright and your eyes would shine.

when you invited him to the local fair on the weekend, he swore his heart would burst. you were so shy, so soft, in a way he’d never seen you be before, and he’d hugged you and told you of course he’d go with you. he could never forget the euphoria that lit up your eyes in the moments following. he wanted you to look like that all of the time, and he wondered how you could be real, and that beautiful.

*

the first time you kissed han jisung, he had galaxies in his eyes and rose petals on his cheeks.

he had always been so pretty, the prettiest boy you knew, but as the colourful neon glow of the fair at night dusted his bright smile, you felt like you were looking at the moon.

‘jisung,’ you murmured, and he turned to you, eyes wide and attentive with curiosity, ‘can i kiss you?’

he stopped; paused, and replied by gently taking your hands in his, and carefully pulling you closer. just a little.

‘i mean—i don’t want to make you uncomfortable,’ you said, uncertainly, looking down at your joined hands with flushed cheeks, ‘it’s okay if it’s…not okay.’

‘it’s okay,’ he assured her, meeting her gaze shyly, ‘i want to kiss you, too.’

you weren’t sure when it happened, exactly, but slowly the space between the two of you shrunk—the distance disappearing until your lips were touching his.

time slowed; not too much, but just enough to make you feel like you were dreaming. you closed your eyes, leaning into the flavour of fairy floss that still lingered on jisung’s lips.

the fervour of the moment—of having your first kiss—came seconds after the initial softness. your hands broke away from his and found their way to his hair, and you coiled your fingers in the soft strands. the music of the fair around you became quiet against the pounding of your heart, and euphoria crept through your bones until it was all of you, burning your skin like wildfire. his arms circled around your waist and he pulled you closer, as the two of you pulled apart.

your brows were still touching his, noses grazing, and he whispered your name, softly, once—again,when you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

the two of you glowed with newborn stardust, that night.

[yeojaa]

33 and cat cafe 😉😏🐱

❪  💜  PROMPT !  ❫ 

things you said from across the room

Jung Hoseok spends most of his time at the studio.  He’s got an entire generation to shape (you’d laughed at him once when he’d said this, giggled so loudly he’d crowded you until the sound subsided), gaggles of people to teach.  There’s hardly time for him to wind down, settle in for longer than an hour. 

When he’s given the chance, though?  He’ll find you - and your beloved cat cafe.  His favourite place, honestly.  

“What do you want?”  You call in between all the visitors, from past the counter and all the papers you’re always crowded behind. 

He grins - sunshine and summertime - and flicks his hair from his eyes.  It’s the prettiest shade, rich and reminiscent of the espressos you set before him, demanding his thoughts as if he’s some coffee connoisseur and not someone who lives exclusively off Americanos and Sprite.  (You’d convinced him to dye it five weeks into knowing him.  He’d known then, forehead streaked with colour, that he was in trouble.  He couldn’t say no to you.)

“My usual,”  he answers, as if it’s obvious.  He supposes it is, given how often he’s here, seated in the same spot by the window, croissant and green-labelled soda his treats of choice.

He nibbles at the pastry as he works, taps out responses to emails and gets distracted more than once by the shade of your smile, how your hair reflects light in a million glorious patterns.  You pass by once or twice, brush a hand across the washed cotton of his shirt.  It smells like you.  He’d practically had to tear it off your body this morning, insistent he’d leave another but he couldn’t exactly step out of the house without it on.  

You’d disagreed, of course.

“Don’t work too hard,”  you hum.  There’s a certain set to his eyebrows that you always notice, a hard slant that always draws those words forth.

You’re already back to your post, seated pretty on a stool behind the pastry case when he shouts back.  “I won’t.”  

The staff working can only roll their eyes.  Hyuna goes so far as to gag, sticking a finger into her mouth in the universal gesture.  You swat her across the shoulder, cheeks the colour of the raspberry macarons she’s laying out.

Hoseok laughs, eyes crinkling with delight.  

“Can you get a room?”  She demands, though she doesn’t mean it.  She might be your number one fan, the president of your fan club.  (He knows, because she talks about you all the time, builds you up nearly as high as he does.  It’s why he gets along with her so well.)  

“We have one—”  You start, meeting his stare.

He finishes - doesn’t look away.  “—right here.”

The poor girl gags again, stifles sound on the back of her hand as she continues placing delicately layered cakes and delightful goodies.  He can see her shoulders shaking, rolling beneath the neat corduroy apron emblazoned with Purr-fect Pour.  He pushes the limits a little further - both because it’s funny and because he really does want something to satisfy his cravings.

“Can I have some sugar?”  It’s fairy floss, saccharine sweet, enough to give anyone cavities.  You meet his gaze boldly, head tilting in that peculiar way he’s come to adore.  You bite your lip and his heart skips, tripping over its own to feet as he recalls the memory of doing the same.

“Haven’t you had enough?”  Another groan, another laugh. 

Still, you drop off a plate - pistachio mille-feuille and a lemon macaron.

“Sweet enough for you?”  You ask, bathed in afternoon light.  He thinks not - until you’ve pressed a kiss to his cheek.  He’s on a sugar high for the rest of the afternoon.

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 5: anneliese ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2800

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: this one’s kinda super long-ish than usual. and a bit of a filler/character chapter, but I still hope you like it 😊

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha​, @minkwans​, 

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonyoung doesn’t dare kick his feet up onto the antique coffee table now that your grandmother is in the building, despite how much more comfortable it would be to. The way he reclines so deeply gives away his bad habits as he clears his throat and sits up a little better. You’re glad that Soonhee has tasked the ambassador with your princess lessons for a while. Maybe a more relaxed approach might jog your memory.

“So, where did Her Majesty get to last you did this?” He says, flipping open the photo album.

You lean forward, holding your sandwich up and away from the pages. “Uh, great grandparents. So...sixth generation.”

His brows raise. “Only sixth?”

You whine, slumping as he laughs kindly at you, empty of any maliciousness. Since the security breach, you’ve really warmed up to Soonyoung, glad to have someone closer to your age to relate to and learn from. And he’s a great teacher. Patient but firm, not to mention relentless. He told you about his travels across the country and secret stories about Amaide. They gave you a better idea of the kingdom you may end up leading.

You groan loudly - bordering a roar - after mixing up your great, great grandmother with your great grandaunt (once removed) and snap the album shut.

“Soon, spare me. My brain is seizing up.”

He laughs louder this time, eyes vanishing into his round cheeks. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right. Class dismissed.”

You get up and check your phone, noting the time. Maybe you would have enough time to catch the start of Jihoon’s radio show, if you left now. Jihoon did say he wouldn’t mind if you dropped by - inviting you even before you needed places to hide. Tonight might be a good time to? You slide your kitten heels back on, pulling out your earphones. Only now do you realise that there is a constant, soft pattering from the roof - rain. At least Junwoo was driving you everywhere now, so no risk of getting too wet. Your footsteps echo through the embassy, killing the quiet you’d become familiar with in the old building.

“So where are you headed now?” Soonyoung asks, tipping his head at the attendant who hands him his coat.

You shrug your own on, as well as a felted plaid scarf. “Uh, back to campus? I’ve got a friend I wanna visit.”

The blonde checks his watch, eyebrows shooting up into his feathery fringe. “At this time? There are still people at your college?”

“Hmmm. They have a community radio station. Jihoon has a show on Thursday nights.”

“Oh, do you want a lift?”

You slant your head at him as he detours past the front desk down a short and fairly dim hallway, elaborate alcoves set into either side of the wall.

“Sure? Only if you’re going out? Otherwise Junwoo is at my disposal, so to say.” You wave your hand in a dramatic version of your grandmother’s wave.

Soonyoung nods eagerly. “Yeah! I’m meeting up with some friends in Hongdae later on tonight, so leaving a little earlier won’t hurt. Like I told you, I’ve got nothing to do now Soonhee is catching up.”

You grin, jumping for the passenger seat of the dark car Soonyoung indicates to. Darkly tinted windows, an expectation of most cars you get in nowadays.

“So, who is Jihoon? Is he the one you posted about the other day?”

You nod, carefully not looking at him as you gesture to turn right out of the gates. “Y-yeah. Ah, he’s Mingyu’s cousin.”

You flinch at your voice, stuttered and shy. You didn’t need someone else giving you crap over Jihoon. Soon’s eyebrows raise as he purses his lips, humming in thought.

“Huh. Alright.” Okay, he so doesn’t believe you, but whatever. “That’s nice that you have such a close group of friends. They obviously know about the whole princess thing.”

“Yeah. Can’t really hide something this big from people who have known you most of your life, y’know? Grandmother doesn’t know they know though.” You insist, bouncing a little in your seat.

The rain has died down into a drizzle, almost spitting, so Soonyoung turns the heater and the wipers down. But you can already imagine the cold wet seeping into your shoes, tucking them closer to yourself.

“Of course not. Her Majesty would lose it if she knew you’d broken protocol so early on. Secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

His eyes are wide and he’s quite serious about it, a little bit more desperate than you expected him to be. You don’t dwell on it as you tell him to turn again into the east entrance, past a familiar cluster of restaurants.

When he gets to a set of bollards, you sling the door open, fashioning your scarf over your head. “This is me. Thanks Soonie!”

He grins, waving. “No worries! See you next week! Be safe!”

“You too! Night.”

Shutting the door, you dash for the first spot of dry you see, turning to wave him off.

You navigate the dark campus and get out of the lift five minutes before the start of the show. It’s only then that you question whether or not Jihoon would really want you there. You’re just his cousin’s best friend he’s really nice to, maybe a friend of his yourself. You hesitate at studio 2, shifting from foot to foot as you overthink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by and watch one of the shows if you want. Mingyu and Minghao have even been in an episode or two.” Jihoon looks up briefly to smile small.

Quickly, you open the door and claim a seat next to Bumzu, Jihoon’s director and producer for the radio show. He’s quite well known in most circles, being everyone’s music and tech go-to. You put your finger to your lips, unwrapping your scarf from your head. Somehow, Jihoon is too absorbed in prep to notice you come in.

“Ji said I could come by. I hope I’m not in the way.” You whisper, unsure of the standards in the studio.

Bumzu smiles, his rougher edges softening. He passes you another set of headphones, plugging them in. The on air sign isn’t on yet, luckily.

“Not at all. We’re just about to start. Make yourself comfortable.” he murmurs. “Jihoon, we’re good to go. Cameras are rolling.”

You look over to see Jihoon settling in in his classic sweats and slides, despite being filmed.  The host’s eyes slide to you, widening in shock. He motions to you with a wave, brows quirked. You wave shyly, smiling tentatively. The on air light above you buzzes to life and you settle, fond smile pressing at your lips. A subdued but chill jingle plays, male vocals playing to introduce the show.

“Hey everyone, it’s Woozi and welcome to tonight’s Woozi Tunes, your thursday night music fix. We’ve got new stuff from Justin Bieber and our on campus artist, Bumzu.” Jihoon says into the mic, giving a short wave to a camera.

As he chatters about this and that, his eyes slide your way, holding for prolonged amounts of time. Even Bumzu smiles, waving him off subtly. You’ve probably put him off, poor thing.

“So, first up we have Golden by Harry Styles. All thanks to his new mv, which I really recommend watching. Hope you like it.” He turns a few dials and nudges his headphones off an ear.

Jihoon looks straight at you, squinting a little as he smiles. You mirror his actions, shuffling closer while carefully staying out of the various camera shots.

“Bumzu, we’ve got four in the queue, right?”

The producer next to you nods. “Yeah, an ad segment then I’ll open the request lines. So, ten, maybe fifteen minutes till live. Studio audio has been muted.”

You don’t understand any of the small terms being thrown out around you. But you don’t care too much, bundling your scarf closer to your neck in the enclosed room for something to do.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you were coming.” Jihoon says, empty of malice.

You smile but shrug. “Yeah, I ended up finishing pr- uh, study group earlier than I expected and thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

He shakes his head, shuffling his slides back and forth over the tightly woven grey carpet. Beats and patterns wave behind his head, turning the fluorescent halo around his hair neon.

“Not at all. I’m glad you decided to come. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I always enjoy your radio shows, Ji.” You blurt out.

Your jaw drops at your lack of filter, promptly shutting your mouth as your stomach drops and flutters. Wow, maybe Minghao is a bit right - too obvious. His brows quirk, resting his elbow on his knee.

“You listen to it?” He asks.

“Of course I do! I like you-your music taste.” You clench your teeth through your grin.

Wow, you really needed to learn how to filter your brain better. At least you don’t blush easily. You chatter back and forth about the playlist for tonight and his upcoming guests - he has Seokmin and Jeonghan, a mutual friend of Joshua’s, next week to talk musicals and teaching (how they relate, you’re not really sure). You forget Bumzu is even in the room until he gently clears his throat.

“Jihoon, you’re back on in 60.” He calls quietly.

“Oh! Oh right. Thanks, Bumzu.” Jihoon glances back to you, the tips of his ears a fairy floss pink. He’s grinning though. “Psst, do you want to talk more after the show?”

You nod, shooting a thumbs up, casting a glance back up to the time, hearing the end of a Pink Sweat$ song fade out.

He’s more charismatic over radio than you realise, leaning back in his chair and chatting briefly to one of the callers requesting. Still subdued but open, cracking a grin here and there. You check the radio show’s page to see if anyone is commenting on the show tonight - you’re a frequent snooper. Jihoon has quite a few fans, not just on campus. You bop your head along to his rhythmic playlist and listen intently to his callers. Before you know it, Jihoon is hunched near the controls and ending the show.

“Thanks for tuning into another Woozi Tunes on 97.6 fm. Remember, if you want to listen to this episode or any others, podcast recordings and playlists will be available on Spotify. To play us out, a song for, well a friend. An oldie but a good one - Bruno Mars, Finesse. Woozi, signing off.”

You bite your lip to stifle laughter. His favourite artist, your favourite song. You let him murder it the summer of 2018, long after it had come out, just to annoy Mingyu. 

“And… cut. Cameras and audio are off. Another week down.” Bumzu announces, pulling off his headset.

You pull off your own, delicately setting it aside. You give a lone round of applause. “Well done everyone.”

The radio host looks to you, quietly preening as he stands to tug his jacket off the back of his chair. You stay seated out the way as they clear everything away, slotting equipment into draws and wiping down surfaces. There isn’t even any idle chatter between them, but rather than being awkward it’s a moment of peace you didn’t know you wanted. Working, content peace away from everything as of late.

“Jihoon, don’t worry. I’ll finish up.”

Jihoon’s dark brows shoot up. “No no, hyung. We’re almost done.”

“Exactly. There’s not much left and I lock up anyway. You’ve got an early seminar tomorrow. And a guest. You can head off.” The older man insists, his soft edges turning to a stubborn frown.

The younger of the two rolls pretty quick, pushing the keyboard away and nodding. Jihoon’s dark eyes flick to you hopefully as he grabs his keys and wallet from an open draw.

“Alright. Talk tomorrow. Night, hyung.”

You give the older man a wave, bundling yourself up again now that you’re leaving the enclosed space. “Thank you, Bumzu! Good night.”

You head out into the hallway, meandering down to the lift and then the small set of stairs to the entry of the arts building. The rain is heavier as you drift awkwardly, checking your phone and contemplating your journey home.

“How - how are you getting home?” Jihoon asks, flipping his hood up over his dark hair.

You shrug. “Bus. Soonyoung dropped me off, not Junwoo.”

His lips press together as he shows a prolonged nod, kicking at the lino in his slides. You click through for the bus timetable, patting your pockets for your purse. You wonder what he’s waiting for, seeing as he drove here and the carpark for this side of the campus is underground and less than five minutes. He probably had staff parking too because of the radio show.

“Are you busy?” Jihoon asks suddenly, a little sharper than you’re used to.

You shoot him some side eye, tucking your phone away. “What...when?”

“Uh, now?”

You smile, shaking your head and stuffing your hands in your deep coat pockets. “Nope, I’m free.”

His shoulders perk up and he pulls his hood back down. Jihoon’s ears are going a little pink again as he turns back for the stairs further into the building. You feel the tentative excitement rolling off him, rubbing off on you so that you mirror his frame, your own shoulders tucking up around your ears. Every shuffle of your feet echo and the light sensor above you flashes red.

“Do you want to see my new song? I know you haven’t had the chance to see much of them.”

You’d mentioned - gently hounded, you hoped would be the best alternative term - before that you would be excited to hear some of his stuff. You’re already on your way back to the lifts.

“Absolutely! Lead the way.”

You lean over the soundboard, listening intently to the demo track. His voice is distinct, so unlike what you thought it might be. Still, it's versatile and powerful when combined with the lyrics. The beat is steady and you bounce your head along.

You glance to him, leant back in his seat watching you. "You wrote this? Like, all of this?"

He hums. "Yeah. It’s the track I got an HD for.”

Jihoon's arms are crossed and you feel bad that he has to feel defensive with you. You smile then gasp when the pretty singing becomes fluid rapping. His gaze turns with your reactions, concerned. Finally, you pull off the headphones as the minute and a half closes.

"I - singing, rapping! Composing? This is amazing, Ji! I'm so glad your major is music, otherwise your talent would be wasted for sure." You proclaim.

He ducks his head and fluffs at his hair with a smile. Jihoon seems unable to look at you and you let the bashfulness slide - not. You nudge at his chair so it spins.

"Wah, you act like no one has ever said that before!"

"I - it sounds a little different coming from you." he shrugs, still not looking. "Most of them are a little amazed or they're assessors with a job of picking it apart."

You nod and sigh. "Makes sense. Still. I hope you keep that track. I'd listen to it."

Jihoon beams before his sight slides to the digital clock sitting on a shelf - how very retro and efficient - eyes widening as he sits up straight.

“I - It’s almost midnight. We better head out.”

You can’t help but pout, standing up to push your chair in. “Yeah I’ve, of course, got princess things to attend to. Bumzu said you have class, don’t you?”

His slim fingers peek out of his navy sleeves, flying across the keyboard to turn everything off. “Uh-huh. I’m supposed to be doing the readings on it now, but It’s a pretty lax class so I should be able to get away with it.”

Your mouth is flapping silently like a fish, unable to form any coherent speech to reply with. Something not scolding, nor a joke, seeing as he’d just sacrificed his valuable study time to entertain you. Then he’s in the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch.

“Are you coming, Princess? Or am I leaving you in the dark?” Jihoon looks at you expectantly.

You gasp - mostly at the teasing name - and scuttle after him, breaking out into the dingy hall, yellowing walls and all. “I - yeah, sorry! Let’s go.”

(If Jihoon sings along to the radio on the way to yours, you don’t say anything. You’re grateful that he does the same for you when the Top 40 segment comes up in the thirty-five minute trip.)

[authorafterhours]

MadaSaku: Oceans of Pink Camellias

Inspired by this scene, I honestly wanted some old fashioned male pining. :D A short piece that I may or may not continue in the future.

     As he pulled away from the offered neck, licking his lips, Madara took a moment to curse his contemporaries for the criminally weak state they forced upon him. Obito staggered back once released and he snapped his arm out to catch him lest the man finish his fall. A distaste filled him at his…lapse in control as he helped situate his thrall to sit comfortably beside him on the bed. Once he had regained enough of his bearings, Obito reached out for the glass of water set on the bedside table and drank deep before he began to nibble on the small tray of snacks to help replenish himself. Ever since he had freed him, the man had proved useful, helpful even, almost to a fault. He would need to remedy that. Still, he ran his fingers through his hair and watched as more color bled back into existence, he was grateful. His recovery was slowed by the fact he only had one source to feast upon, but he set aside his frustration and instead took the opportunity to think, to plan.

      As far as he knew his enemies had long since returned to dust, a respite he was never to be granted unless someone strong enough tried and succeeded. Something Madara certainly didn’t plan on making easy. Still, that knowledge did not make the resentment, the anger, the pain…the despair, fade, no, instead it festered like maggots under his skin. Unconsciously he brushed his leg, as if some of the grave dirt still lingered even now. He did not look at Obito, as he hadn’t since he made sure the wound was clean and sealed.

     “Forgive me.” His gruff tone only earned a waved hand as the human was just finishing off his drink.

     “Don’t worry about it.” Obito struggled for a moment to find the words, he was never good at comforting people and that included undead ancestors it turned out. But still, he wasn’t one to not try. “Besides, you’ve gotten way better about it since I first freed you.” Madara looked up and side-eyed him for a moment before he deemed the answer satisfactory and glanced at the mirror on the nearby vanity. Even now, his own reflection still jarred him from time to time as silver was used less and less in the creation of mirrors these days. White still tinged his hair and there were still wrinkles that stubbornly clung to his skin but he felt and looked far more hale than he had been a few days prior, a near dead wraith that had crawled out of his prison, and had prompted a high-pitched scream from his descendant. The memory alone had him stifling a smirk and summoned a distant ringing in his ears. Maybe it was something in his expression or maybe an unknown side effect of their session but Obito seemed to know what he was thinking about and huffed, rolling his eyes at him. “Yeah yeah, rub it in why don’t ya?” He stood up and stretched before he grabbed the tray. “Anything else?”

     “…Open the curtains on your way out…please.” Given that the season was in the throes of winter, the brightest thing to greet him was the fading snow dusting the streets below. Clouds grew thick and fat in the sky overhead which would no doubt replenish the city’s supply. Once the door was shut, Madara carefully stood up and made his way over to a chair sat by the windowsill and peered out. Hooves clomped noisily down the cobbled street, street lamps were lit in some parody of time keeping as dusk had failed to swallow a sunlight that never came, and the hats that bobbed were bowed as their owners tried to outpace nature. Like ants, Madara supposed, time changed people little. They still scurried. Among the bleak bricks and extravagantly dressed shop displays, a burst of spring parted the crowds and for the first time in centuries his heart began to pound, and his lungs filled all at once with a nearly forgotten gasp. He was out of his seat before he was consciously aware of it, clawed hand pressed against the glass.

     Impossibly Sakura stood at a corner, awaiting a carriage as if she didn’t just stroll out of his memories, uncorrupted by time and space. The sight of her breath, soft puffs against the oncoming night, evidence of her continued existence through those petals she called lips nearly made him choke up. She was alive.

She was here.

      She tucked a few strands of her flyaway fairy floss hair behind her ear, unveiling her eyes that surely the fae blessed themselves, and the urge to go to her, to take her in his arms again and hold the closest thing to heaven he ever beheld seized him by the throat. Just as he was about to—do what? Leap from the window in naught but his dressing gown? Phase onto the street and sweep her off her feet? He knew not, but the reflection in the glass stopped him short. Mismatched hair like salt and snow on asphalt, wrinkles worn like tree bark, teeth sharp and fresh with the flush of feeding, and eyes the shade of red that could not be found in nature. Black-tipped claws scratched lightly on the pane as he recoiled and ducked to the side, almost certain that the unsightly had been seen.

     After a moment or two, he could no longer resist, and cautiously sought her out once more, shadowed behind the edge of the curtain. A stake would have been preferable for how her gaze pierced him! Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, lips pursed, an old ache throbbed as he recalled happier times, her buried in a book by the brook under the summer sun and he, by her side, hands brushing. Had his bodily functions not already ceased some time ago, he would have worried they would at the thought of Sakura seeing him this way. She could not and for a while he dared not move. Involuntarily his breath came, and it came easy, when her attention tarried elsewhere. Something inside twinged as she hailed down a cab, and the coachman helped her climb inside the carriage. Madara watched them disappear into the darkening streets, and for the first and likely only time, he thanked his captors for the patience he had cultivated. He had waited this long…he could do so for a little while longer. The curtains were pulled shut, and he reminisced on what it had been like to be loved by her…and dreamed of when she would love him again.

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 12

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @tyuuniverse)

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever. (I suck at summary’s)

Each day that goes by, his wounds start to heal. Bones start to go back into place, each cut scabbing over, some like the one on his cheekbone turning into another scar. Each time he lifts his body, Excruciating pain doesn’t flood him. Each step growing easier as the date go by. But the one thing that grows more painful, is his heart. Each time he thinks of her, a pain shoots through his heart as he remembers. Each time his face rubs across his silk pillowcase, it brings him back to the softness of her dress that she wore countless times. The feel of the warm bedding surrounding him reminding him of the warmth she had whenever she would hug or lean into him. Each night he dreams of her soothing laughter. But as if his brain wants him to suffer, he simultaneously hears her scream out when the blade cut into her back. The two images of her warm smile gracing her face, and the look of shear pain and hurt when he found her in the bathroom. Any touch to his lips reminding him of the feel of her lips on his. The warmth that once flooded him whenever he thought about her, now a deep pain, that almost feels hollow. Each day he sinks further and further into pain due to thinking of her. Pain and anger fueling him each time. ‘Why, why does she do it? She knows it’s not right. She knows the difference.’ He thinks. Thoughts flossing his head of the what if’s, all the times he should have known, and all the confusion flooding him. He had been raised from birth to kill, not knowing anything different until he was 10. She knows that she shouldn’t do this, that taking a life is not the answer. But she does it anyway. Why, why was the one person he fell for, had to be fighting the same battle, but on the other side?

He’s very thankful, each person in the house coming to aid in his recovery. Tim even coming in to give him a bowl of pumpkin soup. And each one being either kind enough, or too afraid to bring up the situation at hand. That is until today.

Damian sat in his bed as he red Thus Spoke Zarathustra. The soft tick of his clock, along with his breathing creating a soft background in the room. That is until footsteps come to his door. A soft knock of 3 and a pause, along with 2 more knocks telling him who is at the door. Since Damian was young and first living at the manor, he’s had a fear of someone coming into his room that he doesn’t know. Reminding him of the days when he’d be fast asleep, and a member coming in with sword in hand to train him as instructed by his mother. So each member of the family created their own specific knocks to alert him of their presence. Even though he’s learned over the years who it is by their footsteps, he finds it kind they keep the tradition up after all these years. The door opening as Damian turns his head to be greeted by dick. He had been staying for a few days to help with Damian, and to help on a case for their father. “Hey Damian, how you feeling today?” Dick asks, eying the sharp scab that runs down his cheekbone. “I’m feeling much better today, thank you.” Damian looks back down to his book as he says this. A sigh coming from his eldest brother. “No Damian, I mean, how are you feeling?” Dicks tone telling him exactly what he means. “I told you, I’m fine.” Damian says with a soft bite to his tone. Growing irritated at the fact that he’s asking. “Damian, you can’t keep bottling it up. We all see what’s going on, I get it. You don’t want to go to Bruce because, well the guy doesn’t know how to handle anything having to do with feelings. But I’m here, everyday. I see how this is bothering you. I hear you at night when you think nobody’s up. I see how much you’re hurting. I want to help you Damian.” Dick puts his hand on damians shoulder. His eyes pleading with him. “If it makes you feel better, no I’m not fine. I don’t want to talk about it because it’s just going to do absolutely nothing in the end. It’s not going to erase all the blood she’s laid on the ground. It’s not going to make me feel any better. I don’t need to lay out a sob story about this. I’ll get over it eventually. And until then, don’t ask Grayson.” Damians voice is void of any emotion, but with a venomous bite when he spoke of her. His eyes glued to his book the entire time. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try.” Dick says as he leaves the room.

Damians feet briskly walk down the many steps to the cave, his suit already on apart from his mask. He enters the room and is met with dick and Tim at the computers, a large map on the screen as red dots appear on the screen.

Bruce walks out in his full suit, his mask in his hands as he walks over to the computers. “Damian, I don’t think it’s a smart idea for you to go out tonight.” Bruce says as he eyes his son. His brow furrowed slightly. “It’s been a month father, I’m healed up and besides I know tonight is a hard one.” “I’m not talking about that, I know you’re fine physically.” Bruce says with his eyes glued to Damian. A sigh leaving Damian at this. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m not gonna let this one thing stop me from this. Besides, you do it all the time whilst seeing Selina and my mother.” “Fine.”

Each day she wakes up, her mind grows darker and her heart shrinks into pain further. Her once bright sapphire eyes, a dull pale grey. Red rims her iris, and darkness’s covers around them. Her once glowing skin, a translucent sickly color. Her smile no longer reaching her eyes. Her once loud laughter, now nonexistent. The apartment falling into a silence, as if her lack of brightness has dimmed each end of it in a blanket of grey. She’s unable to cry after the first few days. As if her body can no longer produce tears to cascade down her face. But the pain in her heart growing to the point it covers her entire chest in a sharp stab. Is this what all those movies talked about? The feeling that all you want is to bring back all the memories that are neatly tucked in your mind, memories that once filled her with warmth and glee, now a shooting stab as it cracks through her from the inside. All she wants is to forget. Forget the way his emerald green eyes looked into hers with the purest form of admiration and joy. How whenever she made a joke, he’d fight the ever persistent smile that grew on his face, until he finally caved and let out a chuckle. In the beginning, he was on edge a lot, almost looking to hide the brightness inside of him. When they kissed, it’s as if she strung fairy lights along his spine, and they lit from the inside out. Each time she thinks about him, a pain shoots through her each time. His last words echoing in her mind. Causing the pain to return. But she didn’t want to stop thinking of all the times they had. She wished that she could go into her mind, and live in there like a bubble. Be back to the days his hands held onto hers as they walked to the park, to the days when he’d sit beside her and drape his coat across her. She was never cold when he was beside her, but she loved the heavy weight and sent that enclosed around her from it. All she wants, is to forget the pain. But live in the past when he looked at her like she hanged the sun each morning.

A soft knock comes through the door. Alerting Jason of the one person he could think of to help. He opens the door and is met with firey red hair, and enticing green eyes. “Thank you so much for coming, I know it was such a short notice with how busy you are-“ “Jason.” Artemis puts her hand on his shoulder, her eyes locked with his. “It’s not a problem. After you told me what happened, I would come regardless of what I was doing. Now, where is she?” A soft smile plays on her face, a slight blush dusting his face. “She’s in her room, again, thank you.” “Again, it’s not a problem jason.”

Sandys eyes are drawn away from her notepad to the door, a soft knock is then Accompanied by the door opening. There stands Artemis, her hair tied up in a tight bun but with one small bit hanging off the side. A crisp white top and black pants is worn rather than her usual batling attire. “Hey sweetheart, what are you up to?” A sigh leaves sandy as she looks up at her. Her eyes are puffy and dark, exhaustion clear in her face. “Dad asked you to come by didn’t he?” Artemis sighs and looks away from her. “He’s worried about you, you are his little girl after all.” Sandy sets her notepad down on her bedside table, slowly sitting up against the wall next to her and tucks her knees up to her chin. Artemis comes and sits beside her, her eyes brimming with tears that refuse to shed down her tired face. “I don’t know what to do. All I want is to go back, go back to when he looked at me like I poked holes in the sky to make the stars. I miss how warm he was whenever I’d sit beside him. I miss the way I’d make a stupid joke, he’d fight the smile that was so clear on his face and then he’d break. I miss everything.” A sob leaves her, her voice hiccuping as she tries breathing. “B-but at the same time, I wish I never met him. I-I let him make me so happy. I-I hurt so much whenever I think about him. It’s like this deep, sharp stab that trickles out of my chest and onto the rest of my body. It’s the pain that knowing it’s only a memory and that it’ll never happen again. I want to forget everything. But at the same time, I miss how happy he made me. God the look on his face when he saw me. And-and that, he called me a monster.” Sobs now falling like rivers down her face, her voice horse and her eyes tired but filled with endless tears. Artemis puts her arms around her, letting her cry in her chest. “You’re not what he said sweetheart. You gotta remember that he’s hurt too. You both are on different sides fighting the same battle. I don’t know him well, but from what I do know, he lashes out when he’s hurt. Give it some time. It hurts right now and that’s okay. It’s okay to hurt. It’s what shows the level of love and care you still have. You’re both loving, but stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You didn’t let what happen to you make you cold. You didn’t let it kill your good heart and soul. Just your heart alone, could defeat any Amazon I know. Trust in me, it will be better one day.” Sandy lays back down onto her bed, looking away from her, her eyes still filled with tears. “I can’t tell if it’ll get better, or that I’ll grow used to it.” Artemis sighs, bending down and placing a kiss to her forehead. “Time will tell sweetheart.” And with that, she leaves the room.

As sandy approaches her door, she hears the muffled sounds of voices from the other room. Her heart beats faster as she tries to listen in, but the voices are drowned out by the sound of the tv playing. It sounds as if Jason and Roy are there, but there’s more than them. She slowly opens her door, her head peering out of the door and into the kitchen. She walks out slowly, holding her breath as she approached the living room. Her heart beating loudly in her chest. Thst is until she enters the doorway to the living room, confusion taking place as she eyes what could only be described as the biggest blanket fort in the living room. All furniture is covered with multiple blankets and pillows. Before she can do anything, a loud cours of yells startle her, causing her to let out a large scream. She grabs a hold of a small picture frame beside her and throws it, causing it to hit against, Roy? The large redhead clutching his groin and falling to the ground, letting out a pained groan. “Goood fuck me, you couldn’t have aimed s little higher or lower? I might want kids one day.” Jason lets out a large laugh at this, a larger, more deep laugh is heard beside her, and when she turns, she’s met with a large chest and a bone crushing hug. “Bizarro have not missed young angel! Bizarro hate young angel!” “Alright big guy I love you too, now you gotta let me go okay? I can’t breathe.” Bizarro lets go of her abruptly, his hands on her shoulders looking at her in fear. “Me not sorry! Bizarro want to hurt!” A soft smile covers her face as she looks at the large Kryptonian. “I know big guy, don’t worry.” She looks around the room, Artemis standing with a large smile on her face with a box in her hand. Roy is still on the ground in a fetal position, and Jason looking at her with a soft pleading smile.

“I’m legit only doing this because I love you.” “Arty, hand over the gold glitter please.” Jason wonders is sandy and Artemis were some witches at this moment. What was supposed to be a fun night of movies, food and family time, has turned into both girls putting makeup on him. No wait, he does remember how it started.

Over the last close to 2 years being the daughter of Jason, sandy had mastered the art of the puppy eyes. And with just one look from her, and a look that matched hers from Artemis, he knew his manly persona was out the door.

As sandy applies the sparkling gold to his lids, she can’t help but have a giant smile on her face. Her father, who is one of the manliest men she’s ever met, is letting her do this just to make her happy. She feels close to tearing up, she’s known he loves her dearly. But the fact that she lets him do these things, and throws an entire sleepover with what is now her family, moves her heart so greatly, it causes tears to threaten.

“Okay I just need one more thing, where’s that red gloss? Ah! Right here!” Sandy takes the goopy gloss and applies it to jasons matte red painted mouth. The blue in his eyes are highlighted due to the rose gold Smokey eyes along with fluttery lashes. His cheeks flushed with a hint of rosy rouge. He had even let her pluck his eyebrows for the final affect to be perfect. Refusing to admit to how badly his eyes watered due to it. His lips a deep glossy red to finish the look. Both girls had wide smiles covering their faces. “You look reeeaall pretty dude.” Jason turns to his right, sitting beside him is Roy with a shit eating grin covering his face. That is until sandy lets out a small chuckle. “Oh if you think so, then lets give you a makeover next!”

Jason and Roy had Donned many outfits in their lives. They thought when they were the sidekicks to both green arrow and Batman were the most embarrassing things they’ve worn, were nothing compared to this.

Jason would a skin tight, deep plunging v neck dress that he prays to god wasn’t his daughters and stiletto black heels and a very crappy long black wig that looks like it’s from 1985. He doesn’t ever want to remember all the maneuvers he had to do to as the girls put it, ‘tuck.’

Roy was just as embarrassed as his best friend. Wearing a very tight black crop top that he swears would give a nip slip if he badly raised his arms. To cover his lower half, he wore what he could only describe as the tiniest skirt he’s ever seen in his life. He swore that he might as well just be naked due to how small the fabric was. Thigh high white heeled boots covered his legs to his knees. And a bright little mermaid wig to top it all off.

Both men looked at one another in pitty, knowing neither one will ever live this down. But knowing that this will make sandy happy, they gave a silent nod and walked out into the living room.

Both men walk out into the living room together, swaying their hips to the beat of toxic. Both girls let out a yell and a hard laugh, as they watch both men walk in strutting their stuff like it’s nobody’s business.

Both Artemis and sandy couldn’t contain their laughter as they watched both men dance impressively well. With both men doing a horrible job at lip syncing to the song as well. They couldn’t keep the tears flowing out from laughter once the dance was finished, Jason having done a full split and saying “I’ll kill you all except sandy if you speak of this to anyone.”

Jason and Artemis sat together on the floor, watching fondly at the sight in front of them. Bizarro had fallen asleep on the couch laying flat on his back. And sandy lay flat on his chest, her small size compared to his massive body making her look miniature in size. The faint smile on her face as she curled up into him causing both of them to chuckle. “You’ve done a great job Jason.” He turns to look at her, brow slightly raised and head tilted to the side. “What makes you think that?” He asks. “All that you do for her, you would walk to the ends of the earth and beyond for her. The love you have for her, and give her, shows how much she means to you.” Jason looks down at his lap at this, a faint smile on his face. “I just can’t help but feel like I’m fucking up all the time.” “I’ll be honest, you fuck up a lot.” This causes Jason to chuckle. “But, one thing you haven’t is being a parent. Sure, you messed up when you lied to her about your true past, I’ll still never understand why you did that.” Jason lets out a large sigh at this. “It’s because, everyone who gets involved with that family personally, they all get hurt or killed. I was just so scared that it would happen to her, and it did.” A tear falls down his cheek at the confession. She wipes it away from his face, bringing his face from looking down to her eyes. “It’s not the family that has that Jason. It’s our line of work, they don’t have a curse your on them that makes everyone there get hurt. It’s a fact of life. You need to stop worrying so much. I get it, you don’t want her hurt. But the more you pull her away so she won’t, the more she’ll run. She was lied to keep safe enough from her parents. And about them, they still are your family. I know, you’re hurt for what they did to you. But they still care about you. You just never let them try. Family is everything. When you and someone you love are hurt or in danger, family is what protects you. And don’t worry about not being good enough to take care of her. She’s done such a transformation since I met her, and that’s all because of you. You’re an amazing father Jason.” Tears stream down his face now, the last line causing the majority of them. “Thank you, so much.”

Both of them knew they would see each other again. It would take a naive fool to think that they would never see one another again. But that didn’t prepare them for tonight.

“Robin, I need you to get past the first 3 guards at the door.” “Got it.” Damian silently creeped up behind them, taking them out within seconds. Bruce came down shortly after, having been watching from afar. Both men enter the bank silently. Surveillance Footage confirmed two faced and his men were behind the current robbery. They both grapple up to two separate gargoyles on the walls. Watching over the men as they frantically run around similar to chickens due to the alarm going off. “Two faces thugs won’t hear us over the alarms. Be quick and hard.” Damian noded over to his father.

Damian dropped down onto 4 guards, taking them out all at once. “ITS THE BAT AND ROBIN!” All hell broke loose when one of the men spotted him. Men cane running to both of them as they took each one out.

Damian ran up to one of them who was grabbing for his fallen gun, but before he could reach him, a shot was heard and the man fell to the ground. Blood spewing out of his head and onto the floor. Damian whipped his head around, spotting the one person he hoped he wouldn’t see tonight.

Guns firing and alarms going off fill the outside of the bank. Both sandy and jason jumping off their bikes and running in as fast as they can. They spot 5 guards in the entrance of the bank, knowing they were there to stop from anyone getting in or out. Jason looked over to her, nodding his head to her to signal her to take them out.

She ran over to the men, taking out her hunters knife and slitting the first man's stomach. She then jumped up onto the seconds mans thigh, swinging her leg around his head whilst simultaneously swinging her left leg around his left arm. Slitting his throat as she swung her body around his arm and onto the third mans body, stabbing into his jugular as she took him down to the ground. She eyes the next two men and ran over, sliding down to the ground and swinging her foot into their legs, knocking both men to the ground. She took her knife and slashed both of their throats in the process. She looked behind her to Jason, nodding her head and running in.

She knew he’d be there, but that didn’t stop the pain in her heart when she watched him from afar.

She watches as he takes out men left and right, she can’t help but just freeze up when she watches him glide through the crowd of men so fluently, as if the wind itself was guiding him.

She watches as he runs up to a man, but she sees the gun in his hand about to aim for his head. Her heart pounds out of her as she raises her gun and shoots the man in the head. Damian turns to her direction. And even with his mask, she knows he sees her. A pain shoots through her heart as she watches him make what could only be the slightest hint of pain grace his face, before he turns away from her.

A sharp pain floods through his heart as he sees her, gun in hand, just looking at him. He turns and runs the other direction towards the vaults.

She runs after him, seeing that he’s running into a large group of armed men. Knowing he’s not thinking straight she runs in, taking out men as she goes that he didn’t get to.

She sees him in the middle of 15 men, 7 of them with guns, 8 without. She grabs her knife and takes out 4 of the armed men. Then going after 3 unarmed men in her way.

He watches her as she glides through each men, knife skillfully taking out each men without her getting hit once. “I’VE GOT THIS!” He yells out to her, growing angrier by the second of seeing her trying to help him. “YEAH TOTALLY LOOKS LIKE IT!” She yells back, growing even more irritable due to the fact that he’s angry at her trying to help him.

Both of them are back to back as they take out each men coming towards them. They both look at one another as all the men drop to the ground. Though they can’t see their eyes, pain paints both of their faces.

They both run out of the room, sprinting towards their partners. They keep looking at one another when they hear them yell, eyeing them as they both work their hardest to take out the ever flossing of men.

It’s as if time, sound, and sight of the room stops when she sees a man raise his gun, and aim at him. “ROBIN!” She screams out when she sees the bullet fly out of the gun, and into his side. He lets out a large cry of pain as he drops to the ground. Time slows down and anything around her is black as she sprints over to him. It’s like her legs are in slow motion as tears gather in her eyes and spill onto her mask. Her chest bursting out of her chest as she runs.

When she reaches him, she sees the blood soaking his suit. The red panel of his suit a darker red from it. It thankfully didn’t hit any artery’s as it’s not spewing out. She crouches down to his, his face contorting in pain. She reaches for his shoulders and hip, trying her hardest to get him up without putting any pressure to the wound. “Come on! I need to get you out of here!” She yells out. She slowly brings him up, putting his arm around her shoulders, and varying the brunt of his weight as she moves to the outside.

They reach the entrance to the bank, him groaning in pain the further they get. His steps growing slower as his body tries falling to the ground. “Come on robin, were almost there! Just a little bit more okay?” She pleads our, he lets out a large groan as he takes a few more steps.

They reach the outside, the chill in the air sending him to the ground. He lets out a pained yell as he tries falling down, she reaches and brings his weight into her arms and she tries dragging him as safely as possible to the grass. Her muscles screaming due to his much larger weight.

She sets him down onto the ground, a weak groan leaving him when he lays down. His hand had been clutching his wound the entire time. Blood slowly trickling past his palms. Her heart beating rapidly as she watches him. His once red flushed face taking on an almost pale colorless tone. She reaches and takes the mask from his face to know if he’s passed out or not. His usually alert forest green eyes are slowly closing. She reaches around and takes off her leather jacket. The inside having cloth to fight off the cold, and for times like this.

She slowly takes his hand away from his wound, and instantly applies the jacket to it. A groan breaking through him due to the pain. His face scrunches up and he bares his teeth. “I know I know it hurts, but I need to stop the blood.” She pleads out. She takes her knife and cuts away the middle of his suit, having trouble due to the material. She opens it and puts the cloth inside his suit. Another groan leaving him.

His eyes blink slowly, alarming her as he’s having trouble staying awake. She uses her other hand up to his cheek, cupping it. “Hey hey hey, stay awake for me okay? Look at me.” He opens his eyes and watches her, the once angry scowl on his face gone, now looking tired and almost pleading. “Everything is gonna be okay.” She reaches for his other arm, pressing the button on his arm and brings it to her mouth. “Batman, robin has been shot. We’re outside near the large oak tree. Try and hurry he’s blacking out!” “Men are surrounding us. I’ll come as fast as I can angel.” She lets go of his arm, again bringing her hand to his face to keep him awake. His cheek is warm to the touch. Bringing her back to-she can’t think about it due to the pain it shoots through her.

She stays there with him for what feels like eternity. Her heart pounding in her chest each time his eyes close. “Hey hey hey stay with me, please. I’m gonna make sure you get out of this. Just please stay with me okay.” At this point she has removed her mask due to the tears flossing down her face. He’s having trouble keeping his eyes open, scaring her each time.

Tears stream down her face the more his eyes shut, a pain that she only felt when she watched both her parents die flooding her. “Please, robin promise me you won’t go! Please promise me!” She yells out. A tear falls down from his eye, she wipes it away as more tears fall. “I-I promise.” He weakly groans out. A smile graces her face, tears still falling. But the small response from him slightly soothing her pained heart. The moment dying when he lets out a large pained yell. She looks down and sees blood soaking faster through her jacket. She reaches for his arm again and presses down onto the speaker. “HOW MANY MORE DO YOU HAVE!” “We have a handful of guys left!” “GET THE FUCK OUT HERE AND LET MY DAD HANDLE THE REST! PLEASE THIS ONE TIME! ROBIN IS DYING!” She screams out into the speaker.

She watches as Batman runs out of the building. Bruce running faster as he sees his son laying on the ground. He crouched down to him, grabbing for the jacket. Sobs wreck her as she watches as Bruce tries stopping the blood. “Here’s the key,go to the tumbler and in the backseat there’s a bag. Go get it and bring it back.” Bruce says urgently. She nods and sprites towards it. Unlocking it and flying into the back, sporting the bag, grabbing it and running as fast as she can back to them.

“Okay go in and grab the gauze.” She grabs it and hands it to Bruce, she watches it in amazement as it fuses to his skin. “Something I had made when your father was robin. It’s reinforced with a technology that combines with the skin to stop blood from leaking out. From the looks of it, it didn’t hit any organs. It did pass through most of his side. That’s where most of the blood is coming from.” “Then why is he nearly passing out!” She says to Bruce. Not understanding how a superficial gash could cause him to nearly die. “Maybe it was because his heart rate was and is escalated. The adrenaline levels decreasing, the pounding of his heart along with the blood loss could cause him to pass out.” Both of them look down as they hear him let out a groan. He looks around and spots his father first. He then turns and sees her face. Relief flossing her knowing that he’s alright. “I need to get him back to the tumbler and to the cave to make sure everything is alright.” Bruce says. “Here let me help you get him back in.” She goes to reach for him but he moves out of the way. “Get away from me.” He groans out. Pain shoots through her chest at his words. “Damian I’m trying to hel-“ “DON'T call me that! I don’t need help from somebody like you!” After all the pain she felt that night, his words shoot through her heart harder than anything else had. Tears fall down her face as it feels like pain is swarming through her, trickling from her chest outwards. “Fine. I was just trying to help you is all.” She says, getting up and running. Running as far as she can from him.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @psychovigilantewrites @comic-brew

[candied-peach]

ao3: “waging my wars” rating: T warnings: migraines, maybe emetophobia, food, sympathetic remus, prinxiety genre: fluff description: Virgil has a migraine. His boyfriend knows what to do about that. ( @tsshipmonth2020 prompt: prinxiety)

What is wrong with me? Virgil wonders, pulling his hoodie up to cover as much of his face as possible. His room is blanketed in darkness, for the most part, save for the purple fairy lights twinkling around his bed, and even those feel like white hot daggers throbbing in his temples.

It's not an anxiety attack- he's had plenty of those- but the pain in his head and the nausea surging up his throat makes it hard for him to concentrate on anything else. And if he can't even concentrate on his own room, how can he help Thomas? What if this stupid pain means that Thomas messes up? Or gets hurt? Or-

"Panic at the Everywhere!" Roman declares from the doorway, bombastic as always. The sound makes Virgil whimper and curl up into a tighter ball on his bed, holding the stuffed bat Roman got him for one of their dates close to his chest. The white rectangle of light from the hallway feels like a spotlight threatening to burn out his retinas.

"Virgil?" Roman questions, softer. "Are you okay?" Finally, blessedly, Roman steps fully into the room and closes the door, cutting off the light that threatens to splinter through Virgil's brain.

"No," he ekes out. His throat feels like it's tightened to the size of a pinhole. "I- I don't know what's wrong, my head hurts and I want to throw up and the light-" He pauses. Something about what he's just said has sparked a memory, but he can't get a grip on what. It feels like fairy floss, here one moment and wisps the next.

"Virgil?" Roman asks carefully, his voice still quiet. "Do you get migraines?"

"Maybe?" Virgil whispers. His head throbs and he huddles deeper in his blankets. "Is- is that how you felt? Before?"

"It was pretty bad," Roman admits. "Remus and Deceit helped me out, would- would you like me to help?"

"Yes, please," Virgil says at once. Roman comes over, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I think I need my brother's help," he says. "Is that okay?" Virgil nods and immediately regrets it, as yet another surge of pain stabs his head. Roman summons his brother, who jumps, staring around his new surroundings in wide-eyed surprise.

Virgil winces, preparing himself for yet another onslaught of sound, but Remus takes one look at him and slams a finger against his own mouth, effectively shushing himself.

"I think Virgil has a migraine," Roman explains. "Could you help?"

"Sure, bro," Remus says. He snaps his fingers and two pill bottles fall into being, Roman hastily catching them. "One you dissolve under your tongue, the other you take with water or something."

"I hate water," Virgil grumbles under his breath. Roman gives him a commiserating smile, handing over the first medication. It tastes weird, Virgil discovers, as he lets it dissolve under his tongue. Weird and the gritty taste makes him feel like he's chewing on sand. But it's relief, and at this point, he'll take just about anything if it means his head stops feeling like he's gone ten rounds with the dragon witch. Or worse.

Roman conjures up a glass of apple juice and Virgil murmurs a thank you, to both of the twins, as he takes it. Remus watches him, his eyes glittering with what looked like sympathy.

"Feel better, Virgey!" He chirps and sinks down before Virgil can say anything in response.

"Would you like to cuddle?" Roman asks.

"Yes," Virgil croaks. He scoots further up on the bed so Roman has room to stretch out beside him. Roman snaps his fingers, summoning his favorite blanket from his room, and tucking it around both of them. It is blissfully warm and smells faintly of lavender.

"You'll be okay, Virge," Roman murmurs, very gently stroking his fingers through Virgil's hair. "I promise."

Virgil rests his head on Roman's chest, listening to the reassuring thump of Roman's heart.

"Okay," Virgil whispers, stifling a yawn. He feels exhausted all of a sudden. "Love you, Ro."

"Love you, too," Roman replies, his fingers never stopping. It is surprisingly soothing. "Get some rest. I won't leave."

Virgil believes him.

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @ancient-fruity @airiervessel @yalltookmyurlideas @matthindavick @killjoy-3000 @littlestliu @bexxbeauty @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @ambersky0319 @did-he-just-hiss-at-me

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cotton Candy Day 

Head over to your local funfair for an airy, spun-sugar treat or whip up creative cakes and cocktails like cotton candy cupcakes and fairy floss martinis.

There exists in the world small clouds of utter delight, floating multicolored strands of spun-sugar all wrapped around a stick or served in a bag. Everything from the machine the produces this treat, to the men and women who operate it, and the very flavor it leaves in your mouth is purely magical.

When a treat has gained notoriety around the world and utterly defines what it means to attend a country fair, you know that it deserves a holiday of its very own. That’s where National Cotton Candy Day comes in, celebrating this best of the bestest treats!

Learn more about National Cotton Candy Day

Do you have a sweet tooth? If so, you’re going to love National Cotton Candy Day! You may think that the only type of people who don’t love National Cotton Candy Day is the dentists of the world! However, you may be surprised to learn that it was dentists who invented cotton candy, to begin with. Back in the day, it was known as fairy floss. Today, it is the go-to snack when going to a county fair. For most people, their childhood memories would simply be incomplete without this sugary delightful treat.

There are a number of different reasons why we can’t seem to get enough of candy floss! The main reason is that candy floss is essentially made from sugar, with the dye simply transforming the appearance of it. Who doesn’t like sugar? Another reason why we love candy floss is because of the appearance of it! It has a fun and exciting image. Did you know, though, that a cotton candy thread is thinner than a strand of human hair? Just because candy floss is thin does not mean it cannot be long. The longest cotton candy stretch over 1,400 meters. It was created back in July of 2009.

You may also be surprised to learn that cotton candy has different names all around the world. We love the name it has in France: barbe à papa. This means papa’s beard. It is known as suikerspin in the Netherlands, which means sugar spider. In Finland and Australia, it is still known as fairy floss. Moreover, in the UK, it is called candy floss, rather than cotton candy. If you are going to make your own cotton candy on this day, you may even want to come up with your own name for it!

History of National Cotton Candy Day

The history of National Cotton Candy Day is, quite simply, the history of cotton candy itself, and to find that history we’re going to have to dig a bit deeper than you might imagine. Unsurprising considering the number of names that the treat itself is known by, including candy cobwebs, hawai mithai, candy floss, and our personal favorite, fairy floss. So what are the origins of this treat? Well, it all depends on who you ask.

Cotton Candy is often suggested to have come into existence as a form of spun sugar in 19th century Europe, and back then it would have been as precious as gold. While today’s technology allows us to produce cotton candy with a simple machine and a little time, the process would have been incredibly labor-intensive and no doubt expensive, leaving Cotton Candy as the treat of the financial elite. Unsurprising considering that it was hand-spun at the time… Yes, you heard that right, by hand.

In 1897 the world of spun-sugar came to the masses when John C. Wharton and a dentist friend of his William Morrison (we’ll let you take a moment to suck in that irony) created a machine to make Cotton Candy and presented it at the 1904 World’s Fair. Since then it has exploded throughout the world and can be found in almost every culture you can imagine, from America to the Distant East.

How to celebrate National Cotton Candy Day

Celebrate National Cotton Candy Day by getting your favorite flavor and sharing it with friends. Ok, we’re just kidding, don’t share it, just eat it up until you can’t eat another bite, and write your dentist an apology note. Or, given that a dentist invented it, perhaps it’s you who deserves the apology note, hmm?

There are so many fun activities that you can try on National Cotton Candy Day. Of course, the goal is to always eat some cotton candy! But how about making your own? There are a lot of great recipes online that you can follow. Typically, you are going to need some food coloring, flavored extract such as raspberry extract, salt, water, corn syrup, and sugar. Recipes can differ, but these are the sort of ingredients you are going to need. You can have fun experimenting with your own candy floss recipes, and even more fun when you eat them afterward.

There are lots of exciting dessert recipes that call for the use of candy floss as well. This includes everything from cotton candy s’mores to cotton candy donuts and cupcakes! Sounds pretty delicious, right? The suggestions don’t end there either! You can make fairy floss whoopie pies, fairy floss ice cream sundaes, and much more!

Or, how about creating your own candy floss cocktail? There are lots of delicious options here too! This includes cotton candy champagne cocktails, prosecco and gin candy floss cocktails, and fairy floss martinis. There is something for everyone. Plus, if you are having friends around these sorts of drinks are certainly going to impress.

Source

[mathamar-bayleaf]

Matty Bayleaf

Mathamar (Matty) Bayleaf

Appearance -

Gender: Male.

Race: Sin’dorei (Illidari, if you’re some sort of purist).

Height: 5′10″

Eye Color: N/A

Hair Color: Chestnut brown.

The Facts -

Birthday: December 7th.

Occupation: Demon Hunter, prankster, layabout.

Sexual identification:  Always in flux.

Romantic identification: Uncertain.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Criminal History: Mischief, vandalism, minor theft maybe. It’s not murder if you’re on the field of battle!

Documented: None to speak of.

Undocumented: Not commonly, but you know... here and there if boredom hits just a little too hard? 

Relationship Status: Involved; polyamorous.

Favorites –

Favourite food: Sweets: candy apples, toffees, lollipops and fairy floss. Also, perhaps strikingly, a lot of veggies or veggie-based dishes. Roasted corn is a favourite! Also apples.

Favourite drink:  Cider, hot cocoa, sweet wines and spirits. 

Favourite artist: The absolute snark and statement of Dali, but also the soft sensuality of Degas. If the man could see such things as mundane paintings, of course.

Favourite scents:  Damp earth and petrichor; cinnamon and black licorice; sex.

Favourite person: Whoever has his attention at that moment.

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

⚫  His earliest memory is of a flowering apple tree just outside his window.

⚫  He actually has a very fine singing voice; This was, at one time, how he made his way in the world. 

⚫ He’s bored easily, and cannot stand repetitive tasks.

⚫  He has a tendency to nap outdoors, often curled up at the base of a tree.

⚫ His biggest, most unrestrained laugh can easily be heard over a roomful of chattering people.

⚫  He has a tendency to indulge in ‘harmless’ pranks, ranging from simple sleight of hand to ridiculous, sprawling tales just to keep the gullible going, to, say... putting bleach in someone’s bottle of shampoo. 

⚫ While he is not strictly a vegetarian, he doesn’t particularly crave meat and will generally fill up on veggie dishes when they are available. Or sweets.

⚫ He is fluent in Thalassian, Darnassian, Common, and Eredun, with some functionality in Dwarvish and Zandali.  

⚫ He will tell anyone who asks that he’s never had a girlfriend/boyfriend in his life. 

⚫  While he doesn’t abuse drugs or alcohol, he will absolutely enjoy a party to its fullest, often encouraging everyone to let go and get weird with him.

Five Things -

Things they like:

- Being outdoors.

- A good joke. 

- Dancing.

- Proving people wrong.

- Freedom.

Things they dislike:

- Boredom.

- Silence.

- Petty drama.

- Domestic life.

- Clingy people.

Good traits/habits:

- Clever.

- Wild.

- Witty.

- Affectionate.

- Says what everyone is thinking.

Bad traits/habits:

- ...says what everyone is thinking. 

- Rebellious.

- Secretive.

- Impatient.

- Can be brutal (when wronged, for instance). 

Personalities they gravitate toward:

- Spontaneous.

- Talkative.

- Fun-loving.

- Intellectual.

- Candid.

Personality types they avoid:

- Serious.

- Boring.

- Selfish. 

- Cowardly.

- Braggarts.

Fears:

- Intruders.

- Trusting others.

- Losing his independence.

- Commitment. 

- Enclosed spaces.

[reversecreek]

Being on the carousel with Mido felt oddly fitting, all of the unpleasantries in the world around them blurring until it was just his face, those painted horses and Nyla, alone together. Sometimes Nyla felt like they were eternally sitting in a broken bathtub they’d drained most of their feelings from, but meeting Mido had been like pulling on the plug only for the water to work in reverse and come back out of the drain, insistent on keeping them warm despite how adamant they’d been to sit there, dry, with their knees hugged close to their chest. They didn’t realise this was going to be one of the last times before the water ran cold, Theo considered, but even if they did they’d probably plan on staying in the bathtub no matter how many goosebumps it rose or how much it made them shiver, because even if the thought of Mido was going to become a sad one, it was still Mido and that made it worth it. Nyla was riding a white horse someone had doodled into a demonic vessel with a red Sharpie, sockets overtaken by a furiously scribbled nib, but they were hugging at it’s throat like it was second coming, like they’d never met any horse nicer. Pink hair had been tossed up inside of a glittery rainbow scrunchy. Baby hairs stuck to their neck, on the verge of dissolving in the gleam of the heat like candy floss. With their rainbow boots and their little white dress, they looked like they’d been summoned from a kid’s crayon doodle. “If you shut your eyes it kinda feels... like flyin’,” Nyla proposed then did just that, head angled at him without looking but still studying his face, emblazoned onto the backs of their eyelids from all those nights spent in baking, dimly lit streets. Nyla’s memory failed them, for the most part. They weren’t sure how Mido had stuck. “I know, ‘cause I was a bird once. We’ve all been there. A parakeet. They eat real borin’ seeds... I missed burgers.” Opening them again, never too comfortable being shut inside of their own head for long, Nyla smiled at him -- the slow, melting kind that felt a little like it’d been dripped onto their face by candle wax, burned as much too -- and kept on smiling past it being appropriate. “It’s kinda like... we’re back there, don’t y’think?” Forgetting he couldn’t read their mind -- something that’d become a habit, that didn’t seem as if it was meant to be true -- Nyla only expanded within another few beats, gaze shifting towards his shoulder where she imagined a little fairy wearing pointy clogs, taking a seat and crossing their legs, even saw the sparkling silhouette. “Barcelona, when it’s... you know, when it’s warm like this.” @saboteures​

[natashacoco]

Shisha Lounge Daydreams

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, Mentions of unprotected sex, m/f penetration, fingering, oral (m/f), choking, rough sex, smoking (Shisha), tiny bit of angst

Prompt: smutty little one shot. Reader sees Florian at one of his favorite Shisha Lounges in Munich while solo traveling and not so pure thoughts cross their mind.

Inspiration: “It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream” F. Scott Fitzgerald The Beautiful and The Damned.

You had been in Munich for the past two weeks, enjoying the last leg of your first solo traveling experience. Berlin and Frankfurt had been checked off the list as well as some amazing spur of the moment places off the beaten path you wouldn’t have found if you hadn’t gone by yourself.

Everybody back home had told you that it was dangerous, that it wasn’t a good idea, that other “stronger” women could travel alone, just not you. It didn’t help that friends and family started sending you articles about how dangerous the places you were planning on visiting were or the crime rate, etc. that they could think of for you to not go. You had thanked them all kindly for caring about you, but it only made you even more determined to want to go.

You had been invited to try out a local Shisha Lounge called Bo12 by some of your fellow hostel mates and had enjoyed the experience so much that you’d gone several times as a way to decompress after a long day of sightseeing. You had never heard of Shisha Lounges but realized that they were something that you had enjoyed. Seeing as today was your last day in Germany, you had invited some of the others from the dorm to join you in the late afternoon.

Joining you was Rosario from Spain, Fern and Simon from Australia, Philip and his mate Max from England and Margaux from France. Drinks were flowing, conversation light and laughing so hard your entire body was shaking from one another’s travel stories and mishaps.

You had been so engrossed with your group that you hadn’t seen the man whom you had dubbed the BFG (Big Friendly Giant) arrive with a few of the men you’d seen before and a few new ones. You’d given him the nickname a) because of the sheer size of him, his large frame towering over you and almost everyone he came into contact with, b) he just seemed to be one of the nicest and friendliest guys in the room, always laughing and joking with everyone he came into contact with and c) the book had been one of your favorites growing up. You had seen him here before and it looked like he frequented this lounge many times, but you could never bring yourself to talk to him. Who were you kidding, he was gorgeous and you were just, well, you. That didn't stop your mind from wandering unfortunately. He looked better than he did the last time you saw him, did he do it to torture the human population?

Taking a sip from your drink, you twist your head in the BFG’s direction and silently take him in. He was dressed casually, light jeans with a few cutouts, a white tee under a black leather jacket, his chain swapped out for a cross. The outfit was simple, his presence anything but. At least his shirt wasn’t the one that read “I must break you” like the first time your eyes landed on him. Yeah, you can break my back you had laughed absentmindedly then, the thought coming into your mind more and more as you had seen him.

You could hear him speaking to a waitress and order his drink, his deep voice washing over your body even from across the room, your eyes continuing to wander over his body. He turned slightly, most likely feeling your eyes on him. Embarrassed, you dart your eyes back to your group, hoping he didn’t catch your staring.

After a few minutes and a few more sips of liquid courage, you make sure he isn’t looking your way when you turn in his direction again. You take in his figure, his broad shoulders, and the muscles in his arms that make his leather jacket look tight, larger than life hands with thick fingers, his hair short with a fade and a nicely trimmed beard. He takes a long drag of his Shisha and exhales, the smoke casting a sensuous fog around him. He takes a bite of fruit from the assortment in front of him when some of the juice lingers. He licks the bit of it off of his bottom lip, slowly so he can savor every last bit of it. He’d use his finger to help with what’s left.

You imagine the way you’d reach for his short hair while his large hands are gripped around your thighs, pinning you to the bed as his tongue laps at your folds, smirking as he’s telling you how much he wants you to cum on his tongue. He’d treat you like you were a fine delicacy that only he could have, he’d be greedy and needy as you’d beg him to finally let you come, your voice hoarse from screaming. He’d be so commanding, adding one, then two of his long thick fingers as he curls them inside you to find your G spot until your back arches and you cum, again and again as you try to stifle your moans until you’re a boneless mess on the bed, aftershocks coursing through your body. To think what his tongue could do to your body that the rest of his hadn’t even done yet. What’s left of your arousal on his mouth would be treated like the fruit, savored and indulged because you were what he craved.

What?!? No, you can’t think like this. Not here, not with him in the same building. Your daydreaming causes you to look around to see if anyone can see where your mind had just wandered. Thankfully no one does, or if they did they give you the modesty of not calling you out.

You glance down at his hands, and the way his fingers curl around his glass. You imagine what it’d be like, those hands ghosting over your naked back, bringing you closer to his naked chest, your breasts a contrast to his hard masculine body.

You feel your face flush and your entire body begins to feel too hot. Why did he have to make you feel this way? Why couldn’t he just be like anybody else and leave you with no indifference towards him and let you go on with your life? No, that’d be too easy. You try and try countless times to return your attention to an interesting story involving an eyepatch, Uno Cards and why somebody couldn’t eat cotton candy (Fairy Floss) anymore, but how could you concentrate when he looks the way he does? You can do this, you can ignore him. That’s what you’re going to do.

Another erotic imagine flashes through your mind, this one of the two of you tangled together in bed, his arms bulging as he’s thrusting into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, with his tongue licking the droplets of sweat that’s started to collect on your skin. The way you’d run your nails up and down them, touching and committing every part of them to memory, caressing them as he grips the sheets on either side of your head, knuckles white from grasping them so tightly, your cunt feels like Nirvana and he wants to make it his haven. He tells you that he you’re his, that your body belonged to him and only him. You bite his shoulder, marking his skin in blissful possession.

His thrusting gets more erratic as the signs from your body he’s come to know so well begin to surface as you mewl and whimper, grabbing his ass and urging him to take your body harder and faster, his cock becoming even harder and thicker inside you, the delicious bite of pleasure and pain coexisting as he brings your body to it’s limits. He grips the headboard as an anchor, it smacking against the wall without falting, the other wrapped around your neck, isolating his hips to pound into you, his mouth glued to your ear as his grunts echo his movements. You’re going to get complaints from neighbors and envious stares from others.

Your pussy spasms around his dick, tears forming in your ears from the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing your body, him swiveling his hips to prolong your orgasm. He mutters that he’s close and you hurriedly push him to his back, wrapping as much of your mouth around his girth as you can, tasting yourself and him. You hollow out your mouth and apply the tight pressure he craves, locking eyes with him as you bob your head up and down, feeling him in the back of your throat. He warns you that he’s about to cum and it spurs you on faster, using your hands and mouth to make him cum, his abdomen jerking from his own orgasm as thick ropes of his semen cover his lower stomach. You’re quick to lick it off of him as one hand is thrown over his eyes and one lazily playing with your hair as he tells you how much he loves when you lick him clean.

Your breathing begins to quicken. You need to leave, you need…you need…hell, you need him in any way, shape or form that you can get. If that meant a daydream version, so be it. But you couldn’t, not right now, not with him invading your thoughts the way he was. You needed some distance, and some privacy before your thoughts began to roam again.

You excuse yourself from the group and make your way to the toilets. After freshening up you take a look in the mirror and notice your reflection in it. Staring back at you is a woman with flushed cheeks, a small indentation on your lips from where you had bitten them to stop yourself from moaning aloud from any number of your earlier erotic thoughts. You can feel a slight dampness between your legs, evidence of your aroused state. You quickly grab a few paper towels, wet them and try to bring your body temperature down if at all possible. You bring the dampened towel to the back of your neck, hoping it helps.

Time away from the object of your fantasies only pushes them closer to the front of your mind.

He picks you up as if you barely weigh anything and places you on the bathroom countertop, strong hands running up the back of your thighs and under your dress as he hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down excruciating slow, nipping and biting your neck as he settles between them, his engorged erection pressing against your pussy with just enough pressure.

He tells you all the ways that you belong to him, your body was his to love and cherish, one hand slipping into you as he toyed with your clit. He would stroke you. Barely. Lazily. Just enough to keep you uncomfortably aroused and on edge. He promises endless ways he’s going to take you, and you in return. You joke that your bed wasn’t made for a marathon, but he grabs your face with the other hand and lifts it so your eyes look into his, eyes dilated from how much he wants you. With a roughened voice from lust, he explains to you that although yes a marathon, the bed is always optional, as is the wall, the shower, your ass bent over the sofa, his childhood bedroom (with a sly smirk of course), you on your knees and a mouth full of his cock, you bouncing on his dick as he demands you take him inch by inch, each location promised with a drag and pull of his hand. He pulls out of you just as slowly as he entered and brings his fingers to your mouth, the unspoken demand not needed as you taste yourself on his fingers. He helps you down off the counter and stuff your panties into his pocket as he leads you out of the bathroom.

You quickly run cool water over your face and return to the group, a fleeting glance in his direction as you settle back in. As the night comes to an end, you and the group pack up and head towards the exit, intoxicated on laughter and alcohol as you wait outside for your ride to head back to the hostel. You’re in a deep conversation when a large body bumps into you.

Please don’t be who I think it is, please don’t be who you think it is you repeat again and again as you look up.

“Es tut mir leid, ich habe dich nicht gesehen” he says apologetically. (I’m sorry, I didn’t see you).

You nod, and although you don’t understand German you get the just of what he said and turn back towards your companions and him to his.

Having him so close doesn’t make things easier. Seeing him from afar was one thing, but now actually being so close was torture. The smell of his cologne lingered in the spring air, invading your senses.

He says something else in German and his deep voice causes goosebumps to travel up your spine, you shaking a little from the intensity and his nearness, your body wound up so tightly from your sexual frustration with no relief in sight. It looked like yet another night of masturbatory fantasies were in store for you. Your breathing comes in shallow breaths as you do everything in your willpower not to turn your back and look at him for the last time.

What you didn’t expect was to see him off to the side, leaning against a wall, toothpick in hand and bringing it to his mouth and his eyes glued to yours. The next thing you know, he’s walking straight towards you.

“Tut mir leid, dass ich dich früher getroffen habe. Kann ich dir vielleicht ein Getränk als Entschuldigung kaufen?” He says in German. (Sorry about bumping into you earlier. Can I possibly buy you a drink as an apology?)

You look to him and then to one of your other friends, praying that somebody could hopefully help in translating what he said. When he notices that you don’t respond and have a confused look on your face, he chuckles and asks again, this time in English.

You’d only ever heard him speak German, but nothing could prepare you for how deep his voice was when speaking English, and although his form somewhat intimidating, his voice was soft and gentle. His accent only adding to his sex appeal and instantly skyrocketing into oblivion.

The things you’d want him to say to you as you’re having sex, the dirty talk, the whispered sweet nothings between English and German that you’d cherish countless times. You imagine him on his back as you’re both topless, you wearing nothing but your favorite pair of fishnet tights, running your hands down his chest. The way your name would sound coming off his lips when his head is tilted towards the ceiling as you’d suck him dry, or as he'd grip you hair tightly as he pounded into you from behind, the mixture of your moans as you come together from lazy morning lovemaking and even lazier cuddling.

You tell him that although it wasn’t necessary, tonight was your last night in the city and wouldn’t be able to accept the drink. You see him sigh in disappointment and mentally kick yourself for having to turn him down.

Outside, the sun is setting and reflects his green eyes that you didn’t know he had. You’d never want to look away from them when he’s on top of you, his body weight delicious reminder of why your body is so sore for days to follow, or you on top of him, his eyes piercing yours. His green eyes would say everything in those moments when words weren’t needed. Love, lust, admiration, joy, want, need, everything and so much more. The only time that breaking eye contact would be necessary would be in moments of pure carnal bliss.

“You have gorgeous eyes” You half whisper, half say to yourself, him, you don’t know.

“Thanks. I’m Florian, by the way” He laughs, “But all my friends call me ‘Big Nasty’” he finishes, getting out a pair of sunglasses to cover them as you blush from your accidental slip. He introduces you to two of the men you’ve noticed accompany him before, Masias and Sandro.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You reply, shaking his hand and those of his friends. “But my friends just call me Y/N” you reply, earning a chuckle from the now dubbed “The Big Nasty BFG”. You and the guys get into a conversation on how you had enjoyed Munich and the various Shisha lounges that you had tried in your tour of Germany. You find out that besides speaking fluent German and English, Florian also speaks Romanian and your earlier fantasy of him switching languages reappears.

All too soon your Uber arrives and wish the men a goodnight. As the car pulls away, you smile to yourself. As much as you wanted to accept the drink from Florian, the daydreams of an almost lover would be all you had of him.

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Tags: @michelleteriney (😘) @honeychicana @melinda-january @carefreebarnes @mistress-to-the-moon @dc41896 @blackinkfics @lady-olive-oil

You can always read my other Florian writing by reading Early Morning Surprises Pt 1 and Pt 2.

As always, leave a comment or something. I do have some other things I want to write about for Florian since I have the writing bug. I for sure have something with fluff that I got inspired to write after finding a new artist, so cheers to that coming soon!