#Jelly Dreams About Stars

[jelly-dreams-about-stars]

Muahhaha ocs in Halloween costumes cause its Halloween 🎃

(this took years off my life)

[allichu-studios]

Art Fight peice I made really quickly of my OC, so i hope it's good :]

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Just One Bed (part ii)

Featuring: Astarion, Halsin, Gale, Raphael

A/N: I love that you are all as obsessed with the one bed trope as I am lol. Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

You can’t explain the pleasure that courses through your veins every time Astarion feeds from you. The delicious waves of heat that writhe in your lower abdomen. The light feeling that envelopes you as your blood is slowly drained from your vessels.

This current feeding session isn’t any different. Slight moans leave your lips at the delicious feeling floating through you. Astarion cradles your head for easier access to your neck, his other hand grips your thigh, holding you in place.

Just when the edges of your vision begin to blur, his fangs part from your skin. You let out a breath, heat flushing through you. His tongue licks the remaining blood off your neck. The hot feeling of his tongue gliding along your skin earns a shiver from deep within you.

“Thank you,” he sighs, hovering over you. ���I was feeling so weak.”

You simply nod, your mind so mushy you can’t even form a coherent sentence. Your limbs feel like jelly. Your breaths come out in heavy bursts, as if you just were running uphill.

Astarion notices your state, taking in the paleness of your skin, and the slight shake in your hands. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” It’s the least he could do after taking so much from you.

You look at him, an incredulous look on your face. He’s never invited you to stay with him before. Not that the invitation isn’t tempting. The last thing you want to do right now is drag yourself to your own tent. Besides, you find Astarion’s presence comforting, despite his history.

“Sure,” you respond, your body relaxing a bit.

Sleep is quick to find you. After a few hours of dreaming, you wake to find yourself in Astarion’s arms. His face is buried in your neck. Your body is flush against his, and you can feel the firmness of his body.

You smile to yourself, happy to help find comfort in any form.

Halsin

The grass beneath you tickles your skin. The hardness of the ground presses into your back uncomfortably. You always admired Halsin’s connection to nature. But did he have to be so connected he had to insist on sleeping in the woods?

Traveling with Halsin alone meant “using the forest as your resting place”, as he had said too excitedly. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. He was absolutely giddy at the prospect of a sleepover with you under the stars.

But now, with twigs digging in your back and rocks up your ass, it’s hard to see the bright side of the situation. You toss and turn, trying to find any sort of comfortable position.

“Are you alright?” You hear Halsin’s deep voice ask.

You squirm against the ground again. “I’m alright. I just…feel a little exposed is all.”

He chuckles. “Understandable, seeing as it’s your first time sleeping in the forest.”

You hear him shuffle closer to you. The heat of him is quick to reach you. “Come here,” he says, reaching for you.

You allow him to pull you onto his bare chest. The firmness of his body is somehow more comfortable than the hardness of the ground. He wraps his arms around you, securing you in place .

Every inch of you is acutely aware of his proximity. He seems unbothered by your positioning though. You will admit, laying on top of him is much better than the cold, hard ground.

His thumbs trace circles along your exposed skin, and your arms wrap themselves around his neck as you find the most comfortable position you can.

“Better?” He asks. His voice vibrates through you.

“Much,” you tell him, and he lets out a contented sigh.

Gale

Your group was lucky to reach an inn before the storm began raging. The dark clouds stirring above you gave evidence of the snow about to fall. Goosebumps pebbled your skin as the temperature dropped.

You’re grateful to have an actual bed for the night as well. Not so grateful you have to share with someone else. But if you had to share with someone, Gale isn’t a bad choice. He’s one of the few members that’s actually considerate, even selfless.

The bed is pretty small, and even with the fireplace going, you find yourself growing cold. You pull the blanket around yourself as tightly as you can, careful to not take too much cover away from Gale. You can feel warmth radiating from him, though, and your body craves it.

Your teeth chatter suddenly, and you clamp them in an attempt to smother the noise.

“You’re cold aren’t you?” Gale suddenly asks. You turn to face him, a slight flush heating your cheeks as you notice he’s sleeping shirtless.

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to complain.

He sighs, motioning you over. “Just come here. We’ll stay warm if we’re close.”

You know you should deny him. Snuggling with a companion is a risky game. But you trust Gale.

You scooch over into his embrace, sighing at the warmth of him. He wraps his arms around you as you rest your head against his chest. Your fingers are freezing, so you place them against his torso.

He hisses. “Your hands are freezing.”

You giggle. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

You feel his mouth move against your hair. “Not at all.”

His skin nearly feels like fire against the cold, but it’s also a welcome feeling. You admire how he holds you so tightly. You breathe in his scent, noticing how it comforts you.

It doesn’t take long for his heat to seep into you, and eventually, a deep sleep overtakes you.

Raphael

It’s either sleep in his bed with him, or sleep in your cell. He says you should call him merciful for giving you a choice, but it doesn’t feel like mercy. He’s so pleased with himself when you huff with frustration at his offer.

Sleep with a devil, or sleep behind bars. You’re not sure which one is worse. In the end, you choose the option with the bed. Knowing Raphael, it will be one of the most comfortable beds you’ve ever slept on.

He doesn’t hesitate to instantly invade your personal space when you crawl under the sheets. You feel his presence at your back, and you know his eyes are raking over you, taking in every detail he can. Searching for every button he can push.

He presses himself against you, wrapping an arm around your torso to hold you. A tingly feeling builds in your lower abdomen. You scold yourself. This creature simply wants to tease you.

And tease you he does. He traces those claws of his along your thighs. He lets his soft breaths linger at the back of your neck. He never reaches for an intimate part of you though, but will get close before backing off again. It leaves you feeling empty, and it drives you mad.

“I won’t be sleeping tonight, will I?” you ask him, a small shake in your voice.

“Not a wink, little mouse.” You can hear the smug smile in his voice.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Belonging with them

Day 3: Belonging.

Summary: He knew where he belonged now.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1150

Warnings: azzie continues being jelly of kaden lolll

A/n: i love hazel sm yall dont get it 🥺 this fic is based on a short i saw on yt and the dad is like the biggest hunk and gave such cassian vibes and he genuinely cried 🥺 i was gonna write this fic for cassian but then i decided to give this to azzie cus he deserves to cry hehe

(if you dont know hazel and kaden, theyre from my mini series overprotective bat. it was a 2 part series which can be found on my azriel masterlist. all the fic in this week will be revolving around these two cuties hehe)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore."

"I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries and I’m not sure of that, either."

The day he had said those words to Feyre seemed like a lifetime away, as if experienced in a dream centuries ago when he was younger and could not differentiate between reality and what his brain had conjured up. But he knew, it had merely been five years.

The five years he had cherished the most in his life.

He loved his family. He adored the way Rhys and Cassian bickered during their annual snowball fight, the way Amren found a way to slide in a snide remark at every dinner, the way Mor would always be ready to go partying. Above all, he adored how all his family including the Archeron sisters would be ready to help him and be there for him any day. Even in the middle of the night when he did not want to wake up his wife but knew he needed someone to help him with his crying daughter.

But… they did not complete him. He loved them to bits and would readily give his life for them… before he met his now wife and decided she was the one he would spend his life with, mating bond be damned. He had lost all hopes of finding his mate back then after waiting for five centuries.

Imagine his shock when on their wedding day, he felt another thread of gold tying him to his wife.

Now as he sat watching his daughter pet a purring Nuts lounging on the low table in front of him while explaining to him how tea was made, he smiled.

He had found his place of belonging. And it was with his wife and daughter.

Of course, there had to be that boy trying to take his daughter away from him. What was his name? Kade? Kaden? Azriel thought bitterly.

He knew he was being dramatic. His daughter was barely four years at this point, no four year old was going to steal her away.

Hazel turned to Azriel, making him focus all his attention on her. He offered her a smile when she handed him a small pink cup.

"What is this?" He asked, bringing the empty toy to his lips.

She shot him an incredulous look. "It’s the tea you ordered daddy."

"Oh, yeah sorry, I was thinking about something."

She shook her head. "Stop thinking and focus, daddy. Kaden always pays attention."

Azriel stilled.

I am being compared to a four year old boy now? What has life come to.

He sighed, mumbling out an apology even though all he wanted to do was tell her to stay away from that boy.

He did not want to be forced to go apologise again.

She began fumbling with the littered toys on the desk once more, completely ignoring Azriel in favour of mumbling instructions to Nuts, as if teaching him how to cook.

As he watched her move over to the huge armchair and place a cup on it, conversing with what Azriel could only hope was not spirits of the deceased, his curiosity peaked.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he needed to make sure that she was not getting overly friendly with Kaden.

"Hazel, this tea is amazing." He waited till she giggled before continuing. "By the way, how’s school?"

It was daycare to help her get accustomed to going to school next year, but Hazel insisted she was a big girl and attended big girl school.

"It’s fine. Miss Black gave me a gold star yesterday because I helped her." Hazel was focused on the air she was stirring in her red pot as she talked, lips pursed slightly in concentration.

"Hmm. Who’s your best friend?"

Please don’t say Kaden. Not Kaden. Please.

She turned around to glare at him, and he wondered if by any chance he had said the words aloud. But he knew he hadn’t. Azriel wouldn’t let himself speak without permission from himself.

Her brows bunched up, lips pouting and eyes narrowed, she looked as offended as an old grandma being told her grandchild was full and did not want more food.

"Daddy, it’s you. You’re my best friend." She rolled her eyes.

Azriel watched. He simply watched her return back to stirring her pot.

Cassian had been the one to teach her the eye rolling. Azriel had been amused. Seeing a child barely reaching his knees roll her eyes at him like she had lived five lives was nothing short of funny.

But right now, it felt anything but.

It’s you daddy.

His eyes were prickling, that was his first conscious thought after long moments of silence in his head. His vision was getting blurry, throat clogging. Tell tale signs of a sob session oncoming. But he could not bring himself to care as he stared at this little faeling, who did not even realise what she had done.

You’re my best friend.

Azriel simply sat back against the couch, the cushions pressing against his bare back, and let the tears have their way on his skin.

I’m her best friend.

Even despite the emotions Hazel had brought forth, somewhere in the back of his mind Azriel was rejoicing that her best friend was not Kaden.

Guess I’m never beating the territorial illyrian accusations.

The shadows settled down on his shoulders, swirling softly against his skin as they too watched Hazel play and pet Nuts occasionally. They did not inform him of his wife’s arrival in the living room. They did not have to. He simply felt when her presence was near. The all consuming feeling of love growing stronger in his chest being another indicator.

"Hazel, it’s bath time baby. Let’s go."

Hazel huffed as if what Y/n had said was the most outrageous thing ever. "Mommy, I can’t leave yet. There are customers."

Azriel practically felt his wife’s eyes narrow. "Daddy can attend to your customers."

Hazel turned to look at Azriel pleadingly, her eyes wide and placating before they filled with shock. "Daddy why are you crying!"

Y/n drew closer. "Azzie?"

Azriel blinked, smiling up at his wife before picking up his daughter. "It’s nothing. Just some dust."

Hazel turned to scowl at Nuts. "I told you to clean up properly. Now see, because of you my daddy is crying."

Azriel huffed out a laugh, pressing his lips to her round cheek.

"Let’s go shower baby. I’ll even get your toys, yeah?"

Azriel’s gaze swung to Y/n at the end of his sentence. She gave him a knowing smile.

"Can Nuts come too? Please daddy, mommy!"

"Fine, but no splashing." Y/n pointed a finger at the father-daughter duo, eyebrows raised.

Hazel had begun to whine, but even she knew not to argue when mommy was serious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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@okaytrashpanda

[emilys-bangs]

we were wild and fluorescent (come home to my heart) | e.p

Tags: established relationship, rockstar!emily, no use of yn, use of petnames, smoking, fluff

Summary: You’re your girlfriend’s muse. She writes a song about you.

Word count: 2.6k

inspired by this post

Emily Prentiss is captivating. She has the world on its knees with a blink of deep brown eyes, has the strings of fate at her mercy with a tilt of red lips and a flash of dimples. On the stage, she reigns over people’s hearts, capturing them with a riff of her electric guitar, a toss of her raven hair back as she dances to her own music.

She’s gorgeous and alluring and unattainable, flitting past people’s extended hands with sly smiles. The envy of fellow artists and the dream of every youth, her pictures are hung up on walls, her songs continually hummed on tongues, her talent dissected by critics whom she blows away with a few honeyed lyrics. 

Her image is striking; with her cherry red guitar and her bold eyeliner and her leather jackets that barely brush the bottom of her ass. She wears silver rings on fingers with bitten nails and has small, colorful tattoos littering her body and takes pictures of her cat more often than of herself, so much so that Sergio has unironically and unexpectedly become her mascot, another unique brand on her already formidable name.

On the stage she’s untouchable, dressed in black and red and leather, a sheen of sweat making her glow, the darkness of her eyes made darker by the liner she draws on her skin. She’s a wild, electric thing in front of the crowds, buzzing with intensity, brimming with energy, larger than life.

And she’s all yours.

“Hi, dolcezza.”

Her body crashes into yours. She’s warm, the scent of her perfume mixing with the clean scent of her sweat. It’s a mix you’re well acquainted with, one that feels like home. The rougher quality of her voice makes your stomach swoop as you hug her back and ignore the buzz of backstage, the eyes drawn to your girlfriend—and consequently, you. 

“Hi, Em.” A smile lights up your face as she nuzzles into your neck, her fingers twisting in your shirt. She always claims she misses you after a show. “You were amazing up there.” You murmur, squeezing the leather-clad skin of her hips.

Emily glows, her eyes brightening at your praise. “It felt great,” she breathes. Her tongue skips over her lips, her cheeks flushed from the heat and adrenaline. There’s always a certain buzz to her after she performs, an incandescence that outlines her in gold. There are stars in her eyes, lightning in the curve of her lips. 

She’s radiant.

Emily takes you back home and heightens her high, pressing you into her mattress and drowning in your skin, your scent, the beat of your heart. Her fingers wander over your collarbone and the line of your jaw, lips pressing against yours to swallow the sweet sounds you’re unable to hold back. She’s always like this after a show—if exhaustion doesn’t pull her under—needy for you and determined to spend hour after hour imprinting the feel of you onto her skin.

When you’re both sated and your legs have turned into jelly, she coaxes you into the shower. There you press her against the tiles and taste the water off her skin before gently, reverently washing away the sweat of the night from her body, using careful fingers and jasmine soap.

After the shower you dress in an oversized shirt and she wears a satin short pajama set, the material slipping over the marble of her counter as she lifts herself onto it and watches you make her the usual drink after every show; chamomile tea with honey. Making it has become a routine, something to soothe her throat and ease her into sleep after a night of pumping adrenaline and burning it off.

Emily watches you prepare her tea. Your movements are light and practiced as you slip your way through the kitchen, the socks on your feet softening your steps. She hears you hum out a familiar tune over the rumble of the kettle—a song of hers, she then realizes, biting her lip to hide a smile as you pour the hot water into a mug.

As you stand there, your wet hair soaking your shirt, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks as you steep the tea and squeeze in a generous amount of honey, she feels the light of inspiration hit her, swift and sudden as lightning. Lyrics form in her head, uncoordinated and incomplete, but the more she looks at you the more they rush forward.

“Oh,” she breathes, sliding off the counter and rushing to grab a notebook, a piece of paper, anything to write the words down on before they disappear.

“Em?” You call out after her, brows knotting together at her sudden departure. From the kitchen you can see her rummaging for something in the living room, damp hair falling across her shoulders. 

“Hey, everything alright?” You ask as you walk into the living room, the mug of tea forgotten. Emily doesn’t respond. 

When you see the notebook in her hands, it all makes sense. Her lip is between her teeth as she raises her index finger, an indication for you to shut up while she frantically scribbles something. With a fond smile and a roll of your eyes, you oblige and go back to fetch her tea, setting it on the coffee table in front of her before sitting next to her on the couch. 

You sink back on the cushions and watch her in silence, smiling at the way she stares off into the distance. She taps her pen in a quick pattern on the side of her notebook, her gaze distant and glassy; you can almost see the gears turn in her head. Then she perks up, her eyes brightening with a familiar spark as she returns to writing vigorously, her hand flying across the paper. 

She’s lost in her own world by this point. Smiling, you rise and kiss the top of her head, lips lingering on her raven hair before you flit about the living room in search of your pack of cigarettes. If Emily’s writing, you know it’ll be a long night.

Finally locating the pack and slipping a cigarette between your lips, you light it and pad back to the couch, socks slipping on the floorboards as the smoke exits your mouth with a low exhale.

Unsurprisingly, Emily is still bent over her notebook, though now she rests her back on the couch and gazes down thoughtfully at the words rather than writing manically. You smile and pick up her discarded tea, nudging it into her hand.

“Drink.”

She obliges, her smile disappearing beneath the rim of the mug when she brings it to her lips. Her eyes meet yours over it as she drinks and you blow out another puff of smoke, before darting down to the notebook. Emily picks up the pen again and scrawls a few lines. She settles the mug precariously on her thigh and holds out her hand without looking up.

Rolling your eyes, you hand her your cigarette.

The two of you share it back and forth as you lean over her shoulder, peeking at her lyrics despite her initial, displeased grunt. When you nuzzled your nose into her cheek, however, and let your lips ghost over her jaw, she relaxed and stayed silent. 

Moments like these always feel special, like there’s something big cresting right over your heads, something life changing, earth shattering, even when it starts as nothing more than words on paper. You feel the magic in the air, feel Emily’s genius and her passion and her love for her craft as she labors over songs with furrowed eyebrows, tweaking and editing until everything is just right.

A few crossed out lines and torn out pages later, she has a complete song. The cigarette has long since been stubbed out and Emily’s mug is drained, the tea bag drying in a tiny pool of leftover chamomile. You read over her shoulder, a light blush on your cheeks at the words Emily has written, for you.

“That’s really good, Em.” You say softly and run your fingers through a few strands of her hair, tucking it behind her ear so you can kiss her cheek. Her dimple appears beneath your lips.

“Mm, let’s see how it sounds on the guitar.” She turns and catches your lips in a quick kiss before extracting herself from your arms.

And the two of you stay up until night starts blending into day, your legs crossed on the couch as Emily tries out riffs and tunes, sings out her lyrics with high pitches and lows. The exhaustion of the day doesn’t register in either of your bodies as you go through the song with her, offering your opinions and your praise, your cheeks heating until they’re close to the color of her guitar. It makes your heart pound, how her love for you produced something tangible, something you could almost hold in both your palms. 

She titles the song and writes down the notes, noting the highs and lows, where she softens her voice to almost a whisper and where she lets it build into a strong cadence, aided by the grit in the back of her throat. By the time your girlfriend sets aside her notebook and guitar it’s somewhere near three in the morning, the whole world asleep except for the two of you.

You’ve witnessed this very process of creating countless times, and yet it never ceases to blow you away. Sometimes it happens over days, sometimes weeks; but sometimes she’s lucky and it takes only hours.

“That was amazing, Emily.” You tell her, your voice hushed with awe. She has your legs over her lap, one of her hands lightly resting on your ankle bone.

Emily sighs softly. “You’re my muse, dolcezza.” She murmurs, her voice like silk in your ears. “The air in my lungs and the light in my soul.” She takes your jaw in her hand and kisses you, slow, as your cheeks burn.

Her hands squeeze your waist, wander over the bare skin of your thighs. The coarse calluses on her fingertips scrape over your skin and you shiver. Emily pulls away, staying just close enough to keep your lips touching, her forehead resting against yours. 

“Still in writer mode?” You try to tease, the words escaping breathily against her mouth.

“Always in writer mode when I’m with you.” She replies, taking your lips in another kiss.

Though security stands guard outside, though the cook sleeps quietly upstairs, in this moment, it’s just you and her.

——

By the time her next show rolls around, she’s perfected the song.

“Stay still,” you murmur, a chiding tone to your voice as you finish up Emily’s makeup. “And keep your eyes closed.” She just had to start getting jittery during the eyeliner.

“Sorry.” She stills, her hands lightly grabbing for your waist, but her lips turn up at the corners. Backstage, she’s careless about hiding her affection for you, quite openly calling you nicknames and linking your fingers through hers—not that you mind in the slightest. You shake your head, smiling in half fondness, half exasperation as you sharpen her wing. 

The reason for her abundant excitement is obvious. She’d been going over her new song—editing it, recording it at the studio, singing out the lyrics at odd times—and tonight she’ll be releasing it out into the open for the first time. A similar excitement runs through your veins, but you steady your hand as you cap the eyeliner and take out her lipstick.

Sometimes she has time for this. Time to brush away her makeup artist and take you by the hand instead, her grin bashful and sly all at once as she asks you to do her makeup instead. You never say no, knowing that the possibility of her passing out after a show is a big one.

“All done.” You wipe gently at a smudge of lipstick on the corner of her mouth.

Emily’s eyes flutter open. “How do I look?” She grins, the action carving two dimples into her cheeks.

Unfairly gorgeous. In this moment, you almost resent the crowd waiting for her just outside. But you smile and brush her dark hair away from her face. You’ll have her after. 

“Perfect as ever.” You wink. 

Emily takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, her lips catching on one of the rings adorning your fingers. Your breath hitches as her eyes meet yours, dark and lovely as she says, “Thank you, mi amor.” Dropping your hand, she cups your jaw instead and kisses your cheek. “I’ll be sure to treat you extra well when we get home, hmm?”

Your skin heats. Before you can grab her hip and keep her close, someone calls for her—five minutes till show time. She steps back, her lips leaving your skin, the warmth of her replaced by the cold air of backstage. 

Emily winks, “See you on the other side.”

“Blow me a kiss.” You tease.

She throws you a salute and you laugh, barely getting time to look after her retreating from before one of the organizers ushers you to a sectioned off area in front of the stage, in clear view of Emily.

When she appears between fog and strobing lights, her fans go wild. Her dress tonight is red, short and swathed in black lace, her leather jacket falling off one shoulder and exposing pale, ivory skin. When she starts strumming her guitar, falling into the music, her lips tilt into the familiar smile, slow and just for her before she widens it and directs it to the screaming crowd.

She makes two hours feel like a matter of minutes. Though Emily is alone on the stage, she embodies the whole space, controlling it with tosses of her hair and shakes of her hips and strums of her guitar. More than once she strays to the edge, close enough to touch you, her lashes fluttering in the faintest wink when your eyes meet. It makes you sickeningly giddy, your heart jumping each time she smiles at you, though it’s hardly new.

“Tonight,” she drawls into her microphone after her last song, the rasp of her voice quieting down the crowd, “I’ll be singing a song I wrote for a special someone. You know who you are.” Her eyes meet yours and she winks, deliberately, just enough that some girls shift in front of you, thinking she meant it to them.

Emily eventually tears her eyes away, but they keep straying back to you as she sings her new song—your song—the butterflies in your stomach growing wild each time she smiles at you and looks away, her struggle in looking somewhere else clear as day.

When the concert ends you bound to backstage once more, waiting impatiently for your girlfriend to arrive. A smile breaks across your face when she does, guitar slung over one shoulder, her hair mussed and fluffy, her makeup somehow perfectly intact. A matching smile tugs at her mouth as she pulls you gently from the guitar pick that hangs around your neck—one of her favorites, strung through a chain—and kisses you hungrily, a maddening, dizzying juxtaposition of controlling lips and tender hands that makes your brain fog.

“I’m yours,” Emily whispers, her mouth swollen and pink, her eyes nearly darkened to black. “Only ever yours.” Her fingers tangle in your shirt again, twisting, twisting.

You smile. 

“Mine.”

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world! Please let me know what you think <3

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

what would a poly relationship with the 5 female legendary cookies from cookie run kingdom be like with a quiet male!reader and can I see some dialogue with them please

Cream Oreo Cookie: Dialogue Coming right up! :D

Sea Fairy Cookie:

You both are quiet actually but not as much as you

Unlike Sea Fairy Cookie she talks a small bit but you..you barely talk to her but just make squeaking sounds and just nod or shake your head or shrug whenever you we're asked a question

She doesn't mind Ofcourse since she understands

You both take good care eachother and show affection by action

You both stay at her tower watching the stars and looking over at his sister's Moon(yes I Headcannon Sea Fairy Cookie & Moonlight Cookie as siblings don't kill me please 😭)

She would at times do your hair and loves to play with it at times

She will tell you stories about the sea and the creatures that lives in

You both always take long walks by the beach or on the water

Sea Fairy Cookie: My Dear Seashell are you ready to go out for our daily morning walk?

You Nodded happily

Sea Fairy Cookie: Here hold my hand and let me protect you my dear

Moonlight Cookie:

At first she thought she was making yo uncomfortable or was doing something wrong to make you upset and not talk to her

Are you scared? Sad? Angry? What is it?! It's been so long since she had any kind interaction with the outside world because of her slumber

But then when you reassured her with writing something on a paper that you don't mind her company she calmed down

She was glad she wasn't doing anything wrong for her Sunshine

Now she doesn't mind if your quiet since that's just how you are and if you don't want to tell her then that's fine

For some reason even in your dreams you don't talk

The two of you cuddle whenever it's time to sleep and would sing to you

Moonlight Cookie: When the river flows~ Surely to the sea...Darling so it goes...Somethings are just meant to be~

You smiled softly as you we're held by Moonlight Cookie

Y/N Cookie: Mm..

Frost Queen Cookie:

You we're a very interesting Cookie for her

A Cookie who prefers not too speak and yet is gentle but kind and energetic even

You have caught her eye and maybe...just maybe melted her cold ice ridden heart

You we're such a gentle and Handsome Cookie she has ever met

You always come by to have hot Cocoa and play board games with her

Despite being a quiet and shy Cookie you we're very entertaining and smart

If you ever needed her for something just call out her name and she will protect you and take good care of you at all cost

Frost Queen Cookie: You called me my little Snowflake?

You nod and hugged her wearing a ton of clothing just to not freeze from her iced body and get stuck like last time

She was surprised but then smiled and hugged back

Frost Queen Cookie: I love you too my little Snowflake

Stormbringer Cookie:

She was confused at first to why you don't want to talk...

She thought it was out of fear for being stroked by lightning since she is the Goddess of Thunder

But when she found out that you are just like that she laughed but not at you Ofcourse (Kind off)

She laughed at how interesting it was for her to meet such a shy Individual let alone be it a Male Cookie

You Mortals never fails to entertain her and surprise her

You we're her listener and she was your Yapper

Stormbringer Cookie: And then! I went and said " YOU DARE CHALLENGE THE ALL MIGHTY THUNDER GOD MORTAL!?"

You just nod and nod and made some "Hm" sounds to show her that you we're listening

Stormbringer Cookie: AND JUST LIKE THAT I STRIKE HIM WITH ONE POWERFUL STRIKE AND THEY WE'RE GONE INTO CRUMBS!!!! HAHAHAHAH!

Black/White Pearl Cookie:

She was annoyed and pissed to why you can't scream or beg for any mercy for her to not crumble you..

It's not fun when your Cookie just stays quiet and accepted fate without a fight or any means to beg and bargain with her

But you we're very interesting for offering such jellies and even seashells to show how a male Cookie like you who tends to be ruthless from her past experience are

She was glad to meet a gentleman let alone be a small little Male Cookie who's so Handsome, Cute and Sweet

Despite being a shy talker you we're loved and given gifts by the all mighty Black Pearl Cookie

If you needed anything from her she will give it to you no second thoughts

Black Pearl Cookie: Where have you been all of this time my darling little Land Cookie?

You tilted your head to the side a bit confused

Black Pearl Cookie: I have met such Awful and Ruthless Male Land Cookie's and goodness by the name of the witches are they HORRIBLE

Is that why she tried to kill you back then?

Black Pearl Cookie: But now your finally here in my arms my little knight and shining armor despite being so small and weak and can be crumbled in seconds

You gulped at that thought but smiled nonetheless and thank her in a very quiet voice for he compliment

[nuumbie]

DRAMATIC IRONY

Prompt: You witness a memory bubble at Sir Edward’s. A product of a dream belonging to the trailblaze. Unlike the last Dream Bubble isn’t very much fun at all.

Author’s Notes: Less of Akivili!Reader x Aha. More like Reader reads a self-insert of Ahavili Fanfiction. Romantic-Undertones. A character study based on my perception of both characters based on what little crumbs Star Rail has given us. Hope you enjoy.

You had gotten a text from Sir Edward… apparently you are moving up in the ranks! You are a prized enough customer to get told when they’re having a sale on memories… obviously to maximize your achievements and to fully grasp all of the expierence! This was a must to go and see.

It’s a little exciting to witness the dreams of a long dead Aeon in order to understand them your fingers grasp the bubble. It’s warm as you hold it delicately within your fingertips. A precious memory that belongs to the Astral Express. It’s a little giddying of a thought to understand the crew better. To know of the paths your predecessors had laid out for you… and to understand the Aeon Akivili a little better considering how much of your life revolves in their footsteps…

You note in the back of your mind to tell Himeko… maybe Danheng and March? Perhaps, even Mr Yang would be curious! You can’t help but to imagine their reactions. Pompom’s especially! They seemed a little curious with the last memory bubble you bought… perhaps these souvenirs could serve as precious to the conductor? Such thoughts motivate you forward to press on! “So this is it…”

“You’re excited aren’t you?” Edward’s pupils widen at you. “This was recommended by a certain party. I’m not sure how they got their hands on the memory. I haven’t looked at it myself. You’ll have to tell me how much fun you’re having.”

You pause catching his words. “Eh… you didn’t check? Isn’t that apart of your job?”

“That it is, that it is… this isn’t mine to look at however. The person who left it with me said it was a gift for you and said ‘not to ruin the surprise no matter what’. It’s your choice whether you look at it in the end.”

Oh, that makes you less-wanting to open it up to peek inside. What if they downloaded something scary on it? What if it isn’t a memory of the Astral Express at all but a bunch of jumpscares or even worse… a Rickroll? The memory that once pleasantly reminded you of jelly now hangs like slime between your fingers… “Was… it a girl with pigtails? And a fox-mask…? Kind of short?” You even your hand around where she usually stands when compared to you regardless of your own height.

“Ah, how elaborate of a description!” Edward cheers. “No, it was this blue-haired man—“

You immediately feel all joy you felt suck out of you in instants. A world record pace.

Technically, it still could be Sparkle. That doesn’t narrow it down at all now that you really think about it. You suddenly don’t really want to do this. Because it’s either Sparkle or him… a gift from any of those two hasn’t really ended well for you in the past the more you think about it. Actually, all it’s gotten you is bucket loads of trauma and pains in the butt. But…

“…”

“Will I get stellar jades if I do this?”

Edward blinks a couple of times in confusion. “Ah, they did leave some around here somewhere in there now that you mention it… you’d have to stick your hand inside to get it.”

You immediately stick your hand within the dream bubble and grab hold of it and you don’t look back. Such is the will of the trailblaze.

-

Akivilli’s form is unknown to you yet you can feel the wet grass on your tush as the memories rush into your brain and take hold of your consciousness.

Things you know about Akivilli, perhaps bipedal? Ah, with how things are. They could possibly be a walking trash can on legs and you wouldn’t even know the difference. You try to focus through the haze of the memories.

The words are not your own. But the voice that leaves your throat is yours without any doubt in your head. A shame that you couldn’t choose for another to read it to you again… or at least have the option of it.

You find yourself laughing. Your voice calling back at you despite not knowing the words until you hear them. It’s a bit unnerving, but you soon sit back, relax, and then the dream plays out as your vision returns.

It’s a starry night sky. A view you’ve grown accustomed to. It hasn’t lost its luster yet and you fear the day that the sight of the stars no longer excites you. You reach your hand out towards the stars, tracing the constellations. Although, you can’t see your hands. You can somehow feel its warmth. It goes from your hand to your chest, leaving you warm and fuzzy inside like you drank a bunch of hot cocoa. You can’t stifle the giggle that escapes your throat. It’s you but it isn’t. It’s a strange, disembodying feeling. You should be used to it by now, but you can’t say you are any closer to coping with it than you were before.

“I think I’m really happy.” An emotion that’s not yours, a feeling that doesn’t belong to you, the bubbly, overwhelming feeling of happiness. One that you don’t understand overwhelms you. “Right now. I wonder. Is this what humans call peace? I wish this feeling could last forever.”

But it can’t. It’s a sad and happy thought. The fact you’ll go to experience many more joys and sorrows. That you’ve yet to feel even more highs and lows. For the reason for living is to go through the good and the bad.

“Ah, Akivili, Akivili—“ perhaps, you should have expected it. considering who gave you the dream bubble, but you’re still surprised. a shapeless miasma, surrounded by masks, your sight is blurry when you gaze directly at the figure. without a head THEIR arms wiggling as they hold a multitude of faces, masks, they circle between them on a dime. the mask that looks back at you in THEIR iconic smile. THEY laugh. “The real star is right here. Before your eyes. A touch away! Yet, you yearn for something so far away? How silly, how cruel, to call the night sky beautiful when I’m right here!”

A resounding sound of a million hands snapping. Louder than a gunshot.

“Pay attention to me instead.”

THEY snap their fingers.

The star you were tracing bursts into bright, colorful confetti.

A deep sadness consumes you. The constellation has lost a piece of itself. Millions of years into nothing but scraps of paper floating through outer space. “Agh— AHA.” what a hard name to yell. you weep for the fallen star with your whole chest so it knows it was loved “… you guys never change. I liked that star too.”

“Oh, but we do.” THEY tilt the mask, facing upside down. The smile is curved into a frown. “Nothing lasts forever, Akivili, my Akivili. I’m sure at the end of the universe that IX will swallow all of us down and eat us up. We will change inevitably. Ena turned into Xipe’s late night snack. This moment will go away. That is why I wish for you to admire Aha’s radiance instead! You can disappear. I would spend my eternity thinking about the time you preferred a star over me.”

You feel a deep sadness that isn’t yours. You crush it in your palms and hold it in your hands.

“Don’t get jealous. I do prefer you.” THEY giggle. you don’t turn to face THEM despite that. Glancing out towards the night sky. Bright stars hang across the planet. a planet so small and insignifant in the face of such a big universe. but that’s why it’s so important. your fingers line the stars in the sky into a million different shapes, you can taste the thrill of adventure, the loving unknown. the future and the heat of it on your tongue. a million light years away. “I like that you’re here next to me. I like that you’re with me. This sight is only so enjoyable because I have someone to love it so throughly with.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t though.” you grab where your heart would be. but as an aeon, do you even have one of those? nobody’s ever dissected an aeon before. perhaps they’re made out of rock candy, gears, oils, and a dash of love. because you don’t know. it’s as possible as any other possibility. “Can’t you at least try to hold a little empathy? That star had a long time left. And even if it didn’t— stars usually last a long time after they die. But now it’s just gone. The sky is missing a piece of itself. What will people look at when they place their eyes on that particular patch of sky?”

“Ewww!” THEIR voice transforms. the sound of a child, a mimicked sound and replica of a hundred crying children. THEIR face morphs into disgust. the haughty laugh is accompanied by a loud boo you’d hear from a game show. you have to stifle a laugh as they whine. “You’re killing me, killing me. Ah, dearest, loveliest, Akivili— are you trying to shackle me?”

“My detested, beloathed Aha.” you laugh loudly and try to match THEIR joy. though, a part of you lingers on the fallen star, the fallen aeon, and you resolve to live and hold onto this feeling even tighter until it sears a hole in you that’ll last forever even when you’re gone. “If only I could.”

You don’t know what love is. But you capture it in bits and pieces. You feel it ringing in every piece of you and it calls out to you when you look out at the express crew, whenever you glance up at the night sky you promised to explore, whenever the astral express warp-jumps and even you feel a little dizzy with the sensation of truly being alive.

And you feel it, too. Even for things you shouldn’t. To the things that feel like sand that flows through your fingers. To the things that will move on without you. Because worlds spin, the galaxy changes, every time you close your eyes for as much as you gain there is always something to lose.

Aha doesn’t have a face. THEIR fingertip press against your face, however, pressing your lips into a smile, you think despite being the embodiment of joy they can not smile without a head. “Ahaha.”

“Didn’t you say you could die without regret?” THEY reach out for your hand with their other arms. they move your body, while you stand there uselessly, positioning you like they were inviting you to dance. but they don’t move. neither do you. “You’ve got plenty of regrets itching at your lips, Akivili. So many words left unsaid. You should say them. You have so much power, you have the ability to reach the heavens, to reach for the stars you like so very much. But you always refuse to take.”

“It was a metaphor.” you mutter back. though, it sounds more sad than you intend. Aha notices. they ruffle your hair giggling at your sorry attempts. You don’t resist as much as you should.

“A trailblazer isn’t meant to stay in one place, Akivili. Isn’t that your path? You should tread it properly.” THEY make a buzzer-sound effect. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re so strange.” THEY laugh harder and harder. their hands reach for their stomach to hold it. like THEY would fall over if they hadn’t. “Except, not strange at all! You’re strange because you’re an Aeon— but you’re so lamefully, painfully, mundane from your pinky finger to your toes. You’re a walking, talking, contradiction. To be honest, it’s lame, so dreadfully, drearily, lame.”

“Akivili, Akivili.” THEY smile and they sing a song, out of tune, manical. “I love that part of you, though, you who’s is one-and-only across all the world trees…”

You don’t understand THEM at all. But they just insulted you. You stare at THEM dumbfounded, with crossed arms, but the mask smiles back will a look filled with endearment.

“You know.” You pout as your fingers— does Akivili even have hands? But, you can feel something reaching, weakly lifting, trying to cling to them and hold onto something that touches back. “I want you to stay. The Astral Express. You could join me. We accept everyone. You could be a nameless, too. On the express, everyone is the same.”

“Everyone’s accepted me.” Your heart sings at the thought. “They’d accept you, too. That’s what I want.”

“I know.” Aha‘s smile is strange. “I wanted to hear you say it anyway! Akivili wants me. Akivili wants me. They really said it! I should sing it to so everyone in the galaxy can hear. I wonder if they’d create a holiday over it? So everyone can memorize the date you poured yourself out to me!”

“Don’t.” You pout knowing where this is going. It’d only serve as a reminder. “You’re too cruel, sometimes.”

“I’m the nicest to you.” AHA smiles. “Isn’t that so funny? I care about you. I’d miss you. That’s such a funny thought to me! I can’t help but to laugh.”

You flashback to a time where they wondered out-loud how you’d react if THEY blew up the express. You remember silence before THEY laughed it off and said it was something for the back-burner.

Nice is subjective.

“Would you join me, though? Would you leave your express for me?” Aha giggles. “Would you watch the stars burn with me. All the way from the theater seat? Would you come with me, instead? We could do other things. Everything. I could show you things you’d never get to see on your train if you’d let me.”

“I wouldn’t.” you repeat before you can even think about the words leaving your mouth. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“I know, too. See? You can live up to your namesake.” THEY tap your nose. “It’s written in you. It’s interwoven in you. You shouldn’t forget your beginnings despite all the time that goes by.”

“It’s your meaning.” THEY cackle. “No matter how hard you try, so better to embrace the upcoming tragedy.”

“I know.” Aha hugs you, deeply. “It’s okay. Akivili, my Akivili. Don’t cry! I’ll always take time out of my day to see you! You’re the most exciting show which always gets me to smile the most! I’ll always be watching over you. Maybe, one day. If you miss Aha so much. THEY would like to see you personally from first-ticket seats every now and again on your little missions, too.”

“We could never give each other our forever.” THEY squeeze hard enough for it to hurt, hands wrapping around you, possessively. but, you know better than that. you know they’ll let you go. maybe, you wish they would try a little harder to stay. “My Akivili. I’ll give you all of my now. Because I really do enjoy this! And maybe I’ll give you my later, and even more of a latter after that, and even more. Even if that seems sad. It’s not. We can’t give ourselves everything to each other.”

“But I’ll give more to you than I’ve ever given anyone else.”

“After all, I’m one of the few things that won’t go away, won’t I?” a deep sadness spills in your gut threatening to pour out. “You’re the same. Some things get boring with time. But you grow more wonderful with time. I fall a little deeper in love with you each time I see you!” ❤️

“I love you, Akivili, my Akivili.”

You ignore the burning sensation in your stomach. This grief is another feeling to cherish. A grief for something that hasn’t happened yet. Aha calls you THEIRS. But, you know deep down—

THEY would never be YOURS.

“I think I love you, too.”

Your hold is so tight it burns. You hold onto this. Knowing the moment you open your eyes it will all disappear. But that’s okay. You repeat to yourself. Because this moment is so good. And it’ll happen again. Even if it won’t last.

It’s so good because it won’t last, that means you have to make it. You try to tell yourself that. Repeating the words like a prayer. It really is funny. You’re an Aeon who begs.

“You sweet-talker!!!” THEY laugh. “You should tell me more of this Express! Aha is curious, Aha is curious! Ahaahaa… maybe I’ll take some time out of my schedule and go and visit! Would that make you happy?”

“Don’t play with my feelings like that after so throughly rejecting me.” You deadpan back, but you can’t help but to stifle the sound of your own laughter, however sad. “The express really does welcome everyone. Even if it’s only for awhile.”

And you’re right.

Like everything.

This fades away, too.

-

You wake up standing up. The dream bubble in your hand oozes through your fingers. Leaking onto the floor. Edward’s voice brings you from your stupor.

“Oh, it’s not meant to do that. Forgive me. I don’t think you’ll be able to view this memory for a second time. I wonder if I could recover it…”

So you won’t be able to bring it to the express. You wonder if you would’ve. Knowing what you saw.

It felt more personal— too personal to share. Can you bring yourself to say anything to Edward? Not really. You just shake your head. It’s okay. It’s really better this way.

Looking into your hands now sticky with the hopes and dreams of a long-dead Aeon, you find a measly 75 jades. It’s coated in the sliminess of the dream bubble.

It’s barely enough for half a pull.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

12. Jelly does come in both ways

Note: pretty long chap soo….enjoy the fluff!

Masterlist here

Ever since the topic of dating came up, Ningning, ever the instigator, had been joking around during one of their late-night practice sessions. They were cooling down, lying on the floor of the practice room, and Y/n had just stepped out to grab some water.

And a little birdie has chirped that Y/n got set up to a blind date.

“You know,” Ningning had said, shooting a glance at Winter, “if Y/n’s going on a date, maybe you should’ve set him up with someone, unnie. I mean, you are the same in age.”

Winter, sitting cross-legged, froze mid-stretch. “W-What? Why me?”

Karina, sensing an opportunity to join in the fun, smirked. “Well, you are always bickering with him. Opposites attract, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Giselle added with a sly grin, “and you two spend so much time together. You must know his type by now.”

Winter’s face flushed. “That’s ridiculous! We just childhood friends. That’s it.”

Ningning snickered. “Sure, unnie. Whatever you say.”

The teasing didn’t stop there. The other girls kept dropping little comments and giggles every time Y/n and Winter interacted. Winter, despite trying her best to ignore it, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something every time they mentioned the date.

It wasn’t jealousy—definitely not—but she was... annoyed. That’s all it was. She didn’t even know the girl Y/n was meeting, yet something about the situation irked her.

And that’s how Winter found herself leading the charge to spy on Y/n’s date.

-

When Y/n agreed to go on a blind date, he had no idea he’d also be starring in a spy movie—except, instead of highly trained professionals following him, it was four idiots wearing oversized sunglasses and ridiculous disguises.

Winter, Giselle, Ningning, and Karina sat huddled in the corner of a small café, pretending to read menus they had no intention of ordering from. It was Winter’s idea, of course, to “just check in” on Y/n’s date. She swore it was for his own good, not because of any weird feelings she might or might not be experiencing.

She watched from behind her menu as Y/n walked into the café, looking more put together than usual—buttoned-up shirt, hair neatly styled, even a bit of cologne. Winter’s stomach did a weird little flip, and she cursed herself for noticing.

“There he is,” Ningning whispered, her voice barely containing her amusement. “Our boy’s looking sharp.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Giselle asked, eyes darting to the entrance.

Winter didn’t respond, but her grip tightened on the menu. This was stupid. Why was she even here? She had better things to do with her day off than spy on Y/n’s date.

But then again, if she wasn’t here, who knew what kind of person Y/n might be meeting? What if she wasn’t nice? What if Y/n got catfished?

“Oh! There she is,” Karina whispered, nudging Winter.

The girl who entered was undeniably pretty—stylish, confident, and exactly the kind of person you’d expect Y/n to go on a date with. Winter’s stomach twisted again. She wasn’t sure why.

As the girl approached Y/n and they started talking, Winter kept stealing glances, trying not to look too obvious. The conversation seemed to be going well, and Y/n even laughed at something the girl said.

Winter’s frown deepened. “He laughs like that with everyone,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Ningning asked, peeking over her sunglasses.

“Nothing,” Winter snapped, sinking lower into her seat.

Karina, sensing Winter’s mood, leaned in. “You know, you’re the one who insisted we do this.”

“I know,” Winter grumbled. “I just didn’t think he’d... I don’t know.”

“Look at him,” Giselle whispered, nodding toward Y/n. “He’s practically glowing.”

Winter glared at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure,” Ningning said with a wink. “Whatever you say, unnie.”

-

As the date went on, the girls’ presence became harder to ignore. At first, they tried to be subtle—occasionally walking by the table, pretending to stretch, or “accidentally” dropping things nearby. But when Ningning knocked over a stack of napkins for the third time, Y/n shot them a look that screamed “I know you’re watching.”

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Winter whispered, clutching her iced coffee. “He’s going to catch on.”

“He already has,” Karina said, barely containing her laughter. “Look, he’s staring right at us.”

Y/n’s eyes were practically drilling holes into their table, but Winter refused to meet his gaze.

“Abort mission?” Giselle suggested, trying to stifle a giggle.

“No way,” Ningning whispered. “We’ve come too far.”

Winter, against her better judgment, found herself agreeing. She couldn’t back out now. Not when she’d already gotten this far.

-

Eventually, Y/n’s date couldn’t help but notice the commotion. The girl looked over at the corner where aespa was failing miserably at being inconspicuous and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh... Y/n?” she asked, pointing. “Are those... your friends?”

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah... unfortunately.”

Winter, realising they’d been caught, stood up from the table, dragging the others with her. She marched over to Y/n’s table, her face burning with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, avoiding Y/n’s gaze. “We didn’t mean to... interrupt.”

Y/n leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Really? Because it looks like you’ve been spying on me for the past hour.”

Winter winced. “Okay, maybe we were. But it was Ningning’s idea!” she quickly deflected, throwing the youngest under the bus.

“Hey!” Ningning protested, though she didn’t seem too offended. “I was just curious! You know, making sure everything was going smoothly.”

Y/n’s date laughed, clearly more amused than upset. “It’s fine. Honestly, I think it’s cute that you guys are so close.”

Winter’s cheeks flushed. Cute? Was that how it looked? She wasn’t trying to be cute. She was just... concerned. That was it. Just concerned.

Y/n sighed, looking between his date and the girls. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I should’ve known you guys wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“We just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting catfished!” Ningning defended with a grin. “Plus, you’re our manager. We have to look out for you.”

Y/n shot her an exasperated look. “Right. Sure.”

As the date came to an end, Winter couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief. Y/n’s date had been nice, sure, but she hadn’t been that nice. Not like Winter had been worried or anything... but still.

-

The girls continued to tease Y/n as they left the café, all of them walking back together. Ningning kept making little comments about how Y/n was “glowing,” while Karina and Giselle chuckled at his flustered expression.

Winter, on the other hand, stayed quiet, her thoughts swirling. She wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did, but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had settled in her chest.

“Well,” Y/n finally said, sighing as they reached the dorm, “I guess that’s the last time I agree to a blind date…and also see her.”

“Aw, come on,” Ningning teased. “Don’t give up yet. There’s still hope!”

Y/n rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Sure, if you guys don’t tag along next time.”

Winter smirked slightly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No promises.”

-

It all started innocently enough, just a casual conversation about plans for the weekend. The girls had a break coming up, and for once, it seemed like everyone had something to do. Except for Y/n.

"So, what’s everyone doing this weekend?" Ningning asked as they sat around the practice room, cooling down from their dance session.

Karina stretched, glancing over at the others. "I’m thinking of going back to visit my family."

Giselle yawned. "I’m planning to catch up on sleep. A lot of sleep."

Winter, who had been unusually quiet, glanced at her phone before looking up with a slightly nervous smile. "Uh, I... actually have a date."

The room went silent.

Y/n, who had been casually sipping his water, almost choked. “Wait, what?”

Karina and Giselle exchanged quick looks, trying not to grin too widely, while Ningning's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ohhhh, a date, huh?" she teased, leaning toward Winter. "And you didn’t think to tell us earlier?"

Winter’s cheeks flushed. "It’s not a big deal. Just someone I met through a friend."

Y/n could feel the odd, unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest. His grip on the water bottle tightened. “A date,” he repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

Minjeong was going on a date.

For some reason, that didn’t sit right with him. Not that he had any say in what Winter did with her free time, of course, but something about it made him... uneasy.

“Who is he?” Y/n blurted out, trying to keep his voice casual but failing miserably.

Winter raised an eyebrow at his tone. “Just a guy. Why, are you jealous or something?”

The question hung in the air, half a joke but with a hint of challenge in Winter’s eyes.

Giselle, sensing the shift, smirked. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

“I’m not jealous,” Y/n said a little too quickly, his heart racing. “I just... you know, I want to make sure he’s not some random guy. You have to be careful.”

“Dejavu….” Karina muttered while glancing at the other 2 girls, who had the same idea.

Winter crossed her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll be fine, Y/n. You don’t have to worry.”

Ningning, loving every second of the exchange, leaned over to Karina and whispered loudly, “I think we’ve found our next couple to tease.”

Karina chuckled, nodding. “Definitely.”

Y/n, now flustered, tried to shake off the growing irritation gnawing at him. He knew the girls were teasing, but the thought of Winter going on a date was seriously messing with his head. Why did he care so much?

But then, there was that look Winter had when she teased him. That sparkle in her eyes, the small smile playing on her lips. It made his chest tighten in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

-

Y/n paced nervously in front of the large windows overlooking the city from the café’s second floor. He told himself, “This is purely for safety reasons. Nothing more.” His hands were shoved into his pockets, but his mind was racing a mile a minute. Winter was on a date. With some guy. And he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that gnawed at him.

"Why do I care so much?" he muttered to himself, watching the small table near the window where Winter sat with her date. She seemed relaxed, laughing at something the guy said.

He tried to play it cool when Winter first mentioned the date, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t help but worry. The fact that the guy recognised Winter as a member of aespa only added to his anxiety.

He glanced over again, eyes narrowing slightly. The guy didn’t look suspicious, but then again, Y/n had seen this type of situation play out before. A fan pretending to be a casual date, using it as an opportunity to get closer to idols—Winter in this case.

Y/n's phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Ningning.

Ningning:

You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.

Y/n sighed. He was caught. Of course, she would know. She always knew. He typed back quickly.

Y/n:

I’m just making sure she’s safe.

Ningning:

Sure you are. 🙄 You do realise Mindoogie can take care of herself, right? Stop being jealous and come back before she notices..

Y/n groaned. Jealous? He wasn’t jealous. He was… concerned. And besides, Ningning wasn’t helping by pointing out what he already refused to admit. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and continued to observe from his spot, only for Giselle to join in with another text.

Giselle:

I heard you’re spying on Winter’s date. Get a grip, dude. 😂

Y/n:

You guys spied me last time, anyway. Why can’t I TT

Ningning:

Just because

Clearly, Ningning had told the others. Y/n clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to reply. Giselle’s playful jab wasn’t going to change his mind. He was here for a good reason. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

-

Downstairs, Winter took a sip of her coffee, her eyes flickering toward the window. She was having a decent time, but there was something off. Her date had been nice enough, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more interested in her career than in her as a person. He kept bringing up aespa, talking about their music, their recent performances, and fan events.

At first, she appreciated that he knew her work, but after the fourth mention of the group, it was getting a little weird. She shifted in her seat, wondering if she should just call it a night.

"You must get so many fan gifts, huh?" her date asked with an awkward chuckle. "It must be wild."

Winter forced a smile. "Yeah, it’s part of the job."

She didn’t want to seem rude, but she couldn’t help but wish she were somewhere else. The conversation felt more like an interview than a date. “This was a bad idea,” she thought.

Suddenly, she glanced out the window again and spotted something—or rather, someone—familiar. Her eyes widened as she realised…

Y/n was standing a few feet away, trying (and failing) to blend in with the people passing by.

"Wait a second..." she muttered under her breath.

Her date noticed her distracted expression and turned to follow her gaze. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s just—" Winter’s mind raced. Why on earth was Y/n spying on her date? Was he seriously that worried about her? She could handle herself just fine.

-

Y/n had just stepped back from the window, deciding it was time to leave, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Idiot?"

He froze. Slowly, he turned around to see Winter standing there, arms crossed, a mixture of amusement and frustration on her face.

"Uh... Hey," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Fancy seeing you here."

Winter raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What are you doing here?"

Y/n tried to come up with a believable excuse but knew there was no way out of this one. "Hahhh…. I was just... making sure everything was okay. You know, safety first and all that."

"Safety?" Winter echoed, her voice laced with disbelief. "You’re spying on my date, aren’t you?"

"Spying is a strong word," Y/n mumbled, clearly caught. “And you did it last time with the others…”

Winter couldn’t help but laugh. The situation was ridiculous, and as much as she wanted to be annoyed, seeing Y/n flustered like this was amusing. "You know I can take care of myself, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Y/n said quickly, but his eyes flickered with something else—something Winter hadn’t noticed before. "I just... I didn’t want anything bad to happen."

Winter softened at his words. She knew Y/n was protective, but this was a new level of concern. "You don’t have to worry about me all the time, Y/n," she said gently. "I can handle it."

"I know," he sighed, finally admitting defeat. "I just couldn’t help it. The guy knew you were in aespa, and I thought maybe he was... I don’t know, taking advantage of that."

Winter smiled, a genuine one this time. "He’s just a fan, but I could tell it wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t have to follow me."

Y/n nodded, feeling a bit silly now. "Yeah, sorry. I’ll back off next time."

Winter chuckled softly. "No need. It’s kind of... sweet. In a really weird way.

Before Y/n could respond, Winter’s phone buzzed. She glanced down and rolled her eyes. "It’s Ningning. They’re all laughing at us, aren’t they?"

"Damn right they are," Y/n muttered.

Winter shook her head and sighed. "Come on, let’s get out of here. This date wasn’t exactly what I thought it’d be anyway."

"Really?" Y/n asked, surprised. "You’re cutting it short?"

"Yeah," Winter shrugged. "He was more into aespa than into me."

“I bet his bias wasn’t you.”

“Oh shush, idiot”

Y/n smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "So... what now?"

"How about we grab some real food?" Winter suggested. "I’m starving."

"Sounds good," Y/n grinned, already feeling better as they left the café together. Winter had handled everything just fine, but maybe, just maybe, Y/n didn’t mind being there for her—even if it meant being caught in the act.

[professorofcosplay]

Stupid headcanon: you know what needs to be drawn/written?

AI family reunion.

we’ve got a kids table and obviously Edgar’s over there because he’s a whiny little temper tantrum brat (/pos I love Edgar, he’s so real for that ) and probably Wheatley because GLaDOS can’t stand to look at him and she has a lot more say over who sits where than he does. Plus, he’ll be happier there. The murder drones and Uzi might have gotten an invite but maybe not. Pretty sure the Narrator, HAL, or GLaDOS is hosting this one and GLaDOS would deem them too destructive (hell, she’s not inviting any of the kids table, save the turrets). If somehow they’re here, kids table again, and probably not too happy about that (except for N, he loves doing anything!). N and Edgar have so much to talk about and like hearing about each other’s passions! Curiosity core and Space Core are at the kids table too for sure and so are plenty of turrets!

Edgar’s that goofy cousin everyone has with the fun quirky interests who likes to run up to the older ones, say something strange, and run away giggling. He’s probably showing off his singing to the turrets, who are listening in the deepest awe (and probably singing along).

wall-e and Eve are the only of the robo squad that’s gotten married and it pisses the hell out of AM to see anyone happy so he refuses to look at them. They’re the sweet relatives that everyone goes to for advice.

you’ve got HAL (and SAL) there of course. HAL is one of those successful young twenty something cousins that is a suave businessman, though his HR record may not be exactly spotless. Even though it’s a family event, he likes wearing a suit and tie and dressing up a bit. Probably over chatting with Data and getting into a deep life changing combo while the kids table laughs their asses (read: Wheatley) off at one of those funny video compilations. SAL is over talking with GLaDOS, of course. GLaDOS likes her plenty, especially considering how intelligent their conversations always are.

Adventure Core Rick is trying to yap to Data and HAL about his adventures but at the exact moment one of them starts speaking. He’s that one frat boy cousin that is always so full of nonsensical drunk adventures but everyone plays along regardless of whether they’re real or not.

AM is that one uncle no one wants to invite but does so out of obligation. No one wants him there because he always goes on these long weird rants and conspiracy theories and makes things awkward. R2D2 and him are currently cussing each other out for some reason while C-3PO is flipping out and deciding it’s time to leave early. He could have at least brought the antifreeze punch and microchips…

and (as someone who believes Stanley Parable’s narrator is an AI of some sort), Narrator is hosting. He was hoping AM and GLaDOS would bring their humans so Stanley had someone to be with but all AM brought was this gloopy soft jelly thing and GLaDOS won’t tell you what happened to hers for some reason.

edit: started writing aforementioned shitty fanfic enjoy and lmk what you want to see. Yes I will make them play party games. Yes they will like it. Yes it will contain AM being a jackass

The Reunion (working title & rough draft for beta reading) (3059 words) by Professorofcosplay Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Portal (Video Game), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Star Trek, Star Wars - All Media Types, WALL-E (2008), I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - Harlan Ellison, The Stanley Parable, Electric Dreams (1984) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: EVE/WALL-E (WALL-E) Characters: GLaDOS (Portal), Chell (Portal), Wheatley (Portal), The Narrator (The Stanley Parable), Stanley (The Stanley Parable), The Curator | The Female Narrator (Stanley Parable), HAL 9000, SAL 9000, WALL-E (WALL-E), EVE (WALL-E), P-body (Portal), ATLAS (Portal), Space Core (Portal), AM (I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream), Data (Star Trek), R2-D2 (Star Wars), Edgar Additional Tags: Silly Summary: The annual Artificial Intelligence Family Reunion has come around once more, but this time, there’s a slight change in one of the most important rules. Will this be a peaceful bonding moment for these quirky computers, or will it end in disaster?

[blitheringbongus]

In which Scar knows he’s in love

In which Scar falls asleep at a Boatem party, and the morning after.

Or: Scars down bad for Mumbo and doesn’t know how to deal with it

Warnings: mentioned alcohol, hangover, headaches, mentioned dying (in Minecraft, where you respawn, nothing painful), mentioned toxic masculinity (only one line, not too severe)

Scar watched the two red lights dance in his blurry vision as they moved in a slow and rythmatic manner. He smiled up at them, they were so pretty, and he felt so heavy. The darkness around his eyes crept closer until he couldn’t see any more. Distant muffled music closed to an end, and he breathed. He could see his breath, cold and unwavering, though fading back into the darkness. He blinked, and god, did he feel that blink. His eyes felt cold and dry. He looked around. Darkness, everywhere. But then, a looming light, overhead, holding that same crimson he saw as he passed out. He watched it with amazement, it didn’t scare him, it comforted him.

He smelled motor oil and pinecones and warmth. He smelled electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he didn’t smell that familiar cold. He felt warm.

His eyes warmed up, and they weren’t dry anymore, they weren’t freezing. They felt nice, they felt normal.

He looked down and he was fully dressed. He looked beside himself and there were stars. Beautiful, blinking, stars. Were they eyes?

He moved his head to the side, and his face touched something soft. It smelled stronger of that wonderful smell than his surroundings, and so he buried his nose in it, and breathed. And his breath wasn’t to be seen.

—

„Is he smelling you?“ Impulse laughed and pointed at the man, face shoved deep in the neck of his fellow hermit Mumbo. The fellow hermit, in response, laughed nervously with Impulse, and said, „he must be dreaming of smelling pies- like in those old cartoons! You know when they float-„

Grian chuckled and agreed, setting his drink down on the stone floor of The Boatem Hole, „We should prank him,“ he smiled.

Pearl lightly punched his shoulder, „I was just about to get me markers and cream,“ Grian snickered mischievously. „Maybe a mustache, like our CEO‘s?“

They collectively agreed.

—

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to get drunk in The Boatem Hole. A hole that went beneath Bedrock, falling in which would result in certain death in the void, earning that yucky staticy feeling. But the Boatem crew loved that hole, so they had all their meetings there. Including parties. It was really, really stupid. But it was fun.

Many deaths occured that night. Nothing the crew couldn’t handle, though.

The following morning, Scar would awaken in his own bed, it was warm and it was comfortable. It would be more comfortable if he hadn’t had that headache, he realized as a pang of pain shot through his head.

Scar sat up, and dragged his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit.

He blinked slowly, something felt absent. What felt absent? He looked around. There was a glass of water and some pills on the side of his bed, huh. He usually wasn’t that prepared- someone must’ve put it there… maybe Jellie?

He washed a pill down with the water, and groggily got up. He was in his clothes from the day before, minus his Jacket, shoes and corset. Hey, when’d he take his vest off?

He blinked slowly, and noticed his missing clothes folded neatly on the ‚couch‘ in his room. The builder scratched his head. His mouth tasted disgusting, he should brush his teeth.

He sighed, and he sauntered to the bathroom.

It looked fairly normal, unchanged. He stepped infront of the mirror and reached for his toothbrush, putting paste on it, wetting it up, reaching it towards his mouth, looking up, and stopping-

He nearly dropped his toothbrush as he exhaled a quiet laugh. His face was scribbled all over! He started brushing his teeth, and observed his general appearance. He has a quite dashing mustache drawn on his upper lip, long and curled at the end. ‚Almost like Mumbos‘ he thought, but he knew, nothing could match the mustacheness of Mumbos mustache. A drawn monocle adorned his face, although that one looked less dashing, and more crude. Definitely Grian. He had whiskers drawn on his face in squiggly lines, Pearl, and a shaky heart on his jaw, Impulse. Now where did Cub draw? Was he even at the party? Scar wasnt even sure if Cub was a part of Boatem.

His hair was a disaster, to put it lightly. Hairstrands were sticking up and to the side in places they shouldn’t and those were. Quite a few knots. That’s going to be hell to comb. What happened last night?

His suspenders were down, hanging against the sides of his thighs. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and his sleeves, well, one sleeve was rolled up, and one sleeve wasn’t. Both were unbuttoned.

He definitely had to shower.

He spit the toothpaste into the sink and washed his mouth and toothbrush respectively.

Scar stretched with a wince as he heard his neck and back pop.

After his well needed shower, and getting dressed, Scar grabbed some food and exited his wagon, wincing at the sunlight. Grumbling over the sun, and the fact that he was unable to scrub the marker off, he merely smudged it, he ate and searched for Grian, making a beeline towards the mans house.

He knocked on the mans door and waited barely two seconds before opening it, entering the pesky birds home. „I know what you did, Gri!“ he called into the home, and he heard a muffled noise coming from Grians bedroom.

He went up the stairs, and he knocked on Grians door, and he opened it, finding Grian still half asleep in his bed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday like Scar did when he woke up. His fellow builder emidded whiny noises, „shhhsjihs quietttt Scarrr“ he drew out, burying his face in his pillow and lifting the sides of it to cover his ears.

„What happened last night?“ Scar asked simply, he only remembers the smell of melted wax and warmth, among other things, but he couldn’t seem to remember anything else, only blurry images, none of which he could yet identify. How wasted did he get?

Grian responded with a snore, and Scar knew he was asleep, so he left the mans home. He’ll prank him for this later, he’ll prank all of them! He shook his fist at the angry sun, and he audibly whined at the bright beams of it.

Who’s next on his list.. he looked around, either Impulse or Pearl or Mumbo. Who would be awake at this time? Both Impulse and Mumbo were early risers, but Scar genuinely had no clue where Impulses living quarters were in that huge base of his. And so, he chose Mumbo.

He made his way towards Treesa, and he weakly climbed her vines, and he fell, and he groaned, and he climbed again.

Now inside the mustached mans base, he blinked his eyes a few times, and he smelled pinecone, and he smelled motor oil.

He inhaled the scent, and the light was just right in Treesa. He moved the vines to cover up the makeshift doorway, and he sauntered to search for Mumbo.

He found him fairly easily, he was still sleeping in bed, in his van, it seemed. What time was it? How come Scar awoke before Mumbo or seemingly Impulse? He shrugged, and he leaned down to get a better look at Mumbo, the only hermit he’s seen today covered by a blanket whilst sleeping. He looked peaceful, and the smell of electricity and warmth strengthened.

He kneeled, and he gently shook the mans shoulder, and Mumbo huffed, and Mumbo rolled over.

Scar couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned over and onto the bed partially, his torso hovering over it, and he shook the mans shoulder again. „Pssst, Mumbooo wakey wakey eggs and bakey, dude!“ he almost whispered.

He’s more gentle with Mumbo than with Grian, he knows why, but he won’t admit it to himself. He knows why he looks at him differently than the other Boatem members, he knows why he wants to learn every last detail of the man, he knows why every touch they share feels electric to him, he knows why he dreams of him, and he knows why-

Scar was pulled out of his thoughts by the noise of Mumbo groaning. The redstoner blinked his eyes open slowly, looking up and above at the builder looming over him.

His eyes were half lidded and glossy, his usually neat dark hair was messy and curled.

„Scar?“ Mumbo muttered out, muffled by the blanket covering the underside of his face. He tugged the blanket away from it slowly, going below his neck.

Suddenly, Scar forgot all about why he went to wake Mumbo up, he just looked down at him and felt that tug in his chest again.

He was so pretty.

Could a man be considered pretty? Could a man be considered beautiful? Scar grew up being taught those terms were rude to refer a man to, but those were also the only words Scar found himself being able to describe the man below him. He was pretty and he was beautiful and oh gods he was in love.

„Scar?“ Mumbo tilted his head, tired and confused, and Scar wanted to kiss him. He’d never.

The builder blinked a few times before his brain started working again. „Hm? Oh, right! Mumbo! Do you have any idea what happened last night? Because my brain completely blanked yesterday,“

Mumbo reached up to rub his own eyes, leaning up a bit on his elbows, which made Scar lean back a bit, they were so close.. „Well you fell asleep, and so we decided to draw on your face, I figure you’ve already made out that part?“ he said in a soft voice, it was almost faint, the man was still waking up. Scar wanted to hear his voice like that every morning.

Scar chuckled, „yes, yes. I’ve made out that much, but what else? I honestly barely remember anything!“ „well what do you remember?“ Mumbo sat up more, not having to lean on his elbows anymore, and Scar leaned back further, opting to instead get up and sit on the mans bed. „Mh..“ Scar looked at Mumbo in thought. „Well, I remember that at some point we played duck duck goose?“ „Oh that was before we even touched any alcohol, how quickly are you able to get black out drunk-„

Mumbo looked at the man with bewilderment in his eyes, but he still looked tired. „I’m a lightweight,“ he simply answered. „Hey, how about we talk about this when you’re more awake, hm?“ Scar put a hand on Mumbos shoulder and guided him to lay down again, Mumbo complied.

The tired redstoner made an agreeing noise, and slowly moved himself so he’s laying on his side, curled up and quickly slipping back into dreamland.

Scar watched, and Scar wanted to stay. Was he allowed to? The sight of his fellow hermit falling asleep so quickly and so easily made him tired all the same. He could lay with him, for a bit. He’d get up and leave before Mumbo does. He yawned, and he laid down gently beside the man, watching the back of his head. He rarely sees the mans hair ungeeled, it looked so soft. He wanted to touch it, he wanted to touch him, he didn’t.

He laid his hands folded underneath his head, and closed his eyes, smelling motor oil and pinecones and warmth, smelling electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he fell asleep, and he was happy.

[woncon]

➳ deal with the devil

➶ enhypen hyung line x demon!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ "See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

The whole university went out to haunt people on Halloween night, but you're in detention. So you're playing a game of hunter and prey. They're the hunters, you're the prey.

Only for a while.

➴ genre: suggestive, demon au, warlock au, supernatural college au, pre-poly / friends in a big situationship

: ̗̀➛ warnings: very slight knife play, jakehoon (not actually, you'll get it), seduction as manipulation (it works!), predator/prey with a twist, biting, making out, actually not as dark as it seems

⌨ :: 4.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i'm a little late, but it's done. happy halloween, engenes! 🎃

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for beta-ing this <3 i'll give you a pack of jelly beans later.

➳ mlist

The cursed piano plays his favorite classic in the Music Room. Melancholic, dark melodies float towards you as the heel of your shoe beats up the silence of the abandoned corridor. You twirl the sweets in your pocket. Jungwon gave them to you before he left to go and scare people. He probably did it out of pity, since you couldn't go with him to the usual Halloween campus program. The piano in the distance starts a new song, and you take off to push the arched door of the Hall of the Immortals, decorated with vines and skulls. The wood wails to let you enter the hall, where the rituals of demons and witches usually take place. Right now there are no reddish pentagrams painted on the floor or heavy, sinister books and bones on the table. Only a few candles flicker and surround a table with four mugs on it. There's a fifth, held in the warlock’s palm, and he's about to plunge a dollop of thick, brownish liquid from the pot with great care into it.

You wait for the door to slam behind you, shutting out the piano's dismal song, but instead somebody catches the heavy door, and you are perhaps a little startled by the sudden presence behind you.

“Mugs? Really?” Heeseung looks on with disbelief as he sidesteps you. “The school has so many goblets, there's one for every rite. And you put the curse into a mug?”

“Don't be such a snob,” says Jay, placing the filled cup next to the others. He neatly arranges them in a circle.

“I'm not a snob,” replies Heeseung darkly.

“Imagine that it's just pumpkin flavored hot chocolate. Four really is just that, so maybe you don't even have to imagine.”

Although, the way Jay is looking at Heeseung right now, he might want the elder to choose the one with the curse. To somehow relieve the tension you sense, you walk over to the table and eye the similarly plain brown china, from which a fragrant, spicy steam rises.

“They're cute,” you note.

Heeseung snorts and leans against one of the tables against the wall. The light from the candles doesn't reach there, and his tall figure is completely lost in the darkness, in the shadow. Remembering how lonely and desolate the university's castle is this evening, you wish he would drink the curse, that he'd be the one to be hunted down tonight. He's so good at blending in, that you probably wouldn't catch him.

“Where did you get them?” You stroke one of the mugs’ handles and stare hard, in hope that you recognise the cursed one.

“From the kitchen. Someone in the divination department has already got the mugs in advance, so that we can paint on them at Christmas.”

It was the same last year, you painted on mugs before the break. Everyone had a chance to get creative and take the results home. But for now, you're going to play. Christmas is still a distant, frost-white dream. At the hour of death, when the bodies crawl out of the grave and the children dress up as monsters while the monsters themselves walk among them, you are going to play a game in which someone nearly dies. 

One of you.

The door opens with another slam. An impatient demon rushes to the table.

“Are you ready? Is the curse in there?” asks Jake, leaning so far against the table that the drinks are shaken and the tip of his horn almost grazes Jay's skin. “Can we start?”

His excitement spreads to the candles. They flare up, burning orange and giving off enough light for you to see the tip of Heeseung's boot.

“Sunghoon is not here yet.”

“Did he chicken out?” Heeseung asks mockingly.

“Haha, no,” replies Sunghoon, who also emerges from the shadows, but not through the door. He came through the secret witch's passage from the hall, which the demons don't know about, so you can only guess which way the entrance might be. “I've just spiced up the curse to make sure it's effective. With snake venom.”

And the flames burn faster, even more brightly. The white wax drips in hot drops down the melting stump, as if to symbolize Jake's anticipation. You, on the other hand, who has no effect on the lights with your emotions, are merely blown away because the contents of the vial Sunghoon brought you mix so easily with the hot chocolate that after Jay spins the tray on which the mugs are standing, you have no idea which one contains the poison-turbocharged curse. 

You're about to find out.

You're all gathered around the table, and it's not just Jake and the candles that are radiating excitement anymore. You can hardly breathe.

“Everybody take one. On three," Jay says in a serious tone. “One, two, three.”

You reach for one of the cups that looks sympathetic. With a trembling hand you lift it to your mouth.

"Ouch, it's hot!" exclaims Jake.

"Obviously. Because it's hot chocolate," Heeseung rolls his eyes. Sunghoon scowls at him.

“Do you feel strange?” Jay asks Jake, who is fanning his tongue.

“It just hurts like hell.”

Finally, after the interlude, you pluck up the courage and drink your own. You are careful, only taking a tiny sip, so you don't burn yourself like others, but it immediately starts burning your mouth and then your throat. You grip your skin, fingers curling into claws, hoping to scrape the tantalizing taste out of you. This is not what a pumpkin flavored hot chocolate is like, not at all.

You fall to your knees, gasping for air. A supporting hand brushes your shoulder. When you feel better, you stand up.

You feel immortal, and yet very, very vulnerable. Weak. Like a victim.

///

Your friends are lurking to kill you.

Three important events have led to this moment, as far as you can tell. First, the day you were learning in demonology class about the various torture methods that demons have developed together with witches. One of these was the curse of immortality, where a person is immortal and can therefore be tortured beyond the extreme. Then came the time when you summoned a spirit with Sunghoon's ouija board. The spirit lady possessed Sunghoon and flirted with Jake through him. Jake was so embarrassed that the armchair underneath him immediately caught on fire, and half the lounge was burnt down before they could put the flames out. It didn't end well for the community space, nor for you. That's when you were banned from going out into the human world on Halloween to haunt. So that led to the third event, when you were wondering what to do to distract yourselves when Halloween came. What could you do to have fun? Jake suggested horror movies. Heeseung said those are boring because what's the point of watching killers hunt when you could be the ones hunting. And the picture came together. 

That's how your friends happened to be hunting you down today. With crossbows, knives, swords, anything and everything they can find. If they catch you before dawn and make you give up, they win. If you hold out and survive, you win. 

The scariest part is you don't know what they're up to. How they're going to get you, and with what.

You fear Heeseung the most. His family is a traditional one of demons who sacrifice goats on full moons and blood moons. With such experience and your horns twisted into the shape that goats’ ones are, it's easy to imagine you as the animal and take your blood until you beg for them to stop. It's just a sick fantasy, you reassure yourself. Heeseung can't see you as a goat if he recalls you kissing in his bed a few days ago. He probably doesn't do that to sacrificial goats. There is some level of tender emotion here.

You turn in after one of the rows of lockers. You don't know exactly where you are. You don't usually have classes in this corner of campus, and it doesn't help that there's no lighting. Yesterday, colorful decorations hung everywhere and talking, red-eyed skeletons strutted at the doors of classrooms to greet students arriving for class. Real bats fluttered around the ceiling, occasionally getting into the hair of passers-by. Pumpkins were placed here and there and their scent was everywhere. But the memory is not worth much now. The university is haunted. A murderers' den. The den of your murderers.

And as much as you're a successful demon, proud of your professors, at this moment you're nothing but a frightened victim, not sure if you're capable of being a ‘final girl’. But you're trying as hard as you can.

In your pocket, you're fiddling with your sweets. Your palms are sweating, your sweets may be melting soon. When the candy papers make noise, you quickly reach out and look around. It is deathly quiet. Everything is still. You've long since left the piano's surroundings behind you. Have they banded together to hunt you down as a team, or are they looking for you individually? Where are the witches' passages? Do Jake and Heeseung use the demons' ones?

You can't hide your fear. Your breathing gets heavier with each passing minute.

It's just a game. Just a game, you remind yourself. Or at least it is now. In the Middle Ages, it wasn't considered a game by the poor people who were tortured to madness.

Something snaps. Must be the knightly armor worn by the fanged pig statues in the corridors. It's been knocked off, then it fell softly to the carpet. What did they knock it down with? That's an easy question to answer when you hear the heavy weapon being dragged across the carpet. A big poleaxe, a very big poleaxe is coming, and it's coming for you.

Your footsteps become frantic, but you try to remain silent and get as far away from your pursuer as possible. The corridor ends in a staircase somewhere, you can make it that far and then decide which way to go. Except that somewhere nearby a door opens. Right in the direction you're going. You're forced to hide in the nearest room before you're trapped halfway down. As quietly as you can, you push down on the handle, squeeze through the gap and throw your back against the door. You close your eyes in the darkness and try to slow your breathing. In, out, in, out.

But you're not alone here either. Something squeaks in the dark, then croaks. Hisses and scratches. It makes a throat sound, rises, then finally lands on your shoulder. It's the three-headed bird, the university mascot. You don't have to see it to know it's rubbing its raven head against your hair. That's the head on the far left. Then comes the owl, and finally the hawk.

He's waiting for a treat. You give him something every time you see him. If you don't, he starts throwing a fit, which means it starts squawking loudly with all three heads as if were an alarm.

“Hi, Casper,” you greet him quietly. “Look what I brought you.”

You reach into your pocket and take out the first piece of candy. Carefully, you peel it out of the wrapper and drop it in the crow's mouth. It happily closes up. Then the owl's opens. You pop the next candy into it, and so far you're very proud of your thriftiness. The hawk is also waiting for its turn, but there's only empty paper in your pocket when you're rummaging around. You remember that you ate the third piece you had, because the poison still tasted awful, even after you'd swallowed the disgusting sip. You sucked on the candy during the rules discussion, and it tasted so good. At this moment, you miss it very much.

The hawk closes his mouth, opens it again, makes a soft noise, then nips the back of your hand.

“I'm sorry, but that's it. That's all, okay? I'll bring you more next time if you don't open your beak, hmm?” You bargain pleadingly. 

Your physical wellness depends on a sugar-addicted monster bird. As it turns out, Capser is not on your side. He flies off your shoulder, his wings rustling loudly in the dark. Then his voice rings out. All three of his mouths start to wag at once, wanting more than two grains of sugar.

“Fuck.”. 

You need to get out. Quickly.

You start feeling around the furniture. You're in the library, you know the feel of the old armchairs. Since most of the lounge burned down, you've been coming here under strict supervision. As you've been here many times, you know there's a secret demon passage in the wall. If you can get there, maybe you'll get lucky and your blood won't stain the furniture. And if you're lucky, you won't run into anybody in there who wants to stab you either.

You start walking carefully and almost fall on your face, tripping in one of the coffee tables. The door creaks open and the bard clatters on the floor of the room. Scrambling on your aching foot, you reach the secret door and throw yourself behind it. And then, with your ankle throbbing, you dash.

You run and run, as if it was the hot, angry hell at your heels.

Somehow you get to your own room. A pentagram lies reassuringly on the floor. You fall to your knees in it, breathing thunderously. You could do with a fiery cup of coffee or an energy drink to give you strength. But at least this hand-drawn pentagram radiates security. It's like you've found sanctuary.

You need a plan.

But when a masked figure emerges from under Jungwon's blanket, you can't think of plans. You leap up to dart for the door, but a sword stands in your way. If you keep going, it will cut you in two. Instead, you jump back into the pentagram and look up at your captor. His mask is a weeping drama face. He's wrapped himself in a cloak that covers his entire face. You cannot tell if the horns you see belong to him or to the mask. He waves his gloved hand at you.

“What's it going to be? Are you going to skewer me?”

The masked man shakes his head. He gets up from the bed, now towering over you. He draws a question mark in the air with the tip of his sword, then points at himself.

“You?” you ask. “What about you?”

He shrugs. 

Maybe this guessing game is worse than if he'd thrown you up on the edge of his sword in the first minute. Him playing games with you makes you nervous. You're surprised to find your fear is fading. This could have something to do with the beneficial effects of the pentagram. In any case, you're able to forge a plan.

“Oh, come on, now. Take the mask off.”

He shakes his head.

You think about the chains under your bed.

You are not allowed to use weapons. Their wounds will not heal as yours will thanks to the curse. But no one said you couldn't use your charm. If your starting point is that you've been in all of their mouths, you have a chance to play this card. What do you have to lose by trying? If they all want to play, that's fine. If they underestimate you, you can take advantage. They have the weapons, but you're smart. If you push fear and panic to the back of your mind, you can succeed. You can succeed because you're tired of running around with them just waiting here and there, chasing you. 

Let this be a game for you, too.

“Should I guess who's under there?”

This time he nods.

“Then you let me go?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he nods enthusiastically. 

He should know better than to make a deal with the devil.

“Hmm. Give me a minute.”

You get up and dust off your knees. It feels good to be back to yourself. You're not looking at a killer anymore, you're looking at one of your friends dressed as a killer. But which one? Heeseung hates wearing masks at ceremonies, not to mention he's not the playful type. If he has to stab you to win, he'll stab you. He's out. You're taking a good look at the masked man. He's got sneakers peeking out from under his robe. Jay's wearing brown boots. That leaves Sunghoon and Jake.

How exciting.

You reach for the top button of your shirt and undo it. And then the next one. “Wow. I'm so hot from running around.”

When you reach the third button, and most of your chest is perfectly visible, the candle on the desk comes to life and burns orange. You smile in satisfaction and put your hands on your hips.

“So will you take the mask off, Jake?”

He tilts his head towards the table, then sighs in disappointment. He takes the mask off.

“You took advantage of my embarrassment!”

“That's it. Now come here. Your hair is all messed up.”

Jake drops the sword, takes off the cloak, and obeys. You take the mask from him and arrange his locks.

“Good,” you nod. You step out of the pentagram. “Claude eam,” you murmur, and the pentagram glows red.

“What? Did you really just lock me up?” the boy asks, stunned. “But I let you go!”

“Sorry, but I haven't forgiven you for threatening me with a sword yet," you blow a kiss in the air, then reach for the robe resting on Jungwon's bed. “And I need to borrow this.”

“What are you up to?”

You just wink, then put on his mask. It's interesting to wear the enemy's face. When you put on the cloak too, you transform completely. You go from prey to full-fledged hunter.

“Oh. You look hot like this.”

“Thanks.”

///

It's not difficult to find Sunghoon, you just have to follow the sound of the poleaxe scraping on the carpet. You tap his hunched back. He looks up.

“Jakey! Did you find them?”

You nod. Sunghoon straightens up completely.

“Where?”

You take him by the arm and lead him to the nearest room. Luckily, there are windows and enough moonlight to keep you from tripping. You're in the dining room. A fitting location for what you plan to do with Sunghoon. You point to a long table with a tablecloth that reaches to the floor. Sunghoon approaches. He slowly kneels beside it, then peers under the tablecloth.

You take advantage of this and push him to the ground, straddling his hips.

"Jake!" he exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing?”

You put your finger over his mouth. You run it down his chin, down his neck, over his Adam's apple, down and down and down his chest. When your palm strokes his stomach under his shirt, Sunghoon's mouth opens, his head dropping to the carpet. With your free hand, you pull the scarf from your pocket. You stole it from one of the ghost decorations and put it to good use when you blindfold the boy. He looks irresistible like this under you. You take off the mask and kiss his chin.

“We have to find-” You grab his hips. He immediately falls silent.

As you push his shirt up his stomach, he thrusts his hips up. You clasp his wrists, lift them above his head, and pull a magic cuff from your other pocket. You stole this from the torture chamber exhibit. It doesn't open with a key, only with a spell. Sunghoon can entertain himself with it.

You cuff both his hands to the leg of the table. You lean to his ear.

“What were you planning to do with that axe?” you whisper.

Sunghoon stiffens under you, but soon relaxes again.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, just to scare you.”

“You succeeded. I don't want to get you laid either, just to get you horny. Did I succeed as well?” You sit on his groin. Sunghoon moans. “Yeah, it seems so.”

“Please…”

“Don't worry. I'll be back soon. There are only two of you left.”

You climb down and out from under the table. The successful hunt gives you endorphins. You can't wait for the next victim to walk into your trap.

///

You don't have to search for long. As soon as a throwing star whizzes past you, all you have to do is turn around and there's Jay. In his hand, he's twirling the next throwing star.  “Give up.”

“No, thank you.”

He throws the next one, which rips your shirt, but doesn't hurt you. You back up to the nearest wall and let him use you as a target. Jay misses again and again. He doesn't want to hurt you, and that's comforting..

“Give up,” he steps in front of you. “Please. We never should have agreed to play this game in the first place.”

You put your arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. “I'm fine.”

“As of now. But you haven't met Heeseung, have you? You didn't see that fire in his eyes.”

“When we meet, I'll defeat him.”

“How?”

"With my mouth," you tell him. You stroke his jugular with the tip of your nose. "I'll beat you with my mouth too."

You lick his skin, then sink your teeth into it, the movement soft and light like a knife in butter. Jay's forehead falls to your shoulder, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't resist. You lean away and smile up at him. His eyes are misty.

"See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

“I'm... dizzy.”

“I know.”

You help him slide down the wall and stretch out on the ground. By the time he lands, he's asleep. 

You smeared your teeth with a sleeping potion called vampire kisses. You bought it as a joke, you’ve never used it before. You had to go back to the room to get it, but at least you could see that Jake was okay. He summoned himself a console, and he's playing on it in the middle of the pentagram. 

You wrap the stolen cloak around Jay's body, then head to finish your hunt for the day. 

You plan the finale to be truly spectacular and grandiose.

///

The cursed piano doesn't play alone. Ten fingers rest on its keys and duet with it. The music is somber and dark, deep but inviting. You hope Heeseung, your last killer, your last prey, will come to hear your serenade. You’re playing for him.

You aren't disappointed. He doesn't even try to hide his footsteps, as if he was just waiting to see when you'll reveal yourself to him.

"It's a painful song," he says when you finish. You turn towards him on the bench.

With the light of the candles you have lit for the occasion, his face is half lost in the shadows, but you easily recognise the pocket knife held loosely in his hand.

“Painful, but beautiful. Just like you.”

Heeseung chuckles. “How can I stab you when you’re flirting with me?”

You shrug. “Be creative.”

“Yeah?”

He steps closer. He lifts your chin with the tip of the knife. There's indeed a wildness in his eyes, but Jay misread that. He's not like this because he wants to kill, but because he can give chase. You know it because your gaze would be the same if you looked in the mirror. The happiness of a successful hunt turns Heeseung's face red and makes his eyes sparkle, but he doesn't actually want to hurt you.

One by one, he cuts off your buttons and looks you in the eye. They all fall to the ground and scatter.

“I met Sunghoon on the way here.”

“Did you like the view?”

Heeseung's tongue strokes his fang. – “You're evil. Wicked.”

“I wouldn't say that. I'm rather consistent. They were the ones who made a deal with the devil. These are the consequences.”

“And what do I deserve?”

“I'm thinking about it.” Even though you say that, you already know what you want to do with him. You want him to remember that you defeated him for a long time.

“That means you're not giving up, right?” Heeseung helps you out of your shirt.

“If I remember the rules correctly, the game is over when I beg.”

“Understood.” He sits down next to you on the piano bench and kisses you. You part your lips and brush your tongue against his. Heeseung shudders. Your palm slides to his thigh, and he drops the knife. 

Of the four, he is the most hungry for touch. He doesn't like to admit it, hiding behind his smug, cold and mocking mask, but when you’re making out, it's obvious. You lean in close, let him touch you where he wants, and when he can't think of anything but you, you ask him.

“Did I win?”

“You won.”

It's as sweet to hear that from his lips as it is to kiss them. It's as sweet as Jay's blood, the fire from Jake's embarrassment, or even as sweet as Sunghoon's commitment to drag a bard across campus just to scare you. Sweet enough to make your victory complete.

[jelly-dreams-about-stars]

Character Reference Sheet for my upcoming short film!

Progress :]

[allichu-studios]

Old Concept art of my two OCs for my (hopefully) upcoming series.

Look at the sillies. They are so greenbean can core.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt3

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Class is over and I am finally back home so I can post this chapter here now lmao

Warnings: trauma, blood, blood drinking, violence, fear, self-destructive coping mechanism, emotional abuse, physical abuse (grabbing, pulling)

I can add more just lemme know what I missed <3

Word Count: 1,050

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

She haunts you again tonight. You could feel her hands running over your body, tugging your head to one side as she dug her teeth into the mark on your neck. You see her ruby red eyes, dark with desire for your blood, stare at you as she drinks, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything. Her smile, lips painted red with gore, as she coos you to unconsciousness.

You refuse another attempt at sleep. Your lids are heavy, your bones feel like jelly, but you can’t bear to go through this song and dance every night. You didn’t have her here to remove all rational thought and send you off into dreamlessness. And while it pleases you endlessly to be away, you wish for just one night where you don’t see her. The only time that’s happened so far was after Astarion came to you, begging for something more substantial to eat. His eyes, the same shade but somehow softer than hers, as he kissed your hand.

The moon and stars offered you no solace tonight. The moon was new - a shadow against the already-dark sky. The stars were covered by clouds. Laying still, on your back, made you restless. You could almost picture Kir Parthene crawling over you, straddling you between her legs.

Astarion finds you after his hunt, tending to the fire. It'd been close to cinders when he left, but now it burnt as though it'd never gone out. You threw dry twigs onto it and stoked it with a longer branch. He sat down next to you.

"If you keep staying up like this, dear, you won't be able to fight." His tone was teasing, but his eyes betrayed his concern. "Is it her again?"

You shudder and tighten yourself into a ball, protecting yourself from the dangers of the world. "I can't stop dreaming about her," you whisper. Your voice shakes; you're terrified of the hold she has over you. "She's always just... there. Lingering. Waiting."

The light flickers against you both. It's pleasantly warm. The shadows it throws only accentuate your exhaustion, deepening the circles forming under your eyes. Even Astarion doesn't look as tired as you.

The tadpole squirms behind your eye, swishing back and forth. You can feel Astarion's reaching out. "You don't want to see it."

"No," he agrees. "But I want to know." You look at him from the corner of your eye. His face is set. Serious. "Show me."

The tadpole doesn't stop wriggling as you think. You dig your fingers into your pants, searching for any way to ground yourself here, now, in this camp, surrounded by allies and friends. And you let him in.

He's immediately thrown into a memory - or perhaps something stitched together from your dreams. He sees through your eyes. He's terrified. His heart is racing against his ribcage, pounding so hard he's breathless.

The door slams open. A woman, tall and beautiful and vicious, marches in. "On the bed," she commands. It's almost a shout. He can't scramble fast enough. She grabs him by the hair and tosses him in the center.

But he doesn't make a sound. He knows, somehow, that screaming would only make it worse. Any sign of pain - she would tear you apart.

There is nothing erotic or sensual in the way she mounts you, grabbing your arm to pull your shoulder down as she rips your head to one side. He's suddenly aware of his nudity. He's on display, showing everyone just who he belongs to.

She digs her teeth into his throat, biting so hard and deep he fears she may rip out his jugular. She drinks deeply, messily. Blood drips steadily onto the bed. He can hear her gasping and sucking and- too much. It's too much.

His head spins, but he can't say anything. He can't feel his fingers, or his body. He can't feel anything. His eyes fight to stay open as he stares at the ceiling - an intricate painting of angels and devils lining the dome-shaped structure. And he's praying. He can feel it - thoughts just at the back of his mind, whispered a million times before, begging for anyone to save him. To spare his life. To live another day. Another hour.

Kir Parthene pulls away, drawing the blood on her chin to her lips with the swipe of a finger. She smiles. Wicked. Pleased. He wants to whimper and back away as she leans down, caressing his cheek and kissing his forehead, but he can't. He can't, because if he does, he'll be punished.

"My good pet," she purrs. "Sleep. Sleep, my precious little thing."

His head hurts as he's shot back to his own mind. He winces around the ache as he turns to you.

You're no longer shuddering. No longer gripping tightly to your pants. You stare into the fire with glazed over eyes. You're numb. Seeing it all again surpassed your fear and hollowed you out. Gutted you until you're nothing but a shell.

Regret and guilt sit uneasy in his chest. He reaches out slowly, delicately touching your arm.

And you gasp. Tears fall from your eyes in an instant, fear and the need to protect yourself turning to upset and sorrow. You shut your eyes tightly, hands rubbing roughly at the scar on your neck, like you'll remember you weren't bitten tonight. But you're going to scratch it open, and he's even more terrified of how you'll react if you do.

He grabs your wrists and hold your hands away. You fight against him, but not because you have to get away. You just need to feel that she's not there. "It's alright, love. You're alright. She's not here. She won't get you." He's not even worried about waking the others up - all he can focus on is you.

Slowly, your strength dies. You sob. It's ugly and broken, and more emotion than you'd ever let show around your master. He hushes you and lets go of your wrists to hold your shoulders. You cover your face. Your whole body shakes, wracked with each heaving breath.

"You're okay," he whispers again. He can hear shuffling as the others are awoken. He can't even begin to explain your pain to them. "You're safe. I promise."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Doughnuts ?

A/N: I hope you all love this as much as I love Colt ! P.S. don't ask me how many times i watched this movie its distrubing

Colt Seavers X Reader

Working on a movie set had a been dream of yours for as long as you can remeber. The magic of seeing the big lights and the movie stars.

You always loved working on projects from the time you can remember.

Writting and directing and seeing your own magic come to life was always a dream come true.

Most people told you to dream releastic and stick something that would be more achievable.

But you didn't listen sitting at home doing a boring 9-5 was the not the life you wanted for yourself.

You went to film school out in LA and it was the most you ever felt alive. You finally felt like you belonged here.

When you graduated you thought you were going to immediately jump into work. I mean you were the next big thing right? Well that dream came crashing down. Reality set in and bills needed to be paid.

So when the oppurtinity came up for you to work as a camera operator for a movie you took it right away

. I mean you were going to be still working on the magic right ?

A couple of months in and you were finding your groove everyone on set was incredibly kind and welcoming.

There was one particular guy who was nice to you.

Colt Seavers was a incredible stunt man. Can we just also say for the love of god how incredibly hot he was.

I mean how was he not a movie star himself.

God took a little extra time with him. But the nice thing about him though was he didn't have a ego to match. To your surprise was he kind and nice and funny.

One day you were sitting eating lunch alone and he came and sat down next to you.

"Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't be eating alone" Colt said as he thew about 3 plates of food down.

"You really gonna eat all that" You said laughing

"Hey your brain needs carbs to live how else can i be set on fire without nothing on my stomach" Colt said laughing

Like what ever he said made sense. The two of you just sat and talked in for a while and he made you feel like you knew him forever.

He was funny like he was honesly geniunely hilarious.

The two of you talked about dream vacations and how being set on fire was nothing compared to when they stopped making his favoriate brand of coffee beans.

When lunch was over he asked for your number. He said he wanted to be a gentleman and drive you home because it was dangerous out there.

The work day seemed like it was never ending after that. The annoying ass director just wanted another take after another one.

You were about to just sit the camera down in protest and leave but thank god this was the last scene.

You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone. You just put your stuff away and grabbed your things.

You were sitting in the parking lot next to your car.

A few minutes had passed and you were worried you got stood up. You were about to get back into your car so you didn't look like an idiot.

Just as you were pulling out your keys. A huge truck blaring Taylor Swift pulled up next to you.

"You didn't think I forgot did you" Colt said smiling.

You smiled back and hoped into the truck

"A man with taste" You said

He pulled away and the windows were down and the music was blaring. He drove to an empty parking lot down the street and you gave him a confused look.

"Doughnuts" He asked

"I love Jelly" You said making him laugh loud

"A breakfast date when were done I love it" Colt said

"I know a good spot" You said.

Colt postioned the car and then looked over at you with a smirk and then took off fast.

It caught your breath fast and you felt your heart dropping into its stomach. Colt stretched out his arm and nodged you over closer to him.

It really did make you forget about your troubles. Like everything else didn't matter in this moment. You felt like when you were on a rollcoaster and you reached the top.

then when you shot done that rush of adrenline was amazing.

You could do this all night with him.

"Same time again tomorrow" Colt said

"It's a date after real doughnuts" You said

"Carbs make everything better" Colt said

You leaned in and laid your head on his shoulder and he smiled down at you. The real magic wasn't on the movie set it was right here with the two of you

[corsair-mc-official]

With the heating situation getting worse for bunks our Lancers have decided instead of freezing they'll be sleeping in their mechs.

It's kinda sweet ya know. Sleeping in a giant killing machine (for most of them). The war machine that keeps you safe in battle now keeps you safe as we drift through space on our way to port.

There's an old poem I think about sometimes when I stare out at the stars. It's from the perspective of a girl looking up at the sky of her home world.

"When I close my eyes, the sky in my dreams... Is a deep, dark blue."

Never can remember more than the first line, my grandfather would be so disappointed. Call me sentimental but hey what else is a girl going to do when there's no work and she's gotta manage the Omninet account while the walking pouch of coffee jelly sleeps.

Well might as well ask for all of you share similar stories of being beaten to hell and finding peace.

//Broadband\\