#all flowy shit is chiffon to me

[snekdood]

Ur gonna hafta rip drawing my ocs in fashionable designs from my cold hands, even if theyre cishet

[pants-magic-pants]

✧⊹JARETH BALLROOM COAT⊹✧

[This post is part of a series about constructing Jareth's entire masquerade ball costume. Visit the master post here.]

Fabric Selection [Part 2 of 2] The Drama of the Lining

Hello all you fine goblins, goblinettes, masqueraders, bog creatures(?)... I'm back to ramble a lot, and unless you are really into sewing or want to make this coat, this post will probably bore the hell out of you but by all means here it is.

Firstly I want to say that I'm part of a Labyrinth cosplay group now, have a beautiful Sarah waiting for me in just a state above, a masquerade dancer who is already my good friend, and we'd love to do a dreamy photoshoot for everyone at a ballroom or wedding venue somewhere between us. However, I'm financially strained. I'm working extra shifts, offering commissions, etc, but it's only doing so much. If you've made it this far and have been appreciating any of my content, please consider tipping the blog. All the posts have a button that looks like this ($). Please help us unite. Please please, throw a dollar into my guitar case, won't you?

ANYHOO! I'm not good at lining, as I think I've mentioned. There's a lot more I need to learn to get it looking good and structured, and in this case there was so much gravity working against it too. I also am sure you notice that there are ghastly black stitches across the middle of the pleats on the inside... had thought that wouldn't be showing... whoops.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

We’ll start with the creamy, slightly sparkly, crimped(?) fabric that lines the tail first. It doesn’t appear to be lurex/foiled silk or satin, as it seems to be even lighter weight than those fabrics. That’s the first thing that I would say is important about picking this lining: it needs to be something SUPER LIGHTWEIGHT.

The reason being that, at least for the way I did the pleats, there was as much of it needed as the velvet, as it all got folded together. Even if you didn't do it this way, you would only want to add the least amount of extra weight as possible, using something that is still durable and isn't going to blow every which way.

That made the search pretty limiting, as did the fact that it needed to be opaque, flowy, and non-stretchy. Originally when I began searching, I was looking for things like organza or chiffon with crimps/ridges, which looked very pretty, but they were too sheer unless layered, and layering would have made them too stiff. 

After doing further research post-completion of the coat, viscose seems like it would have looked and behaved correctly, since it's soft, light, non-stretchy and not sheer, but apparently it isn't the most environmentally friendly fabric, so it’s something to consider. There's also cupro, though I've never gotten my hands on either of these so it's hard to say that definitively. It’s supposed to have a similar appearance and drape as silk, but it's not quite as shiny. It's opaque, and unless it's mixed with elastane or rayon it's not supposed to be very stretchy either, which leads me to…

What not to use: a stretchy fabric, like for any lining on any project. I already made that clear, but did I follow my own advice? Not this time. I got fed up with fabric drama and settled for a very pretty but stretchy foiled fabric, hell if I know what it was because it was late one evening at Jo-Ann Fabric, and I was Over That Shit™ and suffered a lapse in judgment. The result was slight warping from over-handling, and the entire seam between it and the inner facing was bubbly. I’m still kicking myself. Shoulda’ gone home. Shoulda’ said “no, Jo-Ann.”

Here's what I used. Yeah, it's pretty right? But that's all it is.

Another thing to note is that there are subtle ridges in the bottom lining. Not pleats, but like, crimping? It’s a very similar texture to Sarah’s dress. Searching for terms related to ridges would help find something similar, and as for colors, I searched for mainly creams, or borderline beige. Sometimes “champagne” also yielded good results. It’s definitely not white or even ivory, as white will turn the color scheme of the coat way too cold, stark, and sterile. Ivory (while warm-toned) may have the same effect. 

It helped me to look at a color wheel and decide the most complimentary combination based on the exact shade of blue that my velvet was. The ballroom coat’s actual shade of blue may seem to vary based on the photograph, but after seeing a lot of reference photos, I started to be able to tell which ones had been, em, tweaked, enhanced, etc. and that tended to be the ones that presented it as electric blue or leaning towards turquoise. The true shade seems to be like one shade cooler than true-blue. Am I making sense?

Given that, the lining’s shade of cream would need to be basically a pure cream color, not leaning towards rosy/orange NOR towards green on the color wheel, in order to be complimentary. However, for anyone who’s making the coat who wants to use a warmer shade of blue for the velvet, this is perfectly fine, it just will change just about every other color choice that you make, down to the color of the jewels and buttons. You may find that all your other blues need to be warmer shades, and that a rosier cream lining (champagne) looks best. 

Before moving on to the top lining, I want to mention that there is - strangely – a piece of cream colored tulle in the back? Not sure how that looks if you were to open the coat and look in, and since I couldn’t think of a way to make that look good, I didn’t include it. 

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

The top lining! We can’t see what’s in there, so this comes down to intuition and preference. I wanted a fully lined coat that looked good and had an aesthetically pleasing transition from one fabric to another, so I pretty much lined the top as if it was its own mini jacket, and I chose satin in a slightly lighter shade of cool blue. A little too light to be called navy but I’m sure people still would call it that.

I wouldn’t recommend using the same fabric used on the tail for the top because the fabric for the tail seems too textured to be smooth enough to get in and out of without issues. Best to stick with classic lining: silk or satin, in blue or a neutral that would match something else on the coat. Black, cream, maybe even dark/metallic grey or silver? The extra challenge of using a shade of blue is that you’d have to be very discerning about whether or not it matched. I had to take the velvet with me everywhere when making my decisions.

Almost nothing featured here is what I used, but here's me being diligant and bringing my swatches everywhere.

Not only did the color have to match, but the texture and amount of shimmer also mattered. Super matte silks/satins seemed to anchor down the splendor of the sparkling velvet too much. The really shiny fabrics looked best. I settled for something a little more subdued, but okay. It was okayyyy. Again, I was Over It™. 

Well, was that super interesting, or what?

[king-ratboy]

It’s just a Halloween costume.

There’s nothing more to it.

Steve’s going to be here in less than ten minutes, thick hair styled back and the one-size-too-small black shirt they’d found on the clearance rack at Melvald’s tight across his chest, and when they show up at Wheeler’s house everyone will laugh and joke and groan and it’s fine. It’s supposed to be funny. It is funny. Billy had cackled for what felt like an hour when they came up with it two months earlier, grinning up at the Dirty Dancing poster outside the Hawk.

Billy stares at himself in the mirror, fingertips playing with layers of pink chiffon, gaze darting up to his mascara-lined eyes and hurriedly averting to the ground, and feels nauseous. It’s just a joke. It’s a costume. That’s all. There’s no reason why his heart should be so tight in his chest, why the sleek fabric should feel so soft and free on his thighs, why the black lining his eyes should make him feel anything.

Behind him, Robin stays silent, sitting on the edge of her bed and giving him a tight-lipped smile that’s a little too knowing for his liking, and when she stands Billy can’t suppress the tiny, involuntary flinch, the rush of danger danger danger she knows she fucking knows get out get the fuck out FIGHT, Neil’s voice roaring in his ears —

faggot

pussy

goddamn queer

what in the hell do you think you’re wearing 

get that shit off your face

you’re a disgrace to my goddamn name

— but then Robin’s awkward smile is expanding, spreading out into a megawatt grin, and when she tosses Billy a tube of lipstick that definitely isn’t hers, he only fumbles it slightly.

“You look smokin’ hot, Frances,” Robin says, still grinning, and the fluttering flare of panic in Billy’s chest quells a bit, allows him to glance back at himself in the mirror, at his carefully-crafted hair and the mascara Robin had clumsily applied and the – the dress, fuck, and the panic and nausea are morphing into something else, something he can’t put a name to, isn’t ready to name, and then there’s the flash of headlights through the window as the beamer rolls into the driveway and Billy looks at himself, draws himself up, and leans forward to press the tube to his lips.

[bruhstories]

Choke Me

Summary: Reiner can’t comprehend why you won’t have sex with him. You help him understand Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, dom!Reader, sub!Reiner, oral sex (female receiving), whipping, unprotected sex, tied up Reiner Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: You know what, I'm thriving off of sub!Reiner.

It absolutely baffled Reiner how someone like Annie was such good friends with someone like... you. He didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just too strange that the two of you were so close, yet complete opposites of each other. Annie was a tomboy, silent and calculating, you were dressed in pink from head to toe, loud and outgoing and just so adorable. And you completely ransacked his heart. Reiner was utterly in love with you, and you knew it. So, when he mustered up the courage to ask you out, it did not come as a surprise. In fact, you too crushed on him, and every time you were at their place, your eyes drifted to him, always, all the time. The two of you clicked instantly as a couple, and Reiner could only wonder how on Earth were you single until him, going so far as to asking Annie about your love life and with widened eyes, she hastily dismissed him. See, the thing was that you, despite your bubbly and juvenile personality, were a sick, sadistic dominatrix, and boys were terrified of that. While you usually donned clothing in pastels, flowy dresses and chiffon blouses, half of your closet was filled with garters, suspender belts, corsets, some in the deepest shades of red, others black, materials varying from lace to latex. Whenever you had a guy over and pulled out whips, riding crops or ball gags, they would disappear from the face of the Earth, never evercalling you back. Annie knew this about you but never judged. To each their own, she would say, not exactly caring about your kinks. But she wouldn't know how Reiner would react to that, and while intrigued to find out, she didn't want you two to break up either. Deep down she cared about all of her friends, despite the aloof attitude.

Three months into your relationship, you still politely declined Reiner's offers to have sex. He was incredibly sweet, treating you like a princess, and in return you were supportive and caring, but fearing that he, too, might run away after learning about your kinks, you kept finding excuses to deny him. At one point he even asked you if you have some sort of STD, genuinely concerned but promising to still be with you no matter what. You promised you were clean, but that only made him more curious as to why you wouldn't have him. 'You're not attracted to me?' or 'Am I doing something wrong?' were his usual questions and your heart broke in thousands of pieces each time you refused him. He seemed like the kind of man who dominated in bed, and while you were inclined to switch it out sometimes, you always, always had to have it your way the first time you fucked a guy.

Eventually Reiner couldn't take it anymore. He called you, begged you to explain yourself to him and you ceased to try and keep him away from the carnal pleasure you both desired. You invited him over, offering to cook dinner and disclose what you had managed to hide for so long. He popped at your door with a bouquet of daffodils, matching the honey-yellow apron tied around your waist, his eyes were needy and woeful, still believing it's his fault that you two haven't had sex yet. He kissed you on the lips, starving for more, but you pulled back, opting to discuss things first.

"So," you began, legs crossed under the table and anxiously swirling spaghetti with your fork, "I... shit, I don't even know how to say it."

"Y/N, whatever it is, I promise it won't change what I feel for you." Reiner caressed your cheek so gently that you felt sorry for dragging him into this.

"I think it's best if I show you." You got up, took hold of his hand and guided him into your bedroom. The chamber perfectly reflected your personality, with garlands and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, doodles and drawings taped to the walls and stuffed toys bundled up on your baby blue bedsheets. "You better sit down for this, babe."

"Jesus, how bad can it be?"

With a sigh, you swung open the closet door, revealing the strangest of sex toys, erotic lingerie and high heeled footwear. Reiner erupted into laughter, throwing himself on your bed and holding his abdomen.

"Why exactly are you laughing?" Your voice was serious, dangerous almost, your body lacking a reaction.

"You're telling me you didn't wanna have sex because, what? You're into BDSM?"

"I don't think you get it, Reiner. I'm not just into it, I like dominating men." You frowned, taken aback by his attitude. He perked his ears up and sat up, suddenly attentive, his gaze locking with yours.

"Do you want to dominate me?" The blond asked, unsure of what it would feel like, but inquisitive to try.

"If you'll let me, yes." You bit your lip, fingers smoothing the apron.

"Fuck it, if it makes you happy, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." Reiner declared, palms on his knees. "Do I need a safe word?"

"Not tonight, I'll go easy on you." You beamed, eyes glistening with so much joy and he almost regretted his decision.

Almost.

Tied up, naked and helpless, Reiner could only watch how you strutted into the bedroom, latex corset around your waist, tits out, riding crop in hand.

"Shit, you look so-" crack.

The thin object met with his cheek and he groaned in pain, confusion written all over his face.

"You speak when I allow it, understood?" And he nodded desperately. "Good boy. Maybe if you behave, I'll reward you."

It was then when Reiner realised how easily his dick hardened when he submitted. It was then when he realised how much he loved you.

You dragged the crop across his body, goosebumps all over his skin, before you propped one foot on the bed, spreading your legs and exposing your wet cunt to him. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilating when your fingers barely touched the slick slit.

"You want this, Reiner?"

"Yes!" The man almost cried out, licking his lips. Crack. Another hit, this time over his thigh and he whimpered — the sound was music to your ears.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, please!"

"That's better." You hummed, slightly spreading your folds, foot still on the bed. Your middle finger rubbed around your clit, a quiet moan escaping your lips. "Tell me how much you want it!"

Pulling at his restraints, Reiner sighed. Never has he felt so overpowered, but the pleasure he took from it was slowly seeping in his brain, clouding his judgment.

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you so bad, please!"

"You gotta earn it first." Voice aggressive yet seductive, you climbed on top of him, feet at the sides of his head. "Lick it good and I'll reward you. Do a bad job and I'll punish you." And before he could utter a word you were straddling his face. His tongue sloppily licked everything it could, in or around your cunt, and you forcefully grabbed the metallic bedframe with one hand, your other one fondling your soft tits. Your moans echoed in the room as you moved your hips for more friction, your breath hitching, his cock twitching. "Atta boy!" You groaned and slid off of him.

"Did I do well?" Reiner asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

"Very well." You snickered and pressed your lips onto his to taste yourself in a sinful kiss.

"Can I get my reward?" The man asked after you pulled away, a mixture of saliva and slickness at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know..." You scrunched your nose.

"Please, Y/N! I've been good, I- I need you around my dick, please!" He begged, not even caring how desperate he sounded and that only made you feel like a goddess. You picked up the riding crop and dragged it up and down his shaft, terror in his eyes.

"I wonder how much it would hurt." You mused, head tilted and mischief in your voice.

"No, no, you said it was good! Please don't punish me-"

"Oh, don't be stupid." You rolled your eyes, climbing back on top of him. "I need that dick as much as you do." And with that, your hand helped push his cock in between your folds, painstakingly slowly taking it all in. "Fuck, you're big."

The sound of skin against skin tickled your brain, your hips moving up and down, your cunt clenching around his throbbing member.

"Please..." Reiner groaned.

"Please what?" You threw your head back, the pressure forming in your core making you moan louder.

"Please choke me!" He asked and you almost stopped moving, taken aback by his request.

"I'm beginning to think you like being dominated, love." You grinned, your fingers lightly squeezing his neck.

"God, you're so tight!" The man bucked his hips, the unexpected thrust earning a whimper out of you. "Harder, choke me harder!"

"Fuck, Reiner!" The grip around his neck tightened and your moves became frantic, animalistic. "You like that? You like the way I fuck you?"

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded, unable to speak.

"Look at you, so small and pathetic." You panted, feeling your climax close and his cock pulsating. "Oh, are you gonna come? Go on, do it, come for me!" You cried out, legs violently quaking as the sticky hot liquid dripped out of your folds, down his shaft. For a moment neither of you moved. You looked at Reiner through strands of Y/H/C that draped over your face, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Your hands extended and you untied the ropes around his wrists, falling next to your boyfriend on the mattress, cum leaking out of your cunt.

"Do you still... love me?" You whispered, your voice shy, completely different to the woman you were five seconds ago.

"Babe, of course! And to be fair, it was so hot submitting to you." Reiner pulled you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek. "Say, think we can switch it up next time?"

"Nope!" You smiled and rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"Eh, at least I tried." The man shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, don't hide things like these from me. If this is what you like then I respect that, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Most boys ran, but Reiner was a man, and he was clearly going to stay.

"Maaaaybe we can switch next time. But only if you behave!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: I just wrote the penultimate chapter and oh my, is it long

Warnings: racial discrimination

Word Count: 3131

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Chapter 5: The Swedish Job

(Y/N) wheezed as the coral dress she had just slipped into squeezed her ribcage so tight, she was beginning to see stars. Grace nodded in acknowledgement before shaking her head at the tailor. The woman at the girl’s side frowned slightly. “Are you sure, ma’am? I can touch it up so that it wouldn’t squeeze her so much.”

“I’m quite sure. It isn’t a good color for her.” Grace waved her hand in dismissal. Once the dress had been removed, (Y/N) greedily inhaled as much oxygen as she could into her lungs. When the tailor walked away to retrieve another dress from the hanger rack, the girl leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees.

“Mom, this is the… fifth dress now,” She breathed. “How many more of these do I need to try on?”

“Hun, I just want you to look perfect. Preston already has his suit picked out and it’d be nice if you two would match-”

“Wait,” The girl waved her hands in the air. “Preston?”

Grace frowned. “Yes, Preston.”

“But I just went on a date with him! I have to see him all the time?!”

“If you’re gonna marry him, then yes!”

(Y/N) groaned and rubbed her face with both her hands as the tailor returned to her side with a baby blue dress. Grace shook her head in distaste before it could even be tried on and motioned for another one to be picked out. Huffing, (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled to herself, eliciting a soft laugh from her mother. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N), the four of us are arrivin’ at the gala together. Now, doesn’t that sound a little better?”

The girl hesitated at first, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does…” She whispered before the tailor was slipping her into another dress. This one was chiffon and orange, flower designs starting from the torso and spreading up the chest, and out to the see-through sleeves. Grace squealed and circled her index finger in the air.

“Go ‘head and twirl for me, darlin’.” She clapped as (Y/N) bashfully smiled and spun in a circle for her mother. “It’s beautiful! Perfect! We’ll have this one!” She vigorously nodded, the tailor visibly sagging in relief. (Y/N) let out a sigh and chuckled at her mother’s excitement. She had to admit, though, it was a beautiful dress. Perhaps not one she would wear if she was in her actual body, but it was fitting for her physical age. Once the tailor packed up and left their home, Grace let (Y/N) change back into her casual clothing before guiding her downstairs. “Time for dancin’ lessons.”

Entering the parlor, (Y/N) was greeted by her dance instructor and Preston. Smiling tightly, she stepped lightly into the middle of the floor with the boy.

“Let’s pick up where we left off, children.” The instructor’s flowy voice sounded as he put on a record for the music. In preparation of the gala, Reginald insisted they practice with Mariachi music, much to Preston’s distaste. The boy rolled his eyes behind their instructor’s back as the music began to flow throughout the house. He slyly slipped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and took one of her hands in his. With a sigh, the girl placed her free hand on his shoulder. “And… one, two, three, one, two, three, one- No,” The instructor cut himself off and marched up to the two. “Ms Hargreeves, you do not lead. Mr Hildebrand must lead.”

“Sorry.” She whispered as he stepped back. Preston quietly chuckled at her in a mocking manner that had her clenching her jaw. If he had known the first thing about dancing, I wouldn’t need to lead, she thought to herself as their feet began moving again.

“One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two- Mr Hildebrand, focus on your partner! Dance is about the emotion, do not stare at your feet. Are you going to the gala with your feet?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Diego was a better partner than him…

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“Number Four, on my count!” Reginald clapped his hands, alerting thirteen-year-olds Klaus and (Y/N). The two nearly fell over at the abrupt stop Klaus came to, causing them to snort and hold onto each other for dear life. “If you two will not cooperate, then Number Eight will exchange partners! Again!”

As the music started up again, Klaus led their dance in long strides and animated sways that had them nearly knocking into Allison and Ben. The incorrect footing the two had been using the entire time eventually caught up to them when (Y/N) accidentally stepped on her brother’s toes, the boy yelping out and stumbling to the ground, dragging her down with him. Their laughs filled the room, too loud to hear the scratching stop of the record.

“Number Four! Number Eight! This is unacceptable behavior!”

Their laughter subsided at their father’s scolding. They scrambled to their feet as he stomped over, hands behind his back. “Number Four, to your seat. Number Two, you are now Number Eight’s partner!”

(Y/N) squeezed Klaus’s arm as the boy covered his smile with his hand and did as he was told. She smiled at Diego as he stiffly approached her, fists clenching and unclenching. Once he was close enough, he placed a hand on his sister’s waist and held her hand in his other one, her free hand taking position on his shoulder. The entire time they danced, Diego was rigid. He didn’t flow with the music and always let (Y/N) take the lead, much to Reginald’s annoyance. No matter how many times they were stopped, no matter how many times (Y/N) tried to reassure him that he was fine, the boy was as stiff as a board. Shaking his head, Reginald stopped the music again.

“Number Five, take Number Two’s place.” He demanded. Diego deflated and quickly detached himself from (Y/N) before returning to his seat beside Klaus. Five smirked as he hopped up from his seat, approaching (Y/N) and swiftly bringing her into position, heat rushing to her cheeks at their proximity. Reginald was much more pleased with this partnership, and it was no wonder why. The two moved perfectly, they were on count, and refused to falter for even a second. (Y/N) was easily impressed by Five’s suave manners, the way he smugly smirked at her the entire time. She could only shake her head in amusement at this new demeanor. Five was becoming cockier the older he got.

(Y/N) felt the fire of their dance as they spun, twisted and twirled all around. They were the perfect team gliding past the other two pairs that were Allison and Ben, and Luther and Vanya. They were an unstoppable force, and not just on the dancefloor. To their father, mainly because he couldn’t have imagined it any other way, he assumed the giddy smiles on his children’s faces were due to the excitement of their accomplishment. But their siblings knew all too well that those looks were only reserved for each other. Reginald couldn’t clean his monocle enough to see such a relationship blossoming between them. Not even when Five ended the dance with expertly dipping (Y/N) slowly, their eyes latched onto each other as he slowly brought her back up. They were grinning widely at each other as they separated, feeling their burning cheeks as they tried to catch their breath from the intensity of the dance. When they turned to Reginald, he simply nodded in approval.

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So, as (Y/N) waltzed with Preston, perfectly in time with the music and gliding along the floor with grace, she felt nothing and did not smile in exhilaration.

Once the lesson concluded and the instructor took his leave, Preston turned to (Y/N) and gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to her knuckles. Inwardly grimacing, the girl forced a thin-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes to stretch across her face. She watched him with a scowl as he swaggered his way out of the parlor and to the front door, just as Grace walked in with a mischievous grin. “My, my, you really don’t like him, do you?”

“Not a whole lot, no…” (Y/N) sighed and crossed her arms. Her mother cooed and gently rubbed her shoulder.

“Well, let’s go shoe shoppin’ to make ya feel better.”

The hustle and bustle of the town as the two walked down the sidewalk was somewhat therapeutic for them. Reginald always advised that they use the car to get any and everywhere to save time, but they didn’t see a need to rush anything. They had all of the time in the world. Or at least they had until the store closed, but it was still early in the afternoon. With linked arms, and Mr Pennycrumb in (Y/N)’s other arm, the two approached the doors to the local shoe store with breezy smiles.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

The look the shopkeeper gave (Y/N) was nothing new for her as he opened the door for them. As they entered, he stared at Grace as if she had grown a head on each of her shoulders and began a trio singing group with them. “Uh… ma’am?”

“Yes?” Grace turned to him with raised brows. The shopkeeper cleared his throat nervously and motioned towards the young girl.

“She isn’t allowed in here. No colored folk in my store.”

(Y/N) was used to this treatment. She was grateful that she had her parents to shelter her when they could, but she knew her place in this timeline. So, to avoid any conflict, she began out the door. But Grace quickly grabbed her by the shoulder, all warmth from her face gone as she stepped forward. “I’m sorry? I didn’t see a ‘Whites Only’ sign on your door.”

“W-Well, yes, but it’s this entire side of the street that doesn’t allow-”

“And we could tell by the signs that so very clearly exclude my daughter simply because of the color of her skin. But you, sir, do not have a ‘Whites Only’ sign. So, I believe my baby girl is allowed to shop for a pretty pair of shoes from your establishment. Am I wrong?”

The man sighed as his expression dropped into a defeated frown. He risked a glance over at (Y/N), who was wearing a shit-eating grin. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “No, ma’am, you are not wrong.”

“I thought not. Now if you excuse us, we’re just goin’ to look for some shoes.”

Turning the girl around, Grace guided the two towards the back wall of the store, soothingly rubbing her arms. “I’m so sorry about that, hun…”

“It’s okay, Mom. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. We need to fight back or else times will never change.” She squeezed the girl close in a hug, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but immediately latch onto her mother as tears welled up in her eyes.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After they found the perfect pair of white heels, they were on their way out of the store and back on the sidewalk. They quietly giggled to each other at the memory of the shopkeeper’s glare as they paid for the very expensive shoes. Because of this, (Y/N) didn’t notice the woman walking towards them near the pet shop. When their shoulders came into contact, (Y/N)’s bag fell to the ground due to her iron grip on her puppy, shoes forgotten. “I’m so sorry!” She quickly apologized, her head snapping up to the woman, marveling at her sense of fashion. The woman was decked out in a beautiful blue dress, accompanied by the largest white pearls she had even seen. She wore long, fingerless white gloves and a white hat with a birdcage veil attached to it. Her earrings were to die for and her sunglasses gave the outfit a hint of chic. Her eyes moved past the matching white purse to the brilliantly red heels on her feet. (Y/N) was in total awe.

“Ugh, watch where you’re going!” The woman barked and snapped her head up to the young girl. “Do you have any idea- Oh! Oh… my. Hello, dear.” At the sudden change of tone, both (Y/N) and Grace frowned in confusion. “I’m so sorry, I just… you are a very beautiful young lady…”

“Uh… thank you.” She nodded as Grace stooped to pick up the bag from the ground.

“Even with the scars! Gives you a bit of an edge. What is your name, dear?”

Her slight smile faltered at the mention of her scars. “(Y/N)... (Y/N) Hargreeves.”

“And a beautiful name to match.” She grinned and turned her head to Grace. “Are you Mom?”

“I am.” Grace nodded and tugged her daughter closer.

“Keep her young and beautiful. It doesn’t usually last by the age of thirty,” She placed her cigarette holder between her lips. “Well… Ms (Y/N) Hargreeves… Perhaps I will see you around.”

A tiny growl from the girl’s arms had the woman’s eyeless smile dropping faster than anything (Y/N)’s ever seen. Mr Pennycrumb had been growling at the woman, teeth baring. The woman lifted her sunglasses and sent the dog a blue-eyed glare that had him shying away and whimpering into his owner’s arms. (Y/N) widened her eyes and stared down at her puppy in concern. The woman set her sunglasses back on her face and gained her smile yet again. “Cute dog.” She deadpanned before walking into the store.

“What a strange woman…” Grace muttered as the two watched The Handler stroll about the pet store.

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

Five watched in calm delight as the waitress poured him a fresh cup of coffee, filling it to the brim. Just as she was about to walk away, he glanced up at her. “Leave the pot, dear. Thank you.” He smiled. The woman set it down before walking away, muttering a ‘lippy little shit’ to herself. Vanya, who the boy found running from the same three gunmen as before, sat beside him with a lost look on her face.

“You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Five turned to her and decided to lay it all on her in one go, “When you were a baby, you were bought by an eccentric billionaire. He raised you in an elite academy with seven other siblings with extraordinary powers, but in the year 2019, in order to avoid the apocalypse, we jumped into a vortex and ended up scattered throughout the timeline in Dallas, Texas.” He watched patiently as Vanya slowly looked away in deep thought. “Any questions?”

“What do you mean, ‘the apocalypse’?”

Five inhaled to ready himself for another explanation. “I mean the end of the world as we know it.”

“Yeah, but how?”

His mind jumped back to the day it all happened. With he and his brothers suspended in the air, getting their literal lives sucked out of them. He thought of Vanya, blinded by her rage towards (Y/N) for some reason he didn’t even know, attacking his love directly in the face relentlessly with her bow. How she cried on the ground as her shaking limbs desperately tried to lift her body from the ground. How he could do nothing but watch. He could have turned Vanya away, could have hated her for it. But he knew deep down that he could never hate his siblings, he could never hate Vanya. Not for the life of him. Especially not when (Y/N)’s words rang in his head.

“It’s just that we’ve hurt her so much already…”

“You really don’t remember anything?” He asked instead.

“No, nothing before a month ago.” She shook her head.

“Then what do you remember?”

Vanya’s eyes strayed away from her brother in thought. “I remember… I landed in, like, a… back alley. Got hit by a car. My head was ringing like crazy. I had no idea how I got there, where I came from,” When Five didn’t respond, she asked her question again. “What causes the apocalypse?”

Vanya was unpredictable to Five at his point. She knew of her powers this time and he didn’t want to upset her. Not only because he didn’t like to upset her, but for the obvious reason that her rage ended the world in the first place. So, he lied.

“Asteroid impact. The big kaboom ends everything… Just like the one that got the dinosaurs, except way worse,” He picked up his coffee mug and stared forward. “Bad news is, it followed us here.”

Vanya stared at her brother in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘followed us’?”

“Eight days from now, the world ends in a nuclear doomsday. It’s a different disease, but… same result.” He watched as Vanya’s lips desperately tried to curl into a smile as she tilted her head.

“That can’t be right.”

“I saw it. With my own eyes,” He sighed and stared down at the counter in despair. “You were there. We all were…”

“Shit,” Vanya whispered and jumped out of her chair. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Vanya.” Five softly called as he watched her rush to the phone on the wall, dialing a number. He decided to give her the time she needed and sipped his coffee. But the cup drained faster than he expected and time was running out. Standing from his chair, he walked over to Vanya and hung up the phone. She turned to him with widened eyes.

“What the hell?!” She whispered.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“That’s my friend you just hung up on!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Five stared into her frightened eyes. “Listen to me. Those people from the field are coming after us. They are never going to stop. Do you understand me?” He whispered sternly and watched as she swallowed, expression softening. “We need to stick together, find the others, figure out how to stop doomsday. Whoever this person is, they can’t be more important than the end of the world.”

He immediately regretted those words. He knew it the second Vanya’s face tightened again. When she slammed the phone back onto the wall and stormed past him, he knew there were six other people he thought far more important than the end of the world. It’s why he hauled all of them along with him rather than doing the job himself. And he knew there was one of them who mattered in a whole different light. With a heavy sigh, he followed after his sister out of the diner.

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @sm0kingcrack @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz

[cuntess-carmilla]

Until the riots of October 2019 I really feel like no one actually knew or remembered that Chile exists (if they don’t personally know a Chilean) outside of our immediate neighbors (Argentina, Perú, Bolivia) with whom for obvious reasons we’ve had a very tightly woven history so it’s not like they can easily forget that we exist. But other than that, people just either don’t know we exist or they remember when they’re looking at a map and see us, to then forget as soon as they stop looking at said map.

Even other SOUTH American countries are very ignorant of us (meant in the neutral sense of simply Not Knowing). Like, Colombians, Ecuadorians, Venezuelans... Even Paraguayans, who’re much closer to us than those other countries.

I remember my first year of advertisement school (🤢) where a professor told us about a fashion brand from Colombia that tried to make it in our local market and just came in here without doing much research because they basically were like “we’re all Latines, right?” selling brightly colorful loud clothes and their business here went to shit because Chileans are the antithesis of the "colorful” Latine, to the point some people say we’re not “real” Latines. 😂

We dress super plain. Like, Kardashian-Jenner color palette. The only reason that me dressing in all black sticks out is that 1) I wear extravagant unmistakably goth clothes and 2) I do it during summer as well because I’m COMMITTED and because I know that wearing thick ass jeans + plastic sneakers is a lot worse for hot weather than wearing a flowy chiffon skirt and fresh cute shoes even if they’re both black. 🙄

[kerwritesthings]

Dance Your Way Into My Heart

Summary: It’s more than just that feeling of love, it’s the actions, and the talk of forever

Word Count: just a little over 2.6k

Warnings: more soft, squishy, lovely words with a side of wedding fluff

Author Notes: So, this is my 10th ‘full-length’ one shot in this verse which boggles my mind since it’s ONLY been about a month (a day or two off actually – I first posted late the night of Jan 18!) since I started writing around this fool heart. I think he, and this place, the people and the creativity, really came to me when I’ve needed it the most. Sooo, now that the emotional nonsense has been blithered out. Here’s a little something for that…

Funny enough that this all hit me the Wednesday/Thursday before any of Josiah’s wedding stuff hit. Another pretty photo reblog from @rainbowshawn​ that set me on a spiral of ohhh shit I can see him singing at a super casual wedding like this and then the next thing you know I’ve busted out 500ish words on my Notes app on my phone while at a bar waiting for my friend before seeing Moulin Rouge on Broadway that night, total aside THE SHOW IS AMAZING – listen to the OBC album cause it’s bomb, however I digress. 

As always, these can be read as stand-alone one shots, but they all fall under the umbrella of this verse of mine. Reading the previous would provide some context. Masterlist can be found here!

As soon as she asks, Shawn immediately said yes. He's such a sucker for love and weddings and basically anything to make you happy. So, when your best friend asks you if you’d think he would be willing to sing at her wedding, you mention she would need to talk to him and ask. So, she flies up for a weekend under the onus of coming to hang out with you. However, she takes him to lunch one afternoon just the two of them, his favorite place downtown, nervous and anxious. However, you understood it was a shoe in. It was sweet though she wants to go the extra mile with him.

“You knew?” he asks, flopping down on the couch next to you, head immediately falling in your lap as soon as he gets back home. 

“Mmhmm,” you mutter, hands automatically winding through his hair. “Told her she needed to talk to you though. Maid of honor duties only go so far you know. What did you say?”

“Yes, duh. Of course, yes,” he replies, eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into your touch. “Didi is your best friend, she’s the closest thing you have to a sister. Of course, I’m going to sing for her for her wedding. Plus, it’s going to be so super chill and laid back. I told her to give me a few things she and Tomas like and I’ll work around with that. I also told her I want first dance duty. No wedding band or DJ should have your bestie’s special moment.”

“You’re something else and I love you. Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to her. And even more to me,” you whisper, leaning down to dust a kiss to his forehead, another to his nose before reaching his lips.

Didi can’t stop raving, gushing and thanking you and him. The key smash texts are adorable and you both appreciate the lovely case of rosé champagne she sends over. Tomas, separately, takes him for a boys night at Maple Leafs game next time he’s in town as a personal show of thanks for helping his future wife. Shawn takes his role seriously, copious notes and hours locked away in his studio practicing or grumbling some days. It’s heartwarming to see how much care he took in this. “At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law, so yeah,” he blushes, after explaining the latest iteration of songs he’s going through. “Plus, it’s her wedding day. Needs to be epic and as perfect as possible. I’m going to make sure it’s that.”

He says it so nonchalant, so matter of fact, and without hesitation: At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law. It hits you square in the gut. You both know how deep your feelings run for each other, and you’ve had a few abstract talks, a few serious ones too, along with a more pointed talk specifically about the future. But you’ve never heard him speak of it with such assured conviction. Like it’s happening soon. You just look at him, jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. 

“You’re gonna catch flies like that my dear,” he smirks, tapping his pointer finger up under your chin to close your mouth. Before you can reply, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, slowly and thoroughly. 

“You know you’re my forever,” he sighs against your lips, just a hair away from yours. He presses a soft, quick peck to both corners of your mouth before one squarely against you. “I’ve thought about it a lot more lately. Since Santa Barbara and our breakfast by the pool, really. Of us doing this ourselves and what our wedding would be. I know the new album and the tour, and all that shit is a thing happening, but I also know you mean everything so…”

You don’t know what to say, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You just look at him, hand coming up to cup his cheek. 

“This is not going there now, because this would be a lame as fuck as a story to tell on how I proposed to you, but just know. I’m thinking about it. Really and truly,” he reveals through a bright smile. “I love you, so, so much baby.”

You can’t help but shift your arms around him, face nuzzling into the side of his neck. This boy of yours. He’s something extraordinary. 

At the rehearsal dinner, you spy him and Didi in deep conversation before you’re all due to sit down for dessert. 

“He won’t tell me what they decided on, Didi either,” you explain to Didi’s sister Renee, as you head towards your table. “They’re being sneaky little shits, but you know Dee.”

Renee laughs, “Are you really surprised? After you’ve been friends for this long? It’s sweet of your man to be willing to do all this for them. I’ve already warned all cousins and the brothers’ idiot dates they are not to fawn over him, that he’s beyond happily taken by the maid of honor, and that if I see cell phones obnoxiously in the way at any point this weekend, I’m breaking them in some way.”

You hear his laugh before you feel his arm wrap about your waist. “This is why Renee is the best. She won’t take anyone’s shit. Even from her own family. Thanks girl. Appreciate you having my back,” he smiles, fist bumping Renee. “I owe you one.”

“Holding you to that, Mendes,” she grins widely. “Just make sure this one doesn’t lose her shit this weekend taking care of my sister. But I will gladly use that marker, especially next time your hot friends are around. Speaking of, I should go check on my parents, make sure my brothers haven’t done anything stupid.”

“Is Didi driving you batty?” he asks, guiding you into your chair. “She seems okay tonight.”

“Crowd around, her parents, Tomas’ family, she’s holding her own but there was some stupid family shit earlier,” you exhale, grabbing a hold of his hand to lace through yours, before tipping your head against his shoulder. “It’s nothing that I didn’t expect to deal with this weekend. She’s nervous, worried, second and fifth guessing things. I get it, this is a lot. She just wants to be married already.”

Shawn dusts a kiss to your temple, “You’re such a good friend. You’re lucky to have each other. Tomorrow’s going to be great. Worse case, steal my flask and get her a little saucy before she walks down the aisle.”

You elbow him with a giggle, “You would suggest that, but you may be onto something. Thank you though.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of champagne, bobby pins and lip gloss with a soundtrack full of laughter and a lot of fighting back tears. You also may have sung along to your boyfriend’s last album, dancing around like you would do in her room when you were kids to your favorite songs. Didi’s suite is a buzz with her sister holding down the fort, cousins popping in and out, along with her mother and her future mother-in-law. At one point, after the glam team is gone, you finally have a moment alone with your best friend while her mom and sister go to grab her dress.

“I am so happy you’re deliriously happy,” you whisper, hugging Didi tightly before more folks come in. “You two are good together and I’m glad you found him.”

Didi sniffs, “Thank you, I know I’ve been insane, and you’ve been a saint. Your boyfriend too. Shawn has put up with me changing my mind on stuff like 17 times and he’s just rolled with it. You’re a lucky one too. He’s so fucking over the moon for you girly. Soon roles will be reversed, and you’ll be able to pay me back with your own crazy.”

You both scurry about to get into your dresses. With the wedding taking place at the botanical gardens, Didi decided she didn’t want fussy for anything around the ceremony. Her dress is a stunning V-neck sheath of flowy creamy, buttery chiffon, tiny flowers woven through her hair in place of a veil. Tomas’ grandmother’s necklace, a vintage diamond and pearl strand, lays just at her collarbones. You try not to cry but think back of the two little five-year-old girls who would play wedding in your grandparents’ back yard. “Oh Dee,” you sniff. “Tomas isn’t going to know what hit him.”

She smiles, her eyes just as wet, and reaches for your hands. “I couldn’t be up there without you, bestie.” You hear the flicker of a camera, knowing the photographer is back catching your moment and you’re grateful. “Your boy either. I know you hemmed and hawed about black for a wedding, but this dress is great.”

You’re the only one standing up with her, she didn’t want anyone up there with her other than you. Renee understood and was happy she didn’t have to wrangle a groomsman. She picked a black maxi, swirled with larger flowers in shades of pink and white. Your hair was up, a flower like the ones in your dress tucked in the mass of curls her stylist pinned about. Your bouquet is in a similar palate, while Didi’s has some purple, her favorite color, woven through. 

“Let’s go get you married,” you say handing off her bouquet and tucking her arm under yours. 

“Hey pretty girl, funny seeing you here,” he quips, his lips dusting against your bare shoulder, before tracing a finger across your back. You’re all outside the courtyard waiting to enter for the start of the ceremony. You turn to face him. He’s a vision, because of course he is when isn’t he, in black floral-patterned button down, similar to your dress, along with dark pants. What’s more interesting is that his beloved acoustic strung across his chest.

“I may have told Didi I would play all her walk-in music too,” he nods bashfully. “I wasn’t going to let them use Apple Music or Spotify or even worse some awful wedding singer.”

“You are something else, Shawn,” you reply, squeezing his hand tightly. “Really want to kiss you but I can’t mess up the gloss.”

He places a whisper of a kiss on your forehead, “Love you. I need to go get into place. Atmosphere music. Think I may sneak in one of my own in there before the processional stuff.”

You laugh, pushing him towards the archway of greenery, “Go be wonderful.”

He’s set up at the back of the courtyard, seats all set in front of him. He’s weaving melodies, no singing, just soft rhythms from his guitar. The space is perfect, green and lush and smelling lovely, a swath of flowers at the end of the path where Tomas waits. You make your way down and turn to watch for your best friend. However, before she arrives you take a moment to appreciate Shawn. He catches your eye, smiles and winks, mouthing love you before he sees the wedding coordinator waiving over at him. 

He starts in on “Marry Me” when Didi arrives at the back of the aisle with her Dad. Your breath catches in your throat, the combination of seeing your best friend and hearing your boyfriend hits you hard. She starts making her way down when he begins on the chorus. You see Tomas out of the corner of your eye, and he’s got a hand over his mouth, eyes brimming over with tears. The ceremony is the perfect balance of exactly what Didi and Tomas are. Their vows are intrinsically them. They look every way that a couple getting married should. Glowing, in love and only eyes for each other. It’s hard not to let a tear or two out. 

The reception is in the atrium of the gardens, under a massive domed stained-glass skylight, still lush with flowers and greens. Everything has been exactly as Didi has hoped. Meanwhile, your boyfriend is mysteriously missing. You’re sipping champagne with Renee and her boyfriend of the moment, while looking about for him. 

“Last I saw him he was setting his guitar up before the rest of the musicians came in, don’t worry,” Renee starts, clinking glasses with you. “He’ll be back.”

He makes his way back into the atrium, and surprisingly he’s changed, a little dressier now in deliciously fitting black suit pants and a white button down, the glint of his silver chain obvious even from where you are. You excuse yourself from the group and steal Shawn away before he needs to soundcheck for their dance. You just want to have a moment with him before everything gets crazy, heading out to the patio just off the atrium, which is blissfully quiet. You wrap your arms around his waist and just hold him. 

“You okay baby?” he asks, as he starts to sway with you, shifting your arms around his neck so he can pull you closer. 

You nod, smiling, “I just needed you for a minute without all that is all.”

“You can have all the minutes you ever want or need,” he says, kissing you lightly. 

“Sorry to break this up, please believe me I am, but my sister has decided she wants to get a move on,” Renee calls from the doorway. 

“Duty calls for both of us,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Save me a dance or two?”

“All the slow ones at least,” he agrees, rubbing his nose against yours. “I’ll see you out there.”

Didi didn’t want a whole production with entrances, she wanted a few bars of song then for her and Tomas to start dancing straightaway. So, poised at the edge of what they have set up as the dance floor, with a good angle to see them once they walk in, as well as your boyfriend, you wait. Shawn starts playing, something floaty that that doesn’t sound familiar to you. The pair make their way in and as soon as they hit the center of the floor, he begins. 

“Not talkin' 'bout a year, no not three or four. I don't want that kind of forever in my life anymore,” he sings gently. “Forever always seems to be around when it begins, but forever never seems to be around when it ends. So, give me your forever, please your forever. Not a day less will do, from you.”

The song is beautiful, he sounds amazing, Didi and Tomas as just love personified as they dance. He fades out slowly at the end, a light strum to close out. 

“Thank you for letting me be such a special part of your day. That was Ben Harper’s Forever. Didi, Tomas, congratulations and love to you both,” he expresses, blowing a kiss to the two of them with his hands, you can see his emotions clear across his face. He heads back, as the band starts up, packing away his guitar before making his way over to you, now at your table.

“Wow,” you sigh, hand coming to the nape of his neck to sink into his curls. “That was something else, my dear. Didi fucking owes you.”

He blushes, ducking his head bashfully. “I’m just happy I could give them that moment. First dances are something really special. They deserved to have the best moment possible. Plus, that’s an awesome first dance song, not the usual. Makes it even better.”

“My hopeless romantic,” you muse, tracing haphazard patterns over the top of his hand that rests on your knee. 

“Just you wait,” he smiles, kissing you. “Now, I’m on good authority the next song is a slow one, so may I have this dance?”

He stands, holding his hand out for you. 

“You can have every single one, all of them from now on.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance​, @parkerdavis​, @sinplisticshawn​, @hollandraul​, @fallinallincurls​, @itrocksmysocks​, @rainbowshawn​, @lasingphomustra​, @illumecherry​

*Always feel free to ask to be added to the tag list! 

[artificialqueens]

(treat me nice) never let me go [branjie] 5/15 - pinkgrapefruit

chapter five. i let the skeletons out and we dance through the halls

previous chapters  1. 2. 3. 4.

A/N - Heya! Welcome back to Pretty Woman branjie style - in chapter four, Vanessa met Nina and Brooke bosses a presentation. Thanks to Frey, my rock, for fixing this up. Anyway, apologies for the wait. Let me know what you guys think and Enjoy!

*

She swears she has never run so fast in her life as she bolts down the twenty-something flights of stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. By the bottom, she has flushed a light plum, chest heaving as she bends over coughing. She spits into a plant pot and hopes no one has noticed. Once she can breathe without feeling strangled, she straightens herself back up and (respectfully) speed walks over to where Nina is looking out over the foyer.

“Nina!” She shouts in a low register, trying to attract less attention this time around. The older woman turns sharply and raises an eyebrow at Vanessa’s state of post-athletic sweat. She purses her lips in lieu of a response. “I need your help.” Vanessa continues.

“It - It does fit you?”

“Yes, yes, of course, like a glove and all that shit, that’s not the problem.” Nina tilts her head with a sigh - looking a little like a puppy who has been promised a walk, but has not received it - sort of unhappy and resentful at the same time.

“The problem is?” she leads on, maybe impatient, maybe just confused.

“How’d’ya be ‘fancy,’” she speaks quietly and uses air quotation marks in an attempt to convey the seriousness of the problem, but it doesn’t stop the other woman from bursting into harmonious laughter.

“Courtney, cover me,” Nina calls out before pulling Vanessa down a service corridor, still chuckling.

*

“All right, miss Vanessa, one more time.”

The girl rolls her shoulders and straightens her back - tries to imitate the posture her Abuela has been trying to enforce for years. She takes the cloth napkin off the plate and places it flat on her lap - to Nina’s nods of approval - and then moves on to trying to use the correct cutlery.

“Elbows off the table! Don’t slouch.”

She pulls her elbows off the soft fabric immediately - back rod straight. “Well, fork.” Vanessa has always said that the mark of a good joke is that it makes yourself laugh and she’s glad that’s her philosophy, because Nina looks a little like someone has just disrespected her family name and all it took was a bad cursing joke.

The older woman comes to stand behind Vanessa’s chair and points to three forks as she talks. “Shrimp fork, salad fork, dinner fork,” she rattles off with confidence and ease as if the forks do not look the exact same. “Work outside in as you eat and don’t ask.”

“Alright,” she hums a little nervously. “I think I got the salad one. The rest… didn’t go in.”

”Just count the tines!” replies Nina in a tone all too cheery for someone talking about table etiquette and Vanessa has to laugh.

“You tell your man this excites you?” she quips with a grin, but Nina just raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Wife.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

*

Brooke stands awkwardly in the lobby, which is odd, because Brooke doesn’t do awkward. It’s not that she’s necessarily opposed to the idea of it. She is just unable to be awkward in her usual getup of power-suits and power-heels. But tonight she is dressed in a black tux, white shirt, black bowtie and red Louboutins, and somehow she is awkward. She hovers for a second before making her way to the desk to call Vanessa. She is intercepted.

“Pardon me, Ms Hytes”

“Uh-huh. Excuse me, I just want to make one call,.” sShe replies slightly hurriedly, knowing it is almost eight.

“Yes, um, ma’am.” Nina too sounds a little rushed and uncomfortable as she speaks, “I have a message for you.” She’s moving her weight from foot to foot on the ornate red rug - each shoe coming off slightly as she lifts it. She shifts the weight into her left hip as she finishes the conversation.

“From who?”

“From your cousin, ma’am.”

Brooke chokes back a laugh of indignance as Nina says this - fiddling with her bowtie to keep her almost shaking hands busy. She’s not used to it - the almost shaking - and she wishes Nina would just hurry up. “My what?”

“The young lady who’s staying with you in your room, mMa’am.“

She hums in response - starting to connect the dots. “I think we both know that she’s not my cousin.” She smirks knowingly. Her eyes meet Nina’s before darting down to the wedding ring and back up. They imply that she knows of their shared sexuality (she does through a lot of time in the hotel bar). When Nina’s eyes meet hers again, they appear to concede.

“Of course.”

“The reason I know that, is that my parents are only children.”

“Yes.”

“What’s the message?”

“She’s waiting for you in the lounge.” Brooke’s ears perk up a little when she hears it - a small smile creeping onto her face as she realises Vanessa is ready and waiting. It takes a lot to not set off running - she supposes that could be a little too forward. “Intriguing young lady, miss Vanessa.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Nina gives a cursory smile before she leaves. “Have a good evening.”

*

Vanessa looks like a painting - scrap that. Vanessa looks like a goddess, and Brooke wants nothing more than to fall to her knees and worship her like she deserves.

She has to flick her tongue out to wet her lips as the other girl descends the stairs  - chocolate hair curled and cascading over her left shoulder. The dress is a flowy chiffon with a bardot neckline that exposes both caramel shoulders and collarbone, that the blonde wants to suck kisses across.

“You’re late.”

Brooke has to laugh - the body of an angel and the voice of a frog that’s chewed gravel. Vanessa flutters her eyelashes and it’s like a spell.

“You’re stunning.” Brooke gulps, eyes sweeping her once, twice, three times before meeting her eyes. “Burgundy?”

“You’re forgiven - and yes, it means if I spill my wine, it ain’t gonna stain.” Vanessa’s mouth is dry and her hands are shaking, but Brooke holds out her own to lead the way and she puts her clammy palm on top, gripping like it’s her life. “I like the suit on you, baby.”

“Pet names? Really. Let’s try to keep some professionalism around Cain.”

“M'kay, honey.”

If Vanessa has visions of dragging Brooke by the bowtie - she doesn’t mention them.

*

The car pulls up to the restaurant and Brooke lets out a heavy sigh. The exterior is just plain brick, but the signage screams expensive wine and seafood - it’s intimidating, and she’s surprised her counterpart looks so calm having never stepped inside such an establishment. Santino’s, it turns out, is a popular restaurant among the elite and even though Brooke knows this, she can’t help the anxiety working its way through her heart as she watches men in bespoke suits and tails saunter through the gabled entrance.

Vanessa looks calm. She is not. Brooke realises this as she opens the door of the car for her. She holds out a hand in aid of stepping out of the car and the girl’s palms are slick with sweat - feet unsteady as she places them on the cobbled ground.

“Shall we go to dinner?” Brooke asks with the faux confidence she is trying to convince herself she possesses, and Vanessa smiles softly - maybe humouring her, maybe not.

A host comes out dressed in a crisp, white shirt and pressed black trousers. His belt buckle looks like it is regularly polished, and his shoes could reflect the light of the moon back to it. The entire ensemble makes Vanessa quiver as they follow him through the doorway and into the elegantly decorated bar area. It smells like old Hollywood sans cigarette smoke and she can only imagine that this is the true smell of money. She knows that a glass of cabernet would cost more than a month’s rent and, not for the first time, she is glad she is not the one paying. Brooke squeezes her hand silently, and Vanessa squeezes back.

“Alright. Follow my lead, try not to speak and don’t fidget,.” Brooke notes sternly as they approach the table. The shift in her attitude and behaviour is so quick they could have given Vanessa whiplash, and the girl tries to appear unfazed at the way she goes back to being dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

On the round table nestled into the corner of the restaurant, so that people can have business meetings on topics they would rather not have public involvement in (nuclear protocols, presidential assassinations, the recalling of certain children’s toys), sit two women. One is older, she looks demure and unassuming to the untrained eye, but if you look closely, the cufflinks on her shirt are worth more than the Gross Domestic Product of Tuvalu. The only thing that separates her from the millions of others in the world of business is her shock of lilac hair and the fact that Brooke starts to smile a little when they see each other.

“Shuga,” Brooke calls out in what could almost be relief. “Shuga, this is Vanessa - Vanessa, Shuga Cain.”

They shake hands before Shuga turns to the lady sitting next to her to introduce her. The woman in question is tall and lithe, with big brown eyes and a buzzcut. “Ladies, this is my protege, Yvangeline Oddly.”

“Yvie Oddly at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Brooke Lynn Hytes of Hytes and Partners in Canada, although you may know me better as one of RuPaul’s partners. This is a friend of mine, Vanessa Mateo.”

Yvie lacks the warmth of Shuga, and yet she feels like flames. Her energy is like that of a rocket about to go off, bouncing a little, and suddenly Vanessa is intimidated. She places her clutch down on her chair before excusing herself to the ladies’ room for a second, hoping that maybe she can relax enough to at least enjoy the food.

She spends no less than five minutes with her arms braced on the cool porcelain of the sink, inhaling the bergamot and lavender of the hand soap. When she looks in the mirror, she doesn’t see the same Vanjie that walked Olympic at night like she owned it. She doesn’t recognise herself and it’s disquieting to know that if she walked the same street tonight, she would get mugged dressed like this. She looks like she has more to lose and, in a way, she hates it. She wets the insides of her wrists with cold water and returns down the stairs to the table.

“Ms. Hytes, we are of the belief that the people who create a company should control its destiny.” Yvie argues against a statement Vanessa did not hear. She is confused, but then again, none of the participants look convinced by their own arguments either, so she supposes it’s not the worst thing.

“Where’s the salad?” She asks innocently which garners a small chuckle out of Shuga, while Brooke seems all too involved in her discussion with Yvie to particularly care.

“Uh, the salad comes at the end of the meal,” she says offhandedly. She doesn’t look at Vanessa.

“That’s the only fork I knew,” she whines, pouting a little in a way that is only bratty enough to get Brooke’s attention without sparking something that may not be appropriate at the dinner table. Shuga gives her the same sort of smile you would give a small child.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been able to figure which goes with what!” she jokes before pointing slightly to the correct utensils for fourchu lobster - a delicacy which has Vanessa moaning slightly as she puts it into her mouth. She stops pretty suddenly when she realises she is the only one who is actually eating, but Brooke nods for her to continue anyway.

Yvie sighs, pushing her fork into the flesh of the lobster. “Let me put it another way.” She takes a second to think about her wording before continuing, “Between your public statements and the rumours flying around on this thing, we find it very hard to figure out what your real intentions are.” Brooke raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “You know, there was a time when we used technology that hadn’t even been patented yet,” she continues, impervious to Brooke’s looks. Vanessa shifts in her seat as she sets down her cutlery, moving back to allow the hovering waiters to remove the empty plates (or in the case of Brooke and Yvie, mostly full).

“Women like my grandmother made this country, and I’m not about to see it all fall away due to some Canadian lawyer-“ Yvie is cut off by the second course being served up.

Vanessa elbows Brooke under the table, “Who ordered this?” She asks confused as she pokes at the small blobs of meat drizzled in what she believes to be garlic sauce.

Brooke gives her a curious look before whispering, “It’s a set menu. It’s escargot, snails.”

“Bitch, you’re trying to serve me snails!” She responds, incredulous as ever as Shuga and Yvie watch the exchange - happily eating their own meals.

“Yes, Vanessa. Bon appétit.” Brooke is tight-lipped and clearly wishes to get back to the matter at hand. “Try it. Oddly?”

“Ms. Hytes- Brooke, if you were to get control - and I don’t think you will - but if you did,” she pauses, contemplative as if to try and sell her point even further. “What do you plan to do with the company?”

“Break it up and sell off the pieces.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand I’m not thrilled by the idea-” Shuga cuts in, placing both her knife and fork onto the plate demurely and tapping a napkin on either side of her mouth. She leans forward, “-of your turning years of my work into your garage sale.”

Brooke smiles - she understands, but she has no choice. “At the price I’m paying for this stock, Ms. Cain, you are going to be a very rich woman.”

“I’m rich enough. I just want to head my legacy.”

“Slippery little suckers!” comes Vanessa’s moan from her part of the table. She sighs and pouts, her fork rattling on the plate. Shuga chuckles a little before miming the correct way to eat a snail, Brooke watching in amusement. She feels a little like she’s babysitting, as herself and Yvie continue to shoot glares at each other across the table.

“I met your father,” Shuga states as she sips her wine, watching Vanessa eat a few more snails quietly, looking rather pleased with herself. “What’s his name again?”

“Carsten,” Brooke states bluntly, knowing exactly where this is going before it starts.

“Yeah, Carsten Hytes. He’s not quite the bastard everybody says he is.” She says it likes it’s supposed to be a compliment to the family. It doesn’t quite get there. Fortunately, Brooke is well aware of the perception of her father throughout the corporate world - millionaire business tycoon Carsten Hytes.

“No, I have the franchise on that.” She gives a polite laugh - equally aware of her own outward-facing persona. She gives Vanessa a warm look as she feels the girl’s legs shift against hers under the table.

“Does that make him proud?”

“I doubt it. It doesn’t really matter now. He passed away.” Her tone has changed and now even Vanessa bristles at it. She reaches over and places a hand on her clothed leg, rubs at it with her thumb in a sign of solidarity, and maybe a little more. Brooke gulps and takes a large swig of her wine, coughing as she sets the glass back down. She hates the way her palms feel sweaty.

“Oh, I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry.” It should sound fake under the circumstances, but Shuga just isn’t that type of woman.

“I’m sorry, too,” adds Vanessa and Brooke wants to lean into the way her voice feels like velvet and warm caramel.

“Look, Shuga, you asked for this meeting. What can I do for you, truly?” Brooke tries to smile like she’s got no ill intent, but she just looks weary - the whole ordeal taking its toll.

“Just leave my company alone, Hytes. Take your papers back to the buyers and tell them to leave.”

“I can’t. They own every share you have.” This time she must look empathetic because Shuga’s face softens to her. Yvie still looks like she has plans to wrestle a hammerhead shark after dinner.        

“We’ll buy them back!” She jumps in, chomping at the bit.

“You don’t have that kind of money.”

“We’ve got contracts in the making.”

“They’re all buried in the Appropriations Committee.” It feels like the sentence should be punctuated with hands on the table, but Brooke remains cooly seated - lacking the energy to throw arms.

“And how the hell did you pull something like that? You got dirty politicians in your pockets now or something?” She’s going red, seeing red, feeling red, and the heat is radiating across the table to Vanessa. She feels like the room is on fire and god knows she doesn’t want to be near Yvie when she explodes.

“Easy, easy, calm down. Calm down, Yvangeline. Ms. Hytes plays hardball.” Shuga places a calming hand on the younger woman’s forearm, sending Brooke an almost impressed look - just as invested in the two women’s power struggle, as she is in getting her business back.

“It’s not quite polo, but I play well.” She smirks.

“I’ve heard enough of this. Vanessa, it was a great pleasure to meet you.” Vanessa smiles warmly like she always does, and in that moment Brooke is jealous of how she can be so innocent in the proceedings, when Brooke’s hands have to be so dirty. “I’m sorry, Cain. I’ve gotta get some air. Ms Hytes.” Yvie gives Brooke a nod that reads somewhere between ‘good game’ and ‘meet me on the battlefield at midnight, bring your sharpest sword.’ She hopes her response reads just as strongly.

“I’d better join her. You two enjoy your dinner,” Shuga says, standing too and taking her jacket from a waiter who stands expectantly with her cane. She watches as Yvie lets the door of the restaurant slam behind her.

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Good luck,” closes off Vanessa, standing with Brooke and looping her arm through the woman’s suited arm. She feels strangely at home in the situation.

“Watch out, Hytes. I’m gonna tear you apart,” says Shuga, parting advice with a smile and a wink. It’s a shame they have to dislike each other, Brooke ponders, she’s always thought of her like a grandmother.

“I look forward to it, ma’am.”

*

They return from dinner in almost complete silence, save for the pleasant hum of the engine and the quiet melodies of the turned-down radio. The chauffeur dutifully rolls up the partition, but it does nothing to cut through the layer of tension surrounding Brooke like a forcefield - protecting her, maybe. Vanessa just sits there politely, peeling off her recently applied nail polish and trying to shift the ever-growing pile of chippings out of view on the carpet of the car.

“You thinking about dinner?” She asks, unsure of what to do at a certain point. She is realising there is only so long one can sit in silence before it becomes unbearably awkward - especially when you are no longer strangers.

Brooke hums non-committally and continues to stare blankly out of the window, transfixed by the nothingness of California.

*

When they get into the penthouse, Brooke shuffles a plush armchair closer to the french doors, opening them onto the balcony and breathing in the air. It’s fresher up high, but there is still the diluted smell of car exhausts and smoke, indicative of a city. Vanessa slips off her heels and pushes them under her side of the bed, slipping on Brooke’s slippers (way too big, but very warm) and making herself a cup of chamomile tea. As a last thought, she makes one for Brooke too before moving past her onto the balcony, sitting on the concrete wall that separates them from the rest of the world. If it makes Brooke anxious, she doesn’t mention it - simply making a face as she shuffles on the edge to get comfortable. They sip their tea in silence, a grateful smile spreading on the blonde’s face as she relaxes.

“You were quiet in the car on the way back,” she states, slowly and calmly, like she’s trying not to scare Brooke away. “Made me worried.” She laces her fingers together around the mug, holding it close to her like a safety blanket. “You want to talk about dinner?”

Brooke sighs and shakes her head, placing the mug on the floor and leaning her head back.

“Look, I think the business went… well - and ya’ can’t expect to win everything. I think the real problem here, Brookie, is that you actually like Ms. Cain.”

“And I think the real problem here is you sitting on that - can you please get down, you’re making me very nervous,” she breaks her silence, making a face as Vanessa leans further back teasingly, the loose curls in her hair dangling above more than twenty stories of empty space. Her knuckles go white as Vanessa tips her head back in a raucous laugh, coming to sit more safely again, to Brooke’s relief.

“Vanessa, it’s totally irrelevant whether or not I like these women. I will not become emotionally involved in business.” There is an air of finality to her words that Vanessa chooses to ignore. Instead, she just smiles plainly and nods.

“I know,” she says, almost wisely, “That’s why Silk always says I’m not to get emotional or shit - that’s why there’s no kissing.” She gulps down any emotion, chasing it with the last drops of her tea. The cup hits the concrete with a twang. “When I’m with a guy, gal, whatever - I’m like a robot. I just do it.”

When she looks up from the moss growing in the cracks in the paving slabs she sees Brooke’s eyes looking back at her. They glint like a lake in the moonlight, just the right shade of blue that makes you want to fall in and swim forever. “Except you,” she adds on - it doesn’t feel out of place.

“Of course,” Brooke responds, softly, slowly. “You and I are so similar, Vanessa - we both screw people for money.”

They fall into a lull after that, Vanessa perched comfortably on the ledge. When she starts to shiver, Brooke takes a tentative step onto the balcony and hands her her blazer. It dwarfs Vanessa, but it’s warm and smells like Chanel No.5 and also Brooke.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she says eventually. “When did he die?”

As she says it, it’s like watching Brooke’s heart freeze over. She sits up straighter, gone is the warmth in her eyes seemingly reserved for Vanessa, and in comes the steely expression and pinched lips.

“Last month,” she states, emotionless.

Vanessa quirks an eyebrow and in the same hushed tone asks, “Do you miss him?”

“I hadn’t spoken to him in thirteen years,” she asserts, and then, with a little dash of something, “I wasn’t there when he died.”

“Do you want to talk about this?”

“No.”

Vanessa jumps down from the ledge with an energy that seems inconceivable at this time of night and moves as fast as she can in three-sizes-too-big-shoes towards Brooke’s chair. She crouches in front of it and takes the woman’s warm hands in her own cold ones. “Okay then, I’ll tell you what we should do. How about we watch Disney films till we veg out in front of the TV and eat a shit ton of Chinese food, ‘cause I know you didn’t eat much at the fancy place.”

Brooke bursts out laughing at the suggestion before collecting herself. “Veg out?” She questions with the phrase.

“You know! Lie like vegetables. Like Broccoli or something.” Vanessa’s enthusiasm for it all is heartwarming, but Brooke shakes her head softly.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll be back, we can Broccoli tomorrow,” she says, standing up with Vanessa’s hands still in her own. She lets them go and runs a finger along the smooth skin of Vanessa’s jawline before letting it drop.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going downstairs for a while.”

Brooke closes the door and Vanessa doesn’t chase her.

[waywardnerd67]

Bound

Title: Bound Square Filled: Shibari Pairing: Jensen x Reader x Jared Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Reader Warnings: Fluff/Smut Summary: Trying new things with her boyfriends was nothing new. When they approached her with ropes during the 300th Episode party for their show, she had no idea what she was in stored for. Word Count: 2461 Created for: @spnkinkbingo

Check Out: SPN Kink Bingo Masterlist

(Y/N) stared at her boyfriends with a dumbfounded look on her face. “You want me to… what?” she asked as Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki smiled down at her as they each held an end of a rope.

Their relationship had blossomed over nine seasons of Supernatural when she was casted as a female hunter joining their wayward family. First it was her and Jensen falling for one another over dinners out and walks around Vancouver. Then she and Jared began bonding over lunch dates and all-nighters playing video games. When she admitted to having feelings for them both, the impossible happened. They agreed to be in a relationship with her together. Every since then the three of them were inseparable.

Now, staring up at them as they both had mischievous looks in their eyes was making her heart pound in her chest. “Baby, you know we all trying new things and we’ve been wanting to try this with you. Well we’ve been talking about asking you about Shibari.” Jared explained.

“Okay, that I get. What I want to know is how does this pertain to what I’m wearing tonight for the 300th episode party?” she asked as Jensen handed the rope to Jared and pulled her into his side.

He knew she would calm down immediately upon feeling the safety of his embrace. Many of nights he had comfort her through night terrors and dark moments from her own mind. Jensen kissed the top of her head, “Hun, we were thinking that the ropes could be a part of your outfit. We know Trish is helping you with dress and we went to her with our idea.”

(Y/N) sighed seeing Jared’s pleading eyes. Trish was one of the few on set who knew the truth about their relationship and was her go to person to talk too. If Trish thought it was okay, then so did (Y/N). “Alright guys, I’ll give it a go. Now, leave my trailer so I can start getting ready.” They both kissed her cheeks before leaving.

Just before Trish was to be there, Jensen had come back with some rope hanging over his shoulder. “Hey.” He said looking up at her as she pulled her bathrobe tighter around her.

(Y/N) was fresh out of her shower as he walked into her trailer. “Bringing some rope for Trish to tie me up in?” she asked jokingly but saw the seriousness in Jensen’s olive eyes.

“Actually, this is rope for me to tie you up in for you to wear under your dress. Trish and I have been practicing these knots for weeks. I told Jared I was going to do this alone since he would probably never let you leave the bed if he saw you.” Jensen smiled as she chuckled.

(Y/N) stood up letting her robe fall to the floor. The way Jensen looked at her with love and admiration had her skin burning with desire. Jensen carefully wrapped the rope over her ankle, up around her thigh, around her waist and back down mirroring the other side. She outstretched her arms as he wrapped the rope around her breasts.

Watching him concentrate on the making the knots perfect and his hands brushing against her skin was causing a dull ache to develop between her legs. As he tied the last knot his tongue darted out from the corner of his mouth. “Okay, how do you feel?” he asked stepping back and admiring his work.

The ropes were pulling on her skin but not enough to be uncomfortable or painful. The rope around her breasts felt almost like a bra with a thick underwire. Overall, she felt comfortable except for the overwhelming need to jump Jensen.

“The ropes feel fine. I, on the other hand, feel incredibly horny from you tying me up.” She said honestly as he chuckled.

Jensen handed her robe to her helping her slip it back on. Then he took her hand gently placing it over his hard length before kissing her deeply. “I know exactly how you feel, but it will all be worth it after the party tonight.”

(Y/N) simply nodded not trusting herself to speak as Jensen kissed her again and left before Trish got there. When Jensen said he and Trish had been practicing knots together he was no lie. She came in with a simply flowy, strapless, chiffon dress that was a few sizes too big for her. Once she was done tying the ropes over the dress linking a few with the ropes Jensen tied underneath it, (Y/N) was stunned with the finished product.

“You guys have really out done yourselves.” She muttered looking in the full-length mirror. Every curve she had was showing and even though she had no bra on it looked as if she did. The material and the ropes making her chest look twice as big. Trish did her make-up very natural only to highlight a few of her features like her lips and eyes.

Trish whistled, “Damn girl I’m totally girl crushing on you right now.”

(Y/N) laughed hugging and kissing her cheek, “Any time babe. I’m sure Jensen and Jared would give me up for a night a two.”

To the public, Jensen and (Y/N) were in a relationship while Jared was a bachelor just loving single life. Everyone knew the three of them along with Misha Collins were all great friends and family in real life. It was nothing unusual for (Y/N) to be standing between Jensen and Jared at any given moment. What no one saw was the little touches and looks they would give her when all together.

When she met them at the party before the red carpet, she thought their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. All the cast and crew there were fanning over her dress and all she wanted to do was get to Jensen and Jared. She could feel their gazes on her as she slowly made her way towards them. Jensen pulled her into his side.

“You look amazing… better than I could have dreamed of.” He whispered kissing her temple.

She gave him a beaming smile as Jared pull her to him hugging her, “Jesus (Y/N), you look like a goddess in that. It’s going to be so hard to keep my hands off you. Literally.”

(Y/N) smacked his chest playfully as they made their way towards the red carpet. The interviews, pictures and party were a blast. She ended up forgetting she even had roped tied all over her body as they became just a part of her. She danced, laughed and drank the night away until Jensen whispered it was time to leave. They said their goodbyes and Jared whispered to her he would be over shortly to her apartment.

When Jensen and she entered her place, she kicked off her heels sighing in relief. “If you would have told me that the most uncomfortable part of my outfit tonight was going to be my shoes I would have laughed in your face.” She said as Jensen handed her a glass of whiskey.

“So, the ropes are comfortable?” he asked running a finger over the one on her shoulder.

She nodded, “I honestly forgot I was wearing them. I could get used to them if you both like them.”

They both turned towards the door hearing a key unlocking it. Jared walked in already shedding his tux jacket and white button-down shirt, “Next time I’m not wearing the god-awful tux, Jensen. You can look all James Bond while I go with comfort.”

They all laughed as Jensen handed him a glass of whiskey as well, “To us and 300.” He said as they all clinked glasses. The three of them downed their drinks and Jensen took their glasses setting them down on the counter.

“Jared, I do believe we have some unwrapping to do.” (Y/N) looked up into Jared’s hazel eyes as they traveled her body.

He leaned down capturing her lips with his pulling on her ropes bring her closer to him. She could feel Jensen behind her as his lips kissed her bare shoulder. “You go ahead and do the honors. Afterall, I got to tie her up.” Jensen whispered stepping away from her.

Jared pulled away as his hands drifted up her sides to the very last knot Trish had tied. The ropes loosened around her top half. He bent down kissing her neck as he undid another rope around her waist. Soon, her dress was too loose to stay on her body. It pooled around her feet and she watched as Jared’s eyes lit up as if he was a kid unwrapping a present.

“Holy shit…” he whispered seeing her completely naked under her dress except for the ropes Jensen had tied around her body earlier. “Fuck Jensen, this was your best idea yet.”

“I know, right? (Y/N), you look so sexy like this.” He said pulling the rope around her waist, so her body was against his.

(Y/N) ran her hand over his thigh and up to his length stroking him through his pants. She heard him growl against her neck. She motioned for Jared to come closer needing to feel him as well. Running her other hand over him as he hissed letting his head fall back against his shoulders.

“My poor boys were you this hard all night?” she asked stroking them both.

“Yes.” They both answered as she chuckled.

(Y/N) stepped away from them both walking towards her bedroom, “Come on. I want to see you both naked and then you can have your way with me.”

They followed quickly behind her as she crawled up on her California king bed kneeling on it. Jared was standing on the side of her bed as Jensen stood at the end of it. Both them began stripping away their tuxes and her eyes bounced from one to the other. Jensen moved to the other side of the bed pulling his boxers down his bowlegs. Jared did the same his long cock stand firm.

She watched as they both stroked themselves making her mouth water and her thighs squeeze together. She looked over to Jared getting on all fours with her head towards him. He held his length just at her mouth leaning down pulling the rope making her come forward as his tip pushed through her lips. He let out a long, deep sigh as she moved slowly over his shaft.

(Y/N) felt the bed dip down behind her as then her ass being pulled back against Jensen. His thick cock slipping between his lips. He ran his tip over her aching mound before pulling her back entering her deeply. She moaned against Jared’s length feeling complete having both of them in her one way or another.

“Ready?” She heard Jared say.

“Ready, on three you pull.” Jensen grunted as he kept himself stilled within her. “One, two, three…” he counted.

Jared pulled her mouth further down on his length hitting the back of her throat briefly. At the same time, she felt Jensen pulling nearly out of her. Then he pulled her back onto his cock as Jared’s nearly came out of her mouth. (Y/N) realized what they were doing and relaxed herself enough to let them use her body with the ropes as they wanted.

Soon they had a steady pace going as she suck Jared’s cock and Jensen thrusted his into her. They both pulling at the ropes bound around her body. When Jensen was close to coming Jared stepped back letting him take control. He pulled at the ropes bringing her roughly back against him as he pounded into her. She could feel her own release coming as he bent over her reaching around to rub his fingers against his clit.

“Fuck Jensen… oh fuck just like that.” She cried out as she came gripping the sheets in front of her.

He slammed into her a few more times before he finally came buried deep within her. He thrusted lazily into her a couple of times before pulling out of her kissing all the way up her back to her neck. She turned to kiss him fully bring him down on top of her. He chuckled kissing her before lifting himself off of her.

(Y/N) rolled over seeing Jared holding himself slowly running his hand down his cock. He was sitting in his favorite chair and she crawled off the bed walking over to him. Straddling his lap, she braced herself by holding his strong shoulders sinking slowly down on him.

“Shit baby, you’re so warm and wet.” He grunted as she rolled her hips against him.

She leaned down kissing him sucking on his lower lip, “You feel so good deep within me.” She whispered against his lips.

(Y/N) knew her slow pace would drive him crazy and he would soon take control like he always did. Sure enough, Jared was lifting her up as he stood up. Laying on back on the bed with her ass hanging off he thrusted swiftly back into her.

“Jared!” She called out as he reached down grabbing the rope that was going up the middle of her stomach.

He lifted her body slight as she felt Jensen slide in behind her dressed in a t-shirt and boxers. Jared was using the rope to keep her still as he zealously thrusted into her. She stared moaning loudly as she felt Jensen’s hands on her breasts. His fingers rolling and tugging her nipples bringing her ever so closer to her second orgasm.

“Baby come with me. I’m almost there.” Jared grunted as leaned down over her.

Between Jared’s cock slamming into her, Jensen playing with her breasts and the ropes rubbing against her blistering skin (Y/N) started to see spots as pleasure exploded throughout her who body. She was crying out incoherently one arm gripping Jared’s back and the other tangled in Jensen’s hair.

Jared pulled out of her leaving her body limp against Jensen. He cleaned her and himself up before both men began to untie the ropes from her body. She looked down to see the marks all over her body and smiled brightly up at the two men she loved with all her heart.

“I think we broke her, Jared.” Jensen said kissing her cheek.

Jared laughed nodding in agreement, “I think you’re right. Damn, that has to be the best sex we’ve ever had.”

(Y/N) crawled in between the two men as they wrapped their limbs around her. “I wouldn’t want to be bounded by anyone else but you two.” She said before drifting off into the best night of sleep she ever had.

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[bringmecoffeeandroses]

For the ask : Desus and Carzekiel!!!! :D

Haha, yes, okay!

DESUS:

1. Who likes to sit in the other’s lap?

Out of the two of them, Paul is definitely the lap sitter. It’s almost always meant to comfort or distract Daryl after a shitty day. Though Daryl does get used to it, Paul really enjoys the first few times he does it when Daryl looks up at him like he can’t quite figure out how Paul got there but isn’t about to question it.

2. On a cold day, who likes to snuggle up to the other?

Daryl is a cuddle/snuggle fiend. By that, I mean that there is no situation in which he turns down cuddles and when he instigates it? His excuses are the worst, “It’s cold as fuck, get yer ass over here” and “Ya look like you’re about to keel over, bed now” – basically, it doesn’t have to be cold but Daryl will take advantage and then complain about it later.   

3. Who cooks the food and who does the dishes?

Daryl cooks, Paul does the dishes. It’s a solid system.

4. How would they describe each other to loved ones who haven’t met their partner yet?

Paul (about Daryl): First of all, Daryl’s not nearly as grumpy as he comes off, he just takes a little time to get to know. He’s protective about his family. They’re everything to him. He’s…sweet. Have you ever heard that saying about giving an inch to someone and them taking a mile? He’s the reverse. Give Daryl Dixon an inch and he gives you a mile. And don’t get me started on his arms.

Daryl (about Paul): Paul’s good people, probably the bes’ kind of person. Ain’t met anyone like him before. Goddamn stubborn, the most stubborn asshole I’ve ever met. Put a gun to his head when we firs’ met him - tied him up, left him in the street - and he still chased after us. Never seen him say no to helpin’ anyone, though. Ain’t no one you could ask more of. He could kick your ass, too. It’s somethin’ to watch. Ya know, if you like that hippie ninja shit.                 

5. Who is more likely to kiss their partner on their forehead?

Neither of them are big forehead kissers but Daryl will occasionally give Paul a kiss on the forehead right before Paul falls asleep. Sometimes Paul thinks it’s because he’s too tired to fight off the urge; in actuality, this is just when Daryl is most content and grateful to have Paul beside him.  

6. Who makes a scrapbook of all their memories to give to their partner for a special event? Ex- anniversary, birthday, etc.

I think, even in a modern AU, neither Paul nor Daryl are used to anniversaries/birthdays being celebrated too seriously so “making a big deal about it” and giving into that is something that has to be learned. Still. Maybe Paul, after a few years of certainty that what they have is something to stay, would give it a shot. 

7. Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

I’ve seen a few people put Daryl and Paul on the roof of Barrington, which I totally approve. However, I’m the biggest supporter of Daryl and Paul going on semi-regular camping trips because of reasons.

8. Who would want to take cute pictures for Instagram?

Modern AU!Paul would find taking pictures of Daryl for instagram the greatest thing. Like, Daryl’s ridiculous blush when he kisses his cheek and sneaks a picture? Amazing. The tired middle finger he gets when he tries to snap a picture of Daryl in bed? Perfection. Paul Rovia playfully teasing the hell out Daryl? Is. My. Jam.  

9. Who would most likely call their partner, dude, babe and idiot, all in the same sentence?

I can’t see Daryl saying dude. So, Paul.

And, yeah, that sounds about right.

10. How do they let their loved ones know they are dating?

I’m going to guess that some of them figure it out without having to be told. Like, let’s pretend Daryl doesn’t just gradually move in with Paul and become those very platonic non-sexual roomates? Daryl is not a social person so spending all of his free time with Paul attached to his hip is pretty flippin’ obvious. 

11. Who breaks out in a dance when they hear their favorite song and who joins their partner dancing no matter what they are currently doing?

…In what world do you see Daryl Dixon doing either of these things?

If Paul is being a particularly light-hearted idiot and starts dancing out of the blue, Daryl is almost always dragged into it. He bitches and moans before going along with it because Paul is happy and there is an exact number of things he does to make Paul stay that way and that’s one of them.

12. If they each went to go buy an outfit for one another, what would they get?

If forced, Daryl would probably start out trying to buy something practical only to get distracted by a suit on a mannequin, imagining Paul in it. Black, three piece, with pressed slacks and a dark blue tie that he knows’d bring out his eyes. I mean, he’d wince and grumble for weeks over the gouging his wallet took but seeing Paul in that suit? Worth it.

Paul would probably put Daryl in something really comfortable, like a really soft henley or something? Daryl’s usual style is wear-and-tear function clothes, so I could see buying something out of the ordinary and soft for Daryl to enjoy.     

13. Who still blushes when their partner compliments them?

Daryl. He’s terrible with compliments in general, brushes them off a shrug and avoids catching anyone’s gaze, but a particularly good compliment from Paul? His cheeks flame up like no other.

14. What memories do they share together that will stay with them forever?

Talking in bed, whispered conversations they could only have in the dead of night; laughter at the smallest of everyday things; the adrenaline of a mission outside the walls, Daryl’s bike engine rumbling audible over the sound of hooves as Paul follows behind him; gasping into each other’s mouths as they spend the first of many nights  exploring each other’s bodies.   

15. Who would dedicate a song to their partner at a karaoke night? Bonus - what song would it be and why?

Paul singing a karaoke song to Daryl would be the. greatest. thing. And thanks to Tom Payne being an actual angel, I picture a slightly drunk Paul on stage, singing out, “Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith. 

CARZEKIEL:

1. Who likes to sit in the other’s lap?

I don’t see Carol doing this too often but thinking about Ezekiel have a brooding moment on his throne only for Carol to join him on his lap? Holy shit, yes, please.

2. On a cold day, who likes to snuggle up to the other?

I mean, both of them are snugglers but Carol feeling comfortable enough to just kind of bury herself in Ezekiel is. my. jam.

3. Who cooks the food and who does the dishes?

I honestly wonder if the Kingdom uses their cafeteria more than most communities do for communal cooking? BECAUSE WE DON’T GET ENOUGH SENSE OF WHAT THE KINGDOM RUNS LIKE AND I HAVE THOUGHTS. I feel like Zeke is the kinda guy that regularly wants to take any responsibility/stress off the people he cares about? Like Carol still cooks and he’ll do the dishes, but Ezekiel regularly makes a nice romantic dinner and does the dishes because he is 10/10 the most extra in the things he does and appreciating the hell out of Carol is what he does.  

4. How would they describe each other to loved ones who haven’t met their partner yet?

Ezekiel (about Carol): She is the enchanting rose among a garden of thorns, a glorious morning after an eternity of night. She is the intoxicating feeling of hope when the world is but a place of mourning. She is fire and heat after the burning sun has long lost it’s warmth-but, sweetheart, I had a speech! 

Carol (about Ezekiel): Oh, he’s charming…but that’s not him, you know. He’ll try and put it on show in front you but that’s who he has to be, who he needs to be for the people around him. He’s so much more underneath…and I’m not sure if he even realizes it.        

5. Who is more likely to kiss their partner on their forehead?

This should happen on the show. Like now. Please. Carol is 100% the forehead kisser. It’s the smallest bit of affection but the first time she does it? Zeke’s face just lights up. He smiles so delightedly, it’s hard not to do it as often as she’d like.

6. Who makes a scrapbook of all their memories to give to their partner for a special event? Ex- anniversary, birthday, etc.

Ezekiel.

Again, the most extra. Ever.

7. Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

THIS IS WHERE I’D LIKE TO SEE MORE OF THE KINGDOM.

I…don’t know exactly? I know these two are constantly finding ways to get alone time, given that Zeke is a King and constantly got something going on.

8. Who would want to take cute pictures for Instagram?

Ezekiel. Honestly. I want to see that instagram account. It would be amazing. Not to mention, if we’re AU-ing it up, tons of pictures of Carol and Shiva. Just…TONS.

9. Who would most likely call their partner, dude, babe and idiot, all in the same sentence?

Neither.

10. How do they let their loved ones know they are dating?

Kind of like with Daryl and Paul, I see Carol’s family just figuring it out gradually without her having any kind of secrecy.

However.

I see the potential argument for Kingdom announcements from Ezekiel and this is how Jerry winds up going from person to person to spread this news because “You can’t just have someone shouting like the world’s worst town crier, that’s insane!” becomes “Jerry, my dear friend, I need you to spread a rumor. I know you’ll be very subtle about it.”

11. Who breaks out in a dance when they hear their favorite song and who joins their partner dancing no matter what they are currently doing?

I see Ezekiel persuading Carol in their kitchen and raise you Carol grabbing Ezekiel by the hand and pulling him onto a dance floor.

12. If they each went to go buy an outfit for one another, what would they get?

IDK if it’s what Carol would put him in but have you seen Khary Payton in a suit and tie + jeans at the Season 9 premiere? Because you should. Everyone should. 

I see Ezekiel buying Carol a flowy Chiffon dress, kind of light but still a little conservative with it being longer and a high v-neck. Did I mention that I hate describing clothing? I’m bad at it.

13. Who still blushes when their partner compliments them?

Again, a happy smiley Ezekiel is the best. So, a blushing Ezekiel? Bring it on.

14. What memories do they share together that will stay with them forever?

An extravagant king with a tiger at her door, a pomegranate in his hands and a smile on his lips; sitting by the firelight where all the barriers fall for him; tears falling against her will as she realizes that “feeling real” is an oath they’ve already sworn together; arms tight around each other, foreheads pressed against each other because they are alive and the cannot forget what feeling that is.

15. Who would dedicate a song to their partner at a karaoke night? Bonus - what song would it be and why?

Ezekiel is extra, and do not tell me the guy that was in theater does not give the best performance of “For Once In My Life” by Stevie Wonder. Fight me.

I may ship Carzekiel harder than I thought. Huh.

send me a ship  

[kingsleyshacklebolt]

maple, fireside and spice!

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

I would say like 99 percent of the hobbies and skills I wanted to try, I have. I played piano for like a few months while doing voice ( then quit because I was focusing on voice ) because I can play piano pretty well just like freehand ( LMAO IS THAT EVEN A TERM ) where i’m just using my Intuition but! I do regret not going to German school, but, I still try to learn German. So. Hmmm. I think maybe Trapeze? Shit? I’ve done a lot in my life, not enough, but I’m usually very good at trying things I want to do hobby/skill wise which has lead to like so many fucking unfinished art projects, jewelry, etc. Maybe ASL? I think I’ll go with Trapeze and that whole area of artistry, I’ve always wanted to be a better dancer in all areas, so yEAH DANCING. THERE. I did dance classes but gave it up for soccer/football ( as I did to German school ) so. Aerial, Trapeze and Dance. 

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

Ninety million and a half thousand florals of all kinds. I love love long dresses, very dramatic ass sort of Grecian wear. Dark florals especially but a nice light chiffon sort of floral top??? BITCH! Diff kinds of overalls. Floral Docs, shiny glittery docs. I also love lmao preppy ass wear like short ass skirts with stockings, cardigans, tucked in shirts. Red!!!!!!!!!! Lacey ass Lingerie underneath bitch!!!!!!!  A lot of huge flowy shirts with what I just mentioned and super well fitting high waisted jeans. I love wearing ‘mens’ plain dress shirts as well like the sort Tom Cruise wore in risky business. I also need like ninety huge ass band/college tshirts to sleep and chill in. I love flowy short shorts. I love athletic/football jerseys as well. I need a few flannels too. The sports gay jumped out huh. OH MY GOD HOW DID I FORGET BLAZERS, they go with the preppy ass wear I was talking about. Floral blazers? Anyone? I didn’t even properly get started on shoes but I love cute flats, patent wedges, or like lmao sandals but the really cool decorative ones. Like gladiator sandals. I need an LBD though and a lot of good black basics and such that I could pair with my florals. Some white ones too. As far as jewelry goes, rings, rings, long necklaces, earrings. I love arm cuffs. I love how I say this but maybe only own 1 percent of what I actually want -- which is a dark floral dress so, I’m thankful. But! You best believe that shit would color coded and organized!!!! I also want some really nice ass sneakers, there’s a kind I’ve been looking at for years now and I’d just stock up on them. I’d say I’d love a bunch of coats but I live in a fucking hot ass wasteland desert so we don’t do coats here! I had a really cute red coat though once, my brother said it reminded him of Mary Poppins. 

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

Literally my mom and I think our apartment is haunted at the moment, so. I don’t really mind? We’ve had like random ass flickery lights and I’m ngl I’ve sat there like? Can we talk buddy? I’ve definitely encountered that sort of shit before but I don’t know, it doesn’t bother me. I can’t watch TV shows and such about it because I’ll cry but when I actually experience it I’m like too comical about it / intrigued to be like scared scared. One of the places that they went to on Buzzfeed Unsolved I’ve been too as well so idk. I figure especially the US has shit on Natives so much that everything is haunted because we took their land and killed their people so! Like if that’s not grounds for everything being haunted because of fucked up white men idk what is! I hope everyone’s souls are in peace though. 

[daydreambts]

Seokjin cursed, as your sopping walls clenched tightly around him, “My Princess likes being filled up doesn’t she, oh shit…” his words were cut off with a loud grunt as he felt his stomach tightening. Pressing him closer to you, his hips stilled as he shot deep inside you. “You have your lucky charm now, all filled up with cum, all up in your tummy” he mumbled close to your ears, just holding you close to him, your fluttering walls snug around him. Settling on the spacious bench with you still in his arms, he leaned back on the tile walls patting your back softly, as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, regaining his breath. Kissing your neck softly he lifted up his head, pushing the wet hair stuck to your skin back. “You’re so fucking good to me Princess, I don’t what I did to deserve you but I swear to god every day of my life I will work to ensure you’re happy and well satisfied” he teased towards the end, moving his hips upwards teasingly before pulling his cock out of your folds. 

“You know if I had remembered we had a bench in here, I might have made you work for your lucky charm a little”, taking the washcloth in his hand lathered generously with body wash, he dragged it across your the panes of your delicate shoulder, your breasts, your back and finally down to your pussy still painted in his release. Taking the shampoo he looked to your eyes for confirmation before gently working it in your hair, and as his fingers combed the conditioner, he finally brought the shower head to wash through all the product. Making sure none got in your eyes. He knew he wasn’t exactly the gentlest, and besides any reason to take care of you, to serenade you was probably his favourite thing.  

Standing up he positioned himself under the shower, turning around to splash some water on your face, he brought you under the shower too making sure his hands were still holding you up. As his one hand held your waist his other caressed the side of your face, before tilting it upwards and leaning down so he could kiss you. Feeling the shower on his back, he chucked a little before pulling away from you. “You know this could be one of those really romantic kisses under the rain in dramas, provided we both weren’t naked and you didn’t have my cum inside you…alright we should probably get out now, don’t want my artist all pruned up” 

  •━»•»🌸«•«━━━━━━━━•••

I couldn’t say anything for a while, my breath ragged as I leaned against Seokjin, another blush blooming on my cheeks at his descriptive mumbles. I did feel all filled up, with his cock, his cum, and his warmth. I whimpered a little as he pulled out, and turned my head to press a peck on the base of his neck. “I’ll hold you to that promise,” I quipped at his teasing, then raised an eyebrow at his succeeding comment. “But you’re so much stronger than me, so it’s better when you do the work… so driving and rough,” I murmured, a little note of provocation in my words.

I relaxed as Seokjin started to wash me up, and I also took the other washcloth, giggling a little as I ran it across the expanse of his shoulders and back. “You’re just too broad, it’s almost like I’m getting a workout,” I teased. As we both finished up, I followed him under the shower, melting into the kiss. “It’s still romantic, maybe it’s a 19+ drama.” I whispered, giving him another peck. We stepped out, the bathroom, and it predictably took me a lot more time to get ready, especially since I had to be careful with my makeup. Making sure it was polished but still natural, I chose a peachy-pink look with some fairy-like shimmer on the eyes. I slipped on an off-shoulder chiffon dress in pure white, with dramatic bell sleeves and a flowy skirt, pairing it with rose-gold wedge sandals.

“What do you think?” I asked Seokjin, twirling to show off my dress. “Thank you for waiting for me, honey,” I said, pecking his lips. Excitedly going down with him, Ms. Lee greeted us, then said: “Make sure to have some breakfast. Seokjin’s mother ordered abalone porridge from a specialty restaurant, she said it would be good to have a nourishing meal that’s easy on the stomach today.” I smiled, feeling touched. “Mother did? It sounds good.” I tugged Seokjin to the kitchen, eager to eat the food.