#and above all don't put her on eve's side

[clarissaweasley-10]

TGG SPOILERS

Savannah love,l am pretty sure it's Eve messing with your brain and l really really don't want to hate you BUT I'M SOO SORRY POINT A FINGER AT MY GIRL AVERY AND I WILL HAVE TO TAKE ACTION

[starrysan]

killin it

masterlist

pairing: biker!wooyoung x baker! fem!reader

warnings/prerequisites: enemies to lovers, swearing, yn almost gets killed by wooyoung's bike??, yeosang, mingi, and jun cameo, not proofread 😓

a/n: this idea came to me after consistently almost getting hit by bikes that don't obey any traffic laws..! title is a p1harmony ref

[2.3k words]

3rd person pov

after a long shift at her horribly paying bakery job, y/n was waiting at the crosswalk for the light to change, a batch of cupcakes in hand. as it changes to the walk signal she starts to walk she had just gotten yelled at by her boss and was already having a bad day when she hears a motorcycle revving up and quickly turns to the side.

before she knew it a bike was about to hit her. "holy shit!" she exclaims as the bike comes to a stop. "watch where you're going" the mystery person says behind his helmet.

"watch where im going?! watch where you're going!" y/n yells back. the cyclist takes his helmet off to reveal the guy she had been arguing with. "if you were paying attention this wouldn't have happened" wooyoung tries passing the blame which of course failed miserably.

"me? can you not see its a red light for you?" y/n practically yells. "pfft who looks at those anyway?" wooyoung chuckles. "you're unbelievable." y/n says angrily crossing the street and continuing on with her day.

she walks into her apartment frustrated on the phone with her best friend yeosang. "he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" she groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone as she goes to press the elevator button and who was waiting for it as well. "..sangie let me call you back" she says, hanging up the phone before yeosang could say goodbye. "talking about me so soon?" wooyoung says almost cockily.

why does he live here? since when does he live here? y/n thought to herself but wooyoung breaks her out of her thoughts first. "what? you've really never seen me around?" wooyoung rolls his eyes. "no?" y/n scoffs. "why would I want to know that a killer lives in our building?" she replies. "a killer?" wooyoung looks at her dumbfounded. "my bike didn't even touch you"

"yeah because I yelled at you" y/n says exasperated. "yeah well-" wooyoung starts. "can you two argue some place else?" jun, the building's doorman asks a bit annoyed. "sorry jun" the two say in unison. they get into the elevator standing in opposite corners. y/n goes to press her floor, wooyoung going at the same time and their hands graze each other as the two practically jump backwards.

y/n presses the 10th floor as wooyoung presses the eleventh. "great you live right above me" y/n sighs, getting off the elevator. she quickly walks to her apartment not wanting to engage with him anymore.

it was a quarter past midnight and y/n was trying out a new recipe when all she could hear was this loud banging and music from upstairs. she groans throwing her apron on the couch and heading upstairs as she pounds on the door. her upstairs neighbor mingi opens the door.

"mingi can you keep it down? its late and I can hear you through the walls" y/n asks softly. "oh shoot sorry y/n" mingi says genuinely apologetically, the two having known each other for a while just through being floor neighbors.

"thanks" she says, as she's about to walk away, she spots a familiar face in the crowd. "mingi how do you know that guy?" y/n asks right before mingi closed his door. "oh him? he's my new roommate he just moved in last week name's wooyoung." mingi replies before telling someone to lower the music. "ah" was all y/n said before wooyoung spots her and comes to the door.

"oh perfect, y/n this is-" mingi starts. "don't worry mingi.. we've met" y/n sighs. "y/n? nice to put a name to the face" wooyoung says. "yeah I think this is my cue to leave. goodnight mingi" y/n waves heading to the elevator.

"what about me?" wooyoung questions. "why would I say goodbye to a killer?" y/n asks not even turning to face wooyoung. "I didn't-" before wooyoung could say anything y/n enters the elevator closing the door behind her.

"what was that about?" mingi asked, closing his apartment door and heading back inside to the ruckus (as y/n called it) he called a party. "this morning I might've.. almost hit her with my bike?" wooyoung confesses.

"and you apologized right?" mingi questions but asks again from the lack of response from wooyoung. "..right woo..?" he asks. "okay so what if I said no.." in a matter of seconds mingi sent wooyoung down to y/n's door because according to him "it was easier to apologize than have y/n as your enemy"

he knocks quietly on the door hoping she'd be asleep and as he started to walk away the door swings open to reveal a man who was certainly not y/n. "can I help you?" the man asks. "..is y/n home" he asks almost nervously. "y/n!" he calls from inside the apartment. "some guys here to see you" he says stepping a bit to the side. "come in? I guess?"

"who is it sangie.. oh" y/n stops dead in her tracks. "what?" she sighs. she had an apron on with cats all over it, flour on her face and getting in her hair. "uh.. mingi told me to come apologize so-" he gets cut off. "mingi told you to apologize? so you're not actually here to apologize you're just here because your roommate told you to" she raises an eyebrow.

"I mean when you put it that way-" before he knew it he was standing outside as y/n shut the door on his face. "so much for that" he says before walking back upstairs. "how'd it go?" mingi asked, the party over now as he picked up plastic cups from the floor. "she slammed the door in my face" wooyoung sighed.

"yeesh yeah she's tough to get through but once you do she's really sweet." mingi says, getting a bag of garbage together. "are you sure that's not just her nice twin that you talked to or something?" wooyoung sighs. "does she bake? I saw her wearing an apron."

"yeah she works at the bakery down the street" mingi replies finishing up the last of the clean up. "what am I supposed to do?" wooyoung asks. "to get y/n to like you?" to which wooyoung nods. "get lucky?" mingi says honestly. "how'd you get her to like you? you cant be her favorite with these loud parties."

"oh I bribed her." mingi says nonchalantly. "did you see the baby blue kitchen aid mixer in her room? I bought that for her for Christmas. I know my parties are loud and I know she likes baking and that her job dosent pay well so I got her the mixer and now she's chill about the parties." mingi continues. "after that we would say hi to each other in the halls and now we're friends. she comes over to coffee every once and a while and she brings me dessert" mingi nods with a smile. "I see.." wooyoung says finally.

the next day wooyoung was hard at work in the kitchen there were boxes of cake mix on the counter as well as all the mixing bowls they owned. he worked hard trying to make the best cake to win y/n's forgiveness. he finished the cake off by adding pink icing and using the piping bag to write 'sorry' sloppily on the cake.

the next evening he heads to y/n's apartment knocking on her door. y/n on the other end looks through the peephole. "yes?" she says through the door. "i.. bear cake?" wooyoung says, to which y/n bursts out laughing and opens the door. "sorry.. for almost killing you? then being an asshole about it after" wooyoung says holding out the cake.

"I accept your apology.. wanna come in?" y/n offers, opening the door. wooyoung steps inside taking his shoes off and hanging y/n the cake. the two sit at the table and eat the cake. "cake is great your decorating could use some work" y/n hums, a fork in hand.

"I tried my best with what I had" wooyoung sulks. "mingi dosent have a kitchen aid like the one he got you he just has a whisk I whisked this whole thing by hand" he continues with a frown. "then I guess its alright" y/n giggles.

the two talk till it gets to dinner time. "want to stay? yeosang is bringing Chinese food I can ask him to get more. invite mingi too" y/n hums scrolling on her phone. "I don't want to intrude" wooyoung says. "you're not intruding we're neighbors aren't we?" y/n smiles.

yeosang arrives with the food, mingi arriving short after and the four eat together. "so you two made up?" yeosang asks, eating his orange chicken to which y/n nods her mouth full of noodles. "he apologized with a cake" y/n points to the cake left sitting on the table. "I see" yeosang laughs in response.

after a while mingi and wooyoung go back to their room. "so.. are yeosang and y/n dating? what's up with them" wooyoung asks for no reason (lies). "them? not that im aware of they're friends" mingi replies. "why?" mingi asks with a brow raised. "just curious" wooyoung hums. "alright.." mingi says suspiciously.

after a while, wooyoung and y/n had gotten closer. the four would have dinner together when they could, y/n brings over desserts when there was extra at the bakery. "if the bakery pays so bad why do you still work there?" wooyoung asked as the four had sat down to have their monthly movie night.

"it pays shit but it pays" y/n replies grabbing the bag of popcorn from the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. "then what do you want to do?" wooyoung questions. y/n thinks for a bit. "I want to open my own bakery" she says finally. "y/n's sweets? that's probably what I'd call it" she nods. "why don't you?" wooyoung asks "with what money? my $12 an hour?" wooyoung hums and looks like he's thinking as yeosang starts the movie.

wooyoung, y/n, and yeosang were hanging out in y/n and yeosang's place while mingi was at work when y/n excused herself to the bathroom. "you like her don't you?" yeosang asks as the bathroom door clicks shut. "what're you talking about" wooyoung says not at all convincing. "we all know" yeosang hums snacking on the cupcakes y/n had made.

"maybe I do.. but I doubt she likes me bac-" yeosang interrupts him. "you two are so dense. its like we all know but you two. she talks about you all the time I was starting to get sick of it if im being honest" yeosang sighs. "really?" wooyoung asks in disbelief. "even the first day you guys met she was talking about how hot you were." yeosang says thinking about the phone call they had.

flashback to a month ago: "he's so hot its a shame he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" y/n groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone.

"she said that?" wooyoung says in almost shock. "yes" yeosang says exasperated as the bathroom door swings open and the two immediately shut up. "why're you two acting suspicious?" y/n says. "no we're not" the two say in sync y/n decides to let it go.

wooyoung and y/n were alone now, yeosang "having some fashion emergency and leaving the apartment". "so what were you two talking about?" y/n asks slightly cuddling into wooyoung's arm. "nothi-" y/n sighs loudly. "I know it wasn't nothing" y/n argues. "if I tell you, you have to promise not to make fun of me" wooyoung says. "why would I-"

"I like you y/n" wooyoung blurts out. "you.. wait really?" she says in surprise. "yeosang was just telling me that he knows and mingi knows" as he finishes his sentence y/n leans over to him pressing her lips onto wooyoungs as he gasps. "shit sorry" y/n says pulling back quickly, but before she could get too far, wooyoung pulls her back into another kiss. "thank god" y/n mutters into the kiss. "for what?" wooyoung hums. "that you also like me back duh" y/n sasses which gets a laugh out of wooyoung.

some time later wooyoung was leading y/n to.. somewhere. y/n didn't know she had a blindfold on. "woo are we there yet?" y/n says impatiently. "almosttt" wooyoung smiles. "okay ready?" wooyoung says taking y/n's blindfold off. "open your eyes!" as y/n blinks her eyes open she witnesses what wooyoung had been tirelessly working on for the past couple months. it was a building decorated with the prettiest things. the sign read 'y/n's sweets' y/n gasps.

"you didn't.." she says in disbelief. "I did" wooyoung smiles. "you're unbelievable how'd you pull this off?" y/n says still in awe at the building infront of her. "I think I might die of shock" y/n says. "don't die who will I kiss if you do?" y/n rolls her eyes, pecking him on the lips as he hands her the keys. "shall we head inside?" wooyoung asks to which y/n nods.

"help me bake?" y/n asks as she starts up the ovens. "am I getting promoted to baker" wooyoung grins. "as long as you learn how to ice cake properly then yes" y/n giggles. wooyoung starts icing the cake. "how am I doing.."

"you're killin it" y/n replies kissing his cheek.

tysm for reading! if you have any requests pls send them my way!!

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[thischarmingmandalorian]

A Certain Species of Turtle

Eddie Munson×Reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you're stuck at your sorority house. Your boyfriend Eddie calls and keeps you company.

Look, people. I don't know. I saw Black Christmas yesterday and that first Billy phone call really stirred something in me and I couldn't get this out of my head fast enough. I wrote this in not a lot of time, barely proofread it, take it away from me I beg you.

Warnings: Copious amounts of dirty talk, phone sex, cool turtle facts.

Rating: Very much E!

Word Count: 1.3k

Christmas Eve should have been a happy time for you - you had just finished your fall semester, your presents were bought and wrapped, and you were all packed for a trip home to Hawkins for the long break. 

Except you're still in the living room of your sorority house because the flight your parents had booked wasn't for another four days. Much cheaper to fly after Christmas, you see.

You sat in front of the fire that morning and watched your sorority sisters flit in and out of their rooms, packing their things and waiting on rides home. You were the only person in the house who didn't live less than an hour away from campus, having opted to attend an ivy-covered New England college. Throughout the day the house got quieter and quieter, until it was dinner time and you and two other girls were the only ones left.

Katie and Molly were cool, and there were worse people you could think of to spend this time with, but the reality of not being home with your friends and Eddie, the boyfriend you left back in Indiana, left you feeling pouty and not super fun to be around. They had a conversation that they had tried to loop you into, but once they realized your mind was elsewhere, they shut you out. 

After dinner the phone rang, making the three of you jump. The sorority house had far too many phones all connected to the same line - the main house phone in the living room, one in the hallway upstairs, and 4 in bedrooms. Some girls had their own phone number, but yours was connected to the main line. Katie was closest to the living room phone and picked it up, grumbling when she shouted your name into the dining room.

"It's The Moaner!"

You blush. The call is from Eddie.

Eddie was given the unfortunate nickname "The Moaner" from a phone call he made during your freshman year. He hadn't realized you didn't have your own phone line, and when one of your sorority sisters picked up, Eddie was… well, he was moaning. He was apparently really putting on a show, you were told later, the squelch of his spit-soaked palm against his cock reverberating into the receiver, his soft moans and near begs to "see you, touch you, fuck you." 

The poor girl who had picked up the phone asked just what the fuck he thought he was playing at, which sobered Eddie up real quick. His tone turned on a dime: "I'm so sorry, ma'am, I must have the wrong number. I'm looking for my girlfriend, you see, and…"

There was a calendar pinned above the phone where girls could request to reserve the line. You'd penciled your name in for that date and time, writing "Eddie Munson" and a little heart next to it. Your sorority sister rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and hollered through the house, "I've gotta an Eddie "The Moaner" Munson on the phone!" 

The nickname stuck and he'd never lived it down. 

You were expecting a call from him tonight, but it still filled you with joy to hear that he was on the line. You'd shouted to Katie that you'd take the call in your room and rushed up the stairs, nearly slamming your door shut. You slid across your silk sheets on your stomach and reached for the receiver on your side table. 

"Hey, Munson." You hope your smile is evident through the phone.

"Sweet thing…" Eddie moans. 

You chuckle, "really living up to that nickname, huh?"

Eddie laughs, "what are you wearing?"

You roll your eyes. "Nothing special. Sweatpants, band tee, the usual," you shrug.

"What band? Who you wearing?" You hear Eddie's rings clink against each other, which has you trying to picture his fingers lightly dancing down his chest, gently fisting his cock.

You roll onto your back and pull your shirt taut so you can see the graphic. The band's name is emblazoned on your chest, having been screen printed in an extremely limited merch run. You and maybe ten other people had a shirt just like it.

"Not sure you've ever heard of them, they haven't quite made it big yet, but they're really somethin'. Called Corroded Coffin."

Eddie groans loudly and you hear his head knock the air out of his pillow as it lolled back. 

You giggle. "I miss you, Eddie," you coo, pushing the hem of the t-shirt up and over the swell of your breasts, nipples pebbling as the cold air hits them.

"Miss you so much, sweet thing. Can't wait to see you. Can't wait to parade you around town and brag to everyone about my smart college girl," Eddie says, the clinking of his rings speeding up slightly, making you chuckle.

"That the only thing you can't wait to do, baby?" you chuckle.

"Not even close," he chuckles. "Can't wait to kiss you, can't wait to hold you, have your perfume stuck onto my clothes."

"Eddie…" you sigh, your free hand trailing under the waistband of your sweats, pulling your panties to the side and dragging a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal and swirling it gently around your clit.

"Not done, baby. Can't wait to get you alone. Get my hands on you, get my mouth on you."

You moan loudly into the receiver, not caring that your roommates downstairs probably heard. "Miss your mouth, Eddie."

"Yeah? Gonna let me lick it when I get you under me, baby? Gonna let me lick that pretty pink cunt?" 

Your fingers speed up on your clit and you nod feverishly despite knowing Eddie can't see you. "Gonna let you do anything you want, gotta make up for fifteen weeks away from you."

"Not gonna let you go while you're home, sweet thing. Your friends, your parents, they'll be lucky if they get ten minutes with you before you're sinking that perfect pussy down on me. Gonna waste no time fillin' you up, baby." 

You know he's close when he rambles like this, his horny stream of consciousness broken periodically by breathy moans and whimpers. "Gonna cum, Eddie?" 

"Not alone, sweet girl, gotta cum together, you close?"

You groan, cradling the phone between your ear and your shoulder to reach between your thighs and hastily shove two fingers inside your weeping pussy. You're met with no resistance, matching pace with the fingers strumming along your clit. "Close, Eddie, keep talking."

"Sweet thing," Eddie sighs, breath heaving, "did you know that there's a certain species of turtle that can fuck for three straight days?"

"Eddie, what the fuck -" you begin, confused by his sudden pivot in conversation but too far gone to slow your hands.

"Gonna break that turtle's fucking record, baby. Gonna fuck you for three straight weeks. You're gonna forget how it feels to not be full of me. Shit, sweet girl, gonna cum, please…" he rambles.

"Me too, baby, wanna hear you," you coo, vision whiting out when you hear his strangled moan of release catch in his throat. The clatter of his rings loses all rhythm and you know he's gone, shirt pulled up under his chin and cock spurting up his chest.

The image you conjure in tandem with Eddie's harsh breathing sends you over the edge, cunt clenching around your fingers as you all but scream your release, not caring at all that there are still two people downstairs. 

You both lay in bed, panting into the phone. It feels like minutes before Eddie breaks the relative silence. "Fucking love you, sweet thing."

"Love you too, Eddie. Four more days and I'm all yours."

Eddie starts to say something when Molly picks up the phone in the hallway.

"You two lovebirds almost done? I've gotta call my mom."

Ahhh! That's it! No one look at me!

@strangergraphics made that cute lil phone divider and @ali-r3n wanted to be tagged, so hi!!!

[thatone-brightstar]

someone i saw in a dream once...| C. Berzatto x fem!reader oneshot

a/n: creds to the lovely @thebearer bc i love her dad!carm blurbs and wanted to try it out myself... loved it btw. happy holidays and happy new year to you all 🎄✨🧸

ps. I was actually gonna call this "a very merry hoe-liday special" lol

WARNINGS: smut, piv unprotected sex, dirty talk, reader is on birth control but isn't mentioned (wrap it up IRL tho), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

“Yours?” He asked lazily.

“Uh… no.” A nervous laugh escaped your chest from your space on the warm bed, one of his arms wrapped around you as the other played with your hand above the covers. “I don’t wanna argue about why we haven’t baptized her yet, again.”

“That’s fair.” He responded with a chuckle. 

“Yours?” You asked back.

Carmy shook his head immediately. “Fuck no.” 

“Y’know, she’s gonna ask why we’ve never been to her Grams when she’s older…” 

“And when she’s older. I’ll tell her ‘bout the time her ‘Grams’ ran the car through the living room on Christmas Eve.” He stayed silent for a little longer and you moved your gaze from your intertwined hands to his creased brows. 

As best as you could, you pulled your other arm from under the covers and up to caress the side of his jaw, drawing his eyes back to you.

“I don’t wanna put her through that shit.” 

You nodded and offered a thin smile “No- I know.” then dropped your head back over his warm chest. “We don’t have to do anything. We’ll just stay here, watch somethin’ make breakfast… and maybe see the lights when it’s not so cold out.”

“You think she’ll like that?”

“Oh yeah,” You reassured. “Pjs all day, presents and The Grinch? She’s gonna eat that shit up.” Your words made Carmy chuckle again, the sour memory buried back as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I dunno why she likes that movie…” He murmured, adding kiss after kiss around your beaming face. “Fuckin’ green thing’s creepy.”

You laughed and slid your arms around his neck while he dropped slowly over your laying body. “Probably reminds her of you, you grinch.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m a grinch?” Carmy teased, smiling as he continued to drag his lips along your skin, down the side of your jaw and to the little spot against your neck that drew shaky breaths.

One of his hands pushed against the plush mattress to hold himself up while the other began to rake smoothly up your naked thigh. You nodded in agreement, giggling when the soft curls tickled the side of your cheek.

“Save it for naptime-” You reminded him. “Your kid’s got the best timing-”

Almost like clockwork, three little knocks barely rattled the door and you raised your brows up at Carmy.  ‘Told ya’ you mouth at him then asked teasingly “Who is it?”.

A little giggle made it past the wood, followed by a tiny voice. “Me mamma!” And another three hurried knocks.

“Come in!” You sang back again as Carmy pushed himself off you and you leaned up just in time to hear the door creak and catch the tiny human hurling herself into the unmade bed. “Omf!”

“Merry Christmas!” She shouted with extended arms once she managed to balance herself over the duvet on her knees. 

She threw her tiny arms around both of your necks and pulled you in for a hug as tight as her little strength allowed her. You corresponded the embrace, one arm circling her, while the other hugged Carmy. 

“Oh merry Christmas, pretty girl! Did you go see what Santa brought you?” You asked, pushing back the wild hairs she had inherited from her father. She shook her head no. 

“Aren’t you curious?” Carmy asked and she nodded. “Cause I think I heard a little bell last night…”

That was enough to rattle her excitement even more, a gasp obvious over her flushed cheeks and before you could say anything else, she dragged herself off the bed and onto the floor. 

“C’mon Daddy!” The little girl ordered, taking his hand and dragging him out the room with her. 

Your smile beamed as you waved a teasing goodbye at him, then threw yourself back, stretching your limbs into the bed. 

“Mommy hurry up!” You heard travel through the hallway and sighed out a short laugh.

“Comin’!”

**********

“Vale, baby, not so close to the tv, okay?” You reminded the toddler from your space by the kitchen counter, slicing up fruit for breakfast.

“I don’t get it…” Carmy continued muttering by your side while whisking the batter. 

You sniggered at his tone and shrugged. The theme song to the movie played through the speakers again and you could hear her little voice sing along as the stuffy in her hands danced to the tune. 

“I mean, what even is he?”

“a who…” You answered obviously and he furrowed his brows again.

“a what?”

“No daddy-“ She turned around and pushed herself up on the back of the couch to try and appear bigger, stuffed grinch hanging loosely from one of her hands. “a who!”

You laughed as Carmen nodded jokingly, mouth trapped in an obvious ‘oh’ shape and the sound of your laugh made her giggle even harder, before carefully crawling off the couch and padding her way into the kitchen beside him.

“What’cha making?” She asked curiously, standing on her socked toes beside him but barely reaching the top of the counter with her nose.

“Pancakes. You wanna help?” He asked and she nodded excitedly. 

Carmy turned to you with a small smile while wiping his hands on his rag, then moved down to pick up the awaiting child, who wrapped her tiny legs as much as she could around his torso.

“Alright chef Valentina,” He began, making her giggle and curl up against his side. “ wanna pour the chips in?”

He sat her on the edge by the bowl and handed her the cup filled to the brim with chocolate chips. It took both of her little hands to hold it and with slightly clumsy movements, she poured them in slowly. 

“Atta girl…” He whispered, holding the bowl steady so she could whisk them in, and something about the sweetness in his tone warmed your heart.

You eyed them every few seconds, an ever present smile on your face. It really did warm your heart to see him that way, sweet and nurturing and kind. Carmy was what you always hoped to find in a partner one day, the kind of person you dreamed about but always assumed you’d never have; yet there he was, perfectly present as he helped your daughter flip pancakes for christmas breakfast. 

“Mommy look!” She called towards you, making your smile grow twice as big, if that was even possible.

“I see baby, good job!” You praised too and moved to their side.

She stood on her step stool over the pan, at a careful distance from the fire, while you and Carmy guarded her sides. A kiss was placed on her wild hair as you brushed your hand over her back then laced in into Carmy’s arm, leaning your head on his shoulder. A pleasant feeling of contentment washed over you.

**********

Breakfast took up most of your morning, between batter stains and sticky blueberry maple syrup, it was as if the tiring action of flipping a couple pancakes had worn your daughter out and before her plate was finished, her head had begun tipping into it every few seconds. 

Carmy chuckled as he watched her chew herself to sleep for the third time while he got up to start clearing out the table. 

“I got it.” You whispered, afraid to wake her up, though she was already out like a light against her high chair. “You go put her to bed.”

“Alright little grinch,” He cooed and as soon as he pulled her up from her chair, her limp body draped over his chest. “how does a nap sound?” 

Carmy kept mumbling sweet words and rubbing her back in a soothing manner as he carried her into the room. You would have joined them, but he was always the better one to put her to sleep. Something about him gave her a calming and safe sensation. 

While Carmy took his time in your daughter’s room, you began to tidy up the kitchen. The ending scenes of the grinch passed through and the last songs served as ambience while you worked. You hummed along to the soundtrack, washing the last few dishes, when an arm gingerly circled your waist and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back. 

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered beside your ear, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek as a beautifully wrapped box appeared in front of you.

You half turned to him with a soft smile pushing up against your cheeks. “Carm, we said no presents…”

“Just open it… you’re gonna love it.” Carmy said with his characteristic shy smile as he took the soapy dish from you and handed you a drying rag.

You dried your palms and took the small box with caution. After undoing the ribbon and slowly pulling off the lid, a beautiful heart locket shone back at you, taking your breath away. With a slow finger you traced the soft ridges and the delicate designs, as if a piece of lace had been dipped in molten gold then shaped into the small work of art

“Oh Bear, it's beautiful…” 

“And you can open it too” He added and unhooked his arm from around your hip to take the box back in his hands. 

Carefully, he picked  it up and pinched the sides open to reveal a tiny photo inside. It was from a few months back, you remembered the day. The Bear had just received its second star and Carmy and Syd had decided to close that day to offer another friends & family dinner. Richie had taken it outside the restaurant just before service. Carmy stood in the middle, with his pristine chef’s whites slightly unbuttoned, Val sat on his shoulders in her best dress and full of glee and you leaned onto his side, left hand cupping his cheek and glowing engagement ring full on display.

You sucked in your bottom lip to avoid the tears threatening to spill out, then turned to him fully and beamed with joy up at him. “You’re right, I love it.” 

His proud smile reached the little creases decorating the sides of his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you with adoration. 

Before he could go any further, Carmy blindly placed the necklace back into its box, then slid his fingers past your jaw, burying them in your hair. The movement of his desperate lips over yours left you breathless and despite not wanting to, you moved your face to the side to inhale a few deep and shaky breaths. He stayed glued to your skin, peppering wet kisses over your cheek, jaw and holding your hair up above your neck to grant him greater access into the area.

His other hand roamed down the side of your curves until it reached your hips, then it slid under the thin fabric of your shirt and up again, where it found your naked chest. His thumb skimmed over the tender skin of your nipple, making your hands tighten their grasp around the nape of his neck and sigh out another breath.

“Is she…” You tried to ask but failed as he continued his soft movements. 

“Asleep? Yeah.” He answered in a deep tone and hungry searched your lips once more.

With each stroke of his thumb and pull on your hair, you could feel him grow harder against your abdomen and the images crossing your mind didn’t help calm the arousal in your gut either.

“Good.” You smiled against his kiss and pulled him in deeper. “Room. Now.”

That’s all it took before he nodded rapidly and began taking quick steps forward, guiding you through the short hallway and into your bedroom, shutting the door lightly. Once at the foot of the bed, Carmy pulled your shirt off in one swift movement and dumped it somewhere on the floor. Now both of his hands held you by your ribcage, both palms massaging your chest and pulling little moans from your joined mouths.

“Fuck- I love you so much.” He groaned, slowly dropping you against the mattress and without daring to detach from your kiss, followed close behind.

Your hands found their own way to his hips, desperately pulling at the hem of his shirt until it was over his head in seconds, disheveling his hair even more. “I love you so much.” You mumbled back. 

Your clothes laid discarded around the room in a few seconds, leaving you buried in between the covers and him. A long sigh parted your chest when you finally felt the sweet relief of his cock inside you, matching his tempo with the strokes of his tongue against yours. Your legs parted even deeper to make space for his thrusts, one thigh wrapped around his hips to accentuate them even harder.

“Fuck- Carm-” You moaned close to his face, trying to be as quiet as you could with him slamming into you.

“Shh, shh- you’re doin’ so good baby-” He praised as he adjusted his weight on his arm and wrapped the other around your thigh, pulling it higher up. “God, you feel so- fuuck”

His movements faltered for a second and he gave a soft breathy laugh that fanned the side of your face, then he placed another kiss over your collar bone and began to slam even faster into you. 

Your soft cries vibrated against his skin and fueled his pace, almost rocking the headboard against the wall. Carmy rested his forehead against yours, looking directly into your eyes as he pulled your other leg up and spaced them both beside your elbows. The new change in position had you feeling him so deep in your core you could almost taste him and the way your eyes started to lose focus plastered a grin across his face.

“You love it when I fuck you like that, huh?” He asked in a breathless tone, but all you could do was nod frantically. “So fuckin’ beautiful…” He mumbled over and over.

Each stroke felt deeper than the last, the only indication of your upcoming orgasm was the brows screwed over your face and the trembling of your thighs. Carmy rocked himself continuously into you until you couldn’t take it anymore. A thousand little lights exploded behind your eyes, making your back arch away from the bed and your nails dig into his sturdy shoulders. Your walls contracted against his thick cock as he pushed in a few more strokes, before his chest shuttered with a contained groan and he let himself fall carefully over your panting chest.

Carmy pushed himself off you with effort and rolled to your side, then hooked his arm under your shoulders and pulled you to rest over his still rapidly beating heart.

“How does a nap sound?” He whispered over your head after a few silent minutes.

You chuckled at his tone but nodded in agreement, tracing little shapes over his chest until his beats took a more relaxed tempo and the breaths fanning over your hair grew longer and heavier.

**********

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78, @xeneth99 and that's it lmao

[aggieharkness]

Hello! Baking (or rather cutting out) Christmas cookies was a bit like a cold, tense hell with Christmas music playing in the background.

So I'd like to request reader baking Christmas cookies (or just normal cookies) with Lilia. Put as much fluffy, funny, feel-good feelings as you can in there, please. I'd really appreciate it.

Happy holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you and Lilia share a few quiet moments at home baking cookies and simply enjoying the time to be with each other.

Warnings: romance, pure fluff, dancing, baking cookies.

Authors note: Oh my God, I love the idea. You don't know just how happy it made me to read this, like I was bouncing on my bed. I hope you like it and that it brings you happiness and comfort. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want more, I'm here. Thanks for the request. btw.

This is a Christmas gift for you!! Happy Holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

The house was filled with music. Christmas carol after Christmas carol played through the Bluetooth speaker you had bought a few months ago, echoing against the walls of Lilia’s tiny living area. She wasn’t one for festivities such as Halloween or Easter, but God, she adored Christmas. The first year you had shared the holidays with her it had surprised you just how invested she was, putting up an old beat-up tree, fairy lights everywhere, even around the bedposts, but you never complained. Her big brown doe eyes had shone with such joy and happiness that you just couldn’t bring yourself to burst her bubble in any way. The house had looked beautiful once she had finished, a small nativity scene in a corner of the room, a remnant of her past life in Sicily. This year wasn’t any different, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The first of December hit the calendar, and she was like Sonic the Hedgehog pulling out boxes of lights and ornaments, leaving the tree to you, a brand new one covered in fake snow that you had gifted her a couple of years ago. She loved knowing that you were helping and making sure the house was just like she wanted it to look, little angels and random glass balls hanging from the branches, golden tinsel wrapped around it along with a string of lights. It looked beautiful next to the TV. For three weeks you helped her set up the house until you were finally able to take your vacation days, leaving your job until the sixth of January.

Morning had come, bursting through the windows in gentle warm rays of sunlight that bathed over Lilia’s form as she slept, those lovely peppery curls shinning under the orange beams, her body cuddled against yours. Every morning since you both had closed up the shop for the holidays had been exactly the same sweet routine; you waking up first to meet the dawn while she slept for a bit longer, basking in the way your hands followed the shape of her soft ringlets, and your tender kisses lulled her away from the land of dreams. It was simply the best way to begin the day. You both had stayed in bed talking about nothing and everything cuddled against each other until the sun was well high up in the sky, the pinks and purple hues that had painted the world above now a clear blue cyan while the world was buried underneath a crisp layer of snow that had fallen through the night. You had not noticed, wrapped around Lilia, lost in her kisses. She got up first, her hair falling from the bun she had had when you had taken her to bed, her ivory gown letting you catch a glimpse of her otherworld body as she made her way to the bathroom, the light hitting her just at the right angle making her nightdress completely see through. She looked bloody fantastic for being over a hundred and fifty years. The rest of the routine followed like clockwork, coffees and scrambled eggs included, making way for the moment you were both in right now.

Lilia’s body swayed from side to side to Michael Bublé, a Christmas classic for her, her voice not only harmonising perfectly, but overtaking and overpowering the music so easily and effortlessly that you had to stop pulling bowls out of cupboards simply to watch her. Over the kitchen counter she was beating three eggs along with melted butter and sugar, ingredients spread everywhere because when she had got up, right before she had left for the bathroom, she had bent over your body, your eyes drifting to her cleavage until her eyes had claimed your attention, telling you that you were making cookies today. Had you been Agatha or maybe even Jen you would have complained telling her that it was boring, but you were you and the prospect of baking with Lilia was like a perfect Christmas gift.

-Lils, how much flour do we need? – your eyes lifted from the big packet of flour that you had just left on the table, her usual red and blue robe flowing when she moved to stand beside you, a yellow apron with the words “Look at these buns!” protecting her clothes.

-280 grams baby, or one full cup. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

-Everywhere you go. Thanks, hon.  

-Take a look at the five and ten.

-It's glistening once again.

-With candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

It was wonderful to sing with her even if your voice could never compare; she did not care. Anything that she did with you was simply perfect. Her hands left the bowl of wet ingredients on the table, holding onto yours before you could grab the sifter. She pulled you away from the table, moving your arms from side to side rather dumbly, twirling you on the spot before your chest was pressed against hers. The music was forgotten in the background, drowned by both yours and Lilia’s laughter as your bodies bent exaggeratedly from right to left. Christmas suited her, it was as if this holiday had been made for her, the lights that she had placed all around the room blinking on and off within a pattern, the bright colours mixing with the warm light bursting through the windows. Lilia twirled the both of you around the kitchen table until the song ended, “Feliz Navidad” now playing instead. Her lips landed briefly over yours, pecking you sweetly before she put you back to work with the dry ingredients.

-Don’t forget the baking soda. Last time you did, the cookies became a rock-hard mass.

-Hey! How was I supposed to know that the baking soda wasn’t in the baking soda bottle but in the saffron one? You are the one who loves to recycle.

-Why would I want to throw away a perfectly usable jar? Besides it’s not my fault you forget your glasses in the bathroom all the time.

-Oh yeah? – you grabbed the top of her apron and pushed her against you. – Where are yours now babe?

-You little…

-Ah! No cursing, you don’t want the dough to get upset and not rise, do you?

-I don’t know why you listen to Rio, that it’s obviously a myth.

-Do you want to risk it? – she shook her head, her pout transforming into a bright smile before she kissed you once again, humming happily against your lips.

There were still a few deep tones of the black coffee she had had for breakfast on her lips that your tongue picked up and savoured before turning back to your bowl. Sifting the flour so there would be no lumps you followed the powder with your eyes carefully, making sure every single drop was inside the bowl this time. Over a week ago you had been supposed to bake an apple pie for Sharon’s book club but there had been a few minor hiccups, one of them being you sifting the flour all over the table because you had been looking at Lilia while she talked about a client that had come in requesting the lottery number. When she turned around, she saw you covered in the white powder, bursting into unladylike snorts of laughter that had her entire face turning red, needing to sit for a moment to fill her lungs and calm herself down. Through the corner of her eye she watched you fill the bowl and congratulated you on not spilling it, a kiss on your temple, her hands busy slicing a couple of chocolate bars. She was teasing a bit, but every praise was always genuine when they came from her, a bubble of happiness wrapping around your heart. A pinch of salt and the baking soda and the dry ingredients were ready for the rest of the mix, Lilia wiping her hands on a tea towel before beginning to pour the eggs, sugar and melted butter mix. Instead of using a whisk you had grabbed a spatula from the sink, washing it before beginning to gently fold the batter until it was smooth but thick.

-Can you turn the oven on? I’m almost done with the chocolate.

-Can’t we just bake them with, you know… a flick of our wrist?

-I swear, Halloween Town has made so much damage. Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should, and you have never seen me turn chicken thighs back into a chicken, have you?

-No, but can we?

You knelt on the floor removing trays and plastic Tupperwares so they wouldn’t melt, turning knobs until the light came on and the fan began to work. You were thankful for all those squat trainings you did as you lifted the ceramic trays you had removed from inside the oven and placed them over the bed covers noticing that Lilia had not answer the question. When you turned around she was biting into a perfectly backed chocolate chip cookie, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

-Why didn’t you tell me we actually could Lilia?!

-Because half of the fun is letting the smell of fresh baked cookies fill the house.

She stretched her hand, the half-eaten cookie waiting for you. You rushed back to her and took one big bite, moaning at the taste of the chocolate and vanilla essence, Lilia popping the rest in her mouth, pecking your lips after a moment. Even though she could clearly bake at the snap of her fingers she still moved to put parchment over a metal tray, grabbing a scoop from a drawer. She had already mixed the chocolate into the batter, the dough cold to the touch when you went to pick up some with your finger. So, she could chill it in a second instead of putting it in the fridge, but she did not want to bake them with her magic? A waste of time in your opinion, but then again, she might be right, as usual. The house did smell delicious for days after baking. Lilia had placed a bottle of olive oil on the table so you could lather your hands in it, the first scoop of batter landing in your palms so you could round them before placing them on the parchment paper, over two inches in between each cookie so they could rise and expand in the over without ending up as one giant monstrous thing. It had happened before. The first batch of eight cookies was done in just a few minutes, but there was still a bit of batter left, not that Lilia hadn’t thought of a solution already, another tray waiting for what was left. Just as you finished rounding the last one the oven begun to beep, and Lilia bent to put the trays inside, setting a timer for around fifteen minutes.

-Now for the sugar cookies. I’ll get the ingredients ready while you clean up the table, okay baby?

-Sure, just let me move this flour bag to the counter first.

Innocently you picked up the heavy bag, waddling slightly towards where Lilia had cleared a spot for it on the counter, feeling it slipping a bit off your hands, your steps faster so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. In slow motion you let it plop on the counter, just in time, your fingers barely holding onto it, but the motion had caused a white cloud of flour to come out of the bag right towards Lilia’s spot. Your hands shot to cover your mouth, eyes wide, when you turned to look at her, fighting the laughter that wanted to erupt out of your mouth. Lilia’s beautiful face with her rosy cheeks, big characteristic nose and plump lips was utterly covered in a thick layer of white. She blinked a few times, flour falling off her eyelashes giving her an even more comical look with her chocolate doe eyes staring at you through the white mask. Some of it had made its way to her hair, mixing perfectly with her curls. She opened her mouth to speak but she coughed instead, a small cloud of flour puffing in front of her right before sneezing, part of the powder falling onto the top of her dress and over her yellow apron. There was silence for a moment, not even YouTube Music was playing as she stared at you, hands on her hips. An instant later “Let it snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” was filling up the room with its jolly tune, your laughter impossible to keep quiet.

You roared loudly, a hand still trying to cover your mouth while the other was holding onto your stomach, eyes moving from her face down to the floor. Lilia was staring dumbfounded at you, an offended look on her face as you laughed. Her hand shot to grab your arm pulling you towards her, eyes watering when you rose up to gaze at her. She stopped your laughter quickly, her hand throwing a handful of flour to your face, making you blink away the flour surprised at her action. Staring at each other there was no sound coming from either of you before Lilia chuckled, you following until you were both laughing, your hand grabbing more flour and throwing it in her direction, Lilia dodging it just in time. When you saw that she was putting her hand in the bag you rushed away from her giggling excitedly, feeling her behind you as you rounded the table, her flour missing you by an inch. She was now actively chasing you all throughout the house, your body sliding through the curtains and into the store. You were both leaving a trail of flour on the floor, but neither of you cared.

-I’ll get you for this!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t… - you could hardly breath from how much you were laughing, screaming in delight whenever she got close enough to grab you but never actually doing it. - I didn’t mean it!

-Come here!

You rushed to the door, pulling the glass gates open and stepping into the empty street. Sure, you were not wearing clothes appropriate for snow, your feet cozy inside your slippers, legs dressed in a pair of black leggings, but you hadn’t thought of that. Moving over two feet away from the house, Lilia following you out into the street, you took one step until you felt her hands grabbing onto your waist, pulling you against her. You yelped gleefully while laughing, feeling her arms snake around you, the perfect crispy snow reaching your mid-calf, the air cold, a contrast against Lilia’s delicious warm body.

-Got you. – she whispered in your ear, her breaths rapid and hot against the skin of your neck. You smiled while resting your head in the crook of her neck, very little flour left on your faces now.

-So you did.

-If it was all a ploy so we could come out and play in the snow you know you could have just told me.

-Hmmm, not a bad idea, but it was an accident.

-I know, baby. I’m not mad, but you are cleaning up when we are done baking.

Your mouth was open in shock, a retort forming in your tongue as you turned your face to look at her, but it never made it out of your mouth, her lips on yours kissing you tenderly, her soft ringlets caressing your cheeks. The chocolate cookie had left a wonderful sweet taste on her lips, or perhaps it was the bite you had had, either way, it seemed to fit her perfectly. You both stood over the snow for a few minutes observing the usual boring street covered in glistening white all over, on the roof tops, over the signposts. It was beautiful as long as you had Lilia behind you pecking your cheek. She turned you around after a while, holding onto your hands, pulling your frame back inside the cozy home. The oven had just begun to beep when you crossed the curtain to the back, Lilia rushing to them so they wouldn’t burn letting go of you. She was beautiful, spots of flour still clinging to her skin, like on her forehead or the tip of her nose, but they didn’t seem to bother her as she placed one tray on the stove and the other on the counter over a plate so it wouldn’t leave a burn mark on the old wood. You could spend every minute of your life watching her do anything.

They smelled absolutely delicious, the aroma spreading through the room to every corner, gently sliding into the shop. Over the bed covers you had left a rack which she picked up and left on the counter, you watching from your spot against the back wall as Lilia worked flawlessly, transferring the cookies along with the parchment paper to let them cool down. There was no room for the hot trays now, but that was no issue. Lilia turned, locking her eyes with you and then winked, lazy tendrils of yellow magic wrapping themselves around the trays and lifting them in the air, floating with gentle swaying motions over your heads. Everything related to Lilia’s magic was always so very mystical, visions, readings, the usual divination magic that she was used to, so it was wonderful to see the more practical, fun side of it, it meant she was relaxed and happy. She moved her hand beckoning you to join her, pulling out a pair of clean bowls after she had left the dirty ones in the sink.

-Why don’t you start with the icing?

-What happened with cleaning up the table?

-Flour on my face happened, doll. But don’t worry, there’s not much on the table now, I’ll just move those cups to the side if I need to.

-You don’t trust me anymore? – you pouted with a fake saddened tone as she took a stick of butter and a few eggs out of the fridge, turning her body towards you, a hand on the counter and the other on her hip, head lulled to the side. She sighed but smiled, your pouting making you look just so adorable.

-You know I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the fun part of the recipe. You get to paint the cookies, baby.

-Yeah, but it’s fun doing things together. I want you to paint with me.

-Who said I wasn’t going to? You just make the icing and leave it on the side while I start on the batter and then we can cut them together. Does my baby like that?

Nodding your head she moved her hands to your cheeks kissing your lips tenderly, a smile on her lips when she parted from you. Happy that you had got, yet again, another kiss you took a small bowl from the cupboard above your head, checking the recipe that was stuck to the exhaust hood above the stove with a magnet before picking up two eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Lilia kindly took the yolks and put them aside to use them at lunch time while you beat the whites with the whisk a bit. You didn’t need to do it, you just liked to before putting the icing sugar in, which you could not find in any of the cupboards. You pulled doors open, drawers, you even searched the fridge, it wouldn’t have been the first time any of you had accidentally put something in that didn’t belong there, but it was nowhere, and you could have sworn you had bought some not long ago. Lilia saw you moving frantically all over the kitchen and asked loudly what you needed over the music of ��Jingle Bells Rocks” that was now playing. Upon hearing what you needed she moved aside to present you with a bright orange bottle.

Of course, she must have picked it and put aside when she had begun to gather ingredients. She was measuring the sugar, your eyes watching how her hands, dressed in rings on multiple fingers, tapped the bag and moved to the beath of the song. With a small cloud of floating icing sugar you mixed it all, a white paste forming in the bowl to which you added a little bit of corn syrup to make it glossier, just a touch that you liked. Now came the fun bit, taking the food colouring and crating the weirdest shades you could come up with. With a spoon you poured some of the mixture into an empty glass, adding a drop of red that turned pink upon mixing it with a teaspoon, so you added a few more, happy with the bright red that you made and setting it aside. Lilia looked at your science experiment from the corner of her eyes, hands adding spoonfuls of flour into the wet ingredients, folding the powder in. You were like a little kid with a bunch of sharpies and crayons painting lines and figures excited to see the final outcome, Lilia’s brown eyes looking at you as you mixed red and blue to create purple, although right now it looked a bit more like a suspicious brown. She let you finish mixing the colours, reminding you to leave part of the icing white, before adding the last few touches of a pinch of salt and baking powder, the dough clumpy in the bowl, as it should be.

 -Are you done with the arts and crafts, babe?

-Yeah, I think. How do you make grey?

-You don’t. I didn’t get any black colouring. Why would you want to add grey to Christmas cookies?

-Well, I don’t have an idea right now, but I like to have a range.

-Come on, Van Gogh, let’s roll the dough.

While you closed the last bottle of colouring Lilia placed the dough on the table, her strong arms and hands kneading and rolling to combine it and let it form a big smooth ball. You were mesmerised by the way her muscles moved up and down even through the lose sleeves of her dressing gown, her chest bouncing gently to the motion, your eyes glued to soft flesh of her neck and collarbones through the low-cut dress she was wearing, her amulet swaying along. It was incident to stare like that, but she was just too captivating, and she knew. She could feel your eyes watching her every move, a shiver running down her spine, but she never stopped kneading, there would plenty of time for her to take you to bed later. She gave it a few more punches before patting the little ball of dough, signalling that she was done.

-Should I get the rolling pin?

-Yeah, this is ready. It’s in the second drawer, next to the bottle opener.

-It’s too early for a glass wine, right?

-Yes, darling. It’s my company so bad that you need to get drunk at 10 am? – she raised an eyebrow while looking at you, a hand on her hip over her apron. Only a couple of feet separated you, but it was too much of a gap for you, snaking your arms around her neck while her hands automatically moved to your waist, her lips ghosting over yours.

-Never. You are far too alluring and beautiful, I would hate to get drunk and forget tomorrow how you looked today, or how your perfume compliments the smell of cookies so well.

A childish giggle escaped her mouth, muffled when she bent to peck your lips. She was clingy today, or amorous, either way you were not complaining. Parting from you she patted your hip, a sign that she needed you to get her the rolling pin, which of course you did. Anything she needed. There was a certain level of excitement building in your chest as Lilia rolled the dough until it was a quarter inch thick, the sheet overtaking half of the kitchen table, the best part coming at last.

-Right, where are the cookie cutters, babe?

-They should be in a box in the cupboard over the sink. Let me check. – pulling a chair from under the table you stepped on it to check in between the toaster and a juicer that you had got her for her birthday, date that she still refused to tell the girls in the coven, Sharon included as she could be a bit of babble when she had a glass or two of wine in her system. You searched but the box was nowhere to be found. – I can’t find them, did you move them, hon?

-No, not that I remember. Have you looked behind the coffee bags?

-Yeah, they’re not there. Where… Ah… I know where they are.

-Where? I’ll get them while you come down.

-Does the car have gas? – she was resting her backside against the edge of the desk as you stepped down, returning the chair underneath the table.

-What? What does the car have to do with anything?

-I lent them to Agatha.

-What? Why?

-I don’t know, I stopped asking her what she needs things for. I’m not getting another story of her and Rio’s sexual exploits during an expo or whatever. She just asked for them, so I lent them to her.

-You mean gave them to her. We are going to have to buy new ones. Well, it’s not too much of a loss, just grab a couple of knifes and we’ll freehand the cookies.

You practically hopped your way to the upper drawer to pick a pair, rushing back to her side and handing her one. You stared at the dough as if calculating, figuring out exactly what you wanted to do and after a moment, you began to create what you were sure was a candy cane, super proud of the shape until you looked at Lilia, who had had the same idea, and noticed how your lines were hardly straight and the curve was more a 90º angle.

-Why does yours look like an actual candy cane?

-Practice. Oh, yours is not that bad, baby. What is it?

-Ha ha. You know very well what it is.

-Yes, sorry, just teasing.

It was now a competition for you, eyes squinted and your teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep the knife straight through every line, connecting them all and creating a star, or what you thought should be one, because it looked more as if it had just been run over by a car. Lilia laughed when she saw it and in a childish move you planted your index finger right on her Christmas tree, squishing it while sticking your tongue out. She gasped while calling your name.

-Y/N!

-You laughed at my star!

-It doesn’t look like one, baby.

-And now your tree doesn’t look like a tree, so we are even.

-Darling, it doesn’t matter if they are not perfect, we know what they are supposed to be and that’s all that matters. So what if your star needs a bit of therapy? Now my tree needs a chiropractor. Let’s continue, alright?

-Just don’t laugh again.

-I promise, scouts honour.

She pecked your lips and forehead before tuning back to the dough. The next form was supposed to be a snowman, but it looked more like a bunch of amorphous meatballs, a giggle sliding through your lips at the sight. You turned to check Lilia’s attempt at a reindeer which was more along the lines of a corgi with horns. You could not help it, it brought a cackle out of you, her peppery curls bouncing around her face as she wiped her head to look at you.

-I didn’t laugh at yours!

-Yeah, but… what the hell is that Lils?

-It’s a… It was supposed to be a reindeer.

-I’m sorry honey, but it looks nothing like one.

-Well, it’s a new breed. From Canada.

-Shall we name it? – your hand went to her shoulder, your head resting over it as you both watched the figure.

-Agatha, for stealing our cookie cutters.

She laughed at her own joke, your own snorting only adding to the humour of the moment, without a care in the world. Both of you carried on making shapes and forms, some of them better than others, some being additions to the “new breed from Canada”. You had pointed at each other’s creations laughing and praising, giving some of them names until you had the entire coven in cookie form, but you and Lilia’s figures could not be those weird interpretations of snowmens and trees, so you let her carve yourselves as two beautiful gingerbread women. It had started out as Christmas cookies but in the end, when Lilia had begun to move them to the floating trays, there had been more amorphous beings than accurate forms, but neither of you cared one bit, “Fairytale of New York” following “Santa Baby” on your Christmas playlist. Lilia’s head perked up at the sound of the music, pushing the door to the oven with her hip until it closed, setting a timer for ten minutes. She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pressed you against her, swaying to the song.

She must have been a singer and a dancer at some point in her life, there was just no way she could be that good and not have had shown her gift to the world at least once. You would ask her one of these days, but as of now you were happy to dance with her in the kitchen, listening to her sweet voice follow the tune. The moment was perfect, down to the song, to the way the sun caught in her hair as she twirled you both around the room, her citrusy perfume filling up your lungs along with the sweetness of the cookies. How could you have ever been blue? How could you have ever thought that happiness was not in for you? Lilia had come into your life and the world was suddenly a beautiful place where nothing could ever go wrong. Staring at her eyes it was as if they were the melted chocolate you had tasted on her lips earlier, warm and loving.

-They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold.

-But the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old.

-When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve.

-You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

-You were handsome

-You were pretty, Queen of New York City

She laughed at the nickname, head lulled back, her feet never stopping, moving from side to side. The living area wasn’t precisely Buckingham Place, but you two made it work, and as Lilia’s moved both your bodies, her dressing gown brushing the foot of the Christmas tree, she truly showed you how much that tiny little room could give. The warm light that had bathed the room suddenly disappeared, the bright colourful lights that she had placed in every corner overtaking and lighting up the room in a dance of colours and shapes. Your eyes drifted to the window seeing the sky covered by big fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze having picked up outside the house, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall, but Lilia claimed your attention when she pushed your body away form hers while still holding your hands.

-The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

She pulled you back against her body once again, her arms around your waist, your hands resting on the back of her neck twirling her soft curls in between your fingers. Her forehead was pressed against yours, the movements slow as the song carried onto the last few verses letting the words drip from her lips in hushed tones only for you to hear. The two of you had closed your eyes letting the warmth of each other’s bodies wrap around you, basking in the way you could feel the love seeping from every pore, from every word that escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she sang the last verse, her breath tickling your nose, that she did press her lips to yours, hiding her face into the crook of your neck after a few moments to escape the reality outside those four walls. “Auld Lang Syne” followed, the softer tune perfect for you both to simply sway on the spot, your hands caressing Lilia’s hair and neck, your cheek resting against her ear as she breathed in your perfume and shampoo, humming happily. Neither of you wanted the moment to end, feeling as if being like this, in each other’s arms, was just the perfect way to live Christmas Eve before the craziness of going over to Sharon’s with the rest of the coven happened. You wanted to savour every second you had with Lilia and only Lilia. For once the world could wait, stop moving altogether until you were ready to carry on with life, though you doubted you would ever let the happen.

Right on time the last few notes playing marked start of another song, the oven starting to beep. Lilia did not wish to move, but she had to, extracting herself after a minute to pull the trays out, letting them float around just like she had done before. You helped her transfer the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, setting them aside so she could let the sugar cookies out of the trays and onto the racks. But you were impatient, she knew, and with a flick of her wrist, your eyes shinning gleefully as you watched a few sparkles of golden magic fly from her fingertips, they were cold enough to be placed on the kitchen table to be decorated.

-Do you have any ideas you want to share, darling?

-Not really, well, maybe. I think we should paint the Coven with their signature colours.

-Alright. Let’s start with Agatha, that way if she looks bad it won’t matter much. She owes me a bunch of cutters.

It was playful banter, she didn’t really hate Agatha, quite the opposite, she took care of the woman as if she were a daughter, looking after her, looking out for her, protecting her from the world as if she were afraid someone could break her. It was one of the main things that had attracted you to her at first, her caring, nurturing nature. She picked up an empty pipping bag and let you fill it up with the purple icing before cutting the tip. The first blob fell right in the middle of the reindeer, and since there wasn’t much she could now she carried on. The shape was horrid, but she assured you that once the details were added it would bring it all together. You weren’t very sure. The eyes looked a bit disproportionate, and the antlers were a bit thick, but all in all Lilia thought it looked good, and you didn’t want to disagree.

-My turn now, let me do Sharon. In green?

-Yeah, we have two green witches, we’ll just make Rio’s eyes brown and call it a day.

You might not have been gifted with the knife, but you sure were better with the pipping bag than Lilia. Your reindeer was more accurate, green but accurate, the small beady eyes perfectly positioned but the antlers… the looked like a bunch of worms. It suited a green witch you supposed. Lilia was quick to praise and tell you that it was beautiful, kissing your temple and watching as you did Rio’s as well, a perfect reindeer in front you down to red nose and everything. You were so excited, bouncing in her arms, her words filled with love and joy as she told you just how pretty it was. Her hands moved on to Jen, the shape of the snowwoman much easier than that of a reindeer in pretty shade of pink, the eyes and buttons brown, along with a blue scarf and orange nose. She put it aside to let the icing harden your hands working on Billy as she did Alice, both snowman that looked pretty decent taking on account that Lilia’s orange pipping bag burst in her hand just as she was finishing Alice’s body, icing all over the table and a couple of candy cane cookies.

-What a mess!

-Baking is messy, Lils. Don’t worry, there’s enough icing left to make more orange.

-But…

-It’s perfectly fine, honey, honestly. Just clean that up and I’ll make more. And those two cookies can be like orange flavoured candy canes. See? Problem solved.

-My baking hero.

Grabbing a glass after she pecked your cheek, you were quick to blend the right shade of orange, putting it inside a new pipping bag and handing it to Lilia so she could finish Alice’s body. It was beautiful to do this together, Lilia’s lines wiggly and the consistency a big lumpy when she tried to do the first few stockings until she gave up and moved on to the stars, easier in her opinion. You tried to write names on the stockings once she had moved them to your side of the table, but they were more like scribbles that no one could understand, still the colour code every member of the coven had settled for kind of helped to identify which was for which. The moment was both cozy and hilarious, pointing at the figures you were both painting, commenting, laughing and scraping to begin again only to end up with the same wiggly lines and mismatched colours. Lilia once in a while added her own touch to one of your cookies, be it a weird bow or a string of tinsel around a tree while you gave hers a more artistic touch by adding sparkles to her candy canes or little dots of colour on her reindeer’s antlers claiming that they were Christmas lights. She had laughed hard at that stating in between laboured breaths that it looked as if the poor thing had crashed a farmers’ market, and to be honest it kind of did, laughing along with her, your body pressed against her arm as you both shook and cackled. But neither of you cared, they were yours and in their horrid looks they looked perfect to you. The only thing left was to paint were you and Lilia’s gingerbread women, something that you were left in charge of as Lilia didn’t want to risk it. The pressure was real as you did Lilia’s face, her curls a mix of white and brown icing before you moved onto the clothes giving her a yellow jacket, white blouse and blue pants, the outfit you had met her in when she had been thrown out of the Witches Road after fishing her task. She had been covered in mud back then, but you weren’t one to add brown and destroy her beautiful cookie. You put as much effort in your own, dressing yourself in a pair of black trousers and a red blouse, your hair in a bun above your head.

-They look beautiful babe. Mirror images of reality.

-It’s easy when you have the perfect model in front of you. – she smiled at the compliment, a gentle pink hue dressing her cheeks. She blushed so tenderly and so beautifully.

-Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.

-I certainly hope so.

-As much as I love the idea of letting you have your way with me, why don’t we let these cookies settle for a bit and go out?

-Everything’s closed.

-I didn’t say that we had to go somewhere in specific. You like snow, don’t you?

-Of course!

-Then get your winter boots on and let’s make a real snowman!

-Really?!

You jumped on the spot nearly knocking over the table, Lilia’s hands shooting to grab it, your lips on her cheek before rushing to the other side of the room. You apologised while running to your closet, grabbing a jumper, a pair of thicker trousers along with some Harry Potter socks and rushing to the bathroom, your voice reaching her ears as you sang loudly, your voice filled with joy, knocking over things that were on the sink.

-Do you want to build a snowman?!

-Oh, God, not “Frozen” again.

[yelenasdiary]

Merry Christmas

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Yelena comes home just in time for Christmas.

Fluff

Warnings: No Warnings | 0.9K

Translations: detka (baby), милый (darling),

AC: Pretend this isn’t late okay? Thanks! Enjoy!! xx

Holiday Special Masterlist

Her key wiggled ever so quietly in the door of your shared apartment; she was tired but only she knew that. She silently closed the door behind her and placed her bag in the laundry room for tomorrow's problem. 2:28am on the early morning of Christmas Eve, she was finally home. The small living room was lit alive by the Christmas tree, the golden star shining her path behind the sofa, kicking off her combat boots as she walked. She'd been gone a minute too long, long enough for Fanny to be found curled up on Yelena's side of the bed beside you with her head resting on Yelena's pillow. She didn't mind, she knew Fanny brought you a sense of comfort and safety when Yelena wasn't here. 

Fanny's tail wagged to greet the blonde with excitement as Yelena scratched behind her fur friend's ear. "I missed you too" Yelena whispered placing a kiss on Fanny's forehead before her eyes shifted to meet your peacefully asleep face. Soft snores could be heard as you were unaware Yelena had arrived home, but then again, Yelena never liked to wake you when she came home so late. Carefully she reached over and kissed your cheek before taking herself to the bathroom for a quick shower. 

The cold draft from the morning snow creeping through your apartment made you stir, pulling the covers closer to you to keep the warmth from escaping. Yelena took that as her sign to get up and turn the heater on. Fanny followed behind her as she made her way into the living room, turning the heater on and giving her body a much needed stretch. It was barely 8am but Yelena knew you'd be awake soon and decided to surprise you with breakfast. 

Pancakes in the shape of Christmas reindeer caused a smile to creep onto her lips, she had forgotten about her work, life outside of the apartment. It was Christmas and all she wanted to do was spend it with you. She made two mugs of extra hot coco and set the table. 

You woke up with a frown on your brows, Fanny nowhere to be seen. You rubbed your eyes before the smell of batter hit you. "Lena?" You questioned softly, your mind still waking up as you slid out of bed and into your Christmas themed slippers before making your way to the kitchen. Yelena turned and smiled softly at the sight of you. 

"Hi detka" she spoke softly, "hungry?" She asked. 

You couldn't help but smile in reply as you approached her, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. "I missed you!" You said, muffled by her pajamas. She held you tighter, placing a kiss on the top of your head, "I missed you too милый" she replied. 

——

The entire day was spent by the fake fireplace you had brought while she was away. Blankets and pillows on the floor while you snuggled closely into Yelena's arms as you introduced the assassin to the many Christmas movies you loved. Her arms wrapped around you with one hand twirling with a lock of your hair, her attention was more on you than the movie playing in the background. 

This wasn't her first Christmas, but it was her first Christmas where she truly wanted to be. Her eyes took in the beauty of the lit-up Christmas tree as they dropped to the gifts sitting patiently below, she couldn't help but smile as her eyes ran over the names on the gifts. She was home. 

"Lena, put your arm down" you chuckled, distracted by the blondes arm hanging in the air above both of your heads. "I don't know what you're talking about" she replied, shifting your attention from the movie to look up and see her dangling a mistletoe above you both. 

"You don't have to ask me twice!" You looked to her and smiled before kissing her softly. 

Yelena's arm fell gracefully as she deepened the kiss, forgetting everything she had ever known until this moment. She smiled against your lips, "Merry Christmas" she whispered before crashing her lips against yours once more, pulling you basically on top of her. You smiled against her lips, "what was that about?" You asked with a raised brow as she cupped your face gently with one hand. 

"Nothing" she smiled, "I just want to make Christmas as magical for you as you've made it for me" she added, her thumb ever so softly stroking your cheek. 

"Baby, just knowing you're in my life is magical to me although, I can't lie, I am so freaking happy I get you home for Christmas" you replied, kissing her once more. "I'm saving the best Christmas movie for last so how do you feel about making a gingerbread house?" You asked before allowing Yelena's stolen past to creep in on her thoughts. All you wanted was to help create many new and happy memories for her to look back on. 

"Do I have to eat it?" She asked, reminding you she wasn't a fan of gingerbread. You shock your head with a light chuckle.

"I'm not going to pin you down and force you to eat it!"

"I wouldn't mind it if that's how I was going to eat it" Yelena smirked as you pulled her up off of the floor, "be a good little elf and you might get a surprise" you winked playfully before dragging her gently by the hand towards the kitchen.

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @valiantmugcowboyscissors | @observeowl  | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @crescent-witch | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper | @hehehehannahthings | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @irishhappiness | @music-4ever | @hyper-fixated-delusions | 

[dross-the-fish]

Do u think Solas would have killed Lavellan if it has been her instead of Varric?

to be honest I think he would have killed her if she had earnestly tried to stop him. It doesn't even mean he didn't have feelings for her but looking at his track record caring about people has not been a deterrent before so there's no reason it would have been at the time. Not for a person he's only known for a year and hasn't spoken a word to for almost a decade. Varric was his friend, Felassan was his friend, who knows how many friends he has buried because his mission comes first. That is something that has been consistent with his character, that he will put the mission above his own wants or interests. To a point this is because the game requires certain plot points to be met and the story would be over if he could be swayed before the final battle. That's partly why I don't like the idea of romanced Lavellan or the high approval Inquisitor being framed as somehow "exceptional." Because for 1000s of years no one else was.

Stripped to the barest components (time-frame, interactions, levels of emotional intimacy shared between both parties) there is nothing about the relationship between Solas and the Inquisitor that justifies viewing it that way. It would be a blip even in a regular human life time. I cannot think of any reason to justify why Solas would have spared someone he claimed to love but still held at arms length for a year when one of his closest friends of 1000 years wasn't worth sparing. And if he would spare a romanced inquisitor that doesn't make him look better. It doesn't redeem him. It just says he values his romantic relationships, no matter how brief and uneven they were, over everything else. It would make him a hypocrite and cheapen the one thing that works about his character. his commitment to putting aside his own feelings for "what must be done". I think the dissonance for me comes down to the framing vs the actual logistics and that's been my whole beef with Solas as a character where what I'm told doesn't match what I'm shown. There are people that will argue that Solavellan is a deep romance and it's well written but I've always felt like compared to the other romances it was a bit of an after thought and a very shallow experience that relies heavily on the player to create headcanons to sustain it. It's also one that requires you to create a character that is ultimately ok with never being trusted or treated as an equal and to some degree being willing to forgive being used. Let's not forget in the inquisitor's romance Solas has all the cards. He's the very reason everything in the game is happening and intentionally or not he is responsible for the current state of the world.

He watches the inquisitor shoulder the burden of cleaning up his mess and restoring order to the world but he never gives them more than breadcrumbs or nudges in the right direction. I think what i find the most repulsive is that he would have watched the inquisitor die unknowingly as a direct consequence of his actions while carrying on a romance with them. Case in point, in Trespasser when the mark IS killing the inquisitor it's still ultimately on them to do the leg work to track him down and find him. He's not going to come to them and he only even waits for them to catch up because he needs the anchor. He would not have been by their side or offered them any kind of comfort or protection had something killed them before they could reach him. The inquisitor could also have died at any point from the blight Solas caused in that 10 year span he was gone because they have been on the front lines the whole time. The inquisitor's survival has NEVER been his priority unless there was something he needed from them. He has always viewed them as expendable. He had already committed to thinking of them as a cherished regret. Which is why I fully believe he would have killed the inquisitor if it had been them instead of Varric, even if it was a romanced Lavellan.

[kaeso4ka]

The holiday is coming soon. And a miracle seems to be happening

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x human! reader

You adjusted the tinsel rustling around her neck. For the first few hours of December thirty-first, you wondered if the tinsel would hold your weight, but then you gave up: You truly loved New Year's Eve. She didn't want to spoil her fun with a failed attempt at her own death.

The champagne rumbled merrily in the glass. You did not like champagne, but for some reason this year you wanted to observe all the traditions of the holiday.

The hands of the clock moved inexorably toward twelve, and with each new minute the atmosphere on the base and in your soul became more and more festive.

“My Spark,” Optimus leaned over you, ”is everything alright?”

Optimus was the only one on the entire base who didn't seem to have fully succumbed to the festive atmosphere yet. Even Ratchet and Agent Fowler, who hadn't had a day off in years (and millennia), seemed relaxed and content.

“Just wondering,” you smiled at Optimus, ”come on… Turn into your smaller version. Let's talk.”

Prime didn't have to be asked twice. The sound of transformation filled the compartment, and afterward the mech sat down next to you. You immediately snuggled against his side, throwing tinsel over him. The bond wasn't the strongest, but Optimus didn't plan on trying to pull away. You've rarely been so favorable to him.

“You're walking around with a very grim face. What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Optimus tilted his helmet sideways, making contact with the top of your head, ”I was only concerned about your condition.”

“And what is my condition?” you sipped your champagne. “A very good one, by the way. It's a holiday tonight.”

“Yes,” the smell of human alcohol was surprisingly intertwined with your personal scent. At this moment, you smelled like something frosty and spruce. Like a holiday, “you were more cheerful last year.”

“I don't remember anymore. That was a whole year ago,” you chuckled, ”it's been a rough year. You know that.”

Miko and Wiljack and Bulkhead, who were a little tipsy, were discussing something. They seemed to be telling her stories of their military prowess….

“… On Earth, there are many traditions associated with New Year's Eve. One of them is leaving all the bad things behind. You know, it's just a formality. There's no difference between December 31st and January 1st. It's just a new day, but,” you lifted your arm, hugging Optimus. The tinsel rustled more cheerfully, “humans have given it great power.”

Optimus listened intently to your words, taking in their meaning. The mechanisms sounded a little more demanding as you got closer.

And as if hearing Prime's thoughts, you moved into his lap. Carefully watching her glass to make sure not a gram of champagne spilled.

“Let's put all our strife behind us, shall we?” perhaps the alcohol had given you a headache. Maybe the party atmosphere had once again blurred the lines between desire and reality. I don't care. “I don't want to fight you anymore.”

Optimus touched your cheek, and like a cat, you rubbed against another's palm. A drunken blush blushed merrily across your pale face.

“Of course, my Spark. I never held a grudge against you.”

“And I have held some. But I forgive you and agree to make a fresh start…”

“Such a pact must be cemented!” Miko appeared in front of you and Optimus. In her hand she held a sprig of mistletoe, which in the next instant was above your heads. “Tradition!…”

“I know,” you rolled your eyes. With difficulty, she lifted herself up, leaving a neat kiss on the edge of the metal dermis. “Tradition.”

“Hey, actually, you should have implemented a French kiss…”

You waved Miko away. Optimus carefully snatched up the unfinished champagne glass and set it aside. Cuddled up to you, almost cradling you in his manipulators.

You fell asleep slowly, and when you did, you dreamed of the chimes, the feel of metal under your lips, and a quiet speech in Cybertronian.

[diy-fire-water-pups]

Heya, guys! Just an ask for you guys, especially for Rocky. What do you guys feel about those cyber trucks? To me, I get salty because people drive a frickin TRAPEZOID!! it looks like an oversized microwave with four wheels! Even raccoons are attacking those trucks because they think they are dumpsters. But hey, that’s just me. What do you guys think?

If only the problem would be ONLY that this truck looks like a trapezoid… Someone once joked it’s Lara Croft in her first game - I had to look that up - but to be very honest, I think she has more polygons than a Cybertruck. And that’s saying something for sure.

As the Paw Patrol’s pup who’s specialized in medicine, I'd like to say that this truck is literally a menace on wheels for both passengers and pedestrians. Have you seen the crash tests? The truck doesn’t crush when colliding with something! It’s supposed to crush so the force of impact won’t go fully on the passengers inside. Without it, if it hits against something full force at top speed, people’s organs will practically become puree against their ribcage. And if it hits a pedestrian, even at lower speeds, the chances of major injuries is insanely high because it doesn’t have any smooth lines on its frame to soften the impact against the person! Only sharp edges! It’s absolutely deadly!

It looks like something you'd see in an Atari game, of course there are people who would be a fan of it but that's a very small percentage of a specific public; as Marshall said, the very frame design makes it extremely dangerous; I absolutely DO NOT trust anything that's entirely dependant on a touchscreen to function, once the screen is out, you won't be able to do anything anymore; If you need to look away from the road for more than 5 seconds to do something on that tablet, it should be considered already a failure of programming and danger inducing; a lot of them came out of the factory with already rusty components so THAT SHOULD SAY SOMETHING; oh yeah, you can't even take it to a car wash or it'll come out a huge useless brick on the other side and if you can't wash it, you'd at least want to coat it but guess what, you can't do that either; a bunch of the panels are literally GLUED to the frame...?; every time you go recharge it you need to do it as correctly as possible to not risk the charger getting stuck and eventually breaking it; if you drive in the rain, water will leak in through the edges; you can't even haul stuff or help another car because you'll be risking to snap the back frame - it's not in one piece with the chassis, but connected by a sort of plastic piece to it...???? I swear I've seen Chase's cruiser hold and tow heavier stuff with its winch than what a Cybertruck can ever dream of doing; if anything happens to the back of this truck, you can kiss goodbye to its bed, even though it's not as big as they promised either; they basically made a fool of a lot of people by making them pay a lot more for a "Foundation Series" promising a full self driving feature that, as far as I know as of now, is still not available; the truck just has so many problems someone drove it out of the factory and not even two minutes later it bricked completely and has been at a repair shop ever since; the list goes on and on...

Some Tesla vehicles at least look good and have decent features, though they also have a lot more problems than they should, which could have been solved already by now, but they don't even try, all because the company owner is just... A bad person, let's put it like that. He's got a temper worse than Sweetie's, he thinks he's above everyone else and won't ever take a "no" or "don't". I've heard a lot of other EV companies are making better AND affordable EVs literally by looking at what's wrong with Tesla cars to not repeat the same errors on theirs.

Oh, and one last thing! This guy also went against regulation laws against hate speech in our Mod's country, which resulted on his social media website and app getting banned there. Not satisfied with that, he double-crossed the ban to make it available there again although totally illegally, by using the same IP servers that hospitals, public services and even the very Brazilian government websites use, so... Triple crime? Not gonna lie, it's funny to follow how it's going down there.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 11

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |-| Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Summary: When a figure from her past is badly wounded, Diana must put herself in danger to save him

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Blood, gore, graphic violence, death

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @6thofapril1917 @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings

A/N: me? posting diana again? more likely than you'd think

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Andrew let out another groan as the car sped over a pothole, clutching at the bloody hole in his abdomen as his expression contorted in agony. Diana's gaze darted wildly like cornered prey, from the wound to the world passing by outside to a panicked Johnny in the driver's seat, trying to focus as Reg barked at him to keep driving. Her hands were entirely red, not a glimpse of flesh still visible, leaving bloody streaks in Schulz's blonde hair as her fingertips combed through it in a vain effort to soothe him.

"What the fuck are we doing here?!" She yelled, unable to fight the hint of terror that laced her voice.

"We're gonna drive to the next town and look for a doctor," Reg declared, struggling to decipher the crumpled old map he'd found in the glove box.

"Flimsy fucking plan - what if we don't find one? We just waste time until he dies?!"

"If we keep going for much longer he's dead anyway!" He barked, turning in his seat to glare back at her. For the briefest of moments, she saw that rage everyone always talked about - that violence that gave Reg Seekings his reputation, the aggression he'd never once thrown her way. She'd watched him gun down countless men - hell, she'd helped him do it. But he'd never snapped at her before. In its own way, it was somehow worse.

She shrank back into her seat like a scolded child, and for a moment he was stuck still, teeth bared in a snarl. Something flickered in Reg's eyes, as if he'd suddenly realised who he was talking to, and his expression fell. "Diana, I-"

"Save it. Find a fucking doctor."

Reg turned reluctantly, brow furrowed as he stared back down at the map, occasionally muttering directions to Johnny. Sat across from her, Andrew's legs crumpled uncomfortably across his lap, Kershaw stared, his gaze burning a hole into the side of Diana's head. She glared back for a second before her attention was ripped away by another agonised groan. Tilting her head up towards the roof of the car, she fought to blink away hot tears before they could spill. Even now, there was a part of her that was desperate not to cry in front of these men.

The breaks screeched as they sped into the next town, rolling to a sudden halt, and for a moment she could breathe again. Sliding Andrew off of her as gently as she could, Diana scrambled out of the car, wasting no time worrying about her bloodied appearance as she began to move. "Johny, keep the car running. Dave... just keep him alive as long as you can," she uttered. Reg was already climbing out as they headed further into the town, the stink of metal stinging her nostrils.

"We'll split up," He nodded firmly. "Find someone fast, bring them back here."

"If you need to leave without me, just do it. Don't wait."

She could tell he wanted to object, but she didn't intend to give him the chance. Veering down the first side street she passed, Diana picked up the pace, breaking into a steady jog, the sweat on her palms turning dried blood back to liquid again.

It was quiet here - too quiet. If she hadn't been so distracted it would've raised alarm, but all she could think was how greatly the sparsity lowered her chances of finding someone - anyone - who could help. She emerged onto another main road, the street sloping upwards slightly towards a huge house. In Cairo, it would've blended in seamlessly, but here it stuck out like a sore thumb, rising above every other building that surrounded it.

It reminded her of the military hospital back home.

If she'd been thinking straight, she would've steered clear of the place.

But Diana's mind had never been hazier. She sped up once more, beginning to run as she scaled the slope, never pausing to catch her breath as she reached the building.

Her fist came down against the door in rapid succession, the quick thud thud thud echoing out through the inside. But there was no time to wait, and when no immediate response came, she moved further around the place, searching desperately for any other possible means of entrance.

Halfway along the side wall was an opening - a long, narrow walkway extending straight from the alley to the central courtyard, and from here, she could see the palm trees inside, the fountain bubbling away. Diana tugged at the wrought iron gate, the hinges shrieking as it came open without resistance. She was staring a beast in the mouth. It was stupid. In the coming days, she would curse herself for this stupidity - curse her wretched mind for not warning her before it was too late.

But Diana could not have known what was to come. She slipped inside without a second thought, footsteps echoing against the tiled ground as she emerged into the courtyard.

Whitewashed walls rose high on all sides, the sun reflecting blindingly bright. A washing line extended across the yard suspended from opposite balconies up on the second floor, khaki shirts wafting gently in the breeze. Soldiers' uniforms. She grinned.

"Hello?! Anyone?!" Diana yelled, nothing but silence echoing back towards her. "Hello?!"

A door opened across the yard. She couldn't stop from smiling, a breath of relief escaping her. But then the figure stepped into the light. He was huge - bigger than any of the men in L Detachment, easily comparable to the brutes her father used to bring in for practice. Except there was no one to pay this man - no one to chastise him for hurting her. And above the breast pocket of his shirt, she spied the all-too-familiar eagle emblem that decorated the uniforms of the German army.

Sparing a second glance up at the washing line, she found every one of the shirts was the same. How had she been so blind?

Diana's hand reached for her belt, the blood draining from her face as she came up empty.

Where the fuck was her gun.

"Well," The soldier spoke, a relaxed edge to his voice that only succeeded in scaring her further. "Looks like we've gotten into some trouble, eh?"

She was still covered in blood, shirt still sticking to her skin in the places where it had become too thoroughly saturated to dry, even out in the desert air. She looked like hell. She looked like she'd just murdered several men with her bare hands. But if the English on her tongue hadn't been enough to betray her, the fear in her eyes certainly was.

There was no time to think. As soon as the pieces had fallen together, Diana turned on her heel, making a dash back the way she had come.

A hand seized her hair, a yelp escaping her as she was yanked backwards. She'd never expected a man of his size to be so fast. It became suddenly apparent that she was hopelessly, embarrassingly outmatched.

No one had prepared her for this.

How couldn't they have? How could her father have been so goddamn fucking stupid?

He'd trained her to fight in the comfort of her own home. Taught her using hired men, men who would only get paid at the end of the day if they drilled her in precisely the right way. All her life, without even realising it, there had been a subtle confidence in the back of Diana's mind, secure in the knowledge that - whilst these men might bruise her, scold her, humiliate her - they could never truly damage her.

That confidence was gone.

She lost her footing as he dragged her, just long enough to tumble onto her back, hitting the stone tiles with a pained groan and momentarily knocking the wind from her lungs. Gasping for a breath, Diana rolled onto her knees, narrowly dodging the first blow as a hard kick brushed past her. She lunged head first, seizing him around the middle without just enough momentum to send them both tumbling into the fountain pool, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she was momentarily submerged, scrambling to distance herself as quickly as possible.

But the fall scarcely seemed to slow the soldier down, and as Diana clambered out of the water, a sudden strike to the face caught her off-guard, eyes filling with tears the moment his fist collided with her nose. She stumbled back, but the blow had left her shell-shocked, unable to force her body to move in time before a second punch came. Then a third - knocking her this way and that until her head was spinning, her vision blurred.

How could he? How could her father have wasted her life with training so useless? How could he have deemed her ready, and sent her out into the world, only for her to crumble so fast?

He had her by the hair again. By now, she was too dazed to follow his movements, and barely had time to swallow a gulp of air before her head was forced under the water again, his fist holding her down as his other hand pinned one of her arms against her back.

Diana was panicking now, the water filling her nostrils and stinging her throat as she kicked out blindly with her legs. He pushed his body forward, knees pinning her against the side of the pool. She couldn't move.

I'm going to die here. And for what?

She opened her eyes, water pricking at her corneas, her body screaming at her to close them again. But she refused. The water was clean, clear enough to see through to the bottom, to the pipe running into the base of the fountain, pumping it with water to keep it going.

Diana blinked, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before taking another look. Yes, there it was. Every now and then, a cluster of air bubbles would rise from one of the joints, rising to burst on the surface. There was a gap - somewhere down there, the pipe had come loose.

She could feel that she was running out of time. But he had only enough hands to hold down one of hers. She reached out, desperately grasping for the pipe, pulling as hard as she could. The soldier noticed, distracted as he let go of her first hand to bend down and reach for the other.

Feeling her other hand suddenly come free, Diana groped blindly behind her until she felt skin, digging her nails in as hard as they would gold go, gouging into the flesh of his face.

He let out a cry of pain, stumbling as he raised both hands to cover his injury. She may have only had a second of freedom, but it was enough. Frantically raising her head above the surface, Diana took a hard gulp of air, so swift that it seared her throat, giving the pipe one last, fierce tug with both hands. She felt the metal give way, and suddenly the fountain's peaceful bubbling stopped, a jet of water spraying out at an awkward angle as droplets evaporated into mist in the African heat.

Before the soldier had a chance to seize her again, she had taken a swing. The pipe was heavier than she'd thought, hitting the side of his head with a loud, hollow pang. He was on the ground, still conscious, but barely. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins harder than it ever had before, blood thumping in her ears, blocking out anything but the sound of her own rapid heartbeat. She couldn't think.

And when the man moved, she hit him again.

Something in his skull cracked. He wouldn't move again.

But in the moment, this didn't seem to matter. Diana brought the pipe down against his head once, twice more, until he was just as covered in blood as she was, a ragged cry tearing itself from her chest.

"Fuck!" She sobbed, collapsing backwards onto the ground. Anyone could've found her here. Hell, Andrew could already be dead by now. But she couldn't force herself to move.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The room was spinning - the fountain, now broken beyond repair, spilling out a pool of water that edged slowly closer and closer. There was blood on her hand - on her chest, on her face, the taste of it reaching her tongue. One of her eyes was swelling shut, but even as her vision blurred, she could not tear it from the body at her feet - sprawled across the tiles, lying on his face as she sat silently beside him, leaning back on her elbows, the metal pipe in her hand leaving her palm cold and numb.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, approaching from the corridor behind her, speeding up from a stroll to a run, getting louder and louder with each passing second. But the sound scarcely reached her, the thrumming of her heartbeat the only thing that felt real. Solid. The only thing she could truly focus on.

The footsteps reached her, and she grew aware of a figure standing beside her, pausing a moment to take in the chaos.

"... Fuckin' hell."

She felt a gentle hand take her wrist, softly prying the pipe from her grip, letting it roll away across the tiles with a metallic clatter. The figure reached around beneath her arms, hands meeting across her chest as she was unceremoniously pulled up to stand, her feet feeling awkward and weak beneath her. Diana opened her mouth, heaving a few breaths before she could speak, a droplet of blood rolling out over her lip.

"... Reg?" She whispered.

"Shhh. It's okay. You're okay. I got you."

I got you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Diana could feel sweat beading against her skin as she slowly regained consciousness, peeling open one eye, the other too swollen to go all the way. The tent walls rippled in the soft desert breeze, sand blowing in under the doorway. She took a deep breath, fighting against the headache that drummed behind her eyes as she pushed herself up on her elbows to half-sit, throat like sandpaper when she swallowed.

The tent flap was pulled back, and David Stirling crept quietly inside, brow furrowed, canister clutched tightly. His gaze flickered over her, doing a double take as he realised she was awake. "Jesus Christ," He sighed, lowering himself into the chair beside her cot. "Don't do that again."

"...How long have I been out?" She croaked. He held out the canister, and she snatched it from his hand, upturning the water to let it flow down her throat, an instant balm to her pain.

"You've been in and out for two days, but I doubt you'd remember anything. The 'in's never lasted long."

Diana nodded, another jolt of pain hitting her head as she moved it, dabbing a droplet of water from her chin.

"Do you know where we are?" David asked.

She coughed weakly. "Unfortunately."

A smile curled his lip. "She's back."

Easing herself down, she let her head sink back into the pillow.

"... Andrew?"

"Alive. Miraculously. As are you, somehow - you managed to wander into a German barracks, you bloody idiot."

"God," Diana groaned, lifting a hand to cover her face in embarrassment, flinching slightly as it skimmed across the bruised skin. "Please don't tell the others, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, they already know," He nodded, interrupting before she could groan again. "They're rather impressed you made it out at all, actually."

"Bet they are," She sighed.

Letting out a grunt, David pushed himself back up to stand, heading towards the entrance. "I'll let the others know you're awake. You should get up - it'll do you good to go for a wander. I dragged Gamal up here and he figures your brain's probably still intact," They both chuckled somewhat bitterly at this, and he paused just as he was about to leave. "Oh, and - you might want to avoid looking in a mirror for the next few days. Sight for sore eyes."

"Oh, fuck off," Diana scoffed, tossing the now-empty canister after him as he went.

Alone once more, she sat up on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she took a deep breath.

Something was different now.

Something had shifted.

Deep down, she wasn't sure she could pinpoint precisely what it was - what was gone, what had arrived that wasn't there before.

But a part of Diana Fayed had drowned in that fountain.

That much was certain.

[kaesaaurelia]

Hustler's Blood editing accountability, chapter 1

I really need some kind of accountability to progress with WIPs, and since this one is mostly written I'm going to try and make myself accountable for the editing. And since it is very very long, I'm going to be at this a while. I'll be posting some facts and figures, summaries, and little quotes I like from the fic, just to keep me honest.

Please block "hustler's blood nattering" if you don't want to see these posts!

If you are curious about what this fic is, it is an epic-length Good Omens (TV) fic, written over one million several years mostly after Season 1, set in Chicago in 1926. It's basically half whump (the Crowley part) and half casefic (the Aziraphale part) and very self-indulgent. The summary I'm planning to go with is:

Heaven tasks Aziraphale with tracking down the nefarious demon Crowley in Prohibition-era Chicago. The city is on the brink of a gang war, in the midst of a violent turf war between taxi companies, and many there are still suffering from the lingering trauma of the Great War. But there are good times to be had, so while Aziraphale figures out what he's going to tell Heaven, he and Crowley indulge in some Roaring Twenties decadence. But when Crowley vanishes, Aziraphale must find him without tipping off the city's own assigned angel, Vehuel. She's determined not to let things in her city get any worse, but Aziraphale just wants his demon back. Meanwhile, Crowley must contend with the cruelty of Hymie Weiss, Al Capone's rival on the North Side. Weiss is determined to kill Capone and avenge the murder of his best friend, and he's not above using a captured demon to do it.

It is not posted yet and will not be posted until I'm happy with it, but it is almost all written (I think I'm going to add 2 more specific scenes) and I'll be talking (with a lot of fic spoilers) about it here.

Anyway. Went through on a first formal editing pass on the first chapter of the fic, should auld acquaintance be forgot.

Wordcount: 6,945 words as of the end of this editing pass.

Song of the chapter: "The Joint is Jumpin'" by Fats Waller

What happens in this chapter?

Aziraphale comes to Chicago on Heaven's orders.

Aziraphale finds Crowley on New Year's Eve.

They make up, and get very drunk.

Aziraphale kisses Crowley at midnight. Like friends do!

Aziraphale then realizes that he is much, much drunker than he thought he was, and that he can't miraculously sober up because of the poor quality of the alcohol.

Crowley offers to let Aziraphale stay with him, brings Aziraphale to his giant lakeside mansion in the suburbs, and fucks up a perfectly good Only One Bed scenario.

My favorite historical reference: The bit where Crowley tells Aziraphale about his friend in Cincinnati who hired people to hijack his own liquor trucks.

My favorite quote:

"In New York they have this... ball."

"Oh! Like with masks?" Aziraphale asked. He'd rather enjoyed those. All the costumes were so much fun, and sometimes the menus were extraordinary.

"No, no, like... big round bastard," said Crowley, with an evocative gesture. "Falls down at the stroke of midnight."

"Oh," said Aziraphale, frowning. He tried to picture this, but it still didn't quite make sense. Not that he was drunk. As an ethereal being, he could put away a fair amount of alcohol, and he could barely taste anything but sugar in these drinks, so they couldn't be very strong.

"You know, like a circle, but more," Crowley added. His evocative gestures were getting more and more patronizing, and Aziraphale wasn't having it.

"Yes, I know what a sphere is, thank you very much," he said.

[lavendersartistry]

Bane of my Existence

Space Riders AU - @onyxonline Eve Ewe, Bolt - @lavendersartistry

This fic is more of a planned fic for onyxonline's Space Riders AU! This is mainly centered as the slowburn end between Eve Ewe and Bolt! Please check Onyx out, their work is super cool!

Also we get creator cameos! Hope you can spot your character Astra, Onyx!

Want more context? Here!

"No."

Koi rolled her eyes for the nth time. Her and Bobby were at their wits end at this point, trying to help out Bolt with confessing to Eve.

Bolt wasn't doing well for himself if he kept his feelings out of reach for Eve to hold. If he wasn't fast enough, he could miss his chance entirely.

And both Koi and Bobby weren't going to let it happen. But unlike Bobby, who was trying to ease it down, Koi was going to flat out say what he needed to hear.

"You love her, don't you?"

Bolt nodded.

"But doing it like this won't do anything."

Koi scoffed and rolled her eyes again.

"Neither is sitting around, pretending to wait for the right time. This is the right time! Wake up your head for once, boy."

Koi got closer to Bolt, her face inches away from his. Hoppy, in the background, put her hand to her mouth and 'oooh'ed.

"Tell her now or you can say goodbye to being her lover."

That felt like a threat. CatNap took the initiative to hold Bolt back with his tail before he could jump Koi. Bobby immediately went to Koi's side, her soft eyes looking only at Bolt.

"Even if Koi is right, do what makes you feel comfortable to tell her. You know she will only say yes to you."

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

Eve solemnly looked at the lily pond within her chambers. She was beautifully dressed in velvet dark blue, a dress fit perfectly for a queen. But she wasn't happy.

Every birthday started with her and Bolt spending the morning together. Every sunrise was spent with laughter and joy between the two.

So why wasn't he there this birthday?

"You're upset, princess."

Eve frowned, biting her lip to not cry.

"He didn't come this morning, Astra. He always comes by the mornings."

The creature felt sadness in the princess. Yes, it was unlikely of Bolt to miss something so important, but there must have been a reason why.

Astra carefully placed Eve's diadem to her then gave her a hug.

"Don't be too sad, princess. I'm sure he'll be here for your birthday party. Not even him can miss that."

Eve nodded, starting to smile a little.

"You're right, thank you Astra. I'm glad Mother chose you to watch over me."

"I'm just doing my job!"

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

11:55. It was gift time. And still no show of Bolt. It was starting to get irritating for Eve.

DogDay could see how upset she was and was a little upset himself. He knew how close Bolt and Eve were, how desperate they wanted to be with each other.

He quietly placed a hand on Eve's shoulder.

"He's going to come, I know it."

Eve didn't look at DogDay, too caught up in her sorrows.

"You said that hours before. He missed our morning, he missed the party. He's not coming, he doesn't love me anymore."

DogDay pulled Eve into a tight hug, letting her soon cry into his chest. She was heartbroken, felt played. It hurt.

"He does love you, Evie. He just... I don't know at this point, but don't give up on him."

As if on cue, Bolt emerged from the shadows of the gardens. All eyes turned to him. He quietly walked over to Eve and DogDay, internally saddened by Eve's cries. Cries he caused.

"DogDay, if I could?"

DogDay was hesitant but handed Eve over to him, a light glare on the captain's face.

"You better make it up to her."

Bolt nodded and led Eve back to the gardens, where her present awaited her. Eve turned her head up, her eyes starting to sparkle as she saw his gift.

A candle lit path guided her to a river that glowed under the moonlight. A gazebo, unfamiliar to her, was next to it as owls were perched at the top and softly 'hoo' at the sight of her.

"Bolt.. I.."

As the two walked to the gazebo, Bolt kept his hand above hers.

"I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be. I missed so many things between us, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to make you cry like this, especially because of me."

Bolt sighed heavily, turning his head away.

"I care for you so much, Evie. You light up my world and my heart. If not a princess, you are a goddess that fell to bless me your presence. And I am always honored to be your guard."

The two entered the gazebo, little wolves and lambs approaching them like innocent children. Bolt turned his head back to Eve, a great smile to his face.

"You're all I ever wanted, princesa. I don't want anyone else."

Then Bolt got down on one knee, making Eve lightly gasp. He wasn't trying to propose already, was he? Eve started getting teary at the thought of it.

"I know this seems like a proposal, but it is in a way. Please listen when I say.. you are the bane of my existence and... and the object of all my desires. I wish to the heavens every night for you and I to be together in every reality this world will give, no matter the form we take. I love you with all my heart, Everiene."

Bolt pulled out a red velvet box and opened it. A promise ring.

"Forever and always, mi amor?"

Eve was stunned yet let her heart control her actions. She threw herself at Bolt, hugging him tightly. She quickly kissed his lips and caressed the scars on his face.

"Yes. Yes, Bolt. Forever and always."

The two embraced as fireworks began flying into the sky, signaling it was now 12:00. Bolt picked up Eve and spun her around as she was tight in his hold.

They laughed and later danced. Forever grateful for their true love.

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

Which Ruki route do you think has the best romance? And if you've listened to his drama CDs, which do you like best?

I'm always curious to learn the opinions of Ruki connoisseurs 😌

EEEEEEEE thank you, i'm so excited to be considered the ruki connoisseur.

for the first question, specifically ruki's best romance route, i'd definitely say dark fate. lost eden is my favourite ruki route, and my favourite of all the routes, but that's primarily because of the struggles ruki himself goes through, and the mukami romanian history lore we get fed. ruki's more blood can't be considered romantic, let's be real, and chaos lineage isn't really a contender for romance here considering ruki takes his sweet ass time getting his memories back. i think it's something like story 08, he's one of the latest ones.

i'm putting this under a cut because it's getting long and there's also spoilers and nsfw mentions.

dark fate follows ruki's inner turmoil when he realises he's in love with eve, he's "the snake who tempts eve", he's evil for his feelings and he hates himself, but because ruki has the emotional maturity of a 10 year old at best, he takes that out by punishing himself and, in turn, punishing yui by being abusive. of course, yui being the absolute legend she is, stays by his side, and eventually ruki gives the most heartfelt apology i've ever seen in dark epilogue. on par with ayato's apology to yui in chaos lineage.

'i don't want to let another man soothe your bleeding heart' - is my favourite quote he says to her there. he's really honest about letting his jealousy get to him and i think this scene is a real turning point for him. he goes the rest of the route treating her generally well, and the endings are great too. he actually defies karlheinz to prove his love to yui, and if you know much about ruki the resident karlheinz dickrider, you'll know that's pretty significant. the endings where he chooses bad luck with yui over death are pretty incredible too. for hannah, i have to mention ruki killing his kind in dark brute ending... nevermind, i didn't say that.

all in all, yeah, ruki's dark fate definitely takes the top prize for most romantic ruki route.

i have also listened to the drama CDs, yes! my answer for my favourite drama CD is nowhere near as complicated as the above question. my favourite is his first more blood drama CD, where he's got you on a roof tied up, doing things to you, moaning, touching you, talking about how he's going to make you come and how he's going to come himself....... i really have nothing sfw to say about this CD. it's just. really. fucking. hot.

thanks for the question!

[gashface]

HEY GUYS!!! ,

This weeks prompt, was set out to learn more about your models, and delve a bit into their lives! <;3 These stories should be an important moment in their life, or just a memory that shaped them.

WARNING: This weeks prompt has a couple trigger warnings, which will be listed above the edit, so keep this in mind and proceed with caution &lt;3

With this in mind, onto the results! This week I was looking for edits that embrace your models story again, but from an earlier time in their lives. The main focus was on storytelling this week, and the edits reflecting this story. Whether this be directly, or in an abstract manner.

Charline Morel by @cyazurai

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras…” Fifteen-year-old Charline could hear her own voice singing, and she knew she was, but there was no heart in it. She hated singing. Well, perhaps she didn’t hate it, but through the circumstances she had grown to despise it. “.. qu'il me parle tout bas…” A tear streaked down her left cheek and she avoided her mother’s disapproving gaze. Beside her, her little sister Delphine enthusiastically played her violin to accompany her as they entertained their parents’ guests. “... le vois la vie en rose.” Another tear, this time on the right. This was not a sad song. This was a happy, romantic song. She should be putting her all into it, but all she could feel was the walls closing in. She was surrounded by people she could no longer see - they were just becoming only silhouetted blurs, judging her and family. They must be perfect. This happens every year. It was her parents’ New Years Eve party, and every year it was her and her sister’s obligation to make sure not to disappoint the hundreds of prestigious guests their parents invited. They had to be perfect or else. She hated this. She hated it. She didn’t want to be forced to sing just for a little bit of positive attention. Why did she have to do this? Why did Delphine have to be perfect at the violin just so that their parents might agree to let them go out for ice cream (when it wasn’t even a guarantee)? It was unfair. It was at this moment that Charlie realized she didn’t want to do this anymore, and so as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she decided to pour her heart into it one last time - because next year, she was going to be her parents’ performing monkey over her dead body.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

Parker Winston by @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

TW!: Suicide, self harm, mental health

Hi! My name's Parker, and I've tried to commit suicide multiple times. I know you're thinking that's a morbid and socially awkward way to introduce myself, but hey, it's a big part of my story and who I am. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot more to a person than just their mental health, but a lot of the time, these things tend not to get discussed, period. Let alone when we are trying to get to know somebody, so for today, I hope we can put that stigma aside, and I can tell you a little about my journey.

I have ADHD, and depression is something I have lived with as far back as I can remember. By the time I was twenty, I had tried to kill myself three times, I had a family that didn't talk to me, I'd cut my arms up so much my forearms were more scar than skin, my heart was crushed by someone I thought was the love of my life, and I was hooked on anything I could get my grubby little hands on.

I think about that shit a lot, the things I did, and the decisions I made. I think about the person I was and the person I am today.

They're wildly different people, but now that I'm able to see it from another side, I realize one can't exist without the other. I would've never learned the things I did, and I couldn't have grown from it. It was hell, and I had to claw those life lessons from my struggle like a damn wolverine, but hey, I survived! Despite my best efforts... Yeah, I know that's not funny, but if you don't laugh sometimes, you'll cry, and I'm sick of crying about it.

I hated who I was, and I had a hard time coping with everything I did, not just the suicide attempts but everything. Though I finally realized I couldn't change the past, but I could change the future.

I could get help, and I could make sure none of that ever happened again. I can't change the past, and it aches to know that somewhere in space and time, that kid is still struggling, and I wish I could talk to him... I don't know what I'd say to him because I know he wouldn't listen and probably just lift my wallet. But I still want to hug him, tell him that really it's all going to be okay, that he needs to let go of a lot of shit and learn to love himself, then I'd tell him to get rid of that asshole's shitty T-shirt.

The pain you feel, it's not for nothing, but it's also not forever. You'll learn from this, and in a way you least expect it, it will come full circle. Ease up on the drugs, stop cutting, and get yourself some help. I know you don't think you deserve it, but you do! And believe it or not, one day you're going to have a lot of people that want and need you around. This shit doesn't get any easier, but it does get better. You just need to let it.

So tell that jackass his band ain't shit, tell your parents they're full of shit, and tell your siblings you love them even though they all suck, hang onto your friends, don't be so scared, let yourself feel, and listen to yourself once in a while! You know yourself better than you think, and you know what you need, and guess what! The answer isn't always coke! I can't help that kid anymore, but I can help the one's reading this, and if in this moment you feel hopeless, do me, a stranger on the internet, a favor. Take a deep breath, know that it gets better, and reach out to somebody! You deserve help, you deserve love, and you deserve to be alive! With love, - Parker W.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 9/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 7/10

STYLE: 7/10

Ember Arendse by @wolfrynn313

Ember: "When I saw this week's prompt,I knew that I had to recreate a childhood photo of me at the keyboard with my Mum/Mom. I've always been creatively inclined and so have both of my parents and brothers; I thought it important to focus on the crystallization of my musical inclination and creativity, hence the feature of ice freezing in place. I realized who I was pretty early on and remain to be proud of the person that I grew into."

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 8/10

STYLE: 8/10

Dillion Carter by @mewo-ita

Idea: Cherished memory of being with family at a rollerskating rink’s 80s night.

“Figured I should say something myself this time. My comfort place for the past decade whenever I feel overwhelmed to do anything has been this rink.

I discovered it the first three months after being adopted. I barely talked to anyone an’ just prepared to go back to the orphanage. That never stopped my new family tryin’ though and one day, we put on retro clothes and drove down to this place. It was 80s night, like it is now, and my sisters who I brought today helped me skate.

“Beat it” was playing in the background and I ‘member it being the first time I smiled in years. I was wearing a tomodachi my ma brought me and had no clue what soul or funk was, but I loved it. Did a lot for my confidence and ability to be around strangers— I don’t think I’d even consider being a model if not for that experience. I’d say it affected my fashion sense too, in a good way; makes me more open to change and bold colors.

Sure my folks will be able to find me here from now on; they didn’t know where I went off to before. S’not too bad.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 9/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

HOLY MOLY GOOD WORK GUYS!

I just want to say, thank you for all the effort you put into every weeks prompt. Your dedication is amazing x it makes hosting this so much fun

The next prompts will be released 8pm aest 25th of June.

Thanks guys x

- Buddy

Prompt Hint:

[holden-norgorov]

Buffy, Aslan and The Apocalypse - The Christian Undertones of Restless

Speaking as an atheist, I've always been fascinated by the Christian parallels which seem to permeate the entire work of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. But while I think such religious links are usually highlighted or explored whenever they come up in the text, I don't think I've ever read an analysis of Restless that even scratched the surface when it comes to its deep-seated interest in drawing comparisons between Buffy and The Christ. So, I decided to give it a try and attempt at verbalizing my thoughts on the episode regarding the specific religious thematic nucleus and imagery.

There have already been numerous instances, before Restless aired, wherein the show has deliberately drawn several parallels between Buffy (The Slayer) and Christ (The Savior). Buffy actively fights against the forces of Evil - vampires and demons which, under strict religious lens, could be interpreted as the embodiments of Sin, conceived as a kind of plague capable of multiplying and corrupting the Earth. She does that by wielding tools and objects whose conceptual implications frequently refer to Christian iconography or tradition (wooden or silver crosses, holy water, etc.). Under this framework of analysis, Buffy is exceptional as The Chosen One whose explicit role lies in eradicating Sin, or preventing it from spreading all over the world and conquering it. This state of affairs puts her above all the other human beings because of a string of specific characteristics which steam from that role (in her case, superpowers) in a not-so-different way than how all of this works for Christ Himself who, according to the Bible, descended on Earth with the specific intent to purify the planet and, as The Chosen One (The Son Of God), can likewise claim a wide range of characteristics other people don't possess - specifically, immunity from the Original Sin.

The religious allegory comes under intense narrative focus particularly during Prophecy Girl (S1E12). The Master, who is confined underground, symbolizes the Original Sin. The Anointed One, who is destined to lead the Slayer (Savior) towards the Original Sin, embodies the Serpent whose corruptive action condemns humanity as a whole to be excluded from Eden. In this circumstance, Buffy is wearing a white dress whose purpose is to suggest both her state of purity (defined as the absence of Sin) and her preparatory phase of pre-baptismal existence. White is also the color of God's Lamb, which is a direct reference to Christ. The moment when the Master bites Buffy and a solitary tear runs down her left cheek explicitly conjures the image of both the specific salvific action aimed at absorbing the Original Sin (the tear as the emblematic representation of the experience of the world's evils) and the potential consequence of Eden being corrupted through the alteration of a condition of untouched purity (picking the apple from the Forbidden Tree). The Master is therefore able to leave his underground prison and invade the outside world ("My world, my beautiful world!"), symbolizing the creation and spread of the Original Sin and the trasformation of Eden, which goes from being a terrestrial Paradise to a corrupted world where men and women are no longer "side by side with God", but have now to deal with Death and Sin.

What truly makes a difference, though, is that Buffy's decision to "pick the apple" doesn't originate from her insubordination against God's will (unlike that of Adam and Eve), but from her acceptance of God's own plan, once we take into account the Prophecy claiming that the Slayer will die while facing the Master as being metaphorically representative of God's Word. Buffy ultimately agrees on being guided to the Master's lair (and therefore, to the Original Sin) because that's what God intended for her, and it's precisely because of her acceptance of her own mortality and of the need to self-sacrifice that she's able to remain uncorrupted by Sin. Unlike Adam and Eve, she doesn't disobey God - she doesn't turn her back from her destiny, but she faces it head-on, knowing full well that her death, aimed at safeguarding the rest of humanity from Sin, is a salvific act on her part. Like Christ, she accepts to sacrifice herself for humanity as decreed by God's Word. She doesn't head towards the Original Sin because she's being seduced by her own curiosity, or because she possesses the kind of hubris or arrogance that can lead her to think that she might overpower the Master. She heads towards the Original Sin because of a deep-seated sense of duty, sacrifice and acceptance of what was prophesized about her. It's therefore not accidental that the Original Sin leads her to fall into a puddle of water. The idea of the puddle of water as a baptismal font is visually suggested by the scene, wherein a still pure and uncorrupted (white-dressed) Buffy undergoes a kind of baptism comparable to the one Christ received from John the Baptist.

While watching Restless we most definitely learn that Xander symbolically represents Buffy's Heart. This newly gained bit of knowledge allows us to retroactively interpret this scene as featuring a "resurrection" process that Buffy is able to go through specifically because of the purity of her Heart - which is not that different from what constitutes the reason behind Christ's own resurrection. At the same time, the scene also suggests the occurrence of a kind of Baptism: Buffy experiences a rebirth from the water and resurfaces stronger than before ("I feel strong. I feel different."). It's the purity of her Heart, which cannot be fazed or touched by the Original Sin, that allows her to re-emerge. The secondary presence of Angel in this scene (in its literal meaning of "angel" as in, God's emissary) implicitly recalls the fall of the Holy Spirit in front of The Christ right after his own baptism.

So, the show openly nurtures an allegorical interpretation that puts Buffy and Christ as comparable, parallel figures, and this same parallelism comes back in Restless, albeit in alternative ways.

In Willow's dream, wherein we definitely discover that she represents Buffy's Spirit (as in Pneuma, or the "vital breath" that animates the Body), this same parallelism is introduced once again by drawing an explicit link to S1. I know it's been talked at length about how Willow's role, specifically during S1, vastly lies in triggering Buffy's emotional catalysis. It's the circumstance of Willow suddenly finding herself in danger that ultimately leads Buffy to discard the idea of turning her back from her Call during Welcome To The Hellmouth (S1E1), and it's Willow's own trauma in Prophecy Girl (S1E12) that ultimately defines Buffy's choice to radically accept her destiny. Willow is the Spirit whose task is to vitalize Buffy-The-Entity and to set a specific course of action in motion for the Body to act and operate from. It's therefore not at all surprising that the first instance of comparison between Buffy and Christ steams from Willow herself in this episode. At first, we are led once again - following S3's footsteps - to view a feline (specifically, a cat) as a personification of The Slayer - Miss Kitty Fantastico, Willow and Tara's own pet, takes the symbolic role of The First Slayer in the first stage of the dream, stalking towards the camera with an explicit predatory vibe that makes the attitude of the cat look more like that of a panther, or a lion cub even. But it's only by the end of Willow's dream sequence that the religious allegory takes explicit form. Willow, wearing a carbon-copy of the dress we were introduced to her with during Welcome To The Hellmouth (S1E1), announces that she spent her summer reading C.S. Lewis's "The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe" (1950), and mentions that the novel deals with a lot of important themes. Of course, the most important theme lies in the Christian interpretation: Aslan - other than being a huge predatory feline (lion), also another representation of The Savior, tying the three characters (Buffy, Christ and Aslan) together in a thematically clear thread - sacrifices himself on a stone table in order to grant Edmund Pevensie atonement for his Sins, and comes back to life one day later, in a not-so-different dynamic than the one Buffy herself went through after confronting the Master. But the Willow we see now, coming right off the pilot of the show, is way too premature in presenting Buffy with this particular role: as proof of that, we see Xander (Buffy's Heart) channeling the same reticence and opposition that Buffy herself had towards her own Call during that same episode ("Who cares?!"), and Buffy herself is shown steadily holding a vacuous, detached expression while her own Spirit gets ferociously assaulted. Buffy is Aslan, but she's not ready to recognize it yet.

In Xander's dream - wherein, as I've already said, we learn that he represents Buffy's Heart - the parallelism between Buffy and Aslan is evoked once again during the scene when Principal Snyder appears. That scene is susceptible to different interpretations depending on how exactly we evaluate Xander in that moment - if we consider Xander as an independent character who's undergoing self-exploration in his own narrative, or if we take him as a symbolic embodiment of a specific role he plays in constituting Buffy-The-Entity. In the latter case, where Xander is the Heart, Principal Snyder represents the First Slayer. The parallelism becomes apparent as soon as Snyder refers to Xander as a "whipping boy, raised by mongrels and set on a sacrificial stone". Historically, a "whipping boy" is a (usually male) slave or individual without choice whose role involves undergoing corporal punishments on behalf of a prince or a nobleman he belongs to. Presently, the term is broadly used to refer to anyone who finds themselves having to pay or suffer consequences for the choices or actions of someone else, or anyone who is stuck in the position of having to sacrifice themselves on behalf of others. The explicit reference is to Buffy's own pre-acceptance phase, wherein her Heart has not yet come to terms with the fact that having to surrender her own life to save all humanity is the kind of sacrifice her role is bound to force on her (one that has already forced on her, and will force on her again). Her resentment at the injustice of her role filters through the use of the term "mongrels" to likely describe the Watchers (who raise the Slayers into accepting this role, in a way), while the explicit mention of the Sacrificial Stone recalls Aslan's own sacrifice in C.S. Lewis's aforementioned novel - which the Lion undergoes after being whipped, mocked and abused.

If in the first dream sequence we see that Buffy's Spirit (Willow) finds itself in complete disconnection with her Heart (Xander) and Body (Buffy), and in the second dream sequence we see that Buffy's Heart feels victimized ("whipping boy"), neglected ("raised by mongrels") and unfairly sacrificed ("set on a sacrificial stone"), then it's within the third dream sequence, Giles's (who represents Buffy's Mind), that we can successfully locate the ultimate acceptance of this self-sacrificial circumstance, and witness how that gets integrated into Buffy-The-Entity. If we go through Giles' entire dream under the presupposition that he's operating as Buffy's Mind, it follows, according to what we are precisely shown, that Buffy is still seeing herself as little more than a child who shouldn't be expected to undergo the same kind of sacrifice that Aslan (The Christ) faces, while simoultaneously being aware, on a purely rational standpoint, of it being a necessary component of the duty that it's her job to fulfill. The entire sequence is about the reconciliation, within Buffy's own Mind, of these two seemingly contradictory aspects. Almost absent-mindedly and with evident disregard, Giles recites the concept that Buffy needs to fully embrace ("The blood of the lamb and all that") suggesting reluctance at first, but he's put in front of the reality of things soon enough: after taking a final glance at a crying Olivia with a stroll turned upside down beside her (which substantially symbolizes Buffy's grief towards the loss of a condition of pre-acceptance and the loss of her own indulgence into the childish desire of having a normal life), Buffy's Mind ultimately focuses on Spike. The ultimate acceptance of the notion of sacrifice and of her role as Savior (Slayer) materializes in the exclamations of relief and bliss that the mass of photographers produce as soon as Spike, in a visibly liberating gesture, ends the shooting by posing in such a way as to recall the Biblical Crucifixion of Christ. This is, of course, all foreshadowing to The Gift (S5E22).

In Buffy's own dream, we witness a last initial attempt at resistance at this newly gained realization ("Buffy, you have to get up right away!" "I'm not really in charge of these things."), which quite rapidly turns into a spasmodic research of her friends. The Body alone isn't enough - it has to be reunited with the Spirit, Heart and Mind. Significant relevance, within this interpretation, lies in Buffy's dress during the dream - while still being fundamentally white (meaning absence of Sin, recalling her Prophecy Girl dress), this time it showcases a motif of cherries - fruit whose symbolic role is to represent the sacrifice of The Warrior, and which is also known as "The Fruit of Paradise". During the confrontation scene between the two Slayers, Sineya (The First) reminds Buffy that "The Slayer does not walk into this world" - what is being demanded of Buffy is that she recognizes her celestial (as in non-terrestrial, otherworldly) destiny and cuts herself off from the humanity she's expected to sacrifice for not only emotionally, but also physically. Buffy replies by underlining the importance of the Body ("I walk. I talk. I shop. I sneeze.") and thereby of the individual, while at the same time showcasing a definite acceptance at her own predestination provided by the cumulative integration of the previous dream sequences the other three elements constituting Buffy-The-Entity already experienced. The phrase "I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back" is an explicit reference to The Bible and to two different apocalyptic scenarios. According to the Scriptures, the first "end of the world" kind of situation manifests itself through Water - Genesis' Flood, which God arranges in order to clean the Earth from corruption. By mentioning a return of the cataclysm, Buffy implicitly identifies herself with Noah's figure and role in building the Ark which granted him the ability to perform the salvific act of safeguarding humanity from total destruction. At the same time, though, she explicitly calls herself a "fireman", thereby also mentioning the second big "purification" - that of The Last Judgment, manifesting itself through Fire.

2 Peter 3:10 But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the Earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up.​

With a single statement Buffy frames herself as The Savior of humanity in not one, but two apocalyptic circumstances. She is both the Ark that carries the remaining part of humanity to safety through the biblical floods, and the Fireman who is going to quench the fire during the final judgment.

The actual, definitive parallelism with Aslan's character (in itself an alternative, fictional personification of Christ), though, ultimately comes up when we take into consideration the events C.S. Lewis recounts in the final volume of The Chronicles Of Narnia, "The Last Battle" (1956). In that novel, Aslan himself brings about the Apocalypse. Dragons and giant lizards invade the Earth and destroy all vegetation with fire, the stars plummet down from the Sky and Aslan ultimately saves humanity allowing those "pure of heart" to enter the Real Narnia - which is an Eden-like Paradise whose appearance is indistinguishable from that of the Old Narnia (Earth), but that's also devoid of corruptibility and Original Sin. Those "impure of heart" perish in the imperfect copy of the actual world under the weight of the fire, leading Aslan to be accurately described through the very same expression Buffy uses here to identify herself: that of a Fireman - as in, someone who doesn't quench just the literal fire, thereby granting humanity safety and protection, but also the metaphorical representation of Sin itself.

Restless ends by letting us understand that within Buffy herself lies a dormant Aslan capable of doing that very same thing - of bringing forth a change so drastic and fundamental to not only save but also revolutionize humanity; of taking the entirety of Earth to a "higher level" wherein the Original Sin (that is, the very intrinstic nature of a broken, corruptible system) is finally eradicated; and of establishing a new kind of equilibrium in the co-existence of those pure and impure of heart. It's of particular importance, under this lens, to consider the fact that, as long as the Body (Buffy) is alone, she's vulnerable to the attack of that very system - the First Slayer has no problems striking effective blows against her in the middle of the desert, not so differently than how the Master was able to inflict an effective bite on her while she was alone in his lair. But as soon as the Body is reunited with the other parts and they get integrated within a singular, functional Entity, those same attacks cease to have any and all efficacy or effect - the Original Sin becomes insignificant, easily washed away by a baptism. In the desert, like in the sewers, Buffy is fragmented and exposed; within the walls of her home, or in the company of her friends, she's complete and invulnerable.

Because, as Aslan's character exists in this episode to precociously demonstrate, and as Buffy herself will come to finally understand and embrace in Chosen (S7E22), the key to truly save the world lies, ultimately, in changing it.

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day Four

Daddy-O

I'm taking a break from Frankie and Danse to write a little bit for Evelyn. This is her first time properly meeting Hancock and the two of them end up striking a deal that's of a rather bizarre nature. This deviates slightly from the way I portrayed their meeting in Eve's main fic, with a little added flirting because why not? Also, something about ripping the opening of Pride and Prejudice just felt right. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: smoking, chem use

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of good fortune must be in want of chems.

However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first entering Goodneighbor, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the residents, that she is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their dealers.

Hancock wasn't having it.

She'd visited three weeks prior, which was when he and a few others had taken bets on whether or not she'd make it in the Commonwealth. They'd all bet against her.

When Hancock had his fill of Jet, he liked to consider himself an optimist and, as such, he was the only one of the group to take a chance on her.

No matter his state, however, he wasn't above rigging the game. A little interference in such matters wouldn't hurt anyone. Besides, it was one of his mayoral duties to ensure the safety of both locals and travelers alike.

Hancock had spotted the glow of her Pip Boy from his balcony and took it upon himself to swoop in, plucking her off the streets before she had a chance to even consider opening her purse.

"They'll con you out of a few hundred caps faster than you can say 'Jack Robinson'."

She was wary of him, he could tell, as he ushered her into the State House and out of the crisp autumn air.

"You visited a few weeks back, right?" he asked, trying to make small talk as he guided her up the staircase.

She looked different than before when he'd spotted her only in passing. MacCready had been the only one to really interact with her during her first visit to the city. He'd described her as being 'weepy and under-prepared' and had been amongst those to bet against her.

Now, she had a neat little pistol on her hip and a rather large knife strapped to her thigh.

Oh, how Hancock longed to see the look on the merc's face as he handed over his caps.

"I don't recall."

"I do. I don't think I could ever forget a face as beautiful as yours," he said coyly, testing the waters just for the hell of it.

Bad move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, fingers twitching at her side as if she longed to grab her knife and skin his leathery hide.

Hancock put his hands up in defense. She relaxed a little.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, watching him closely for any signs of ill-intent.

"I know what you're here for. Like I said, you'll lose more than you gain on the streets."

"Yeah, conned 'faster than I can say Jackie Robinson'. I got that part."

"Jack Robinson," Hancock corrected casually. "Not familiar with a 'Jackie'."

"Oh. He was a baseball player," she explained. "The first-"

She stopped herself, her expression shuttering, as if she'd said too much. About what, he wasn't sure.

Hancock raised what would have been an eyebrow. She noticed the look and waved a hand.

She was odd, that was for sure. Then again, most people were at least a little odd these days.

"Anyway, I figured a gal like you might appreciate this, so I'll shoot straight… I have money on you. That is to say, I've done some betting and now have a vested interest in ensuring your safety."

"Betting? On… me?" she parroted.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Now in his office, Hancock gestured to one of the couches with a flourish.

"Have a seat and I'll explain everything."

He began fixing them each up with a drink, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared the alcohol.

"House special?"

"Sure," she said noncommittally.

He watched her for a moment longer as her gaze moved around the room, taking everything in. He turned back to the drinks and popped one of the drawers open, pulling out a syringe.

"Full disclosure, it's whiskey and a little bit of Daddy-O."

"You can drink that stuff?" she asked skeptically.

"You'd be surprised what you find out when you've got time to kill."

He added about a quarter of the syringe to her drink and the rest to his own. He stirred hers as he brought it over to her, handing it off and going back for his.

Hancock sat on the couch across from her and took a sip. She watched him swallow before taking a rather large swig of her own.

"So, this bet you have…"

"Right, like I was saying… Some of my guys noticed you and didn't think you had it in you to survive, started putting caps down on it."

She huffed and leaned back in her chair. He watched as she stretched out her legs, making herself comfortable.

"Did anyone else bet against the odds?"

"Not a damn one," he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head solemnly.

She hummed appreciatively and took a sip of her drink, slower this time, as she mulled over the information. Hancock didn't allow the silence to stand for long.

"I don't believe I caught your name."

"Evelyn. Friends call me Eve."

"Evelyn… I like that," he complimented, pausing to pull out his cigarettes.

He lit one and offered it to her. She didn't hesitate in taking it from him. Her warm fingers brushed his as she did so. She didn't recoil at the touch.

Hancock lit one up for himself. He took a long drag before speaking again.

"Back to business. Is there anything I can do to guarantee I win this thing?"

Something flashed in her eyes that sent a shiver down Hancock's spine. What it was, he wasn't sure until he saw it in the way the corners of her mouth turned to form the ghost of a smirk; she was a woman haunted by something he had yet to learn the nature of.

He'd met plenty of folks like her before, always running from something no one else could see. Hell, he'd been that person for a while.

Perhaps he still was, for what it was worth.

"Not unless you plan on splitting the profits with me."

She leveled him with the offer as if she was bartering at Bunker Hill, not suggesting she'd see to her own demise should he not agree to her terms.

The implication that she had that little to lose weighed heavy. Something told him that wasn't the case, but he called her bluff anyway.

"You're one crazy broad, aren't you?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"And if I wanted to?"

Her pupils were blown wide, the chems working their way through her system. She leaned forward and licked her lips. It wasn't seductive in any way, but instead spoke of a hunger that lingered just below the surface.

Hancock couldn't help mimicking the movement, leaning in toward the table that separated them.

She was calm and observant, with an edge of crazy that cut like a knife. There was a dangerous tension about her that was damn near palpable, as if she'd pounce at any moment. He wouldn't be surprised if she did. He wasn't sure he'd mind much, either.

"I guess you'll just have to come along for the ride," she purred, giving him a once-over as she did so.

Now, that was seductive.

It was also an invitation, one that would allow him into her world if he played his cards right.

He thought he'd had her, but he realized he had it backward when he found himself wanting her, wanting to know more.

"You aren't told 'no' often, are you?"

She grinned. Two identical rows of perfectly white teeth shone in the dim light.

"Not very."

Hancock considered her, leaning back and taking another sip of his drink.

"I'm not usually one to go with the crowd, but I think I can make an exception... I'm in."

She laughed at that and the sound rippled through him like the best chems money could buy, and just as addictive.

"I like the way you play, Mister Mayor."

"Call me Hancock," he crooned, tipping his hat.

She polished off her whiskey and made a sound of disappointment before placing the glass down on the table.

"Got any more of that 'house special', Hancock?"

"For you, Eve? Anything."