#i got my desk in and so i was setting it up and stuff and ended up bruising my arm from carying by myself

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 1.7k ⇢ genre: fluff, very suggestive (no smut but discussions about/implied sleeping together lol), strangers to one night stand to coworkers to lovers? lmao i think i got that progression right, holiday/christmas themed, sleeping with a hot stranger at the office holiday party when you’re tipsy and oops it turns out they’re your new coworker trope, part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon ⇢ warnings: cursing, just look at the tags and decide if u want to read on tbh. honestly this has probably more horny energy than is warranted for it having zero smut lol ⇢ extra info: this was originally going to continue on after this ending but i ended up feeling like i was losing the plot, so the other stuff i was writing is going to be a separate fic. they’re not a part 1/part 2 at all, but you can kinda see the vision if u read both i think this is part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, three short, unrelated fics starring jisung all with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises. there’s no continuing plotline between fics in this series, they’re all standalone fics ⇢ author’s note: uhm so surprise hallmark movie marathon for jisung this year i guess! i did this last year where i had a(n unplanned) series of short fics with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises all starring kun and i guess i’m in my jisung era rn! so enjoy and happy holidays! ⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

“I meant I usually wouldn’t have been looking to get laid at the office holiday party at all for this exact reason!” You whispered emphatically. “Except I already felt bad about myself because I got stood up, and I was tipsy, so I ended up throwing myself at the hottest stranger I could find. God, of course it bit me in the fucking ass.”

“Here. Fresh pot.” A cup of coffee was set on your desk in front of your face by Jaemin, as your other coworker Jeno helped himself to the bowl of peppermints perched on your desk.

“Are you seriously hungover?” Jeno snickered as you pulled your head out of your arms. “You left the holiday party like two hours early.”

You glared at him, taking a timid sip from the steaming cup.

“Smart choice, really, you got to miss Mr. Suh’s rendition of Santa Baby,” Jaemin informed you, hopping up on your desk and knocking your keyboard askew.

You rolled your eyes as you moved your things out of his way.

“Were we that boring? You didn’t even say bye or—”

Your gaze lazily drifted around the floor before you inhaled and immediately choked on the too-hot coffee, spitting it back out into the cup as it burned your tongue.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, his words garbled as he talked around the peppermint in his mouth.

“Ack—Fine,” you coughed, eyes still tracking the man who had stepped off the elevator with your boss. “Who’s that? With Mr. Suh?”

They both turned around to follow your line of sight curiously. Mr. Suh seemed to be giving him a tour, gesturing to various areas of the floor as he spoke.

Jaemin guessed, “Uh… transfer from the satellite office, maybe? I think I saw him at the party last night.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Suh mentioned we were getting a transfer a couple weeks ago,” Jeno nodded. “That must be him.”

You quickly diverted your gaze as they changed trajectory towards your desk.

“And over here, as you can see, people tend to congregate around Y/N’s area,” Mr. Suh explained to the man with him, his tone playful. He fetched a peppermint from the bowl. “It’s the candy.”

“Good morning, Mr. Suh,” you greeted him, sitting up straight.

“She’s also my best employee, so I excuse it,” he continued.

“Jeno and I are right here,” Jaemin pointed out indignantly.

“This is Park Jisung, he started at the satellite office a couple months ago and is transferring to our team now,” Mr. Suh made introductions, not addressing your coworker’s complaints. “Jisung, this is Lee Jeno, Y/L/N Y/N, and Na Jaemin. You’ll come to know the rest of the team as well, but Y/N will handle your initial training as you settle in.”

Your alarm must have been visible on your face, as your boss’ features turned concerned. “Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“W-Well,” you began panicking even more, looking around at the folders on your desk. “It’s just that you said that the Q4 reports were top priority, and I don’t believe that I’ll be able to complete those on time to standard and train somebody thoroughly at the same time. Sir.”

Mr. Suh nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. My apologies. Jaemin: I’ll leave Jisung to you then.”

“Second choice,” Jaemin tsked as you were using all your willpower not to audibly sigh in relief.

“How do you think I feel?” Jeno joked.

“Let me know if you have any questions, Jisung. We’re excited to have you on our team,” Mr. Suh smiled kindly.

Jisung finally spoke, his deep voice shooting up your spine. “Thank you, sir.”

As they all dispersed from your desk, you finally relaxed just a tiny bit. Until you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked up just in time to catch Jisung’s gaze as he glanced at you over his shoulder as he followed Jaemin to his desk. You froze, unable to look away from those same eyes that just last night had stared into yours while—

Your phone ringing made you jump out of your skin, and you swore under your breath as you looked at the name on the screen. Reception.

“This is Y/N,” you answered, trying to keep your voice level.

“Oh!” Your receptionist gasped. “Sorry, wrong extension!”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, hanging up.

Time to do a very careful review of the Q4 reports that you already had finished.

Midday, Jaemin and Jeno stopped by your desk again, Jisung in tow.

“We’re taking Jisung out to lunch. You coming?” Jaemin offered.

You didn’t even spare the new employee another glance, staring at your computer monitor. “Thanks, but uh, maybe another time, guys. Have fun.”

“Alright, see you later,” Jeno shrugged and stole another peppermint.

You didn’t breathe until the elevator doors closed behind them. Once they were gone, you grabbed your purse and headed for the stairs to take your own lunch break.

As soon as the clock struck 5:00, you were gone. Mr. Suh had already sent out an invite for a team dinner at the end of next week to welcome Jisung, but tonight, you could at least leave. Hurrying into the stairwell, you made a rather embarrassing sound when you were face-to-face with Jisung on the other side, leaning against the railing, hands tucked into his slacks.

The door had already closed behind you, and he spoke before you could back out.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said plainly.

You huffed, hurrying past him to descend the stairs. “Can you blame me?”

He kept pace with you easily thanks to his long legs. “I mean, obviously I didn’t expect you to bring it up in front of everybody, but a hello would’ve been nice.”

“How quaint after your tongue was down my throat last night.”

“Pretty sure my tongue was other places too—”

“Okay, okay!” You hissed, screeching to a halt on the landing between floors to slap a hand over his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at you over your hand as you continued ranting quietly. “Seriously, how was I supposed to react when you showed up today? And how are you so normal?”

Jisung slowly reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand off his mouth so he could talk. “I was surprised too, okay? But I was planning on at least being civil, except you never gave me the opportunity. I mean, it couldn’t have been that bad, right? You were awfully loud.”

“Pot, kettle,” you retorted. You yanked your arm from his grasp, suddenly aware of how close you were. “I was tipsy, got stood up by my date, and thought you were somebody’s plus-one. What’s your excuse?”

“Okay, ouch.” He put a hand over his chest. “I might’ve been a little less than sober and didn’t exactly consider the possibility that I would be transferring to your team of all people, but you weren’t a pity fuck, Y/N.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you groaned, your skin getting warm. You pivoted on your heel, rushing downstairs again.

Jisung just followed you, of course. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant I usually wouldn’t have been looking to get laid at the office holiday party at all for this exact reason!” You whispered emphatically. “Except I already felt bad about myself because I got stood up, and I was tipsy, so I ended up throwing myself at the hottest stranger I could find. God, of course it bit me in the fucking ass.”

“I thought you were really smart.” Jisung’s sincere words caught you off-guard. “I mean, I know neither of us were all there, but you seemed to really know a lot about your job. And you were funny. Obviously hot too, I mean, whoever stood you up was a fucking—”

You pushed him against the wall by his shoulders, not covering his mouth now, but just staring him in the eye. The exit door of the stairwell was right next to you, which would lead into the employee parking under the building. Most employees took the elevators, so it was only the two of you.

“What do you want from me?” You asked him, eyes narrowed.

“What do you want?” He challenged, eyes glinting as he looked down at you.

Memories of last night that you had been trying to push away all day flooded your mind now. Jisung’s lips on yours, on your neck, collarbones, his deft fingers unzipping your dress so his big hands could caress your bare skin. You had worn red lip gloss to the party, and it looked so pretty scattered across his chest and abdomen.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Jisung murmured, hands finding familiar holds on your hips, fingertips lining up to the bruises they’d left without even looking. “If it’ll be even better sober? Because I am…”

His pupils were blown, his breaths shallow and quick as his gaze flitted from your lips to eyes. Despite apparently being able to read your mind, he was still gauging your reaction, waiting to see if he’d crossed a line. Acknowledging what had already happened was one thing, suggesting a repeat was a whole other story.

Fuck it.

You nodded quickly, dropping your hands from his shoulders. “Is your car here?”

“I—Fuck, yeah.” He dug into his pants pocket for his keys as he grabbed the exit door with the other.

“Mm,” you sighed in content as Jisung pressed lazy kisses down your spine. “You were right.”

“Oh? About what?” He asked humorously, resting his cheek on your shoulder blade, mimicking your own position with your cheek squished against his pillow.

“It was even better sober.”

He laughed, running his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours. “I love when a hypothesis works out.”

You looked at where your linked hands rested on the mattress next to you, how natural it looked. It wasn’t the first time you held hands, tonight or last night. But it was the first time you’d done so when you weren’t in the act. Somehow, it felt even more intimate.

“What do you want from me?” You asked quietly, talking to your hands. That was easier than turning around.

“What do you want?” His voice was soft and gentle, patient yet at the same time, you could sense the underlying anxiety in the question.

You couldn’t take it, needing to see. Letting go of his hand, you turned over in his arms. When you met his eyes, you felt like you were looking at something you shouldn’t. Like he was letting you, hardly more than stranger, cradle his heart in your hands.

“I want more,” you confessed. “I-I don’t know if this is a good idea, it probably isn’t, but—”

“Okay.” He nodded quickly.

“Okay?”

“I can work with that,” he said, cupping the back of your head and kissing you again.

⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001

@giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69

@winkeuu

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 8 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii

part viii (gift-wrapping)

You don’t know what the last-minute staff meeting is for, but the email looked important, so you show up outside the building’s biggest conference room on the hour, as ordered. As soon as you set foot inside, though, you know this was one you could have skipped. There are piles of gift bags and rolls of wrapping paper on every table, as well as packets of tissue paper and spools of ribbon and actual jars of confetti with scoops in them. On the whiteboard at the front of the room, someone’s written REMEDIAL GIFT-WRAPPING.

You didn’t think your gifts were wrapped that badly. Tomura hasn’t complained. Then again, Tomura doesn’t know you’re the one leaving his gifts, so he wouldn’t know who to complain to if he had a problem. In spite of showing up on time, everybody else somehow got here before you, so you hesitate just inside the doorway, looking for an empty seat. Before you can find one, something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance over to find Twice beckoning to you. He’s sitting with Spinner, Dabi, and Tomura, and they’ve got an empty seat nearby.

A few weeks ago, you’d have found somewhere else, but you’re much more comfortable with Tomura and his friends than you were before. Seeing them outside of work at Toga’s party probably helped. Seeing them the next morning, waking up with bedhead and low-grade hangovers that could only be cured with diner food, moved them firmly from the category of scary coworkers to people you could call friends. And waking up at one end of Toga’s couch to realize that you’d spent the entire night sharing it and a blanket with Tomura moved him from Secret Santa recipient to something else.

You’re not sure what else, exactly. You’ve been keeping a close eye on him since the Secret Santa thing started, just so you could figure out good times to sneak down to the basement and leave things on his desk, but for the past few days you’ve felt different about seeing him out and about. Instead of being relieved, and using your next free second to race downstairs and plant a gift, you’ve gone to talk to him. Or you’ve stayed put wherever you were and hoped he’d come talk to you. He’s different at work than he is out of it, but now that you’ve seen him the other way, you can’t fail to see that the person who slept on the couch with you is there when he’s here, too.

Work doesn’t bring out the best in him, and work-related holiday festivities are even worse. You can hear him complaining as you make your way over. “I don’t need to learn gift-wrapping. The stuff I leave is fine.”

“No. Spinner’s gifts are fine. Yours look like you’re dropping off a sperm sample,” Dabi says. He’s organizing the pile of gift-wrapping supplies and ignoring the way Tomura swears at him. “It’s not going to kill you.”

“With everybody else here, Toga’s probably not just picking on us,” Spinner says. He spots you coming over and waves. “Hey. You got an invite, too?”

“My gift-wrapping must be worse than I thought,” you say. You drop down into the chair between Twice and Tomura. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Tomura glances quickly at you, then goes back to screwing around with a mostly-empty roll of ribbon. “You have a gift in your mailbox. I saw it when I checked mine.”

You didn’t put a gift in his mailbox today – it’s on his desk again, waiting for him whenever he gets back. You dropped it off after you saw him walk back on the way to the conference room. “I’ll look after we’re done with this. Does this happen every year?”

“No. It’s new.” Tomura scowls. “It sucks.”

“Hi everybody!” Toga’s standing on a chair at the front of the room, waving to catch the room’s attention. “Thanks for stopping by. It’s come to my attention that some of you guys don’t know how to wrap a gift to save your lives, and even though it’s the gift that counts, the way it’s presented matters, too! So for the sake of your Secret Santa recipients, we’re going to go over the basics of gift-wrapping –”

“And we’re going to practice on these,” Midoriya announces, holding up a clear plastic bin that’s full to the brim. “The gifts from the toy drive. Which we need to wrap anyway.”

“I told you we weren’t in trouble,” Spinner says to the group at large.

“No, we’re just free labor.” Tomura’s scowling worse than before. “I can’t wait to count my papercuts afterwards.”

“To help with this,” Toga continues loudly, “every table has at least one person who knows what they’re doing. Compress and Yaoyorozu will go over the basics, and then your group’s expert will help you get going.”

Where’s your table’s expert? You glance around, only to find everyone else looking at you. “We need to work quickly,” Iida announces, even louder than Toga. “It’s imperative that we get these gifts mailed this afternoon. If they’re delayed by the storm, they won’t reach their recipients in time. Do you want to be the reason why needy children go without presents this year?”

“Hey! Iida! That’s kind of harsh,” Midoriya says hastily. Dabi is snickering. “Just do your best, everybody!”

There’s a bin of toys under the table. Compress and Yaoyorozu order everybody to start with something in a box, since they’re easier to work with, but you have a bad feeling you’re the expert, and the things that are weirdly shaped are going to take longer. You take out a plastic dinosaur toy and get to work, listening with half an ear to the instructions. You don’t want to contradict anything they’re saying. It’ll slow things down, and based on the size of the toy bin, you can’t afford that.

You overhear the other supposed experts at the other table, and they seem pretty comfortable giving instructions, but you decide to keep quiet unless somebody asks you something. And somebody does. “Are girls born knowing how to gift-wrap or something?” Spinner asks, staring at the dinosaur toy you’ve successfully mummified in candy-cane wrapping paper. “How did you do that?”

“Practice, I guess?” You don’t really remember somebody teaching you. “It was probably just watching my mom.”

“Maybe you should handle all the weird-shaped shit,” Dabi says. He abandons the box he’s wrapping and starts sorting the toys in the bin. “I want to get out of here sometime this year and that’s not going to happen if you put me in charge of that.”

You nod and pick up the grotesque-looking nutcracker at the top of the pile. To your surprise, everybody else settles down to work quickly – even Tomura, who’s still scowling, and handling the wrapping paper like it might take a bite out of him. The other tables are chattering, but everybody at yours is quiet. Focused. When Midoriya swings by to pick up any wrapped gifts, he has to make two trips to collect all of them from you.

It’s not until you’re starting on the second round of presents that Tomura speaks up. “This isn’t so bad,” he says, and you almost amputate your finger in shock. “I thought it was going to be like that movie.”

“Which –” Dabi interrupts himself, then makes a weird noise. “The one where the guy’s cheating on his wife?”

“And he’s trying to get the clerk to gift-wrap that ugly necklace he bought for his mistress before his wife gets back?” That scene made you cringe. There are lots of scenes in Love Actually that make you cringe, but that one stands out. “Did he actually cheat on his wife or was he just trying to cheat?”

“He’s cheating.” Dabi measures out a huge scoop of glitter and drops it on top of the present he’s wrapping before he tapes the wrapping paper down. “My dad pulls shit exactly like that. Except he was fucking my boyfriend, not his secretary.”

You almost choke on thin air. “He – what?”

“That was ages ago,” Twice says. “They didn’t talk for like – five years. Then Dabi’s sister made them go to family therapy and now Enji makes up for it by giving Dabi money whenever he asks.”

“And when he doesn’t,” Spinner says. Dabi is making a face. “You’re better off, dude.”

“You know how Shigaraki hates Christmas? That’s how Dabi feels about Valentine’s Day,” Twice says. You probably would, too, if your dad had hooked up with your boyfriend. “If you’re still around by then, you can hang out with us. We always celebrate by maxing Enji’s credit card.”

If you’re still around by then. What does that mean? “Sounds fun,” you say, watching as Dabi adds two scoops of glitter to his next present. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“It’s there. We’re supposed to use it,” Dabi says. “The kids will get a kick out of this shit.”

“Yeah, but their parents will hate it.”

Tomura takes a scoop of glitter and pours it in the gift bag he’s been screwing around with. “It’s not about them.”

You remember who the gifts are for all at once. Kids in foster care, whose parents probably suck as a rule. They deserve to have some fun, and you’ve never met a kid who wouldn’t go crazy over a glitter bomb. When you start wrapping your next present, you add some glitter to it, too.

At some point the department heads come looking for all their employees, which is how you find out that Toga didn’t clear the meeting with anybody before she called it. Most of your table takes the opportunity to flee – Dabi first, then Twice, and Spinner after a second’s hesitation. Tomura stops halfway out of his chair when he realizes you’re not getting up. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“My supervisor hasn’t come looking for me yet,” you say. “And there’s still a lot to do.”

You know there’s work waiting for you back at your desk, but it shouldn’t take too long, and Iida’s guilt-trip about the presents definitely got to you. You empty the rest of the toy bin onto the table and grab a box with a model train printed on the front. A chair scrapes next to you as Tomura sits back down, and he lifts the train box out of your hands. “Give me that. I can’t wrap the weird ones.”

You stare at him. You can’t help it. “What are you doing?”

“My supervisor hasn’t come looking for me, either.” Tomura shrugs. “It’ll be faster if I help.”

“You hate this stuff,” you say.

“I’m not going to be the reason needy kids don’t get presents this year.” Tomura’s Iida impersonation is pretty on point, especially when he adds in Iida’s trademark hand gestures. You laugh. “And I haven’t gotten a paper cut yet. Nobody will put up with my bitching next year if I don’t get at least one.”

He says that, and it sounds like him – but somehow you don’t buy it. He’s not making eye contact, and his ears are turning sort of red, and your heart kicks up a weird, fluttery jolt. “If you want to hang out, you can just say that,” you say. “You don’t have to do – I know you hate doing this.”

“This is what you’re doing,” Tomura interrupts you. “That’s the important part.”

That one’s hard for you to parse, so hard that Tomura manages to wrap the train and start on the next gift before you can get even sort of a handle on it. And once you do, you’re not sure you want one. Tomura hates Christmas. Every Christmas thing you’ve seen him do has been done under pressure or threat, and he just got a golden opportunity to escape. Why would he give it up to hang out with you?

There’s one answer. An obvious answer. One you’d believe if it was coming from anybody but him. “I can use the help,” you admit. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Yeah.” Tomura reaches for the wrapping paper at the same time as you do, and your hands collide. You thought he’d flinch. You thought you’d flinch. But your hands stay still, poised against one another, for a long moment before Tomura draws away, his fingertips skimming the back of your hand as he goes. “Any time.”

<- part vii

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Tiktok Influencer!Gojo Satoru—“Bail Me Out” Prank [prev]

@ sexygojosatoru has made a new post:

“bail me out” prank (GONE WRONG :( ) #fyp

00:03 =⬤--------------------------- 03:38 

⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻ 

[The video opens with Gojo perched at his desk, his camera balanced on his laptop. He’s grinning maniacally, his tinted glasses catching the light as he adjusts his blue drop-shoulder shirt draped loosely over a crisp white tee. Flashing a quick peace sign, he leans closer to the camera, mischief practically radiating off him.]

Gojo: “What’s up, guys? It’s me, the one and only Gojo Satoru. Today, I’m pulling the bail me out prank to find out who’s really ride or die for me. Because, duh, I’m Gojo Satoru—obviously everyone should drop everything to save me. Right? Anyway, I’ve pre-recorded a fake jail call on my laptop, and I’m using my work phone to really sell it.”

[He waves a sleek black phone in front of the camera and then, with exaggerated stealth, presses #67 to block his caller ID.]

Gojo: (whispering) “Pro tip: hiding your number is key. I saw this online somewhere, so don’t @ me. Okay, shhh—first up: Nanamin.”

[Gojo smirks as he punches in the number. He hits play on his laptop, and a robotic voice fills the air.]

Laptop Audio: “This is a collect call from… Gojo Satoru, an inmate at… Tokyo Detention House. Press 1 to accept the call. Thank you. This call will be monitored and recorded for security purposes. Connecting you now…”

[Gojo claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Static crackles, followed by Nanami’s deep, steady voice.]

Nanami: “Gojo? Are you there?”

Gojo: (frantic) “Nanami! Thank god! I need your help. They arrested me for armed robbery—I didn’t do it! Bail is set at $10K. Please, I’m begging you!”

Nanami: (flatly)  “Gojo, no. If you’re really in jail, just Hollow Purple your way out. You don’t need my money. Goodbye.”

[The call ends with a sharp click. Gojo pouts at the camera, but the glint in his eyes says he’s far from done. He dials the next number, holding a finger to his lips for dramatic effect.]

Laptop Audio: “This is a collect call from… Gojo Satoru, an inmate at… Tokyo Detention House. Press 1 to accept the call. Thank you. This call will be monitored and recorded for security purposes. Connecting you now…”

Shoko: “Gojo? What the hell is this? Wait—are you serious right now?”

[Gojo clasps the phone to his chest, throwing his head back like a tragic hero.]

Gojo: (desperate) “Shoko, you won’t believe it! I forgot to put up a veil on my mission, and the cops saw Red. They cuffed me on the spot—no lawyer, no nothing! Please, I need $10K to make bail. Help me, Shoko!”

[A burst of laughter erupts on the other end.]

Utahime: (laughing) “BAHAHAHA! No way! Gojo got locked up? Throw away the key! Actually, leave him in there for a week—teach him some humility. Don’t drop the soap, Gojo!”

[The call ends with Utahime’s cackles echoing in the background. Gojo glares at the camera, muttering.]

Gojo: “Why does Shoko hang out with that asshole? Ugh, fine—let’s see if my sweet students care about me.”

[He dials again. The robotic voice returns, reciting its familiar lines. The call connects, and a quiet voice answers.]

Gojo: “Megumi! My precious student! I’m in a tight spot. The cops think I’m a murderer—I need $15K for bail. You have to help me. Pool your money, sell your stuff, whatever it takes!”

Megumi: (dryly) “This is actually hilarious. Good riddance.”

[There’s muffled shuffling before another, much louder voice cuts in.]

Yuji: (panicked) “Sensei?! Are you hurt? Are you okay? We don’t have that kind of money, but I’ll start a GoFundMe right now!”

Megumi: (groaning) “Yuji, stop. This is obviously one of Gojo’s dumb TikTok pranks.”

Yuji: (hesitant) “Wait… is that true? Sensei, tell me this is a joke!”

[Gojo drags a hand down his face, letting out a long, theatrical sigh.]

Gojo: “Fine. Yes. It’s a prank. Megumi, you’re such a killjoy. Say bye to TikTok.”

Yuji: (relieved) “Bye!!”

03:38 =================⬤ 03:38

⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[oddberryshortcake]

MY DEAR i apologize for the random drabble request pls don't feel pressured to do this if you do not wish🩵

but as u know, I love how you write the Dia gang🥺 and I crave crumbs of Lilia being put in a scenario where he actually needs to drop his 'ufufu' act and be protective over a one Silver Vanrouge

which is something I have not found yet in canon materials, very sadly, (but pls correctly me if i am wrong bc I am not in-the-know of all the vignettes and such)

There is one great moment in Book 7 where Lilia literally gets shot by a cannon while shielding Silver and he didn't even remember Silver was his son, his body just reacted on its own. Such good angst 😭 and then Jade's lab vignette has a pretty cute moment between the two with Lilia thinking Silver was getting poisoned.

But yes, I have written something for you (sorry it took so long lol) please enjoy and thank you for asking!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

‘Shouldn’t he be taking less naps by now?’ Lilia thought to himself. 

In all of the human parenting books he read, most of them said that young humans tend to stop napping regularly at around four years old. Unless Silver was in the 30% margin of human five-year-olds needing naps, Lilia couldn’t find rhyme or reason for Silver to be this tired so frequently. 

When Silver was a baby, Lilia often praised him for his ability to go to sleep easily. It was a far cry from Malleus, who hated naps even when he was a wee little dragon. For a while, the only problem Silver really had was something called ‘colic’ and that thankfully passed by the time he reached 6 months. 

He had his suspicions it could have something to do with the state Lilia found him in…Lost in the throes of a protective sleep spell for over 400 years. The spell should’ve broken by now, otherwise Silver wouldn’t be here with him at all, tottering about in their front yard. 

He felt in his gut that some of Silver’s quirks weren’t normal, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He never lived with a human before nor took care of one. He kept telling himself that maybe human children would fall asleep standing up. 

He was brushing up on his reading because of his anxious observations. It was his way of dissuading himself from worrying. That’s when he heard what sounded like a heavy object being dropped down the stairs…The stairs that led up to Silver’s bedroom. 

“Silver? Are you causing any mischief up there?” He asks playfully, but he got no response which was odd. 

He went to inspect the sound and found Silver collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, limbs contorted in ways he’d see the deceased on the battlefield lie, not befitting for a little five-year-old. 

After a moment of standing there, in shock at what he was seeing, his senses finally came back to him and he rushed over to investigate. There was a cut just above Silver’s delicate forehead, and blood was gushing out. 

“Silver! Please speak to me!” He attempted, but got nothing. Then panic set in, those colorful little bandaids he had on hand wouldn’t be enough to close up this wound, and he had no healing potion on hand.

The blood reached down to his white eyelashes and wasn’t stopping. Was he gravely injured? Was he dying?

He already knew humans were fragile, but could stairs really kill him?

All these unknowns swirled in his brain and he felt like he did when Silver first got ill as a baby. Completely blind, making stuff up on the spot, a novice in the ways of raising a human, guilty of not handing Silver over to willing humans who would’ve taken him in and raised him better. 

He took Silver into his arms, not caring that his blood stained his newly cleaned white shirt, and took to a broomstick to fly all the way to the nearest human clinic. 

When he arrived, there was someone new at the front desk, a human employee he had never seen before instead of someone familiar. 

“This child fell down my stairs. He’s bleeding and he isn’t responding, I need help.” Lilia told her with urgency. 

“Sir, where did you find this child?” She asked, not knowing. 

He had fallen into his usual habit of referring to Silver as ‘the kid he looked after’ like he would around Baur. This woman took one look at him and knew they didn’t match.

“He’s mine.” Lilia asserted.

“But you’re-“

“Yes, I know I’m a fae, but he’s my child and he needs help! Where’s the doctor?!” He quickly lost his patience with her. 

His heart was already pounding out of his chest, feeling unworthy of calling Silver his own. The judgmental reaction he was met with had validated his feelings of inadequacy. 

The usual doctor stepped out and recognized them, apologizing for his new employee’s reaction. He took one look at Silver in his arms and took him to the back where Silver would normally get his annual check-ups. 

The doctor wiped the blood away to reveal that the cut Silver got across his hairline was not as deep as it looked. 

“There are many tiny arteries around the head, that’s why the bleeding was so profuse at a small cut,” the doctor explained, “With some gauze, it should heal up like normal.”

“But he’s unconscious,” Lilia told him, “that’s dangerous for humans.”

“This wound isn’t deep enough for that. Children often get more hurt when they try bracing themselves for a fall, but I believe Silver went limp before he fell down the stairs as you described.” The doctor told him as he wrapped the bandage around his son’s head. 

Silver didn’t necessarily look in pain, just asleep as he normally was…Except that wasn’t normal, was it?

“What do you mean? Are you saying he wasn’t conscious when he fell?” Lilia asks. 

The doctor turns to him, a serious expression on his face. 

“I know you’re new to this and as you’ve told me before, you haven’t interacted with humans much before adopting him…But excessive sleepiness is not normal for a child his age.” The doctor said, and Lilia felt the pit in his stomach grow. 

“It’s not?” He repeats dumbly, of course, it’s not! Why did he allow so much room for doubt in his mind, pushing his concerns aside, believing that he was making up it being an issue. 

“No, and the fact that his injury hasn’t woken him up is concerning. I think you should look into consulting medical mages or human doctors closer in the city about this.” The doctor recommended, “It could be an underlying neurological disorder.”

‘Or a blessing turned curse,’ Lilia thinks in his head. He couldn’t tell the doctor that, though, he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Malleus, nor Silver even when he’s old enough to understand. This is his secret to keep close to his heart. 

“If you have any recommendations, please let me know.” Lilia requests, “I’ll take him to whatever doctor or mage he needs to go to solve this.” 

Would anyone be able to find out what’s wrong, though?

Ancient magic was seeped into his bones, there was no known cure for that. But if someone could find anything, then…

Silver stirred and was understandably disoriented from his change in surroundings. He started to tear up, which he hadn’t done in a long time, and Lilia pulled him into a hug where he could muffle his soft cries into his shoulder. 

“Thank you for always helping me.” He thanked the human doctor, who returned similar sentiments. 

“I was surprised when Dr. Zigvolt referred you to us,” he said, referring to Baur’s son-in-law, “A fae raising a human isn’t exactly common, but I can tell you both care for each other. You have a good kid, I’m sure you raised him to be that way.”

“So you’ve noticed,” Lilia replied light-heartedly. Silver turned his face to the familiar doctor, now ashamed by his tears, and wanted to thank him for patching him up. “What do we say, Silver?”

“Thank you sir,” Silver says in a small voice. 

“You two take care.” The doctor bids them farewell on the way out. 

As they left, Silver looked up at him with his side, auroral eyes, and tilted his bandaged head in curiosity. 

“Papa, you’re gripping my hand really tight. What’s wrong?” He asks, “Is it cause I hurt myself?”

Silver could be strangely perceptive, almost wise beyond his short years. Yes, Lilia had Silver in a tighter grip than usual, afraid a possible second slip up would send them right back to where they start. 

Lilia could never tell Silver about who his parents truly were or where he came from or even why he is the way he is. He would keep having to lie about that, and lying to that sweet little face was already so hard. 

Silver didn’t even know he was adopted yet, it’s like everything about their little life was one big secret. 

But he couldn’t lie about this. 

“I’m a little worried about you, that’s all. The nice doctor told me that your sleepiness isn’t normal.” He broke the news, to which Silver looked down at his tiny feet in shame, “But it’s alright because I’m going to take you to many doctors so we can find a cure.”

“That’s good!” Silver looked up with a smile, “Then I can still be a knight, right?”

“Yes, you can.” Lilia said, swinging both their arms back and forth, “And Silver?”

Silver looked back at him. 

“Please try not to scare your papa.”

[wolvietxt]

Congrats on 1000!!!!! 🥳

How about Daryl with this prompt? ❤️

secret talent: sunshine finds out grumpy has a hidden skill, like playing an instrument or drawing. sunshine keeps encouraging them to show it off, and grumpy tries to act like it’s no big deal but secretly enjoys the praise

THE CABIN smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine, cozy and warm as you settled into the couch with your cup of tea. daryl was at the far end of the room, tinkering with his crossbow, muttering something about the sights being off. it was a quiet evening, the kind you’d come to cherish out here in the middle of nowhere.  

that’s when you noticed it - a sketchbook poking out of the half-open drawer by the desk. it wasn’t like daryl to leave things out of place, and your curiosity got the better of you.  

“what’s this?” you asked, standing up and plucking the book from the drawer.  

his head snapped up immediately, eyes narrowing. “don’t go diggin’ through my stuff.”  

“it was already sticking out,” you said, flipping it open before he could stop you. your breath caught at the first page - a detailed drawing of a deer mid-leap, its muscles and fur rendered with startling precision.  

“daryl,” you breathed, glancing at him. “you drew this?”  

he grunted, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “ain’t nothin’ special.”  

“are you kidding me? this is amazing!” you walked over, flipping through more pages. there were sketches of birds, trees, even a portrait of carol that captured her sharp eyes and soft smile perfectly.  

“stop,” he muttered, reaching for the book, but you held it away, grinning.  

“why didn’t you tell me you could draw? you’re so talented!”  

his ears turned red, and he scowled. “it ain’t no big deal. just somethin’ i do sometimes.”  

“not a big deal? this is incredible.” you sat beside him, laying the sketchbook on your lap and pointing to a drawing of a bear. “look at this! the detail, the shading… you’re an artist, daryl.”  

“i ain’t no artist,” he grumbled, but there was a flicker of something in his expression - pride, maybe, or at least a hint of satisfaction.  

you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “you should show people these. they’d love them.”  

he stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “nah. ain’t for showin’ off. just for me.”  

“well, i love them,” you said, turning the page to a sketch of a rabbit. “and i love you.”  

his hand settled on your knee, rough and warm. “you’re just sayin’ that.”  

“no, i mean it. you’ve got a real gift, daryl.”  

he was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft huff. “well don’t you go makin’ a big deal outta it.”  

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “too late.”  

the evening went on, with you occasionally flipping through the sketchbook and gushing over his work while he tried to act annoyed. but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile.  

later, as you were cleaning up the mugs from your tea, you caught him at the desk, pencil in hand, sketching something new. you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his head.  

“what are you working on?”  

“nothin’.”  

you peeked over his shoulder, grinning when you saw the beginnings of a sketch - your face, soft lines shaping your features.  

“that’s me,” you said, your voice filled with wonder.  

“don’t get all mushy,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop drawing.  

“too late,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.  

he finally set the pencil down, turning to face you. his blue eyes were softer than usual, and his hands settled on your hips. “you really like ‘em?”  

“daryl,” you said, cupping his face. “i love them. and i love you.”  

his lips twitched again, and this time, he didn’t bother hiding the smile. “guess i don’t mind hearin’ that.”  

you leaned in, capturing his mouth in a kiss, slow and sweet. his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. when you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough.  

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”  

“so are you,” you whispered, your heart full as you kissed him again.  

[im-just-daria]

In The Dark Part 2

The Jackal x Reader

Fandom: The Day of The Jackal

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You finally make it to Munich.

Warnings: Mentions of murder and dead bodies, threats, stalking, just the usual assassin stuff.

A/N: I know it took me some time. Enjoy the second part :) Feedback is most appreciated, as well as any mistakes you see <3

Tag: @spiderstyles04 tagged as requested <3

Your eyes shot open as the alarm on your nightstand rang loudly. With a heavy sigh, you tapped your phone to stop the ringing and rubbed your eyes as you stretched under the covers of your warm bedsheets. It took you five seconds to remember why on earth you set that alarm in the first place. Today is the first day of juggling full-time pub work and helping a criminal impersonate some German janitor to do whatever he needed. You certainly didn't want to know more than is necessary for two simple reasons- in case you ever get taken by police, the less you know, the better, and because you weren't sure how well you would cope with the fact that you possibly helped someone in murder.

Your feet touched the cold floor, and you walked to a chair by your desk with more clothes on it than in your wardrobe. You put on a sweater from the pile of clothes and walked to the bathroom. As you were sitting on the toilet, your mind started to replay last night's events. You were surprised at how calm you were; it was actually concerning. 'Wow, my moral compass is so off', you thought as you wiped yourself and stood up. While washing your hands, you suddenly remembered something from yesterday that had escaped your memory. You opened the drawer under the sink and saw the nail scissors still missing; the corners of your mouth moved slightly upwards. You made your way to the kitchen and found the piece of paper with the phone number the man gave you yesterday. You debated whether to text him or not ' I mean, the guy has a gun and knows all your personal details, but at the same time, I do have some questions.'

You bit your bottom lid as you finally decided to pick up your phone. You typed in the number and texted;

"Do I keep the receipts?" you asked, putting down your phone as you wanted to start your breakfast. You hadn't expected him to reply within five seconds. 'Does he not have a life?' you thought with a frown.

''Yes''

''Do I use only cash, or can I use my card?''

''Cash''

''Do you have any allergies? The prosthetic glue sometimes causes a rash:/''

'Fuck', You scolded yourself. You were one of these people who use emojis religiously, so your muscle memory just put it in the message. 'Fucking hell (Y/N), it is a random man who hired you to help him commit international crimes, and you threw in a frowning emoji'.

''No allergies, cash only, go to only bigger stores where it's relatively anonymous, try to blend in, lie if someone asks what it's for. Anything else?'

You felt the passive aggressiveness radiating from the message, but you just couldn't help yourself. There was something so satisfying about annoying this man.

''You didn't give me back my nail scissors.''

He didn't reply immediately, like with the rest of the messages, and honestly, you thought he would just ignore you. You put down your phone and turned on the kettle on your kitchen counter. You heard the notification sound of your phone. You almost sprinted to the phone.

''I will add 5 £ to the overall payment'' You smiled. 'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it' You lost the battle with your self-restraint.

''But the good ones cost 10 £.''

''You remember I have a gun, right? Do not text or call this number unless it is important, or you will make it from Germany in a body bag. Now delete all the texts.''

'Fine', you thought to yourself as you put down your phone and got ready for your day.

Your shoulder started to hurt from all the supplies in your bag. 'Now I understand the need for backpacks'. Since you haven't seen his face, you weren't really sure what colours of foundations and powders to buy, so you got a few just in case. After all, your life pretty much depends on how well you execute this. As you passed through Vauxhall to get to Waterloo, you glanced at MI6 headquarters and wondered how much they didn't know. I mean, here you are on the pavement across the river carrying supplies necessary for international crime. 'Is it really that easy?' you thought to yourself.

The rest of the week passed by really quickly. If you weren't working, you were working on the prosthetic; if you weren't working on the prosthetic, you were trying to sleep, eat, get groceries or clean the house. Your back was killing you from being constantly hunched over your desk. 'I have absolutely no idea how single mothers exist.' you thought as you tried to stretch in your chair. The whole face prosthetic was done, as well as the wig; you were just finishing up the facial hair when you heard the knock on the door. You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't order anything. A wave of uneasiness washed over you. You grabbed a scalpel from the desk you used to cut through fake skin and hid it behind your back. You approached the door and looked through the peephole. A delivery man was standing on the other side holding a bouquet of flowers. Now you were nervous; your love life was non-existent, so there wasn't a single person who could send you those. You opened a door hesitantly; you half expected the man to pull out a knife or barge in through the apartment. Instead, he just smiled and asked,'' Miss (Y/L/N)?''

You stuttered ''Y-yes''.

"These are for you." He handed you a bouquet of flowers and an envelope. At first, you simply stared at him, still expecting him to pull out a weapon, but he didn't. You extended your arm and slowly grabbed the flowers and the envelope. You felt sorry for the delivery man. He looked so confused. You looked like grabbing those flowers was a life sentence, and your heavy breathing certainly didn't help.

''Um, have a nice day,'' he said hesitantly and left.

''You too!'' You said a bit too loudly as he was almost out of your sight.

You closed the door and locked it. Making your way to the kitchen, you set the flowers on the counter and opened the envelope.

IN Saturday 19th of April 19.25 RyanAir Stansted-Munich.

OUT Sunday 20th of April 22.45 RyanAir Munich-Stansted.

Premier Inn Munchen Messe Hotel Munchener Str.

Use your card; put everything necessary in the check-in bag. When you get to the hotel, send a text message. You will receive further instructions once you arrive. Don't do anything stupid, or these will be your funeral flowers.

You pulled out your phone and booked all flights and the hotel as the note instructed. The hotel itself was on the outskirts of Munich. You knew you would have to call in sick tomorrow to make this flight. Once all the bookings were confirmed, you ripped the note and flushed it down the toilet. While making your way to the desk, your eyes fell on the flowers you left on the counter. Your lips twitched upwards as you approached them. They were really beautiful. You filled a vase with water and smelled the bouquet before putting it in the glass. You moved them to the living room so they could get some sunlight. You were determined to keep them alive as long as possible. You let out a laugh as you realised that the first flowers you have ever received from a man were from a criminal who attached a note with a death threat. You made your way to the bedroom and finished the prosthetic for tomorrow. As you were packing and preparing, a shadow of a smile still danced on your lips.

The flight was as stressful as you thought it would be. You were sure you looked suspicious because every few seconds, you looked around, scouting the airport for security and police. You tried telling yourself that you had absolutely nothing illegal in the suitcase, which was true after all. Make-up artists travel daily with tons of stuff like yours and don't get stopped by border control. You finally reached the hotel, paid the taxi driver, and entered the Premier Inn. You approached the lady at reception, who smiled at you.

''Hi, I have a booking for (Y/N) (Y/L/N), 1 night'' You tried to calm your nerves and keep a relatively neutral face as you handed her your passport.

"Of course," she replied and started clicking on her computer. "Right, here is your key and a letter from your fiance."

You grabbed both items as well as your passport, to be honest; after the flowers, you expected him to pull some shit like this. 'What a psychopath, he really is enjoying this, isn't he? At least now I know he won't break into my room at night.'

''Thank you,'' you replied to the receptionist and made your way to the room. You only wanted to shower and eat, but you knew the envelope was a priority.

You left your bag on the floor, took off your jacket and left it on a chair. Leaning against the desk, you opened the letter.

16.00 Ludwig-Thomas-StraSe 27: The doors downstairs and upstairs will be open. Do not knock; just come in. Wear something with a hood, and make sure your hair isn't visible. Take everything with you; you will go straight to the airport.

Walk, do not use public transport. And try not to look suspicious; you already did a shit job at that at the airport.

''What the actual fuck?'' you actually said it out loud. Was he actually following you at the airport? You shook your head and exhaled deeply. ''This is a fucking joke''. You let out a dry laugh and decided to have a shower and sleep. A realisation hit you as you stood in a bathroom, about to undress. What if he had cameras in your room? A part of you- the logical part- wouldn't be surprised if he had cameras here and in your apartment. But the other part -the weird, unhinged, delusional part- tells you he isn't that type of guy. ''Jesus Christ (Y/N), you don't know that man,'' you scolded yourself and got undressed. It was a very brief and quick shower. Once you got into bed, you closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep. Fifteen minutes into your failed attempts at falling asleep, a phone rang; you immediately recognised the number, and your heart stopped. You accepted the call and said shakingly. ''Y-Yes?''

"Didn't you forget something?" You almost forgot how he sounded. It's been over a week, after all. His voice was calm and smooth, with a British accent dominating his pronunciation. You mentally checked everything you brought with you, nothing coming to your mi- ''Fuck I am so sorry, I forgot to text you when I got here,'' You said quickly.

''I need to know you are making your locations on time; I won't always have a way to track your phone.''

'Oh my God, ' you thought. So, this isn't a one-time thing.

"Um, yeah, that's fair. I have a question, though, and it is rather important," you said, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

''Make it quick; I don't have time.''

''That's what she said,'' you whispered timidly, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth. 'That's it. He is gonna hang up now; great fucking job (Y/N).'

Instead, you heard a chuckle on the other end of the phone. You suddenly felt proud of yourself, and involuntarily, your mouth formed into a smile.

''What's the question (Y/N)'' He said in much lighter tone. You felt a bit more confident now, knowing that he actually found you funny.

''Do you have any cameras in my apartment or the hotel room?''

You could almost hear the confusion in his voice ''No.''

''Okay, that's good, yeah, okay,'' you exhaled, and a silence followed.

''Anything else?''

Once again, you lost the inner battle with your self-restraint and grinned as you tried to put in your most seductive voice.

"So," you said, taking a pause. "What are you wearing?" You honestly thought he had just hung up. After about ten seconds, as you were about to check the phone screen, he simply replied, "Good night (Y/N)."

Little did you know, a smile adorned his face as he hung up the phone. A smile that hasn't visited his face in years.

The next day, you checked out of the hotel at 11 in the morning and made your way to a cafe. You had 5 hours before you had to be at the location given to you. You tried to focus on a book you took with you, but after rereading the same page four times, you gave up. You ate your food and drank your coffee before going for a little walk. You really needed to calm down. Munich was much warmer than you thought, you decided to see the city centre rather than sit in one cafe for 5 hours. As it was getting closer to 4 pm, you started to make your way to the address. You followed Google Maps as you saw the right flat complex. The man didn't lie; the doors were open downstairs. You made your way up the stairs, looking for number 27. Your heart started racing as you stood in front of it. 'Just go in. You are wasting time.' You stood outside for the next two minutes before reaching the door handle. You opened the door and stepped into the hallway; you were immediately met with a familiar face you saw 10 days ago; however, this time... it wasn't in the dark.

You knew already he was tall; his face perfectly reflected his usual voice, emotionless, graceful, calculated and confident. Freckles were scattered across his clear skin, and his ginger hair was messy, but somehow, it fit him perfectly. His green eyes were focused on yours. He was leaning against a wall with his arms folded. You closed the door behind me, not sure what to say. He beat you to the greetings.

''Lingering outside someone's door for 3 minutes is rather suspicious, don't you think?'' His eyebrows raised as the sentence left his mouth.

You just stared at him, ''Yeah, um, yeah, it is, and you told me not to be suspicious.''

'Yes, I did'' He said seriously.

You tried your best to lighten the mood ''Soooo, do I get the house tour?''

''No, the bathroom is on the left. Go there and don't leave; set up everything you need.''

''What, is there like a body in here?'' You said jokingly and chuckled. You looked up at him to see his reaction. He just looked at you with a specific look that answered your question.

''Ohhh, okay''. You swallowed and made your way to the bathroom.

'Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic'.

The bathroom was small and didn't have much counter space. There was a chair and a stool. You opened your bag and set all prosthetics and the wig onto the sink counter; all make-up brushes, palettes, foundations, and powders were left on the chair. You turned around to grab a towel behind you when you were met with a familiar build. You gasped loudly, startled. How could he move so quietly?

"You can sit down if you want." He didn't reply; he simply took his place in a chair and looked at you expectingly.

It felt weird. Being cramped with a killer in a tiny bathroom, you wondered if the body lying somewhere in the house belonged to the man you would help him look like.

You began examining his face, your eyes tracing every curve of his face. His eyes never left yours; you guess he still doesn't trust you enough to be this close to you with his eyes closed.

"Your face has a rather unusual structure," your voice hitched as you realised how it sounded. "It's not an insult, just," you exhaled. ''Your eyes, sockets, and cheekbones are very hollow, but your lips are full. I will need to add some extra padding to make it look believable."Your hands were slightly shaking as you waited for his answer.

''Just do what you must. Be done by 8.30.''

You nodded.

His skin was unbelievably smooth, and his eyes still hadn't left yours, examining your every move. As you were working, you tried to explain everything you were doing. However, with the lack of his replies, you felt like you were just conversing with yourself instead.

After two hours of silence from his side, you opened your mouth but hesitated to say the sentence you wanted.

''Did you know that red hair and green eyes occur in only 0.14% of people on the planet?'' Once again, you expected silence, but he replied simply ''Yes''. Well, it's better than silence.

''How did you know?'' You asked, trying to hold the conversation.

''How did you?'' You sighed.

''I asked first.'' It was a childish answer, but a small smile played on your lips.

''My friend told me years ago,'' He said hesitantly.

''That's nice; I learned that in school during make-up classes in my first year,'' you replied calmly, suddenly feeling at ease.

''Did you like them?''

You were taken aback by his question. ''The classes?'' Still in disbelief, he showed interest.

He simply nodded.

''I did; I always found it relaxing; it's like painting or drawing for other people.''

You decided to take advantage of his sudden talkativeness.

''I probably need a name for you, a fake one. I really don't mind; I just can't refer to you in my mind as 'him'.

His lips twitched, and he said, '' And just how often do you refer to me in your mind?'' You stopped all your movement and averted your eyes from his wig hairline you were just fixing to look at into eyes.

You opened your mouth in shock and said lightly, chuckling, ''Did you just make a flirtatious joke?''

''Don't get used to it,'' He said as you added finishing touches to his appearance. His whole demeanour is changed. He seems more relaxed, and his eyes don't seem so controlling. He also didn't flinch every time you touched his face without warning.

''Let's go with Charles.''

You hummed ''Fine by me,''

''Right, all done.'' You said proudly as you stepped back, allowing him to stand up and examine your work in the mirror. You personally thought you had outdone yourself. Maybe the overhanging thought of death if you fuck up had something to do with it, or perhaps you are just that good.

''This is incredible,'' he said, not taking his eyes off his reflection.

Somehow, his praise meant more to you than any compliment you've ever heard from your teachers. 'Yeah, because whether you live or die depends on this,' you explained to yourself, not even allowing yourself to think of any other reason.

''You have a plane to catch; you should go,'' He said, finally averting his eyes from the mirror towards you.

''Yeah, you are right, I'm just gonna pack up. Um, here is a glue dissolver and a brush. Don't rip it, or your face will flare up; ginger people have a lower impact tolerance, so um yeah,'' You said, trying to hold eye contact, but halfway through the sentence, you lost confidence. You simply handed him the bottle and started packing your things. As you were about to grab the door handle, you turned towards him. He was leaning on the same spot on the wall as when you walked in, and you stood in the same place as before. Except this time, the man looked nothing like himself.

''I will transfer the money tomorrow,'' he said once again emotionless.

''Okay'' As you grabbed the handle, you smiled and turned back to him. ''I just want to let you know that I had so many urges to say ginger jokes today, but I didn't, and I think you should know that and appreciate it.''

He stood there like a statue, motionless. After a few seconds, he smiled and walked away.

''Just go home (Y/N).''

You high-fived yourself mentally. Annoying this man was fun, but seeing him smile is even better.

You left the apartment smiling, not worrying about looking suspicious.

[acekindaneat]

sketch dump!

got a new tablet so these are all just me testing brushes and settings 👍

[tin-can-iron-man]

I just. I love my dad so much guys

[blujayonthewing]

so grateful to be alive in the era of RGB LEDs on things

[bardengarde]

Nooooo Bard, don't develop an attachment to Mike Farrells one-off Bonanza character and try to go on a deep dive into his military service to figure out what the hell happened to him to try that caused him to be the way he was in the one (1) episode he was in, ur so sexy aha

[queenerdloser]

my mom: wow i thought you'd be fully unpacked already!

me, an adhd: well. i have a very narrow window of time every day where i have the motivation to do anything. and every time i go to do something somehow i end up with eight more things to do.

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[kuromi-hoemie]

I've been hanging out with my manager so much lately !! i usually only talk to her virtually once a week, i am so energized.. i love her 😩

[transvisions]

I need to stop beeing impulsive goddamn

[manicdragondreamgirl]

Work is destroying my sanity and I’ve barely been here 30 minutes