#i just made up something random for him to be working on. it will not appear again

[moonlightrafe]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ 18+ MDNI

The sun had began to set and the temperature had finally dropped below the 70’s on Kildare Island. The weather change had everyone feeling festive— kooks and pogues alike. Enjoying the slight change of weather, you had your window open as you were getting ready for the evening.

Your boyfriend, being the wonderful decision maker he was, decided the best time for you to meet his family would be at their annual Christmas party.

You were dreading it, of course. You hadn’t heard anything particularly good about The Cameron’s, especially Ward.

Desperate for their approval, you spent all afternoon trying to figure out an appropriate outfit. Red felt too predictable, anything with fur felt like you were trying too hard, sequins were too much.

You ended up choosing a black mini dress with a white trim on top, paired with black stockings and matching pumps. The dress accentuated your curves wonderfully, but was still modest.

If the Cameron’s had any doubt that you had class before meeting you, you hoped that at least your choice in outfit would help to change their minds.

Once you heard the engine of Rafe’s truck in your driveway, you gave yourself one final look in the mirror before heading out to him. This was it, no turning back now.

The strong scent of cigarette smoke and Rafe’s Dior cologne hit your senses as you opened up the door. He looked and smelled delicious.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, offering a shy smile.

“Hi, you look great.”

“You too, babe. Wow.”

You found yourself unable to stop your nerves, anxiously bouncing your leg until Rafe suddenly slammed his palm down on it, gripping at the flesh of your thigh.

“Baby, you gotta chill, aight? It will be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” You snapped at him, your nerves getting the best of you.

Without another word, he just pulled off the main road into a random lot, quickly putting his truck in park.

“What are you doing? We’ll be late to the party.”

“Relax, can I not admire how gorgeous my girl looks? Fuckin’ stunning,” he all but snarled at you before running his palm along the upper part of your thigh— his touch more gentle than the minutes before. You let out a sigh at his words, your cheeks flushed at his compliments.

His large hand made it’s way up, skimming your ribcage over your right breast. You let out a small moan as he squeezed it harshly, kneading at the sensitive flesh. Anticipation pooled in your belly.

You let out a gasp as he forced your thighs apart.

After he hitched your dress over your waist and pulled your stockings and panties down in one swoop, he left you no time to protest; Rafe worked not one, but two fingers inside of you. Quickly finding your most sensitive spots. Your body trembled as familiar heat started to bloom within you. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. The thrill of possibly getting caught added an exciting edge to it all, heightening your senses and making every touch more intense.

With each thrust of his fingers, fire burned within you. As his slender fingers worked their magic, pleasure radiated through your body, causing your breath to hitch and your toes to curl. Your mind went blank as you surrendered to the intense sensation, reveling in the pleasure.

You moaned loudly as your orgasm ripped through you. Rafe watched intently, his own jaw slack as your cunt clamped down around his fingers, soaking them in your release as you did so.

“Feeling better?” he asked, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Yes,” you giggled shyly as he pulled his fingers from your core, “thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied, as he brought his digits to his lips, sucking your release off of them.

“Now, would you relax? I promise they’re going to love you,” he said before pausing for a moment, “not as much as I do, of course.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He had never told you he loved you before.

“Rafe Cameron, did you just say you love me?”

“Something like that.”

You playfully hit his arm before leaning in to kiss him.

“Well… I love you, too,” you mumbled between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Something like that.”

[marsdql]

no thoughts, head empty, just enha members find out reader y/n who they assume is constantly reading like nonfiction smart shit, (which they occasionally do) is just reading straight smut. luv your writing btw 💕

﹙ 📩 ﹚ ──── HYUNG LINE WHEN THEY CATCH YOU READING SMUT

I’m so sorry I responded to this late but here u go! And Tysm anon, I’m glad you enjoy my work! .. genre — teasing, fluff, tiny suggestiveness?, teasing again..! || wc: 0.6k || still only used Hyung line for this since it has to do with smut books but yh — I made this quick since I’m working, but I can make a part2 if anyone suggests it

Lee Heeseung

Heeseung stumbles into your room while you’re tucked away in a cozy reading nook, glasses perched on your nose, flipping through a book with intense focus. At first, he doesn’t pay much attention—until he notices the sly smile on your lips.

“What’s got you so distracted, hmm?” he asks, leaning over your shoulder. He peers at a few lines and raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Wait… is this—oh, I didn’t know my smart little girlfriend had such… interesting taste.”

When you try to protest, he chuckles and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t be shy, babe. I get it. But if you need inspiration for your imagination… you know where to find me.” His teasing lingers, but the way he looks at you says he’s half-serious. Rest of the members under cut!

Park Jongseong

Jay walks into the library where you’ve been studying all day. He’s impressed by how focused you always seem, but today, something feels… different. He notices how you’re practically hiding the book you’re reading and immediately gets curious.

“What are you reading, brainiac?” he asks, sliding into the chair next to you. Before you can stop him, he snatches the book and flips to a random page. His eyes widen, and a mischievous grin takes over.

“Wow, I didn’t think this was your kind of material. All this time I thought you were just a sweet, innocent nerd.” He leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But maybe there’s a side of you I haven’t seen yet. Should I be taking notes, babe?” His teasing lingers as he watches your reaction with clear amusement.

Sim Jaeyun

Jake barges into your room, excited to tell you about something, but stops short when he sees you on your bed, completely engrossed in your book. He’s always admired how you’re so smart and dedicated to your studies, but today, he catches a glimpse of the title and furrows his brows.

“Wait a second… what’s that?” he says, snatching the book before you can hide it. As he scans the pages, his cheeks turn pink, but his grin grows wider.

“So, Miss Straight-A’s has a wild side, huh?” he teases, holding the book just out of your reach. “I had no idea you were into… this kind of stuff. Is this why you wear those cute glasses? To hide your secret fantasies?” He hands it back eventually but not without one last smirk. “If you ever need a study partner for… other things, let me know.”

Park Sunghoon

Sunghoon finds you curled up in a café, surrounded by your usual study materials. But instead of reviewing notes, he notices you’re completely absorbed in a book. Intrigued, he sits across from you and casually plucks it out of your hands.

“Let me guess, some academic paper or philosophical novel, right?” he says, flipping it open. When he realizes what it is, his jaw drops for a second before his signature smirk appears.

“Wow, and here I thought my girlfriend was all books and brains. Turns out, you’ve got a wild imagination too.” He leans forward, voice dropping to a low murmur. “You know, you could’ve just asked me for help if you wanted ideas for… research.” He slides the book back to you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But don’t let me stop you, babe. I’m kind of curious to see how far this goes.”

[bandsofmarv]

Cutting Ties (Ghostface Bucky)

Bucky becomes dangerously obsessed with you even going as far as eliminating those around you.

warnings - murder, obsession.

The first time you noticed him, you thought it was just a coincidence. A dark figure at the edge of your vision as you walked home from the coffee shop. A fleeting shadow that seemed to disappear the moment you turned around.

Brooklyn was always alive with people, even at night, so you chalked it up to paranoia. But it wasn’t long before the coincidences became harder to ignore.

A knock at your apartment door late at night. No one there when you checked.

Your name written in the condensation on your bathroom mirror.

The faint feeling of being watched, even in your own home.

And then the killings started.

The first victim was your coworker, a sweet woman named Rachel who’d always made an effort to check in on you. You found out through the news the next morning. Stabbed in her apartment. No sign of forced entry.

The police called it random, but you knew better. Rachel had just been at your apartment two nights before, sharing wine and gossip. She’d been your only real friend in the city.

Her death left you shaken. But the city didn’t stop, and neither could you.

A week later, it was your neighbor, Marcus. He’d offered to help fix your leaky faucet the night before he was found in the stairwell, his throat slit.

The pattern was impossible to ignore now. Everyone who got close to you seemed to end up dead.

That’s when you saw him.

It was late, and you were walking home from work. The streets were unusually quiet, a thin fog rolling in from the river. The air felt heavy, suffocating.

And then you saw the figure at the end of the street.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black cloak, the Ghostface mask gleaming white under the streetlights. He didn’t move, just stood there, watching you.

Your heart pounded as you froze, clutching your bag like it could protect you.

“Who are you?” you called, your voice shaking.

He tilted his head, the mask turning slightly as if amused by your fear.

When he finally took a step forward, you bolted.

————————————————————————

You spent the next week barricading yourself inside your apartment, refusing to answer the door or your phone. Sleep was impossible. Every creak, every shadow set your nerves on edge.

But no matter how hard you tried to shut the world out, you couldn’t escape him.

A package arrived at your door one morning. No return address. Inside was a single black glove and a note scrawled in messy handwriting:

“You don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat. This wasn’t random. He was obsessed with you.

The next time you saw him, it was in your apartment.

You woke up to find him standing at the foot of your bed, the Ghostface mask blank and staring. You couldn’t even scream, your body frozen in terror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. Low, gravelly, almost familiar.

“Who are you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He reached up, slowly pulling the mask away.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky?”

James Buchanan Barnes—your quiet, brooding neighbor who always seemed to linger a little too long in the hallway. The man who had offered to carry your groceries up the stairs, who had fixed your squeaky door without you asking.

“I’ve been protecting you,” he said, his blue eyes soft but unrelenting. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You killed them… Rachel, Marcus… Why?”

His expression darkened, the softness replaced by something far more dangerous.

“They were getting in the way,” he said simply. “You don’t need anyone else. I’ve been here the whole time. For you.”

You tried to scramble out of the bed, but he was faster, his Vibranium arm pinning you in place.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. But I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

The days that followed blurred together. Bucky didn’t leave. He stayed in your apartment, always watching, always nearby. He cooked your meals, cleaned up after himself, even smiled at you like none of this was horrifying.

But the mask stayed, perched on the table like a silent reminder of what he was capable of.

You tried to escape once, when he was in the shower. But the moment you opened the door, he was there, dripping wet and furious.

“Don’t make me lock you in,” he warned, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful. “I don’t want to do that.”

You realized then that there was no reasoning with him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a broken man. He was completely unhinged. And you were his obsession.

One night, as he sat across from you at the table, you decided to speak.

“Why me?” you asked quietly.

He tilted his head, considering the question.

“You were kind,” he said after a long pause. “The only person who looked at me like I was more than… this.” He gestured to his Vibranium arm, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I couldn’t let you slip away like everyone else.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice calm, “this isn’t love. This is—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. “Don’t say that. I love you. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve made sure no one else could hurt you.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. What could you possibly say to someone who believed their obsession was love?

All you knew was that you had to find a way out. Before he decided that even you weren’t enough.

[notsodailycake]

Ok, this was originally done as an apology for my angsty drabble about Shockwave controlling Prowl then straight up killing Jazz at the end lmao.

Now, with the added fic made from it, I feel like we fans will be needing some fluff, so i bestow yall with this little drabble.

This was based off of a little something that me and my sister have talked about few times. Laughter, and how much that can spiral out of control heh.

Hope this makes yall laugh as much as it made us while writing this (seriously, we ended up going on our own spiral of laughter while trying to get the ideas out to write).

To give the very deserved credits to my sister @saltynsassy31 who wrote down some of the parts of this fic herself, so give your praises to her as well for it!

Mecha pilot au belongs to @keferon

Now onto the fic:

------

"Human laughter scares me"

It had been a normal and quiet afternoon, how did it escalate to this?! That's all Prowl could think of when trying to rationalise this situation, currently holding a wheezing human on his palm.

...

Jazz was out of his suit, needing a break, by Prowl's insistance, to eat something. Despite not being an organic himself, he seems the one most concerned about the condition of his partner. Humans were so fragile, yet somehow very much not, it baffled the mech.

So many things worked against the survival of a human, their own bodies sometimes, the more he learned about it, yet somehow they prevailed.

But he was not about to take any chances, so, in turn, he made sure Jazz would be taken care properly, if not by himself, then by Prowl.

Jazz was sitting down on Prowl's desk, just telling a story from his home planet while the mech listened, the little human insisting that if he needed a break, so did Prowl, and his leader was not opposed to the idea.

As he went on about a random story of his childhood, the human seemed to remember something branching from that train of thought and when he tried to get to the point of the story, something odd happaned.

He snorted a little. That, Prowl has seen the human do a few times, even heard him do this strange noise when he was just seen as the mecha suit itself. He learned quickly that was simply how humans sometimes held their laughter, to try and compose themselves.

But that only seemed to be the start of it. As little by little, Jazz struggled to utter out a single word as he snorted and wheezed slightly the at words.

"Did you- heheh- Did you- Hahaha-"

And as Jazz attempted to say whatever it was he wanted to say, it was as if his body refused and rejected the word, air being sucked in hard with a wheeze before being pushed out even harder that it made a gutteral noise rip out of the human's throat. And if Prowl thought that was all he needed to push out the words he wanted, he was sorely mistaken, as this was only the start.

Jazz suddenly got up from his previous sitted position, wheezing a little as he lifted a trembling hand up to point at the mech, seeming to think that could help with his inability to speak out his thoughts. Instead that just caused him to let out a audial piercing screech. He moved his hands around more, trying to somehow convey whatever it was that caused this reaction, but the way they frantically moved did little to help and actually made whatever was happening to Jazz worse, if that was even possible.

And it was, because suddenly Jazz was clutching at his stomach and throwing himself backward as his voice became a cacophony of scratchy noises and incoherent mumbling, and what alarmed Prowl the most was how Jazz seemed to start getting dizzy and stumbling around, throwing one hand to try and catch anything as he stumbled forward but only swatted at air. Which, Prowl may add, seemed to be something that the human was struggling to take in.

And, if his memory serves him right, he needed that.

Quickly Prowl moved his servo over to Jazz, looming over him to catch him if he were to fall, or even just to serve as support. Jazz seemed to have taken on the offer, leaning a hand over the palm while his other hand clutched at his stomach.

That didn't last long though, as quickly as he made move to look at Prowl's servo, something clicked in his head, and quickly he stumbled back, letting out more uncomfortable and uncontrolled wheezed laughter.

Prowl got intensely more worried at his partner's condition, now deciding to call him out on it. "Jazz, what's wrong? Is everything alright??"

That seemed to have been the wrong move, as although the other had momentarily stopped to look at the mech with tear filled eyes and a strained smile, it quickly devolved to even more incomprehensible laughter and struggle to convey any words. Jazz tried his very best to form any words that would explain the situation, but it only came out as puffed wheezes following a rhythm that Prowl could only guess were the vowls of what he wanted to say, but he could distinguish none of them as he was not all that familiar with the language.

The human quickly fell to his knees, his hands clutched into fits as his knuckles turned white from the pressure and he slammed them on the desk's surface, as yet another strange attempt to bring air into his lungs.

Before Prowl could try and resson any sort of an appropriate action to this, Jazz let out a scream. Much less screechy than before, and much more like a war cry. Prowl wouldn't be surprised if somebot came in questioning what all the commotion was for.

"Jazz!!" Prowl called out exasperated and yet again, that was another wrong move, causing the human to start rolling on the surface of the table as maniacal laughter dripped from his intake, hands flailing around and slamming hard against the table as if that would somehow force his body to breath properly.

Jazz began to stutter, and sometimes his mouth would stay open yet not a single noise would cone out of it, neither did he seem to be taking in or exhaling any air, like he was frozen in the moment before an audial peircing noise ripped from the human's throat after a big gasp of air.

He had flipped over to his side before trying to lift himself up, body trembling with strain, before he suddenly dropped his head and slammed his forehead against the table and reached to place his hands over right behind his audials ears and shakily exclaim "it hurts!" While still smiling. It sent Prowl mixed signals.

The mech sat there in abstant horror as he processed what was being desplayed infront of him. In delayed reaction, Prowl could only mutter one word.

"What?"

And for the third time that was, once again, the wrong  reaction as Jazz let out a howling screech at that with more breathless laughter.

Prowl was left clueless as to what he should try and do to help his partner, simply reaching out and gently picking up the tiny, breathless  human to see if he could do something to ease the possible pain.

He moved his cupped servo close to his face to try and analyse Jazz's condition. Maybe he should take him to one of the medics who had been helping them so far with organic knowledge, but as far as he knew, this wasn't supposed to be harmful, it was simple human laughter! To express joy or humour to something, and clearly there was a lot of it to cause Jazz to get like this. But he was clearly struggling to breath with this, so it has to be something serious.

Could humans die from something as simple and supposedly joyful as laughter?

Before Prowl could open his intake, Jazz had seemed to have sensed his partner's internal struggle and need to understand it, and quickly placed a tiny hand on his dermas. Although it might have been quite aggressive, and hurt the regular human with its strength, it felt nothing but a pinch to Prowl.

"Don't-" he wheezed out, barely audible to Prowl, the second word lost to another wheezed breath, mouth only mimicking the movement it was supposed to take. Though, this time, the mech understood quite well what he ment.

So he did as instructed, and didn't utter a single word, hoping his optics did the job to deliver his thoughts.

That was the fouth time, and counting, the mech did something wrong, because it seems like his worried glance were funny to the little human. That his concerns for his health were humorous to him. And honestly, Prowl wasn't sure if he should take offence to that or not.

At this point, Prowl could do nothing else other than to sit there, dumbfounded, which was not a situation he felt pleased being in (and didn’t find himself often in, until this human came crashing into his life), as his partner laughed off uncontrollably, slamming his hands over his own knees, or sometimes at the palm of the servo holding him, while clutching his stomach in what seemed to be strained pain.

Prowl made move to get up now, thoroughly done with this and ready to deliver the troubled human to a medic. He was losing too much air at this point and it could very much fatal.

But just as he did, before he could even fully stand from his seat, the mech caught a glance over to Jazz who, despite his struggles with breathing at the moment, waved over an arm in signal for Prowl to stop moving. Prowl raised a questioning brow, which was the fifth wrong move (he might as well just assume everything he does that expresses concern will be a wrong move at this point), as Jazz quickly fell into more laugher, but the exhaustion was clear to any bot as he gasped far more aggressively for air in attempt to stop his uncontrolled laugh.

"Sit." He breathed out, gagging a little at the word before attempting to speak once more. "Don't- haha- move." After more strained giggles, he uttered one more word he deemed necessary; "please."

So Prowl sat down, and watched as Jazz let out whatever was left in his system. To his relief, it seemed like that had been the first correct move Prowl has done over the past joor, as Jazz was finally starting to calm down, fallen flat on his back by now, as he let out exhausted breaths.

It was quiet for a moment, Prowl wasn't sure how long, but slowly Jazz started to move himself from his fallen position to sit back up, using trembling hands to hold himself from the back. It took a little more of breathing before the human decided to speak again, hesitantly, as if to test for himself if it was safe to speak.

"S-sorry about....that"

Prowl was unsure if he should speak up himself, but deemed appropriate enough by now. "Care to....explain, all of that?"

Jazz let out another snort at that, which caused the mech to panic that he might have caused the human to spiral down once more. But he just shook his head while bitting down on his bottom lip, as if to hold his smile from growing.

"I just....lost control."

"Lost control?" Prowl raised a questioning brow, Jazz just kept looking away as if he knew just looking at the mech would cause trouble once more.

"Y-yeah."

Prowl had so many questions about how that was even possible, one such question being whether there could be a system override for such an occasion, but his processor quickly screamed back in reminder that that was not possible.

They sat in silence once more as Jazz caught up with all the air he missed out during his fit, and Prowl contemplated on what or if  he should ask something. Finally, after maybe a klik or so, Prowl finally inquired on something.

"Jazz, you looked like you were about to die-"

"Sure felt like it" the human chuckled, Prowl did not find humour on that.

"I'm serious Jazz, could such a simple thing as laughter really kill you?" The most demanding question on his processors, slipping out without a second to stop it. That seemed to have caught his partner off guard, and, thank Primus, such concern was not left for the human's humour as he looked genuinely guilty and possibly conflicted over the question.

"Weeellll..." As he made move to rotate one of his hands, as if to try and roll out a proper answer, the answer itself seemed to click for Prowl.

"Oh my Primus it can." The mech looked utterly horrified at the revelation. "You could have died Jazz-"

"NO! Wait Prowl, stop!" Jazz panicked, quickly trying to console his giant partner. "I would have been fine! It would take alot more to kill me!" That did not seem to comfort the mech.

"How much?!"

"Uhm, ok, 'm honestly not sure." Prowl raised his brows, looking very much not pleased with that answer, but Jazz continued before Prowl could, "but I know that worse case scenario I would've just passed out, but would be able to breath normally again. You'd just have to wait till I woke up again!"

The mech seemed to contemplate whether that was a satisfactory answer or not. He seemed to have landed in the middle.

"You seemed to be in genuine pain though, so pardon my concerns about it."

"'S cuz I was."

"Then why didn't you stop?"

"I just couldn't, 'nd I don't have the answer as to why honestly, so sorry to disappoint. Sometimes we humans just start laughing and it gets out of control, to the point where everything's funny, even a pencil drop could cause the spiral to worsen."

"Or a concerned partner's face?" Prowl mused

Jazz chuckled, "yeah."

After a few seconds, Prowl decided to muse a bit on something. "So, what was it that you wanted to try and tell me earlier?" He smirked down at his partner.

The human just shook his head, chuckling slightly, but not falling down exasperated laughter. "I'm not even gonna try that again."

-----

Final notes. I added a little moment of Jazz pressing the back area of the ears, idk what they're called, while exclaiming he's hurt, and it's from my own personal experience of laughing so much that area would start to hurt from smiling so much, and I'd have to scream out "it hurts!" To try and stop it.

Not sure if anyone else experienced that, so yeah. Either way, thought it be funny to have this happen with Jazz, as I dont think cybertronians can necessarily go through the same issue of laughing so much in insanity because of lack of air. And also, yeah, it can be deadly, but it would take alot for that...as far as I know-

[harrygoeswest]

Secret Santa

At your yearly Secret Santa draw at work, you draw Harry's name.

Terms and conditions (TWs): a lot bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Penetration not included.

Word Count: 7,999

A/N: Hello hellooooo. Look at me posting a Christmas fic on the 1st December! I've been feeling very Christmassy this year so if I can get my shit together there will hopefully be another, totally unrelated, one in a couple of weeks time. Love you all, and thank you for always coming back when I decide to post something <3

~~~

“Alright, everyone gather ‘round.”

I look up over the top of my cubicle to the common area. Charles, the office manager, is standing on the coffee table—that is unlikely to hold his weight for much longer—with a plastic bowl in hand and a cheap Santa hat on his big bald head. It’s not even the end of November yet.

And yes, we do have to call him Charles. Not Charlie, because ‘adding one extra syllable is stupid and unnecessary for a nickname’.

“It’s that time of year,” he says, grinning like a buffoon.

Trying to shove down my sigh, I push away from my desk and wander around the other cubicles to where the rest of the team is congregating by Charles.

“Are we all here?” he asks impatiently.

We’re not a very big office—ten of us total, including our illustrious leader, and a supervisor.

Looking around, it seems the supervisor himself is the only one missing.

Izzy, my partner in crime in this corporate hellhole, nudges my hip with her own from beside me. I bump her back.

“Are we doing secret Santa?” she asks.

“Certainly looks like it,” I mumble, and start picking at my nails.

“Why are we only nine,” Charles muses, doing another head count. “Oh—Harry! Come on!”

“Sorry!” Harry, the missing supervisor, calls back from some hidden place in the office. 

“Time is money, mate!”

I rub a hand down my face, failing to hide my weariness.

A second later, a lanky frame hurries to join the group, wearing form-fitting pressed grey trousers and a black cable knit jumper. Something is different about him where he stands a head above the rest of us. Something I’m trying to hide my shock at.

“Oh my God, Harry—,” Izzy blurts, “where’s your hair?!”

The group titters with laughter at Izzy’s shrill horror. Even I let out a snort.

Indeed, Harry’s once voluminous curls have been shorn to a neat buzz cut. Annoyingly, while I never would have pegged him as a sexy bald, he wears it well. What I’m struggling with is why he’d choose to do it in winter.

“I’ve made a hairshirt out of it,” he deadpans.

From the practical cricket noises following his declaration, I’ll assume no one in our office knows what the fuck a hairshirt is.

hair shirt

in American English

NOUN

1. a garment of coarse haircloth, worn next to the skin as a penance by ascetics and penitents

2. self-imposed punishment, suffering, sacrifice, or penance

“It’s now hanging pride of place in my lounge.” Charles grins. “Anyway, we’re doing secret Santa for our Christmas meal this year, which is on the fifteenth of December. Times are tight, I know,” spoken like a man who has never known what it’s like to be clawing his way to payday to make ends meet, “so the cap is a tenner. It’s just a bit of fun, alright? Let’s go.”

He holds the bowl out, and one by one we pluck out a folded scrap of paper. I’m not last, which means there’s still a selection of three by the time I get there. I pick one at random, sure to hate whoever I get.

I know I won’t be lucky enough to draw Izzy again like I did last year, but I suppose as long as I don’t get Charles, I’ll be satisfied.

HARRY

Motherfucker.

I’ve already started moving back to my desk so I can’t feign innocence and try and swap the name. The second-worst name I could’ve drawn—that of the supervisor. And a more-than-occasional object of my affection.

Is it inappropriate to have a crush on your supervisor? Not really. I’m sure lots of women fancy their seniors in the workplace. I’m all for women in senior positions, but there is something inherently attractive about men in power—not including Donald Trump. Ew. Add to the fact that said man is already hot shit and (I’m talking about Harry again), well, it’s a lost cause. Never mind the fact that we were both asked to interview for the supervisor role when the last one left and I turned it down.

Harry and I used to be cubicle neighbours who shared coffee breaks and threw scrunched-up notes to one another over the wall. Once we had a cat GIF email chain going that spanned 134 emails over twelve days. Now he sits at the other side of the floor in a private office where the door is always closed and we don’t make coffee for each other anymore. We definitely don’t send endless cat GIFs to one another.

I add the slip of paper with his name on it between a document I’ve finished with, and stick the whole thing in the shredder.

~

Later that afternoon, around three o’clock—when I hit a motivational wall and have to take a walk around the office for a change of scenery—I’m standing at the photocopier scanning an abhorrent amount of paper. I really wish the people who worked here could learn to be a little greener.

“So, who’d you get?”

I look up from my scanning to find Harry leaning over the printer, looking boyish and handsome all at the same time. There’s a delighted little gleam in his pretty green eyes, and I have to wonder when I last saw him looking so… mischievous.

“Wouldn’t telling you defeat the entire purpose of a secret Santa?” I retort.

“Yeah, but this is me. I can’t keep secrets and I’m bursting to tell someone mine.”

“Please don’t tell me who you have, Harry. Not again.” Because he told me who he’d drawn last year and then Izzy also let slip who she had as well, and by the end of the day I’d worked out who everyone had. “Also, if you’re so rubbish at keeping secrets, I’m definitely not telling you.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”

I try not to let it show how much that comment bothers me. Especially that it came from him. “Apparently not.”

“Is it me?”

“No.” I say as calmly as I can manage. Of course he’d choose himself first, and the name I happen to have picked out.

“Izzy again?”

“No.”

Harry then proceeds to list off every name in the office, to which I pointedly reply with no, each and every time.

“But I’ve said everyone’s names.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs. “Fine. Do you know what you’re going to get for yours?”

“No.” And it was a painful truth. A year ago, if I’d have picked Harry’s name out I would have been over the damn moon. Now, it feels awkward and weird to be buying for the good-looking supervisor who used to be my friend. “Do you?”

“I have a few ideas for mine.” He grins.

Lucky for some.

“Well, that’s good,” I answer noncommittally.

I start to move away from him, but I’m stopped by a hand around my elbow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, and I meet his frowny gaze. “You good?”

If this were my friend of a year ago, I’d tell him it’s Friday, I’m bored and want to go to the pub to start my weekend early. But because he’s my supervisor now and I don’t know where to draw the line, I decide to keep the line very low and say, “All fine. Just tired.”

His frown doesn’t ease when I make a poor attempt at a smile. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

Nope. “Yeah, of course.”

“Alright,” he releases my arm. “Well, if you’re really stuck on what to get your secret Santa person, you could look in the magazine I’ve left on your desk.”

I raise a brow at him and he grins again, all white teeth and dimples.

Ugh.

“Is it inappropriate?” I ask, feeling nervous.

He feigns offence. “Of course not, that would be very wrong.”

I narrow my gaze but start to move back to my desk again. “Yes, it would. But I appreciate the help.”

“Any time!”

In my cubicle I find a company magazine on my desk, tabbed two-thirds of the way back. The page opens to a website specifically for Secret Santa gifts. With a sigh, I follow the link and start mindlessly scrolling through the options. There’s everything from oversized mugs to slippers and swear socks, whiskey cubes to coffee table books, candles and incense to bath sets and body creams. I am not short on options.

None of this really feels appropriate for Harry.

Still, since I’m bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do, I waste a good thirty minutes more scrolling mindlessly. Even though I’m struggling to find something for Harry, I do manage to find a present for Izzy—bed socks with cats all over them—and for my mother—a Lazy Susan.

I’m about to give up my search for something fun for Harry and think I’ll just stop by the crafty beer place down the road from my flat—he said he liked a certain one once—when I spot it: The Holy Grail of Secret Santa gifts.

I don’t even hesitate, adding it to my online basket before I can talk myself out of it. It’s only a couple of quid, so I can get him something else as well.

I spend the rest of the day feeling oddly smug, and when five o’clock rolls around I snatch my things up and head straight for the shop that sells the craft ale Harry likes. Then I walk to the pub to meet Izzy.

~

Our office Christmas meal is held in a tapas restaurant around the corner from the building we work in a couple of weeks later. I’ve never particularly cared where we eat—I’ll always find something—but I do struggle to marry up Spanish cuisine with the festive period. Apparently the general consensus was that no one really wanted a traditional Christmas dinner because they’d be getting that on the 25th December. I’ve always just thought of it as a roast dinner on acid but what do I know?

Our dress code for this year is ugly Christmas jumpers, so our table is crowded with colleagues wearing everything from traditional 70s muted-tone cable knits to Charles at the head of the table in a bright red jumper with a light-up Christmas tree on it. I do have a little giggle every time I look at him. It’s awful.

I’m somewhere in the middle of the long banquet-style table, sandwiched between Izzy and Craig, the new guy in marketing. He only started on Monday, has spent the entire week looking like a startled otter, and is already dangerously close to crossing the line from tipsy to drunk. He doesn’t look old enough to be tipsy but I keep that to myself. I’ve been subtly adding more food to his plate anytime it looks close to empty and I don’t know if he genuinely hasn’t noticed or is too polite to say anything because he just keeps on hoovering it up. Also, the dangerous thing about tapas is you always think you’ve eaten more than you actually have, and end up hungry again when you get home. Or, I do, anyway.

“Are we all about finished?” Charles’s voice booms from the end of the table.

There’s ten of us here in all, so his volume also attracts the attention of every other patron in the restaurant.

As if we’re not raucous enough already.

A chorus of mumbled yeses echoes around the table.

Charles claps his hands together. “Excellent! Harry, bring the bag.”

Pink-cheeked, Harry manoeuvres his way out of his seat directly opposite me—I’ve been avoiding looking at him for most of the night in favour of Izzy—and locates the bag with everyone’s Secret Santa gifts inside.

When we got here, Charles was waiting by the door with a large gift bag—you know the ones children get on Christmas morning? This one’s got Peppa Pig on it, which was comical in itself—that we were promptly instructed to leave our gifts inside as subtly as possible. 

Harry places Peppa Pig on Charles’s chair and waits like a faithful servant for his next instructions.

The next five minutes are spent watching Harry flit up and down either side of our long table as he drops presents into laps, a true Christmas elf. 

“Nicely wrapped,” he comments as he places mine in front of me.

I pull a face while Izzy chuckles beside me, and inspect it for a moment. It’s two presents taped together—one tiny and solid, no bigger than a credit card. Hey, wouldn’t that be a nice gift. The other is bigger and heavier—a cubic box. I desperately want to shake it but it feels like it could be breakable.

Izzy just has one—short and cylindrical and, again, heavy. But it’s slightly smaller than mine. I don’t know why that makes me smug. Bigger doesn’t always mean better. In most circumstances anyway. I’m not sure anyone has ever said that about a penis.

“Alright everyone,” Charles barks when the last gift is given out, “start unwrapping.”

A little shiver runs down my spine.

Here’s the thing about me—I love getting presents. Whoever decides to marry me one day needs to be a giver, because I get a little thrill any time I open up a gift. I think I’m equally as generous, but this is exciting for me.

What’s not exciting is that attention keeps flicking around the table. I don’t like being the centre of attention. A hard line to balance. Basically, I’m sitting here slowly picking apart my gifts while trying to keep the joyous little smile my lips are itching to make off my face.

I open the big present first, which seems to be the opposite of what everyone else does. I’m also trying to be subtle about watching Harry open his gifts.

God, this is torture.

The big present evokes a barking laugh out of me.

It’s well-known in the office that I’m a lover of Tesco, in any form. Primarily a Big Tesco or a Tesco Meal Deal. The big gift is a mug that just says ‘Tesco Value Secret Santa Mug’ in the supermarket’s old branding.

“Nice,” I mumble. I’m grinning like an idiot. I genuinely love that mug.

“Someone knows you well,” Izzy says with a nudge. 

She’s already opened her gift—a candle that apparently smells like mashed potato.

It’s disgusting.

“Someone doesn’t know you at all,” I say, nodding at the glass jar with a cork lid in front of her.

“Or they know me well enough to know I hate these candles and find it funny,” she retorts.

I snicker and pick open the wrapping on my smaller gift. I tug it out from the opened end, and with every new inch revealed, my mouth opens a little further.

I look up at Harry, whose expression is the mirror image of mine.

“You are joking,” Izzy says, and follows it up with a loud cackle.

~

Approximately 1 Year Earlier…

“Are you sure you don’t have me for Secret Santa?” Harry asks, pouting at me around the edge of our cubicles.

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure.”

I picked Izzy this year, who is the best person I could’ve possibly got as my favourite work colleague. Harry is a very close second, but I’d never tell him that.

“But you know who does have me,” he says matter of factly.

I do. In an office of ten people, I have managed to work out exactly who has who, only because Izzy told me who she has, and Harry has already told me he picked out the woman in Human Resources. I’ve deduced from there everyone else’s picks, including that I must be Charles’s. I suppress a shudder at the thought of what he might give me.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I know what I want from them and I need you to subtly suggest it to them.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter. “What is it?”

Harry rolls his chair around the cubicle partition, phone in hand. “Funny you should bring up Jesus, actually.”

He puts his phone on the desk in front of me, and at the same time he rests his chin on my shoulder.

He.

Rests.

His.

Chin.

On.

My.

Shoulder.

I try not to outwardly react to it, even though it’s setting off every single butterfly living in my stomach. I haven’t had sex in far too long if the simplest thing has me heating up this way

Christ.

Anyway, I finally look at Harry’s phone, and it makes me laugh.

Hysterically.

Honestly, I can’t stop.

I’m crying by the time I recover.

“Grow Your Own Jesus?” I sputter out, still tittering.

“Yeah!” He sits back and grins.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I kinda feel I’m lacking a little faith in my life.” He shrugs, but that toothy grin is still all there, along with his dimples and shiny green eyes.

How this man is single, I don’t know.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Just drop a hint for us, yeah?” He starts rolling away, but not before he drops me a little wink.

A wink.

I’m in so much trouble.

~

I stare at the ‘Grow Your Own Jesus’ in my hands, then at the matching one in Harry’s.

“You remembered?” Harry asks, clearly fighting a smile himself.

“So did you,” I accuse.

“Well, I just kind of hoped if you didn’t want yours that I could have it.”

I gasp and hold the small cardboard box to my chest. “No. He’s mine.”

“Wait,” Craig pipes in from beside me, “did you two get the same thing?”

“They got each other the same thing,” Izzy corrects. “The same weird thing.”

“It’s an inside joke—you wouldn’t get it.” Harry pretends to flip his now non-existent hair.

Izzy sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’m going to grow him in my Tesco mug,” I decide.

Harry quips, “At work, I hope.”

“Obviously. Pride of place on my desk.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he says proudly.

“And what about yours?”

“Oh,” Harry pats the box on the table, “he’s coming to bed with me.”

A laugh bubbles out of me.

“Ew.” Izzy’s nose wrinkles.

~

After dinner is settled, we head out of the restaurant and to a pub near Soho Square. A couple of people drop off and head home, but Craig is still soldiering on, bless him. He’s more stable when in motion than when stationary, and as soon as we find a group of tables together, we shove him in the corner.

Charles offers to buy a final round before he heads home for the night, and when Craig asks for another beer, I make sure Charles comes back with a non-alcoholic one.

“Why are you so protective over the new kid?” Harry asks as he sandwiches himself between me and another colleague.

“I’m not,” I retort. “I just don’t trust anyone else to look after him if he’s too plastered to get home by himself.”

“That still seems quite protective,” he argues.

“Well, put yourself in his shoes for a second. It’s your first real job, you’re young, you have one too many drinks on a night out with your new colleagues and you’re left to your own devices when everyone decides to call it a night. Maybe you take a walk along the river to sober up, and the next thing you know, you’re toppling over the wall and drowning in the Thames.”

We’re silent for a moment. Harry is just…staring at me, probably wondering where that came from. To be honest, so am I.

“That escalated quickly,” he says after a bit.

“But am I right?”

“I doubt it.”

“Ugh, go away.”

“I don’t want to go away.”

“Well, don’t ask stupid questions. We should be looking after him as the newbie. He won’t come back if we treat him like shit. You, as the supervisor, should recognise that.”

Harry lifts his hands in defence. “Alright. Point taken.”

“Are Mum and Dad fighting?” Craig asks loudly, sitting on the other side of Izzy now.

Izzy pats his arm. “I’ve heard Mum and Dad fight, Craigy-boy, and it doesn’t sound like this.”

“We’re not fighting,” I assure him, although I’m not sure how I feel about being referred to as Mum next to Harry’s Dad. “We’re having a discussion.”

“Sounds like you’re fighting,” Craig mutters and sinks further into the corner of the bench we’re crowded on.

 I take a sip of my drink just to keep my hands and mouth busy. Harry nudges me with his elbow, and when I meet his gaze he winks at me.

Winks.

At.

Me.

I’m not sure if the dreams that wink is sure to feature in will be welcomed, or if they’ll be nightmares.

Charles eventually calls it a night, with a shiver-inducing parting comment that he “needs to give his wife the good lovin’.” The rest of us thankfully don’t dissolve into chaos—I’m not drunk enough to be patient over making sure multiple people make it home alive and safe.

It’s only just gone midnight by the time I decide to call it quits. It seems no one else has been keeping an eye on Craig’s drinking habits, because the poor kid can barely stand or keep his eyes open.

“Alright, Craig, where’s home?” I ask as Izzy and I bundle his lanky frame into a particularly nice wool coat.

He mutters something inaudible and I let out an impatient sigh. “Say again?”

He repeats himself, and I think he says Lewisham. “Lewisham?” I clarify.

Craig nods.

“Couldn’t be a little closer, aye?” I grumble.

“You’re not taking him home, are you?” Harry asks, a little tug between his brow.

“I’m not leaving him by himself, H,” I remind him. “I wanted him to sober up and no one else listened, so yes, I’m going to make sure he gets home safe.”

“How? The tube is closed and the bus will take hours.”

“Well, I’ll just have to get an extortionate taxi and deal with it on Monday, won’t I?”

“Don’t you live in Tulse Hill?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Lewisham is farther out of the way than Tulse Hill.”

“Not really,” I argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not being daft,” he insists. “By the time you manage to find a taxi willing to take you that far and actually get there, it’ll be close to two o’clock. And then you’ve got to get home from there. That’s pushing three in the morning. And while I admire your determination and independence and your incessant need to help the new kid, I am not willing to let you travel around London alone on a Friday night, whether you like it or not.”

We’re all quiet for a second—I actually think Craig is asleep on my shoulder now—and then Izzy very quietly whispers, “Damn.”

Sensing defeat, I release a pent up breath. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes, “I’ll search for a taxi, shall I?”

“If you want,” I mutter.

We start walking, if only to find somewhere for Craig to sit down while he snoozes, and then say goodbye to Izzy, who’s boyfriend is waiting nearby to pick her up.

It’s cold and a little windy tonight. My cheeks feel frostbitten and my nose is painfully numb. I pull my woolly hat down lower to cover my ears and my scarf up higher to my nose, so all that’s visible is my eyes.

I catch Harry’s gaze, and he offers me a tentative smile. I smile back but I’m not sure if he can tell.

A taxi pulls up some minutes later, and we wake Craig up only so he can tell the driver his address. He falls straight back to sleep again, head pressed against the window.

I’m sandwiched in the middle back seat between the two men. Harry is somewhat bulkier than Craig. I can feel his thigh against mine. It’s warm, which is nice. I feel like I need the body heat.

The drive is relatively quiet, except Harry makes light conversation with the driver while I am also trying not to pass out on someone’s shoulder.

When we finally arrive at Craig’s house, the streets are eerily quiet. Harry makes me stay in the car while he wrangles Craig into his home. I move over into Craig’s vacated seat and watch out the window, a little entertained by the sight.

“Am I dropping you off somewhere else, love?” The taxi driver asks, breaking the quiet.

“Yes, it’s in Tulse Hill, is that okay?”

“No problem at all.”

“Do you know approximately how much it’ll be? And do you take card?”

“By the end of the journey, when I’ve dropped your friend off in Battersea, it’ll probably be over a hundred. But your mate has settled it already.”

“Wait, you’re taking Harry to Battersea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I thought Harry lived in Brixton. Battersea is an even longer journey.

I rub my tired eyes.

Harry slides back into the backseat and eyes the empty middle seat now I’ve moved over, but he doesn’t say anything.

“When did you move to Battersea?” I ask quietly once the car is moving again.

Harry clears his throat, “Few months ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

He turns a look on me that I can’t decipher, so I decide to let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.

We’re quiet again, and I decide this time around I hate the silence in the car. I hate that Harry and I don’t talk about our lives with each other anymore now that he’s in a more senior role. I hate that he doesn’t really feel like my friend anymore. And I especially hate that this is mostly my fault because I don’t know where the boundary line is.

I lean forward and ask the driver, “How long will it take to get from my house to Harry’s?”

I can feel Harry’s eyes on me but I ignore him.

“Another half an hour, probably?”

I can’t help it, I grind my teeth together as I slump back into my seat. I’ve been avoiding looking at the time, but I look now, and it’s nearly half-past two. 

My bones feel tired.

“It’s fine, you know,” Harry’s voice is like whiskey when he speaks, all low and honeyed.

“It’s not fine. You could be home and in bed by now.”

“So could you if you didn’t have the need to mother everyone.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it—whether it’s the weariness or the level of alcohol in me—but I don’t retort with words.

I just stick my tongue out at him.

Harry laughs and shakes his head at me, turning that smile on his lap.

It’s that smile that forces me to say it, because no matter how much we bicker, I can never really be mad at him. “Why don’t you just stay at mine and go home in the morning when the tube is open again?”

His gaze snaps to me again. “Seriously?”

I don’t know where my confidence has come from. “Do you think I’d offer if I didn’t mean it?”

“But…your flat is tiny. Last I remember, you don’t even have a sofa.”

“I don’t,” I admit. “But I have a king bed. I can erect a pillow wall.”

He gives me a funny look. “I am not sober enough to listen to you use the word erect right now.”

I snort. “Seriously though. It’s so late and I’m tired and I don’t like this already, and for the sake of all our bank balances, just…just stay.”

He stares at me for a while. “I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

I look at him, in his silly jumper and slacks and woolly hat. “I’ve got a big t-shirt I wear on my lazy days. You can borrow that.”

“How big?”

“Like, triple-XL.”

He purses his lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Harry. I’ll put it in the dryer real fast to warm it up, and I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning.”

His mouth twitches again, nostrils flaring as he wards off another smile. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because you didn’t have to come out all this way with me and you did it anyway.”

“Of course I did, I’m not leaving you alone with a drunk kid and a taxi driver.” He glances at the driver. “No offence, mate.”

“None taken,” he replies.

“Is there still a charge if we cut the journey short?” I ask him.

“No, you’re on a meter. If it helps make your decision any easier, I’m going home straight after this job.”

“See!” I gesture at the poor bloke in the front who we’ve subjected to this torture. “Let the man go home to his family, Harry.”

I can see the driver’s shoulders shaking, but he never says a peep.

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll stay at yours.”

“Good.”

Great.

Excellent.

Harry is staying the night at my place. 

In my bed.

I hope I didn’t leave the flat in a mess.

~

By the time we’re dropped off at my flat, I’m a practical zombie.

I let us inside, feet like lead, and Harry follows with just as much enthusiasm. Locking the door behind us, I dig through my drawers for the t-shirt I promised and toss it in the dryer for a few minutes. I clean my teeth, and then give Harry the t-shirt. While he changes in the bathroom, I quickly change into a matching festive jersey pyjama set. Feeling sexy is the last thing I’m trying to achieve. If anything, I just want to be warm—the flat is freezing.

Once changed, I set about making that pillow wall I promised.

When Harry emerges, I’m midway through taking my makeup off.

Looking at him, I can’t help but giggle.

“When you said you had a triple-XL t-shirt, I thought you just meant a plain one. Or, like, one with some generic wording on it. Not this,” he points at his chest.

I admire him in my pink t-shirt, which depicts Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch surrounded by cake and the words ‘I eat when I’m upset’. “I think pink suits you.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at me, and he moves around the bed to the side I’m not perched on. He studies my pillow wall for a while. “Do you think I’ve got the lurgy or something?”

“The lurgy?” I chortle. “No, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s me we need to worry about being uncomfortable here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist with a grin as I finish the last of my makeup removal, “as long as you stay on your side of the wall.”

“I would also be fine. I don’t think we need the wall at all.”

“And why is that?” I ask, tossing my used wipes in the small bin next to my bed. I slip under the covers, and Harry, with his hairy, toned legs, does the same. It’s still weird seeing him with a buzz cut.

“Because it’s half an inch tall. You couldn’t stop an ant from getting over it.”

I gasp, and reach over to smack his arm. “How dare you. Ants can vertically climb.”

“Are you sure?” Harry retaliates by smacking me too, except he completely misses and ends up whacking my boob instead.

“Ow.”

He’s already pulled his hand away and is covering his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be!” I hiss, rubbing the assaulted breast in question.

“I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for your arm.”

“Well, your aim is terrible.”

He rolls onto his side, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “I really am sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am! But this does prove my point that the wall is useless,” he reasons.

“Fine.” I snatch the cushion at the top of the pile and toss it at the foot of the bed. “Collapse the wall if you must.”

He grins, all pretty and green-eyed, and tugs the next pillow down the row up underneath his head. “Much better.”

Sighing, I say, “Go to sleep, Harry.”

“Yes, boss.”

I shut my eyes, burrowing into the pillows, and wait for sleep to claim me.

And I wait. 

And I wait.

Unfortunately, I am far too aware of Harry’s presence beside me.

I’m thinking about the fact that he’s currently wearing my favourite t-shirt and the shameful part of me probably won’t wash it for ages. Maybe an even worse part of me will put it on as soon as he leaves my flat tomorrow.

Fuck this crush.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to let him stay here? In my bed? In my t-shirt?

I really hate myself sometimes.

“I can hear your brain whirring,” Harry says into the silent space between us.

“It worked overtime today, the fans are cooling down.”

He snickers, and then it’s quiet again. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asks after another minute.

I open my eyes to find him watching me. It’s a little unnerving but I can’t say I hate the attention. “A secret?”

“Yeah. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

I study his face in the dark room. “Okay.”

He wets his lips with his tongue first. “I gave my notice today.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“End of January.”

I can’t be sure, but I think I might be about to enter crisis mode. Harry is leaving. Harry, who I’ve seen almost every day for three years, is leaving.

I let him tell me about this new job—how it’s the same position but more money in a bigger company with better benefits.

For a second I don’t know what to say, but I eventually manage to come up with, “Well, congratulations, H. Sounds amazing.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Are you going to miss me?”

I pretend to think about it. “No, probably not.”

He gasps. “How rude.”

I giggle. “Of course I’m going to miss you.” Probably too fucking much. Like, crying into my cornflakes every morning for the foreseeable future. That much.

“Good. I’m gonna miss you, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have missed you.”

I frown. “What do you mean? We see each other everyday.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

I know what he means, but I’m too much of a wimp to admit it. Or maybe I just want to hear it come out of his mouth, because it’s been swirling around my head for months and months. “How?”

“We used to go out together, you know, me and you and Izzy and her bloke. We had a good friendship going, right? And I think I kind of fucked that up by taking that supervisor role this year.”

“Yeah, but your career is your career, Harry. You did what was right for you.”

“Maybe, but I still hated knowing I’d drawn a line somewhere.”

Funny. I thought I was the one who’d drawn the line. “Well, we’re not going to see you at all now.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. We can still have Friday night pub time.”

“I’m not sure, H,” my tone is teasing, “you’re joining the big boys now. You’re more important than we are, you’ll forget about us in a month.”

“Don’t,” he whines, throwing me that puppy look again. “I won’t.”

“Sure.”

“I’d never forget you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all your old work friends. Soon it’ll be new ones with new pubs to visit on a Friday night, and we’ll just be a minor blip in your career path.”

“Stop iiiiit,” Harry growls, and the next thing I know, he’s reaching across the divide we made and wrapping himself around my waist, his face in my neck.

I don’t know how to immediately react, stunted into stiff silence.

“You are not a blip,” he insists, squeezing me closer to him.

“You say that now,” I mutter.

“You’re not,” he snaps, then a second later asks, “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

Tentatively, I loop my arms around his shoulders. I don’t know where to put my hands initially, but one ends up on the back of his neck and the other between his shoulder blades.

“Better,” he says, face still shoved into my neck.

We’re back to silence again for a moment, but my mind is racing. This is not how I expected to end my night at all. Not with a man in my bed and definitely not hugging said man. Who I’ve happened to fancy for far too long.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s a good thing that Harry is leaving. Maybe now I can take time to get over the stupid crush I have on him and start behaving like a normal woman in her late twenties, rather than the perpetually single saddo that I’ve become.

Yes. I’m determined to turn it into a positive.

There will be no crying into my cornflakes.

“This is nice,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah,” is all I can come up with.

“You’re very comfortable.”

Seriously? I want to roll my eyes. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to move.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. DON’T. PANIC. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah?”

I swear there’s something blaring in my head. “Sure.”

With that ringing endorsement, he snuggles closer and pulls me flush against his front.

This is fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about here. No siree.

Except, then, his hand finds the back of my thigh, and he pulls it over his. With a pat for good measure, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“This might be the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

Great. “That’s nice,” I squeak.

And it is nice, in a way.

It’s nice to be held in the embrace of another warm body.

It’s nice not to spend the night alone.

It’s nice to feel someone else’s breath on my neck that isn’t just my own reverberating back into my face from my pillow.

The tantric tickle of Harry’s fingers on the back of my legs is nice, too.

Really nice.

It’s so nice, in fact, that I…

I fall asleep.

~

I wake up plastered to Harry’s chest. Harry’s chest, that is still covered in my favourite t-shirt. God, that’s pleasing.

It’ll smell like him now.

#winning

I think I’m the first one to rise, which means I have the opportunity to sneak off and start breakfast, but then I feel a warm palm against the skin of my lower back, circling, and I realise I’m not the first over the finish line into consciousness. I also feel a slight chill against my sternum and I think one of the buttons on my pyjama shirt might have popped open, which means there’s definitely the potential for a peep at some boobage.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Harry’s voice sounds like gravel.

“Hi,” I choke out.

“Sleep well?”

I slept amazingly. Dare I say it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Maybe even months.

Fuck it, it’s the best sleep I’ve ever had.

But all I actually say is, “Yep. Did you?”

He hums, his hold on me tightening. “Like a baby.”

I like that far too much. “That’s good. How…did we get like this?”

“You on top of me?” He asks and gives me another squeeze. “No idea.”

“I am not on top of you.”

“You kind of are. But I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re comfortable?”

“I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. It’s like when you have a cat on top of you—you don’t move the cat.”

I look up at him for the first time, then. He’s still sleepy-eyed, but he’s more awake than I am and he looks so soft, and so happy. “Do you need me to move, Harry?”

“Absolutely not.” He follows this comment up with a lazy grin that has my insides turning to mush. He’s always been a little bit infectious, like a good drug, and so I can’t help but smile back at him.

He lifts a hand to my face then, still holding my gaze, with his finger under my chin while he gingerly wipes his thumb in the corner of each of my eyes in turn. When I throw him a questioning look, he responds with a simple, “Eye goo.”

I want to be disgusted by that, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. If anything, it’s making this crush I was so determined to get rid of yesterday even worse. And, because I can’t help myself, I gingerly reach my hand up to his face and do the same thing, wiping the dried moisture from the corners of his eyes.

We stay like that, staring at each other with lingering touches on each other’s faces. I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m terrified and nervous and excited all at once.

My heart is telling me he’s into this the same way I am, but my head is telling me I’m overthinking it and it doesn’t mean anything.

Now, call me fucking crazy, but people who aren’t into each other don’t touch one another the way we are.

I tell my head to shut the fuck up.

Tipping my head back slightly, it causes Harry’s light grip to adjust, until his hand all but swallows my cheek.

He lowers his head, and I know, I just know I’m not imagining the pull between us anymore. My breathing becomes laboured, chest heaving with every inch his mouth gets closer to mine.

When our mouths meet I’m dizzy, but I hold onto the shred of sanity I have left, if only to enjoy the moment while it’s here.

It’s exploratory at first—a simple taste of one another. Harry’s mouth is soft and gentle. He takes his time, like he’s learning me. His hands are doing the same thing, cautiously roaming my face, my arms and my back.

I don’t know what to do with my hands, because I want to touch him everywhere. Start with his chest, and for the first time ever I wish for the absence of my damn t-shirt on him. Move to his arms just to trace the definition of his muscles and the lines of his strong veins.

He’s so…delicious. Always has been, hair or no. And the permission to touch him in any capacity has me feeling drunk. I feel more out of sorts now than I did last night.

Harry’s grip moves to the back of my legs, and he drags me over his body so that I’m straddling him.

The new position has trepidation rendering my limbs frozen, and I have to force myself to move, to keep touching him. I can feel his length between my legs—not completely hard but certainly working its way there.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks against my lips, voice hushed but still loud in the quiet room. His hands dance over my hips and thighs, like he wants to touch other places but is worried of crossing that line.

“Yes,” I breathe in answer. 

He resumes his ministrations, becoming braver now with the use of his mouth, and in turn I do too.

My hands finally slip underneath the cotton t-shirt to feel the taut skin of his abdomen, fingertips following every dip and curve. In return, Harry slides his up my shirt, taking the weight of my breasts in his hands.

“They’re so soft,” he comments, and for some reason I like that so much that I kiss him deeper.

Our tongues are involved now, licking and nipping and tasting the other where we can.

“I want to take your shirt off,” I admit.

“You mean your shirt?” He teases, and moves into a sitting position with absolutely no effort.

“Both,” I tell him.

He grins, kissing me again while I ease the cotton up his body, until we have to break apart so I can remove it completely. 

Harry’s body is…perfect. I knew it would be—toned lines, masculine, pronounced muscles. I want to lick it.

I’m kissing him again, if only to stop myself from lapping at his golden skin.

I’m kissing the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—ever known.

I can feel him toying with the buttons on my pyjama top, slowly coaxing each one free. When the last one is done, he slips the garment over my shoulders until we’re in matching states of undress. His large hands cup my boobs, thumbs rubbing against my nipples.

A sharp bolt of pleasure zips through me, straight to the pulsing core between my legs. With an involuntary rock of my hips, I moan into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, “did you like that?”

I can only nod, and then whine when he does it again. Helpless to the taste of him, I loop my arms around his neck. Our bodies are flush together, tongues tangled, and my centre is lined up right over his cock. His cock that is now fully hard.

I start rocking my hips in a rhythm if only to find some friction for the need growing in my lower belly.

Harry’s grip moves from my tits to my arse, squeezing tightly and encouraging my movements. “If you keep doing that I’m going to embarrass myself and make a mess in my boxers, but I don’t want you to stop.”

“Please don’t make me stop,” I beg.

“You better not stop.”

So I don’t. I keep rocking, keep kissing, keep touching.

Every roll of my hips is ecstasy and I can feel the bubble growing inside me, pushing to the surface. The heat in my body expands, not just inside me but across my back and my arms and my chest. I haven’t had any physical contact for a while, and the intimacy of this, with Harry, is setting off every single one of my nerve endings.

“I want to see you come,” he tells me.

I grip the back of Harry’s neck, and for the first time since we started kissing, he moves his mouth. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, my throat, my chest, and then he finally pulls my nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking while squeezing my breast, and, well…

I go off.

My orgasm crests in the least subtle manner—loud and hard. My core is pulsing and my legs are shaking. My body is on fire—in fact, I’m sure I can feel a bead of sweat dripping between my cleavage.

Harry’s mouth is on mine again, warm and wet and sultry, and I cling to him like I’ve got nothing else in the world.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry whispers against my lips.

My face flushes, as if I’m not already burning up, but I still manage to say, “So are you.”

He kisses me hard but chaste. “I’ve wanted to see you like that for a while.”

“Like what?” I ask, still panting.

“Undone. By me, specifically.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “What?”

He laughs, and his thumb strokes my cheek, “I’ve always thought you’re sexy as fuck.”

“No you haven’t.”

“I bloody have,” he insists. “I thought you knew that.”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. Now, I’m pretty sure I was promised breakfast?”

I give him a questioning look. “But what about…you?” I ask, and throw a pointed look at the space where our crotches meet.

“I don't believe in transactional pleasure,” he tells me, then kisses me again. “I just hope we can do this again.”

“What, sleepover?”

He laughs. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. But I was also hoping there might be some dating involved.”

I gawk at him. “You want to date me?”

“Indefinitely.”

Well, shit.

[thebennsofdallas]

In defense of Season 6 (What we do in the Shadows)

I’ve seen talk about season 6.  How people are disappointed. How the writers have blown it, how Guillermo and Nandor are in so few scenes together, how canon has been thrown by the wayside.

So, I have to gently disagree. I think this is the best season of the series and that’s coming from a full-on Nandermo truther (with Laszlermo tendencies). I think this season HAS moved Guillermo and Nandor’s story forward. But it’s so much more than that. These 8 episodes have connected all the vampires in ways I never expected.

Think of all we learned about the vampires in just the first episode. Guillermo and Nandor apparently made an agreement to stay away from each other until Guillermo got his life together. (UNTIL. Keep that in mind.) Nandor obviously didn’t give a fuck about that and has been keeping tabs on him in secret. How else can he be so matter-of-fact about being separated from Guillermo and also, know where he was working?

Nadja has longed to interact more with humans and Laszlo forbade it, which caused a massive rift between them that lasted years. Man of science Laszlo had a dream to reanimate life out of dead tissue that he gave up on in favor of spending more time wanking. And Colin Robinson has been lonely for a real friend, even one made out of random body parts.

That’s a lot of stuff there, good stuff. Yes, we briefly had to deal with the prospect of Jerry destroying our show (okay, that was probably just me) but it turns out, Jerry was just a vehicle to reveal more about our beloved characters (I think Jerry will be a factor in the finale but that’s another story). The same with Guillermo’s departure from the vampires’ employ. It was barely a separation. Nadja and Nandor felt compelled to follow Guillermo all the way to his office, to “protect him”. And Laszlo restarted his project to create new life and allowed Colin Robinson to join in.

The writers are mixing and matching the cast in a way they’ve never done before. Nandor/Nadja, Laszlo/Colin, Colin/Nadja, Laszlo/Nandor. It’s a fresh spin on the old dynamic and it’s hilarious. And it demonstrates how much these four care about each other and that feels new, too.

As for Nandor and Guillermo, it might feel like they aren’t together as much but when they are together, it packs a punch. Except for the beginning of episode one, when Nandor childishly pretends like he doesn’t remember Guillermo, there’s been no more pretense. Guillermo has always worn his heart on his sleeve where Nandor is concerned but now, Nandor is wearing his there, too and it’s exciting to see our suspicions confirmed in a big, big way — these two idiots love each other and it’s just a matter of time before they have to acknowledge it. I don’t expect a vampire wedding in the future but something is coming. I just know it.

Episode 9 tomorrow, y’all. Episode 9 is where this show usually goes off the rails and into a ditch. So hold on. It’s gonna be a bumpy night.

[inthehexcore]

progress day party

summary: Jayce convinced you to go to a Councilor Party as his plus one. You were terrified.

content: sweet jayce, shy/nervous reader, fluff, meeting some of the other councilors, fem! reader, little backstory part before the request! probably ooc jayce but im trying to get the hang of it!! <3

wordcount: 2.016

a/n: this one got requested! thank you so much, the request changed a bit i think, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless! not as long/exactly as i wanted but :)

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Piltover's Golden Boy. The man of Progress. Co-inventor of Hextech.

Your friend. Your partner. Jayce Talis.

The first time you met him, you nearly fainted out of nervousness. You had known about Jayce for a long time already. Sky, your friend and former roommate, had applied for an internship at Hextech. You were so excited for her to follow her dreams, to show the world what she could do. One day, she asked if you could come with her, something about needing help with research. Even though you knew close to nothing about all the difficult work she did, you agreed. Never would you have guessed for that day to turn your life upside down.

"They said that I could use their lab! With everything in it! Well, I can't use any of the Hextech without supervision, but that's no problem!"

Sky and you had a great bond. Friends - sisters, almost. Though both rather introverted, the two of you would always open up around one another. She already held a clipboard in her hands, crossing off random squares before turning the corner, you walking behind her.

"I still can not believe you did it! I mean, of course I believe in you, but wow! An internship at Hextech with Jayce Talis and Vik-"

The tall doors opened to reveal the huge lab behind it. Never had you seen something so grand, so bright. Your eyes were not even sure where to look. There were big chalkboards along the entire length of the wall, desks with tools, even a table filled with what seemed like new Hextech inventions. But something that might have shocked you most was the two men in the corner of the room.

Had you misunderstood? You thought it would just be Sky and you.

"Oh, Viktor!" she smiled, "Jayce! Could I still use the lab?"

"Ah, Sky!" Jayce looked away from his desk, smiling as he stood up and walked toward the two of you, "And your guest!"

"The unfortunate subject for my research," laughed your friend, quickly introducing you to Jayce as you stood there in silence.

"I tried to clean up as well as I could, but," Jayce chuckled, rubbing his neck. He could have swept one more time, "Anyway. Would either of you like something... to drink?"

Viktor looked back from over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised before he turned to his work again. Jayce, oh Jayce.

Ever since that day, both you and the golden boy kept finding one another. At the market you ran into him - quite literally. You did not pay attention to where you were walking, which ended in you on the ground and Jayce profusely apologizing. Then that time where you tried to enter the Academy without your special school card. The enforcers only looked at you with a raised eyebrow, not letting you through to retrieve the very card that you had left inside. Luck seemed to be on your side as Jayce just walked by at that moment, smiling at the enforcers before mumbling a 'she's with me'. Not to forget all the times that Sky invited you for more research, only to say that she needed to retrieve something from her new dorm, leaving you and Jayce all alone in the big lab.

All that felt so long ago.

Never had you expected that you would be standing in front of the tall mirror, nerves running through your body as you glanced at the floor-length dress again. 'It's just a small party with the council. We will meet some others, enjoy some drinks, and then I will do my speech!' Jayce had said, holding your hand as you walked through Piltover. Reluctantly, you had said yes, and the excitement in Jayce's face made you feel warm. But inside, you were terrified. The Council. Those weren't just any type of party guests.

"Hey," you heard a knock on the door behind you, "Are you dressed?"

"Yes," a shaky sigh left your lips as you furrowed your eyebrows, running your hand over your dress again.

The door slowly opened, revealing your one and only behind it. Dressed in a suit that was ironed to perfection, the red and gold colours of House Talis decorating it all over. No wonder that Piltover loved the man so much - so nice, so motivated, so gorgeous.

"My god," he smiled, walking closer to you to press a kiss to your cheek, "You look beautiful."

Your dress, too, was coloured red and gold. When standing next to Jayce, it was undeniable that the two of you matched. Belonged. Yet, you didn't feel like you did.

"Says you," it was impossible not to smile around him, "You look good in these colours."

"I have something for you," he hummed, revealing a small box that he had hidden in his pocket, "A little Progress Day gift."

"For me?"

He nodded, handing you the item with a big smile on his face. How could you say no? You opened the white box with a giggle, placing the red ribbon that was tied around it on the vanity next to you. The item inside the box made you let out a gasp.

"Do you like it?" Jayce excitedly asked, a big grin on his face.

"Like it?" you looked up at him, eyes big and mouth wide open, "Jayce, I love it! This - This is amazing!"

"Made it all myself," he proudly said, "Though I'm not used to making hammers on this scale."

Inside the box sat a necklace with the most beautiful pendant you had ever seen. A little hammer, silver with red details, resting on top of silky fabric.

"Here," he reached for the necklace, unclasping the necklace to put it around your neck, his warm fingers tracing along your back as he kissed your shoulder, "Perfect,"

It made your face heat up as you only smiled, turning around to press a kiss to his nose.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I can be," you breathed in deeply.

It made his eyebrows crease - not because you didn't radiate the same excitement as he did, but because you almost seemed... worried. Maybe even scared.

"Would you maybe rather stay here?" he offered, softly taking hold of your hand, "I can pick you up after the party."

"No, no! It's just..." you sighed, shaking your head, "Just silly. I can't help but feel nervous. It's the Council, and I am not a smart inventor like you, or..."

He nodded understandingly - he himself was still not even sure why he was dubbed as the Man of Progress. As if he was the only person who had worked on Hextech.

"If you want to leave at any moment, you can tell me. Promise?"

"Promise."

So, hand in hand, the two of you made your way to where the party was held. The doors you stood in front of were huge and the hallways were decorated with gold and many more expensive materials. Yet, with Jayce's hand in yours, you felt less afraid.

The doors seemed to open automatically when the two of you arrived, revealing the bustling party that laid behind. People greeted him almost immediately, shaking his (free) hand and babbling on about everything.

"Ah, if you'll excuse me," he apologized, rubbing your hand with his thumb as he softly tugged you along, "Miss Medarda is right over there."

Miss Medarda as in Councilor Mel Medarda? The woman stood in front of the balcony, looking out over Piltover. She turned around as she heard footsteps approaching, and you felt even more nervous than before.

"Ah, Jayce! And your partner, from what I have heard?"

Jayce introduced you to the councilor as you shook her hand, shyly smiling and nodding.

"She is," he proudly smiled, "I thought to introduce the two of you - I think you will get along well. Plus, I can assure you, Miss Medarda is much more fun to speak to than... Them."

Mel let out a laugh, raising the cup to her lips.

"It is not hard to be more interesting than them. We can stick together," she looked at you with a smile, "That is, if you don't mind."

"I do not," you softly responded, looking at Jayce one last time as he pressed a kiss to your temple, breathing out deeply before letting out a chuckle, going back to his duty as the Golden Boy.

Mel plucked another glass off a tray, handing it to you.

"Now, I have heard so much about you from Jayce, but I would love to get to know you myself."

Time seemed to fly by as you stuck with Mel, holding onto your empty glass as you listened to one of her stories. Elora had also come to join into conversation, and you appreciated that they stayed with you.

None of you even realized that it was time to head to the Speech until you felt big hands on your shoulders.

"Ready to go? I promised Viktor that we would meet him there."

"Already?"

He hummed and nodded.

"Why don't you sit with us at the speech?" Mel offered, smiling as she looked at you, "Mrs. Talis will sit in the front row as well. I would be happy for you to join us."

"I would love to," you nodded quickly, giving both women a big smile, "Thank you Mel, Elora."

With your hand in his, Jayce guided you back out into the hallway and toward where Viktor would be waiting.

"Mel, huh? No more 'scary' Miss Medarda?"

You let out a laugh, covering your face with your hand as you shook your head.

"Looking back, I can't believe why I was so nervous. Both she and Elora were incredibly friendly and warm."

It didn't take long for the two of you to meet Viktor, greeting him before you split up from the duo to go and find a seat. It made your nerves heighten again - being completely separated from Jayce was something that made socializing harder than it could be. As you went through the security, you followed the groups of chattering people. Did it look silly, walking in by yourself?

The room was grand, and Councilor Kiramman was already standing at the side of the stage, talking to one of the Enforcers. You averted your gaze to the first row of the seats, most already taken. Was this where you were going to sit?

Mel saw you before you could spot her, walking over to the enforcer who guarded the entrance.

"She's with me," the woman said, holding out her arm for you to take before guiding you to your seat, "Don't want you to get lost."

You giggled, thanking her as you sat down on one of the plush chairs, right inbetween Mel and Mrs. Talis.

"Ah," Ximena excitedly exclaimed, smiling at you, "I was hoping you would be here. When Miss Medarda told me that she reserved a seat for you, I could not help but be happy! Oh, isn't today an amazing Progress Day? And the speech hasn't even begun!"

Jayce's mother was one of the sweetest people you had ever met - it wasn't hard to see that she passed all that love on to Jayce.

"He will do amazing, I'm sure."

And amazing he did. With the fireworks lighting up the sky and Jayce's bright smile, you could not help but feel your heart bursting. You had held Ximena's hand as she looked up at her son, her eyes shining with tears and a proud smile on her face. Illuminated with the colourful and bright lights, Jayce looked like an angel.

After shaking many hands and receiving many congratulations, you and your partner were finally back home. He let out a tired sigh, flopping down on the couch as you let out a chuckle, taking off your heels and pulling pins out your hair.

"You did amazing, Jayce."

"You think so?"

You hummed, nodding before also sitting down on the couch, snuggling against him as you let out a content sigh.

"As you said - the future is bright."

[kewlgal0909]

made up some random homicipher backstory headcanons for the characters because im bored af right now

I'm kinda going off the thing from the game that some of the ghosts in the otherworld used to be humans for these headcanons so. Also pls don't take these things seriously & they might be inconsistent with the actual canon of the game because some of these I just pulled outta my ass ok.

+ might delete later if I eventually find this cringe but idk man.

Mr. Crawling

One of the oldest residents in the otherworld. He's been here since old Japan days

Him and Scarletella actually used to be friends back when he was alive

Something happened between them during that, which caused their friendship to fall apart

One day his village was suddenly attacked, was severely wounded, but escaped

He then somehow crawled his way to the ghost apartments, where he was found by Scarletella

He pleased Scarletella for help but he didn't do anything, simply watching as he slowly died

He's been wandering the otherworld ever since and warned people he could find to stay away from a man dressed in all-red

I definitely did not pull so much shit about them outta my ass all because I ship scarling. Definitely not

Mr. Silvair

used to be a med student

likes horror movies & urban legends

one rainy day, he saw the ghost apartments & strolled in out of curiosity... little did he know he would be trapped forever

his time as a med school student & his lile of horror eventually gave way into the making of his "research" room

Hairdresser (she's so underrated tbh)

Was a highschool girl prior to becoming a ghost

Parents owned a hair salon

Was bullied in school

One day, her bullies planned to prank her by taking her stuff and telling her that it's somewhere in the ghost apartmenys

She goes in to search for her stuff, but never comes back

The Bride

Used to be a known dressmaker in her town

Died in a car crash on the way to her wedding after the car's driver tried to avoid hitting a red figure that suddenly appeared in the rain

The reason she's headless is not because she was decapitated, but because it resembles all the headless mannequins she used to work with during her dressmaking days

Mr. Gap

Used to be a shut-in while he was alive

Chronically online, rarely left his room, and often ordered stuff online to survive

The delivery men were often creeped out by him whenever he opens his door since he looked musty af + his room was always dark

Had a bunch of online friends

One day, he opens his door to find a man in all-red, asking for his name

Confused, he tells the mysterious man his name

Then later was suddenly found dead in his room, his heart mysteriously gone from his corpse

Mr Scarletella

probably the only one in the cast to have never been human idk

can actually kinda speak human language unlike the rest??

that's the only things I could come up about him rn sorrrrryyyy

Mr Hugeface

got lost & became a ghost after he entered the ghost apartments in search of his lost pet

Was alot taller than his peers

idk about him he was a last minute addition

Miscellaneous:

I came up with a tiny headcanon that the reason mr silvair, the hairdresser, hugeface & eventually the MC have white hair is because they were the humans that had once willingly entered the apartments prior to getting trapped there

[taesansbeloved]

YOU ARE THE PERSON THAT COMPLETES ME.. JUST LIKE THE LAST PUZZLE PIECE. (엔하이픈)

synopsis: 1000 piece puzzle date with bf!enhypen. Warnings 🚨 fluff, skinship, petnames. Not proofread 👍����

(Hyung line)

Nova notes: HIHI ❣️ ..... I know I've been gone for a while BUT I HAVE MADE MY COMEBACK. This was based on this request! Thank you so much for requesting this anon! Maknae line coming soon! Also I've had some people tell me about some spelling mistakes in my korean so thank you so much for telling me because I truely had no idea. Enjoy my loves.

Heeseung (희승)

You have somehow convinced heeseung into solving a 1000 piece Venice landscape puzzle. He wasn't really opposed to the idea, he just had a shitton of work, but you worked up your girlfriend powers and got him put of his godforsaken work chair. "Okay, how do we do this?" He asked sitting opposite to you on your carpeted bedroom floor. "First things first, search for the corners then work our way inwards." You replied feeling giddy. You and heeseung got to work, searching for the corner puzzle pieces, losing some puzzle pieces, and heeseung throwing his usual flirtatious comments. "Baby, where is this piece~" heeseung sang out looking all over for one of the last pieces of the puzzle. "Well, crap. I don't have it." You said throwing your hands in the air. "This calls for a break." He said, pulling you by the hand and resting you on his lap. After a few moments of comfortable silent, you said "we're never gonna find that puzzle piece, are we?" Your breath hitting heesueng's ear shell as his face was buried in between your neck and collarbone. "Nope." He replied, popping the 'p'.

Jay (정성)

It was a random Tuesday night and you were bored out of your mind. Then, you heard the faint strumming of a guitar coming from Jay's office room. Making your way to his office, you spotted an abandoned puzzle set in the junk shelf. Now you were on your way with Jay's office with a mission. "Knock knock." You announced your presence as the strumming stopped. "Come in, my love." You heard Jay say from the other side. "Hello." You greeted, a soft smile on your face as you make your way to where he was sitting. "Hi, dear." He said as he put his guitar aside, gripping you closer by your waist, pulling you I'm between his legs. "So.... wanna build a puzzle with me?" You asked, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. "I would absolutely love to build a puzzle with you." He replied with a tender smile and starry eyes. You both spent the rest of your evening building the puzzle talking about everything and nothing.

Jake (재윤)

Let's be real, jake is the one who proposed this idea to you. And how could you say no when he's giving you these adorable puppy eyes. "Okay, baby, you work on the middle part and I work on the corners." Jake explained and he dumped the puzzle in between you two on the ground. "Why are you giving me the hard part?" You asked with a frown. "Baby, no. It's the important part." He winked at you as he gave you no room for more arguments. "And then she said- no!" Jake's story about the girl that was hitting on him at the bar was cut off by his dog, layla, running over your puzzle, ruining all of your hard work. "Layla! Come on!" You exclaimed as layla continued running around for her toy. You and jake stared at you decapitated puzzle, now strewn all over the living room floor. "Well, damn." Jake said as his eyes lit up all of the sudden. " Let's build a pillow fort!"

Sunghoon (성훈)

Sunghoon was sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly when all of the sudden he felt warm air on the shell of his ear. He turned his head to the side and saw you watching whatever was playing on his phone. "Hi, there." He whispered as you looked at him with a playfully glint in your eyes. "Hi, love." You said with a tone he recognised oh so well. It's the tone you use whenever you need something from him. "What do you need, dear?' He asked with a soft voice. "Soo.." You stretched out while walking around the couch to sit beside him. "I spotted a poor abandoned puzzle sitting in our room and it was just calling our name." You exaggerated making him let out a small chuckle. "Bring it over." He said as you let out a squeal in excitement as you ran over to grab the puzzle. The rest of evening was filled with laughter and puzzle building. Until, "babe, where's the last piece?" You asked as Sunghoon was discreetly looking for said last piece for the last 5 minutes. "I hate to break it to you, but I can't find it." He replied as you stared at him with a wide open mouth.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[gloomskulls]

LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

warning(s): obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any!

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already senior year of high school, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[joyfullemon]

Random Mouthwashing Headcannons

hey guys it’s been a while since i did hc’s but i’m back and ready to post (somewhat) regularly, i’m also working on a digital version of my recent daisuke fanart! so stay tuned for that. These hc’s do NOT include nsfw.

Daisuke:

- NEVER wears matching socks, either he loses them or he just doesn’t care. Throws on the first two socks he sees and calls it a day.

-Also owns alot of fun socks, like the kind with patterns and weird sayings on them.

-Has only worked a few other jobs in his life but none of them really stuck (either because he made lots of mistakes or slacked off)

-Terrible around girls, talks about “beach babes” but if he was around them he would fumble so hard.

-Uses old spice ocean scented deodorant and body spray.

-Asian-Latino

Anya:

-Really bad sleep schedule, she has a hard time getting to sleep and staying asleep. Definitely tosses and turns a lot.

-Favorite flower is a Fuchsia (she also loves humming birds)

-SHES SO FUNNY, writes jokes on sticky notes and forgets about them. 😭

-Coffee is a girls best friend, (maybe i’m projecting) but i think she has a heavy caffeine addiction, cannot function if she doesn’t have a coffee or soda in the morning.

-BIG fan of the color purple. She seems like a purple kinda gal to me.

-LESBIAN

Swansea:

-Loves dad rock. Hinder, Nickelback, Incubus. His favorite is 3 doors down.

-Southern accent because he was born and raised in texas, moved to the midwest with his wife when they were 20-something’s.

-So. Many. Candles. He loves them, keeps one lit in his garage at home. (insanely unsafe)

-I don’t think he went to college, but he did live in the city (flirted with a lot of city girls back in the day.)

-Never left the states (this is a small one but i get that vibe from him)

Curly:

-GYM RAAAAT!!!! Works on his glutes way too often. Love’s chest days.

-Not a huge fan of the summer, prefers the winter because he loves snow sports. The winter olympics is his favorite event in the whole world.

-Popcorn is his favorite snack but specifically the ‘healthy’ kind. it’s disgusting but he loves it.

-Cannot pass up a bet for the life of him, In college he would do anything as long as you phrased it like “i bet you can’t-____”

-Looks good in a beard but won’t grow it out. LET IT GROW KING!!!!!

Jimmy:

-Very well groomed, very confident in how he looks. (he shouldn’t.)

-His favorite show is Bojack Horseman for all the wrong reasons. Type of guy to misinterpret every piece of media he consumes. (DONT SHOW HIM FIGHT CLUB!!!!!!)

-Curly and him went to college together. Still occasionally brings up embarrassing memories of Curly to knock him down a peg.

- idk i don’t wanna think about him anymore

[midnight-mourning]

Mistletoe Mishaps

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 1❄️❄️

Hello!

Sorry to post our starting point so late today, had some family things come up that needed taken care of, but all good now! Hope you all enjoy, had a good bit of fun with this ^_^

Prompt: OFF DCA AU Moon finds holiday related items (cough cough mistletoe) and is trying to get the player alone for smooches but UH OH! Sun is not happy. Hijinks ensue

Word Count: 2200 (i know i said 1000-2000 but it be like that sometimes chat what can i say >_<

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You watch as Sun falls the last spectre, turning to you for what to do next.

"Good work, that should be the last few in this area." You check your inventory, and toss him a few luck tickets. 

He nods. "Thank you, Friend. Shall we move on to the next then?"

Sun's words have an edge of excitement to them, and while you hate to put a damper on his good mood, you feel exhaustion setting in.

"Let's take a break, all this walking has tired me out,"—you pull out the zone map you'd scribbled out, since even that was beyond your abilities as the Player to see—"Is there anywhere to rest nearby? Like, a hotel or something?"

You know your Batter didn't need sleep. Whatever he was, it was beyond the needs for the task. You however, despite being pulled into this world, were still limited to your basic human needs. That included sleep, and food. Though, you weren't particularly fond of your options regarding that second one so far, but you've made do. 

You realize Sun's just staring at you. "A... hotel?"

Right. You forgot that he would have no idea what such a thing was. Your usual method of getting rest was finding a comfortable looking section on the metal ground and laying down. Though, you'd usually wake up and be laying on Sun in some way. He never said anything, and would ignore your thanks when you gave it, but you still said it regardless.

"You know what? We'll just figure it out along the way, come on," you start walking in a random direction, knowing he won't be far behind.

He nods, falling in step with you quickly. "Of course, I'll always follow your lead, Sunshine."

As you're walking, a rare breeze passes by, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms. You'd noticed that the weather here was relatively unclimactic. Neither warm nor cool, save for this very moment.

"Are you alright?"

Glancing up, you see Sun is watching you intently. 

You smile, but another breeze passes by and cringe. "I'm alright, just, surprisingly cold,"—you laugh—"It's funny, if I still understand time correctly, this would be around when the weather gets colder and snowy where I'm from."

Your Batter tilts his head, but says nothing. 

"Like, you know, snow. White, cold, falls from the sky—okay I can see that I'm losing you here, never mind." You sigh. Sometimes, Sun's lack of knowledge about things was endearing, cute even. A being as powerful and—admittedly—terrifying as him being absolutely clueless to what swan rides were and why you loved the Pedalos so much was a bit hilarious. 

As you feel his confused stare stay with you as you continue your journey through Zone 2 however, you could argue that sometimes, sometimes it was not.

You turn the corner and are surprised to see a crudely painted stand set up. It's usual masked owner is standing behind it, head propped up in one hand, unchanging lazy grin ever present. 

You smile, "Hi Moon, fancy seeing you here."

"Hello dear, Player. Might I interest you in my wares today? I think they might pique your interest greatly." He chuckles. 

Before you can speak up, Sun interrupts, "We don't have time for you. My Player is tired and needs to rest in a,"—he pauses—"Hotle?"

"Good try, bud, but not quite." You turn back to Moon, nodding, "Let's take a quick look."

Moon claps, "Excellent!"

Sun makes a noise beside you but you ignore it, instead stepping closer to take a look. 

You're surprised to find Moon's usual supplies missing. Instead replaced by a hat, a scarf, and—

"Mistletoe?" You ask. 

Moon tilts his head, "Hm? Oh, it that what it is? I wasn't too sure myself."

Sun scoffs, but you're focused on the fact that Moon just has, copious amounts of mistletoe. No new upgrades, no luck tickets or silver flesh, not even a speck of meat. Which, that last one you're fine with.

"Where did you find all this?" You ask, picking up a bundle and holding it high to examine it further.

"Oh... around."

At this you look up, but Moon's expression obviously gives nothing away. Still, you chuckle lightly at the idea of the shopkeeper stumbling upon a mistletoe bush here of all places. 

You twist the small plant in your hands, still very fresh. "Really? That's interesting. I take it you have no clue what it stands for?" 

You'd assume that much like Sun, Moon had no knowledge of the world beyond his. Though, he and The Judge had hinted at knowing more in the past, but nothing past that. 

"Of course I do, who wouldn't know such a piece of treasured, holiday symbolism?"

Had you been paying attention, you would have noticed the shared glare between your item vendor and your Batter. 

"Treasured is a bit of a stretch." You laugh, looking back to him now.

Moon leans in closer, only a few mere inches apart "So, anything catch your eye, my friend? Anything in particular?"

"Well—" Before you can give a proper response, Sun is in front of you, arm up protectively. 

His eyes are narrowed, smile strained as he speaks, "We really must be going now, right, Starshine?"

If he's trying to tell you something, you're not sure what it is. This was just Moon after all. Furthermore, your previous talk about the holidays, and the random cold front, were making you eager to remedy your discomfort. 

"We'll take the hat and scarf, Moon." You reach into your pocket for your credits, "The mistletoe is pretty, but don't really have a use for it that I can think of. Hopefully you'll find someone that does though!"

Moon eagerly accepts your credits, providing you the scarf and hat moments later. "Yes, perhaps."

The conversation ends there, Sun ushering you away without even a goodbye to the vendor. 

You only realize what's happened after the fact, and shoot a look up to your Batter, slightly annoyed, "It's rude to not say anything before leaving, you know." 

Sun doesn't respond, gaze forward and face stern. He mutters something you don't quite catch. 

After a short rest in a hotel you manage to find, you're back to work. Or well, Sun is. You're just along for the ride really. But still, after every battle, he's always looking to you for your approval. 

Usually, you were very good about providing it. However, you've lately been finding yourself to be rather distracted. 

Someone, and you could take a guess as to who, had been putting mistletoe up everywhere you went. 

Usually in the typical spots you'd find the herb, hung up in doorways or archways all throughout the zone. Other times it was just, around. 

Hanging on the sides of buildings, lampposts, littering benches, tables, and so on. It seemed there was no escaping the sea of green and white you'd found yourself in. Which, you were fine with. You found the whole ordeal incredibly amusing to be honest. It also made Zone 2 feel just a little more like home, more alive, for that matter. 

One of the other members or your party however, was very, very displeased. You'd find him glaring at the plant, and occasionally snatching it up and tossing it away in some cases. 

Your Batter was also not happy about the lack of attention you'd been giving him, sometimes too busy trying to find all the hidden locations of the herb. 

What didn't help the matter was the bearer of the decorations was usually close by when you discovered more.

Typically, you would be mid-battle, and since Sun was more than capable on his own without you, your focus would wander. And sure enough, either scouring a doorway or peeking down alleys, there would be Moon. 

He would never outright say it was his doing, that would be too easy. Though he certainly enjoyed teasing you about it. Bending down low to your height, voice sly as he declared you "Something of a detective now, aren't you, Dear?"

You would do your best to tease him back, booping his mask when in range, calling this little game of his, "Silly, but fun."

"Game?" He would ask, hand on where you'd touch his face, "I've not a clue what you mean, Friend."

You laugh, "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Though, if this were a game, I'm sure there would be an easy way for you to win."

You still haven't figured out what he meant by that, try as you might. Sun usually would appear in your peripheral, battle over and gaze stern, before you could ask any further questions.

It all came to a head one time when Moon took it a step further. 

You'd once again, guilty as charged, been on the hunt for any new secret spots, and came across Moon in a side alley, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Expecting you, likely. 

He waves to you as you approach, pointing out the mistletoe hanging on a clothesline above his head, "You didn't even try with that one."

He shrugs, then leans down to your height. 

"Trying would imply this is my doing, and you know me, dear Player. Trying is above my paygrade." You're now eye to eye, inches apart. "And here, I thought we were friends."

Your face heats up then, for reasons you can't explain, "W-we're friends,"—you cough—"We're friends. But I'm also not a fool, do you take me for one, Moon?"

He holds your gaze, eyes flicking down momentarily at something, then back to you. Then, he shakes his head slightly, chuckling quietly. 

He stands upright again, "You should stop by my shop again soon. I have fresh wares I think you'd be keenly interested in."

You scoff, along with the mistletoe, there had been mysteriously placed signs, all advertising 'Holiday Wares' in almost as many locations.

"I just might."

And after the battle, you did. Only to find that, his stand, completely and entirely, was just mistletoe. And you don't mean he was just selling it, you mean the stand itself was decorated top to bottom in the stuff. 

The ridiculousness of it made you laugh, hand to your mouth as you tried to contain your giggles. 

However, before you can even open your mouth, Sun is leading you away, over to a secluded spot. 

Cornered in a doorway, you have no choice but to meet his gaze as he stares down at you, smile twitching. 

"Now friend, I think this has gotten a bit out of hand, don't you think?" He tilts his head. 

You shrink a little further into the doorway, "What um, what do you mean?"

His eyes narrow, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"The mistletoe?" You ask, shrinking a little further down with an awkward laugh. "It's just a silly game Moon's playing, that's all. No harm in it."

"No harm?" Sun bends down, fully encapsulating your field of view, "He is actively trying to pursue you and distract from our mission! how is that not doing harm?"

It clicks for you then, all at once. All the closeness, the brief touches, the murmured jests and soft laughs. Moon wasn't just trying to mess with you, he'd been trying to—

"Oh." Your face grows warm then. "I see."

Something else occurs to you then. Specifically, why Sun is so vehemently protesting such a notion. Peeking up, you see there is indeed a piece of mistletoe above the two of you. You know what to do. 

"Sun, all you had to do was ask,"—you stand a little on your tiptoes, then press a quick kiss to his cheek—"I'm always happy to show my affection for you, my Batter."

He's frozen, eyes wide under the shadow of his cap. 

You laugh, "After all, what's a quick kiss among friends, right?"

He's still in a daze as you duck under him, marching over to Moon and his stand with newfound purpose. 

His head rests in both hands as he watches you approach. 

"Your little game is over, I'm afraid," You say when you arrive. 

The masked vendor tsks, "What a shame, and I was doing so well, too."

You roll your eyes, and lean in, "Uh huh, now hold still."

Moon snickers, but obeys. Just as you're about to kiss his cheek, however, he shifts, and you find yourself kissing the mouth of his mask instead. 

Unlike the kiss you gave Sun, you find that it's warm. Like, static from a tv, or something. 

He pulls away first, chucking at your gaping look. 

Before you can react, Sun's hand is on your shoulder, moving you out of the way. You expect him to start leading you somewhere else, color you surprised when he takes a swing at Moon, who quickly dodges the attack. 

You can only watch, still shocked, as your Batter chases your vendor around the area, sharing all sorts of threats about what will happen once he catches the other, who merely laughs at his attempts.

Honestly, not the worst possible outcome for this ordeal.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @monsteractialuna for the request! I've been going feral about your OFF au for days and this only fed further into my obession lol

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 7 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[tripleglitchwriting]

Kinesthesis 3

Jazz/Prowl/HumanReader first contact AU

Part 2

I am so sorry this took so long 😭 but I finally got something out! This was written over the course of multiple months so if it’s inconsistent that’s why. Over my impromptu hiatus I’ve grown as a writer and as a person so that will probably change the way this story goes, but not to worry! I still plan on carrying on with this fic.

Be aware that I may not remember things about that last two chapters before this because it’s been a while. If you find any mistakes, let me know!

Also, thank you to the anons that encouraged me to keep going! This one goes out to you.

So, now you have quite a few problems. Not only were the ‘robots’ alive, they were also obviously damaged and asking for your help. Your help. Of all people. You still didn’t know where they came from, if someone was piloting them, how they got here, what that blue liquid was, or why one of them only made weird metallic scratching sounds. That one in particular really freaked you out when it first started ‘speaking’. At the time, you immediately assumed there was a metal demon somewhere coming to eat you.

Instead of that, they were just giant robots asking for your help in the middle of asscrack nowhere. Very simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

“I’m… going to get to work.” You told the one apparently named ‘Prowl’. He didn’t make any sputtering noises at you this time, so you took that as your go-ahead.

He was huge. Well, you knew that, but it was still jarring. You had to literally climb him to get to his wounds. Delicately placing your rag to the injured spot on his neck, you could feel the pump of something akin to a heart under the metal. Now that was weird. Wait, maybe it was just a fuel pump of somesort. He couldn’t… it couldn't have an actual heartbeat, right? Robots don’t have heartbeats.

That isn’t possible.

After a bit of cleaning up blue liquid and trying not to cut yourself on shards of metal, a realization dawned on you. These guys were more complicated than you thought. Really, a robot shouldn’t have this much… everything. They shouldn’t have half of whatever parts are in them. What kind of coding was driving them anyway? What fuel did they even use? The blue stuff?

Oh, who are you kidding. They aren’t robots. They can’t be. They can’t just be robots. They fell from the sky, of course they can’t be robots! Your heart picked up its already erratic pace, yet even with shaky hands, your work took priority.

Soon after there wasn’t a hole in Prowl anymore. Not one on his neck, anyway. You counted that as a win. But seeing as there were way more lacerations, dents, and cuts all over both of them, you definitely had the rest of your work cut out for you.

Simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

—---------------------

Jazz, with his sight still mostly busted, anxiously awaited some sort of indicator that the person helping them was actually patching up Prowl. They seemed pretty stunned earlier. Scared. He had assumed they’d run away and get help. That would be a more reasonable reaction, right?

Obviously it was probably better that they didn’t, this was a completely new planet after all. They’d be scrap if it weren’t for this random person helping them out. This person that is native to this new planet. With… no knowledge of Cybertronian biology- oh scrap. This person had no idea what they were doing!

“W – it! Wa– a - i!” Staticy, barely understandable garble came out of his vocalizer. He heard a tiny peep out of the little guy and a kind of ‘hrmph’ from Prowl.

“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?” They squeaked in a comically high-pitch tone. “I- I’m sorry, I- know mechanics but this is kind of different and I don’t want to hurt anybody I just-”

“Y- yo- u kno- me- c– nics?”

“Um, yeah, it’s what I do. For school.”

“S- – -ry f’r t--e frig–t, I’m j-st co– m– in’ to–my–sen s- s- ses, an’ rel-i’ed wher– we ar’... an’ I don’ kn- kn- kn- – -w… ca—n– ya- re- – -y fi- x us?”

“O- oh, n- now yo- -y questi- on it?” Prowl commented from the sidelines. Jazz deliberately ignored him.

“I mean, I can, I just need some time to figure everything out… i- it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“W- Wha-t’s’t sayi- in- ing?”

“A- askin’ i- if it- it- it- hu- – -ts.”

“O- of co- rs’ it h-urts!”

“Wait, what’s he saying?”

Jazz cringed for a moment, realizing just how taxing it’s going to be on him to keep translating. Of course, he decided to use it to his advantage. Why not have some fun in the face of certain death?

“H- he s’ys h’s t—ckl’sh.”

“Oh, um, okay. Does that mean you guys can’t feel pain? Like, can I go harder with this? I have some power tools I can use back in—” Okay. Bad plan.

“N- N- N-O we C- – -N Fe’L It!”

“Oh, um, can or can’t?”

“C- C- C- C- CAAIIIEEEZZZZzzzt!” His vocalizer gave off a pointedly unpleasant sound just before shorting out.

“Is that… should I know what that means?” Jazz took a second to reset his vocalizer.

“N- n- n- o… b- b’t w– fe’l pa’n… i–t h- – -rts…”

“Can feel pain, got it. Um, is your voice okay? I can try fixing it… if that’s a thing I can fix…?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, Jazz wasn’t ready for that kind of operation.

“N- n - o thn’ks.”

“Alright… I’m gonna keep going here then.”

It was then, nearly offline, cut off from most forms of communication, on a completely alien planet, that Jazz realized this might be a little bit too much to handle.

“Y- y- you—re an ‘di—ot.”

“M- ay’e… bu— ‘least I c’n t- t- ta-k to ou- fr’nd ‘ere.”

“It’s Wh—lja’k, o- of c-cou’se I d- di—-nnooowoowOWW!” Jazz heard a loud crash followed by a tiny scream.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, what did I do? I- I didn’t know, oh my god…”

“Wh—t? —at ‘appe— d?!”

“I- I’m sorry, I think I hit something, I’m so sorry!”

“Pr—ler? P—owl!?”

He got a groan in response. A groan and a new, distinct, clear sound.

“—bbzzzt —- bzzzt ——tobots! This is Optim— —ime. If yo- can hear thi-, heed my call. The Arc is inoperable. Most of you are scattered across an alien world. While I do not know where the Decepticons have landed, I can confirm they are on the planet with us. Do not lose hope here, my friends. For the fate of Cybertron and the remaining Autobots rests in your capable servos. Attached to this message are the coordinates to the Arc, I will be waiting for you there. Good luck—- bzzzt —— bzzzt—-!”

The three sat in silence. While he couldn’t see the hologram that was most likely coming from Prowl’s projector, he heard what the message contained. They were safe. Optimus was safe. And he once again had a goal to achieve.

“Wh- what the hell was that!?”

“Th’nk Pri—us…” Prowl whispered.

“It -as… a- a- f- fri—nd.”

“Oh, okay. What did your friend say?”

“Th— w- we ha— so—me-here t- be.” Jazz attempted to move his body, but was once again denied. “W- we n- n- ne—d to g—-!”

“Hey, woah woah woah! You are not well enough to get up yet! I haven’t even started patching you up!”

“Aau—augh! I- I- kn— Ratc— uh, I- I- I kno—“

“Settle down. I- I’ll be as fast as I can, alright?”

Jazz huffed in halfhearted agreement. Prowl, on the other hand…

—---------------------

He thought this was an incredible waste of their time. Oh, sure, he needed to be fixed, but he was doing just fine now and he did not need help from a mysterious stranger he couldn’t understand. How could he, Prowl of Petrex, need the help of a tiny little creature like this one? There was no such need. The only need he had was to get himself and Jazz functional again, report back to Optimus, and win the war.

He tried to get up. After about half a second of metal creaking, unconscious groaning, and a little squeak from his benefactor, his body gave out. His spark burned with a searing mixture of frustration and stress as he tried to clench a servo. But of course he couldn’t. Of course he was stuck. Injured, vulnerable, and useless. But still, Optimus needed him. Needed them. So he needed to get up!

“C- cal- m d- do— n Pr—‘er… ye’ sca- a- rin’ ‘em…” He could hear panicked chittering from somewhere on top of him. He had half a mind to shoo the thing away, but even if he could raise his servo, he knew this was his only hope. He would never admit that, obviously, but deep in his spark he knew.

He didn’t respond to Jazz. He didn’t need to. He just focused on the little twinge of pain somewhere atop his chassis and a wound being sealed. A familiar feeling. Not too familiar, not like this, but enough to be comforting.

He imagined the medbay in the Arc. That time when they defeated the enemy and no one had to die. They won, and everyone cheered and celebrated and did whatever people do to express joy during a war.

He was unconscious for cycles. Just because nobody died doesn’t mean nobody was hurt. And he was really, really hurt. But it didn’t matter, not even to him. Moments like that are rare, after all. When one could rejoice without mourning the loss of a friend. He’d only expected Ratchet or First Aid to stay with him during that time. Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the spoils of victory? No one is willing to give up a moment of solace like that. No one is stupid enough to pass up the opportunity for happiness. Except Jazz.

Jazz stayed with him the whole time. He stayed by his bedside, refusing to leave once the required surgery was over. He brought glasses of energon for both of them. To share.

Prowl didn’t wake up then. He missed the party and the congratulations and the relief. He missed Jazz telling him stories and about his day. He missed when the rest of the crew stopped by to check on him. When he did finally come out of stasis, Jazz wasn’t there. Not of his own volition, but because he passed out on the floor due to exhaustion. They both got a long lecture about taking care of themself from Ratchet when it was over.

And Jazz is there, now, still with him. Bleeding out and broken, but still there. And Prowl was powerless to help him. His HUD sang one final message in his head before it went suddenly silent, and he fell helplessly into the deep abyss of stasis.

[cheoridoll]

can you write a fic about listening to music w robby keene??

playlist of love

pairing: robby keene x reader

notes: thank you for the request! :)

warning: nothing, just Robby being cute

playlist for the fic: spotify | sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.

words counted: 1.030

It was a late Sunday afternoon, the time when the sun was already setting, painting the sky orange and pink. I was lying on the couch, playing with my phone, when Robby arrived.

"Hi, honey," he said, throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Hi Robby, how was work?" He shrugged, throwing himself on the couch next to me. The way he always felt comfortable around me made me smile inside. It was like he felt like this was his place.

"I thought we could do something different today."

"Different like what?"

"Listening to music together." — He answered, a little shy.

I raised an eyebrow, curious. Robby wasn't one to suggest programs outside the standard "watching series until falling asleep".

At first I thought: "Really? Music? Since when has this been different?" But then I realized that the way he said it seemed more special than simply putting on a random playlist. His small gestures made me smile, and I realized how worth every second by his side was.

"Okay." — I answered, curious and giving a slight smile.

Robby jumped up, excited, and started rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a laptop and two headphones.

"I made a playlist." — He said with a smile.

Robby was the kind of guy who didn’t show his feelings very much. So the fact that he had created a playlist for us to listen to together was basically the equivalent of writing a love letter in our modern language. He plugged the headphones into the laptop, put one side in my ear and the other in his. We were very close, with the cable of the headphones a little short, which made me laugh. He pressed play, and the first song started. It was Yellow, by Coldplay.

“You know that’s a cliché, right?” — I joked.

He gave me a sideways smile, the one that always made me melt.

"Cliché, but true." — The way he said it made me go quiet. There was something in the tone of his voice that said more than the words. We sat in silence, listening to the music. I knew he was trying to say something without speaking, and I think I understood. The next song started, and it was Home, by Gabrielle Aplin. I had never heard it before, but the lyrics caught me somehow. It was sweet, welcoming, as if the song had been made for that specific moment.

"This is beautiful" — I commented, a little embarrassed to say it.

"I thought of you when I heard it." — He replied, fiddling with the earphone cord.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

The playlist kept going, and every song seemed handpicked. It had a bit of everything: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Billie Eilish. In the middle of a Harry Styles song, I turned to him.

"Okay, confess, you spent hours putting this together, didn’t you?"

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying it.

"Maybe" — he replied, with that little smirk that always got to me.

I realized the playlist was more than just music. It was like he was trying to show me pieces of himself that he didn’t know how to express otherwise. Every lyric, every melody, felt like it was saying something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

When You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash started playing, he finally broke the silence.

"I like spending time like this with you." — He said, staring straight ahead, as if he was afraid to look at me.

"Like this how?" — I asked, curious.

"Just... together. Without needing to say anything."

I smiled, even though he wasn’t looking. The truth was, I felt the same way. With Robby, there was no need for grand declarations or over-the-top gestures. It was in the silence, in the simple things, that we truly connected.

Midway through the playlist, I grabbed the laptop and opened my own Spotify.

"Now it’s my turn" – I announced, excited.

He made a face but gave in. I started with A Sky Full of Stars because I knew he had a soft spot for Coldplay. Then, I went through songs that reminded me of him: Sweater Weather, Electric Love, Falling.

"This one’s for you" – I said when Can’t Help Falling in Love began.

And for a second, I thought he was going to laugh, but he just smiled — that smile that made the whole world feel a little lighter.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

When the last song ended, we were silent again. Not that awkward silence, but one that seemed to fill the space between us.

“That was a good idea, Robby,” — I finally said, taking off my headphones.

“That was right" — he replied, looking at me with that look that I knew was only mine. He leaned in to place a kiss on my lips, and for a moment I smiled between the kiss.

And so, on a random Sunday, with a playlist and two headphones, he managed to show me that sometimes the best conversations happen without any words.

[pipsqueaks89934]

December 1st: Gifts

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, blood, gore, age gap, getting knocked out, Yandere stuff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since December 1st, you've been getting these weird gifts in the mail like jewelry, your favorite snacks, stuffed animals, and other things. Of course, you didn't mind it, I mean who wouldn't like gifts? You just thought it was just your boyfriend or friends being nice but when you tried to thank any of them they all refused to give them to you with a confused look on their faces. Even after talking to everyone you knew about the gifts you were getting, they wouldn't stop if anything they were getting a little alarming like on top of the nicely wrapped gift would be a note, drops of a mysterious red liquid, or a text from a random number telling you that your gift has arrived and he can't wait for you to see what's inside.

“Babe, there's another gift and the note says I can't wait to see you soon!” you say into your phone as the voicemail lady asks you if you want to re-record your message.

As you put your phone away into your pocket you look at the onymous gift that has been left on your doorstep. After a few minutes, you decide that it would be best if you brought it inside since you felt like someone was watching your every move.

What could my boyfriend be doing that's more important than answering his phone?

While you look at the beautiful wrapped present something inside of you is telling you not to open it and call the cops. Despite your better judgment, you get your box cutter and open up the mysterious gift that your stalker gave you. When you opened the box the sight inside made you scream and call 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?” the lady on the other end said politely.

“MyboyfriendsheadisinthisboxthatsomerandompersongavemeSENDSOMEONENOW!” you said quickly as you yelled the last part into the poor girl's ear.

“Ma’am you need to calm down,” the lady said with a hint of sympathy in her tone. “Now tell me again but this time slower.”

“My boyfriend’s head is in this present that some psycho gave me, can you send someone now?” you try to say calmly but you are still in a panic.

“I'll have officers at your house soon,” the lady said hurriedly as she began to panic. “Can you answer a few questions for me first?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“How long have you known the victim?”

“A few months.”

“Where did you meet?”

“A mutual friend's birthday party.”

“Did you ever want to hurt him in any way, shape, or form?”

“What no, he was my boyfriend!”

“Did you ever hurt him in any way, shape, or form?”

“No!”

“Did he ever hurt you in any way, shape, or form?”

“No.”

“Do you know who did this to your boyfriend or anyone who might have done this?”

“No, not that I can think of.”

“Did you touch any part of the crime scene?”

“Only the note, the envelope, the box, the box cutter.”

“Okay, the police should be there shortly, can you stay on the line until they get there?”

“Yes!”

A few seconds later you heard a pounding on the door with the words, ‘This is the police’ following after it.

“I think the police are here,” you say quietly into your phone to the lady. “I'm going to go let them in!”

“Alright, call again if you or they need anything!” she said before you hit the hang-up button.

After the call, you walked to your front door so you could let the police in but before you could get a good look at the policemen you were knocked out. When you woke up you saw a man that you'd seen a few times at work standing in front of you.

“Why am I here? Where are the cops? Who are you? Where am I?” you asked the man in a panic while looking around the room.

“Wow, so many questions,” the man laughed as if you had said something funny. “Well to start I’m Landon, I'm 23, you're in my basement, and the cops are never going to find us. I saw you at your work and I just thought you were the cutest little thing so I started to send you gifts but you ruined it by calling the cops.”

“But I don't know you!” you said before Landon bent down in front of you.

“That’s okay because I know you and we have all the time in the world for you to know me,” he said while rubbing your thigh. “The sad thing is that you have to stay down here until I can trust you but don't worry you have everything you need.”

[solemnv0id]

Finally working on more designs for this au, now we have the almighty Megalon !!! Lore ramblings under cut

So in this au, (which is the same one that my Gigan and fangoji are in btw) kaiju are a very well known thing and have been for all of human history. As such, there have been countless civilizations that worship them as gods, and one of the longest lasting yet secretive is Seatopia. They’re a civilization that live underground protected by their patron god, Megalon, and have made very little attempt to communicate with those on the surface. Except for when they send Megalon to either get some stuff from there or to fuck some shit up when the surface people annoy them in anyway.

Things were working out well for them as they continued to dig out new cities under Megalon’s watchful eye. Until they weren’t, over the course of 200 years, random kaiju were dropping like flies completely randomly, taking many humans down with them, and Megalon was of the many that fell. This along with the sudden mass casualties was devastating to Seatopia and almost resulted in their collapse. So for the first time in their history, their king decided to contact the surface to see if they could help bring their god back. They were not alone in this however as the people of infant island also lost the one they praised as well, Mothra, with her death in particular being one of the most devastating.

The 2 approached the company RENOVEM, a company that specializes in disaster relief and recovery from kaiju attacks, along with ensuring the wellbeing of kaiju since their deaths also cause mass calamity as well. They both asked the company to try and figure out a way to revive the kaiju they worshiped. After a lot of hesitation and negotiations, especially with the Seatopian king as he wasn’t exactly… trusted all that much, but regardless they figured out a deal and thus the MM rivial project, or MMRP was underway.

It took another 200 years to complete but what they did was they took the bodies of Megalon and Mothra since kaiju bodies take forever to decay and essentially remade their entire bodies with what was left of them + some new materials and managed to find a way via using machinery to get their cognitive ability sparking up again. So now they’re back !!!

However this isn’t without its stipulations, primarily for Megalon as now he isn’t allowed to do his fucking shit up like how he used to, and therefore can’t hang out with Gigan anymore so that sucks for him. If he tries to go out and do some shit, RENOVEM can just turn him off, so no sneaking off for him. Something that sucks for both Mothra and Megalon is the fact they basically have to work together now since for a lot of their history they did not like each other and would fight whenever they ran into one another. This was part of the reason why RENOVEM was hesitant to rebuild the 2 together but they complied since they felt it could beneficial to have Megalon be brought back but not be allowed to do fucked up shit.

Sorry for this being so long, and this isn’t even everything bc I don’t want to spoil all of it but yeah 😎 (also some stuff might change later on since it’s all still a WIP out so keep that in mind)