#i just realised i put a picture of candy under a picture of candy THERE IS TOO MUCH F*CKING CANDY BUT IT'S J HOPES BDAY SO EVERYTHING IS OK

[leejeongz]

first kiss with bonedo please 🪄

🫧 your first kiss with boynextdoor 🫧

pairing: crush!bnd x gn!reader

genre: FLUFF !!!

warnings: reader is vvv shy in some of these, mentions of food (jaehyun, leehan), physical affection

a/n: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE IM SO IN LOVE i hope you enjoy reading it just as much <3

𓆉 jaehyun

jaehyun tugged at the cross body strap of your bag, “where are you taking this? we’re only going around the block?”

you pulled a face at the boy’s question, “i might pick up some candy from the convenience store. is that alright with you?” you retorted like a grumpy teenager.

jaehyun chuckled and pulled out his wallet, waving it in your face before slipping it back into his pocket. “come on, let’s go before it starts raining again.”

“i’m still taking it though,” you gripped onto the strap, for no other reason than because you felt weird without a bag these days.

“you’re cute, you know that, right?” he smiles. as he looks at you, you feel yourself mellowing under his gaze. despite the fact that you’d liked him since the day you met, him calling you cute never usually had any effect on you, it was a part of his everyday vocabulary. but today, it felt different. you noted his eyes shift from your own to your lips. this wasn’t anything new either. but you never wanted to get ahead of yourself and think it was something that it’s not. you rubbed your fingers over them, they were a little chapped, that’s probably what he was looking at, right?

oh probably not.

jaehyun’s hand guided yours away from your face, replacing it with his own, colder hand on your cheek. before you could fully process what was happening, his lips met with yours. his smile into the kiss didn’t go unnoticed by you, humming in happiness, and, to be honest, a little bit of shock.

jaehyun pulled away in a concerned, almost grunt. “sorry, i should’ve asked, i’m sorry, was that stupid of me? i really thought you liked me back,” he rambled.

“i do!” you exclaimed in a way that shut him up. “i do,” you clarified in a softer tone.

“good,” he nodded, taking your hand and escorting you through the front door of your apartment block. “so when do i get another?”

your morning continued in a similar vein, eventually you did repay the favour of course, but not without a whole lot of puppy eyes.

𓆉 sungho

“this was a good idea,” sungho praised himself, a proud smile on his face as he looked back to the stars after placing his phone on the blanket. he leaned back, his hand slightly brushing yours as he sturdied himself. for the first time ever, you decided to leave your hand where it was. sungho had invited you here, stargazing, it was quite obviously a date, the least you could do was put your shyness aside. you couldn’t stop your hand from fidgeting though. he smiled to himself, bashfulness radiating from your whole being.

“hey, did you just take a picture of me?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you realised what exactly he was doing on his phone.

“so what if i did?” he asked, his head turning to face you, “there’s only 1 thing prettier than the sky right now.” his hand found yours more directly this time, playing with your fingers for a little while, just until you looked at him.

your eyes locked on his, neither of you were planning on looking away anytime soon. you felt almost possessed. you were never the type of person to do this. sungho leaned over and your face edged closer to his. with his weight now on just one of his hands, his other hand was at your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lobe. he finally shut his eyes, his lips meeting with yours as though it was your reward for winning the imaginary staring competition. you forgot where you were for a moment, not that it mattered. nothing else mattered. just you and him.

he pulled away with a shy, almost silent giggle, and fell back to resting on both hands. you turned in your place and lay back, your head now in his lap.

“i think im gonna sleep here tonight,” you spoke, turning onto your side and taking in the city from the rooftop.

“hmm” sungho hummed as he shuffled in his place. he draped the spare blanket over your body and began to play with your hair. “you can do that, baby, that’s fine by me.”

𓆉 riwoo

seeking comfort, your hand immediately finds your earring, toying with it as you eye the boy watching the movie next to you. riwoo had invited you over to watch something, honestly, you can’t even remember the title, but you said yes anyway, just because it was him. the only trouble was, you couldn’t even concentrate on the movie, you were only looking at him. every so often, he’d glance back at you, looking a little disappointed that you weren’t as engrossed as he was, but secretly, he was so happy to catch you staring. if you weren’t looking at him, he was looking at you, so he was glad to know you felt the same way.

he picked up the remote from the small gap between you and hit pause. “y/n, are you even watching this?” he huffed.

“yes!” you lied. he looked at you and tried to hold his laughter. “sorry, it’s just not really my thing,” you added, your shoulders relaxing finally for the first time that afternoon, “but you can carry on watching, i don’t mind!”

he sighed, “why didn’t you say something? we could’ve watched something else!”

your eyes met and the mood changed immediately. the tv was long forgotten as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“totally random question,” he began, “but can i kiss you?” you tried to not look confused but clearly that wasn’t working. “sorry, i think i read the room completely wrong, forget i ever said that, so stupid,” he rambled, blinking a few times.

you reached for his hand, feeling guilty as you felt it shaking. “that’s not what i meant, i mean, i would like a kiss, yes, but i didn’t expect you to ask, that was all,” your response was just as clunky as his initial question. it was endearing in a way.

riwoo’s face was less than inches away from yours when he spoke again, “so, i can kiss you?” his hand was at your waist, causing you to shudder.

“please,” you encouraged, almost begged at this point.

your lips were so close you could feel him smile, before they met with yours. it was slow, in a good way, you thought, it seemed to last forever, but also not long enough. as he pulled away, you went back for another, it was hungry yet so incredibly innocent at the same time. years of pining lead up to this and so you felt you had to make the most of it. and when you finally pulled away, you took one last small peck at his lips, his hand squeezing at your waist cheekily.

“you’re acting like we haven’t got all the time in the world to kiss more,” he giggled, his head coming to rest against your shoulder.

“well, i didn’t want to waste any,” you admitted, “we have a lot of lost time to make up for!”

𓆉 taesan

“my gosh, when can we get out of here?” taesan asked you discreetly, stretching back on his chair and turning his head to you.

“they’re your friends, taesan,” you laughed, hitting his torso with the back of your hand, causing him to curl into himself.

“don’t forget why you were invited to the function, y/n,” he rolled his eyes, eliciting a laugh from you.

“because you enjoy my company sooo much,” you looked around the crowded room. your voice died down as you realised, that probably isn’t the reason at all. the room was full of the hottest, coolest people you’d ever met, and they all seemed to be close friends with taesan, it was his birthday celebration after all. “i thought you were a party lover, anyway?”

his gaze on you turned less serious, yet for some reason, made your heart beat faster. “well, clearly, you don’t know me well enough.”

“maybe i don’t,” you admit, wishing it wasn’t true. “but they hired out this whole place, shouldn’t you be up there, dancing with them?” you motioned to the crowds of people around the venue.

“i don’t want to right now,” he laughed. you were so unbelievably oblivious, to him, he was making his crush on you very clear. your eyes fixated on a group of pretty girls on the dance floor, an unjustifiable pang of jealousy hitting right where it hurts. his own eyes followed yours to the group. he thought for a moment, analysing what you might be thinking. he could read you like a book. you both turned to each other at the same time, both with your hands guarding your words being seen by any onlookers.

“who’s that girl-“ you started.

“i swear i didn’t even know half of these people-“ he spoke at the same time, managing to get more words out in the same amount of time.

he shook his head with an amused smile, pushing your hand out of the way with his own before placing it on your cheek. he leaned in, wasting not time in pressing his lips against yours. one long kiss and three smaller ones. not that either of you were counting or anything. your lips lingered near his for a moment, waiting for another. but he didn’t give. instead he just laughed.

“if you want more, you’re going to have to wait until we go on a proper date, y/n, i’m a gentleman you know?”

you raised your eyebrows, trying to brush off the embarrassment.

he stretched back on his chair once again as he accidentally caught the attention of one of his friends, who beckoned him to join them. he stood reluctantly, but his stance was inviting you to join him. you stood too and began to walk with him.

“oh, and that girl in the red dress is one of those people that i don’t know. but it’s cute that you’re getting jealous already,” he said with his usual nonchalant attitude, “i’m gonna tell them i’m heading back to the dorms, but i think the river looks really pretty under the moonlight, so let’s make that date happen. wait here, okay?”

𓆉 leehan

leehan turned to find you with your head resting on your arm, which was extended across the table in his kitchen. he wiped his slightly damp hands on his shorts as he turned off the faucet.

“my cooking made you that sleepy?” he said through a shy smile. he took the seat next to you cautiously. this was the first time you’d been alone together at his shared house and it was clearly affecting you both similarly. you wanted to bounce off the walls with excitement, you wanted to kiss his face off, you wanted someone, anyone, to walk through that door, you wanted the ground to swallow you up.

“i didn’t know beef had that taste,” you joked, trying to push away the conflicting feelings. you folded your arm under your head.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he laughed along.

his eyes focused solely on your hand, that you’d just brought closer to him. did you do that on purpose? did you want him to hold it? his hand found yours before he could think about it anymore, his fingers playing with yours which were weightless under his touch.

you, stunned by the sudden physical affection, lifted your head and looked at the boy. his eyes remained on your hand, which was slowly closing around his. “maybe, next time, you could cook for me?” he asked, trying to break the silence.

“maybe,” his eyes finally met with yours as you began to speak, “i’m not sure it would be any better,” you laughed, and he laughed too.

“well, then we’ll have to go out,” a familiar awkwardness filled the room again, “like on a date, if you’d like?”

his eyes searched yours for an answer before you could even respond. you tried your best to look as enthusiastic as possible, after all, there was nothing you wanted more. “i’d like that a lot, actually.” you shyly rested your head on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see how hard you were blushing right now.

he knew you couldn’t see it, but the only way he could respond was with a warm smile. he looked down to you, the dusty pink hue to your cheeks giving him a wave of confidence. he freed his hand from yours and took your chin between his thumb and finger, tilting your head to mirror his own before leaning in.

his lips landed on yours delicately. the kiss was regretfully short considering how long awaited it was by both of you, but it didn’t stop you from enjoying it. it was like you were both sharing the same butterflies in your tummies. for that split second, everything felt right. neither of you wanted to pull away, but shyness forced you both to revert back to ‘reality.’ you both continued to stare into each other’s eyes. both of you seemed to be begging for another, but neither of you quite caught on.

“that was nice,” you admitted. ‘nice’ was certainly an understatement, you thought, as you kicked yourself for even speaking. “sorry, did i just ruin the moment?” you pulled your lips into your mouth, apparently copying leehan’s expression.

he shook his head, beginning to chuckle, “you’re cute.”

𓆉 woonhak

“it’s okay, i’m kinda scared of horror movies anyway,” you laughed, absentmindedly linking arms with woonhak as you left the movie theatre.

the air outside was biting cold. you weren’t exactly dressed for the weather, but woonhak had been kind enough to lend you his jacket. though oversized, the thin layer of corduroy it wasn’t adding much warmth to you, which is why you found yourself clinging to his arm.

“you know, some people may call that an ick,” he laughed with you, “at your big age you can’t handle a bit of scary fiction?” he mimicked, turning to you to make sure that you were finding his teasing funny. “maybe it was a good thing that they sold out, i don’t think i could take you seriously with tears in your eyes!” he added.

“hey,” you hit his arm with your free hand, “i never said i’d cry!”

“nooo,” he walk became more of a sway, taking you with him sillily, “but what i’m trying to say isss,” his words dragged out longer the more he pushed you along the dimly lit walkway, “i think you’d look pretty when you cry, probably.”

the sudden compliment, if you can even call it that, had you rooted to the spot, causing him to do the same. you raised a brow and took your arm from his. he moved to stand opposite you, a smile forming at your confusion. you eyes softened as you dug your hands into the jacket pockets, his phone being the only thing in there.

“shall we take a picture?” you pulled it out and held it up, “one for the scrapbook - the failed movie night!”

you cheesed at the camera, woonhak’s head peeping in just above yours, housing a pouty, kissy face. you hit the centre button at the right time, just as his lips pecked at your temple. you tried your best to ignore it, not because you didn’t enjoy it, but because you didn’t know how to address it.

“for the record, y/n, i think you’re prettier when you’re not crying,” he clarified, “like tonight. and you look so cute in my jacket too.” his hand came to your cheek and pinched it while smiling sweetly. you swooned, unable to take your eyes off his lips. you desperately wanted to know how they felt on yours, even more so after the small kiss he gave you only a few seconds ago.

you didn’t have to wait long to find out. his lips met with yours and your eyes closed instinctively. he pushed against them a little harder before pulling away naturally. “that was okay, right?” he asked, realising he hadn’t even asked before he did that.

you nodded, still unable to put your feelings into words, but almost greedily wanting another. “hey, have you watched gilmore girls?” you asked, the seemingly random question causing woonhak to shake his head in confusion.

“uh i don’t think so,” he took your hand in his and began to walk with no end destination in mind. he looked over to you and looked away again in a split second, your smile making his heart skip a beat.

“great, shall we go back to mine and watch that instead?” you cosied into his side once again.

“anything for you, sweetie,” he chuckled under his breath, unable to quite believe how you already have him wrapped around your little finger.

[bruisedboys]

Congrats congrats congrats!!! So happy for you!

For the celly: Candy cane with tasm!Peter 

13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver

with Peter taking a picture of reader? Please and thank

hi baby thank you so much!! hope this is okay x

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

“Y/N,” Peter’s tone is growing more and more impatient by the second, though it’s mostly for dramatics. He’s having fun, you can hear it in his voice, a smile he doesn’t even try to hide. “C’mon, bub. Just let me take one picture of you?”

You bury your hot face further into your hands. You do not want him to take a picture of you. He’s already tortured you with an overbearing amount of compliments and kisses, telling you how your dress makes you look like a princess and your hair is lovely and woah, dove is that glitter on your eyes? You barely tried, only put on the dress in the first place because tonight’s supposed to be a nice date night. But Peter’s spent so long fawning over you that you might miss your dinner reservation.

In any case, you don’t think you can take much more of Peter’s doting. You’re well on your way to becoming a burning flame of a girl.

“No, thank you,” you say primly. “I don’t want my picture taken.”

Peter makes an indignant noise. “But, sweetheart.” His hands grab your knees, hot and firm. “You look so pretty. I just want one.”

“Nope,” you say, stubborn as a rock. You refuse to succumb to his charm.

“Aw, come on, baby.” Peter gets closer. You can’t see him but you can feel his warmth, smell his cologne. His hands slide further up your knees. Your skin prickles. His fingertips slide just under the hem of your dress, nowhere important but high enough to make you want to squirm. He squeezes your upper thighs gently. “Please?”

You know exactly what he’s doing. You’d known he’d do this from the start and still, you’re putty in his hands. You feel his hot hands on you and realise you’d never be able to say no to him.

“Fine,” you mumble. You drop your hands and find Peter closer than you’d thought, smiling at you lopsidedly. He’s really pretty, so pretty it strikes you in the heart like a bullet. “But just one, Pete, I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Peter beams at you, pulling back. “Sure thing, bub.”

You glare at him while he moves back and fiddles with the dials on his camera. You may be acting grumpy about it, but you love him, and you love that he thinks you look nice enough to want a photo of you. He just makes you nervous, is all.

Peter finishes setting up his camera and smiles at you. “Alright, just sit there and look pretty, okay? Should be easy for you.”

“Peter,” you moan, heat crawling up your neck.

Peter just laughs, bringing his camera up to his eyes. “Smile, okay, sweet thing?”

You do as he says. You don’t think you could deny him when he’s talking to you like that.

“Perfect,” he tells you, smiling himself. “Okay, ready? Three, two, one, cheese!” Peter presses down on the button and his camera clicks, the flash blinding you momentarily before the harsh light fades from your vision.

You slide off his bed where he’s seated you as soon as he’s done, glad it’s over. Your peace is short lived, though. As you’re grabbing your purse from the dresser, Peter sneaks another photo of you, the telltale click of the camera shutter giving him away.

“Peter!” You gasp. You shove him in the chest. “You suck! I said only one. I wasn’t ready that time,” you moan.

Peter’s laughing. It doesn’t annoy you as much as it should, not when he looks so happy, not when he grabs your arm and rubs his thumb into your elbow consolingly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, doll. Y’just looked so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

You roll your eyes. He’s going to be the death of you one of these days. “Whatever, Pete. C’mon, or we’ll miss our reservation.”

[sumsumstrashbin]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟖𝟓𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲?

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The sound of leaves crunched beneath your feet as the breeze flowed through your hair. It was a brisk autumn day in the town you resided in, and the market was bustling with wizarding families picking out pumpkins and other goodies. 

You walked hand in hand with James, your partner of five years, and husband of one. He swung your hands together as you walked, chatting about your surroundings. 

“Care for a candy apple, love?” He asked, approaching one of the booths. 

“Sure.” You smiled, letting go of his hand to let him pay.

He held it out to you, waiting for you to take it. As you reached out to take it, he yanked it out of reach. “Excuse me, miss, you owe me some form of payment for this.” He quipped. “A kiss would be sufficient, I suppose.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a peck on the lips. He then handed the apple to you, taking his compact 35mm film camera out of his pocket. “Smile.”

You held the apple up, giving him your best smile as he snapped the photo. 

“That’s going to turn out lovely.” He grinned, putting the camera back in his pocket. 

You had become very familiar with his camera, as he had a habit of snapping candid photos of you whenever he thought you looked too gorgeous to not be photographed. Despite magical cameras being readily available, he was quite fond of his muggle camera, capturing still photographs rather than the more common moving photos. He also liked bringing the camera into the bedroom, as he couldn’t resist taking a photo or two of you in rather compromising situations. He always kept two photos of you in his wallet: his favourite photo of you during your years at Hogwarts, and one more intimate photo of you that he tucked away behind the other one for “safe keeping”. 

The two of you spent most of the afternoon in the market, and he ensured to spoil you with anything that you may have glanced at for even a second. You ended up at a jewellery booth, admiring a beautiful locket on display. You decided against buying it, as you were content with the things James had already bought for you, so you put it back down and walked off. You quickly realised that James wasn’t following you, so you looked back, only to see him jogging after you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t following me.” You said, taking his hand. You felt something cool and metallic inside of his palm, and he looked down at you with a grin. He placed the object into your hand, while you watched him, confused. When you opened your hand, you found the locket.

“James, you shouldn’t have. It was expensive, and you’ve already bought me enough stuff.”

“I couldn’t resist. It’ll look so beautiful on you. Let me put it on for you.” He took it, stepping behind you to put it on your neck. His minty breath fanned against the back of your neck, and the cool metal of the locket against your skin sent chills through your body. No matter how long you were together, he still managed to give you butterflies. He pressed a loving kiss to the side of your neck before turning you around to have a look at the necklace.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” You smiled up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hold on, I need to get another picture. Stand right there.”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

On the way back to your home, the two of you walked through a quiet park, full of the gorgeous colours of autumn. A rustling sound came from a pile of leaves under a tree, breaking the silence.

“What was that?” You queried, looking over to the source of the sound. 

“Probably just the wind.” James answered.

The rustle was heard again, causing him to turn towards the leaf pile as well. Just as he was about to speak, a small black cat emerged from the leaves, looking at the two of you.

You dropped to your knees, calling it over. “Oh my goodness, what a cutie! Come here!”

“Y/n, I don’t know if calling a random stray cat over is a good idea.” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Nonsense. It’s just a baby.” You said, watching as the cat slowly approached you. You allowed it to sniff your hand, before it began rubbing its face all over you for pets. 

“Can we keep it, James? Please? It has no collar, and it’s so cute!” You smiled, scratching the cat’s head.

“You know I’m more of a dog person, Y/n.”

“I know, but look how adorable it is! How could you say no to this little face?”

James sighed, knowing it would break your heart if he said no.

“Fine.”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The rest of the evening was spent cuddled up on the couch by the fireplace with James, and your new addition to the family curled up on your lap.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

[oops-all-concrete]

Hello lovelies, 💘HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!💘

I'm back with more BG3 headcanons! Today's prompt is;

💕Modern AU; Ways the BG3 (romanced) companions are idyllicly sweet with Tav!💕

No spoilers! Tags are; A whole heckin lot of fluff and cuteness!

Lae'zel -

You have to be careful with what you say around Lae'zel. Made a minor comment 3 months ago that you wanted to revisit somewhere in the Sword Coast? Get packing, you guys are all booked to go. Asked Lae'zel to get you candy on the way home? She has 3 full bags. Say that comment her folks made last time you visited made you uncomfortable- you have a paragraph text apology from all of them the next day. She's not just someone who wants to spoil Tav, she fucking will. (If Tav manages to talk her out of going nuts with the pampering, she's surprisingly sentimental. You bet she keeps a rock in her pocket that reminds her of Tav)

Shadowheart -

She is so excited to post you. She doesn't like social media and tends to keep to herself, but after watching Tav post pictures of them both, she wanted to do the same. The minute she gets even the smallest romantic gesture, she's scrapbooking, she has a wall of Polaroids joined by a horde of hand made sketches, she's putting together little snack baskets and mailing them to Tav, she's about as obviously head over heels as a person can be, really. She's always got a camera aimed at Tav, even if they're just for her. (A good 90% are just for her eyes)

Wyll -

This man never plays games/gets online with both sides of the headphones in. It doesn't matter if the game is online, offline, urgent, time sensitive, dependent on his concentration- if Tav so much as makes a peep, he's out of his seat and across the room. Hells, he takes every chance he gets to go give Tav some attention. In the drift of leaving the waking world, Tav will definitely hear a little "One minute, Tav needs me" despite them not asking. Some footsteps. And then moments later, the warmth of the duvet being tucked all over their body and a gentle kiss to the cheek. Whispered "I love you"s and then a quiet. "I'm going to hop off for a few hours." So you can have some quiet.

Karlach -

She's one of those people that really makes you realise you have good taste in other people. Like, you can't think of a time you went on a walk and she didn't pick up some trash, help an elderly person across the street, immediately offer her seat to a pregnant woman. No matter how prideful Tav might be or not, there's a pride in the admiring looks other people give her. Little girls pass in the street and say "mum, I want to be like her when I grow up!" Everything she does makes Tav proud to be with her, yet somehow Tav is always the one under a spotlight to her. "Oh, me and my partner-" this. "Oh, my partner-" that. "I'm so proud of my Tav. Ugh, I am so lucky" she insists at every turn.

Gale -

He's a night owl, much to Tara's dismay. Wether that's because he can't sleep, he likes being awake in the dark hours or- his brain won't stop nattering at him for a gods damned minute, but either way. He's probably working, quietly cleaning, organising Tavs things so they don't have to worry. In quiet moments, between possibly making them breakfast because of course he's up that early- he's just kissing Tav on the forehead, gently, trying not to wake them. He needs them to sleep but there is not a moment in his day where he doesn't think: "Does Tav know I love them? Can I remind them once more? Even if its just for my peace of mind?" Because he will not rest if he has an inkling his live for Tav isn't at the forefront of their mind.

Astarion -

If you even suggest to this man that you should do matching outfits, he's excited. He always wants to take the wheel, but also wants Tav to have a foot in the idea. He will give ideas left and right, opinions up and down. He doesn't care if it's a date or not, cringe solstice photos, or just gym clothes, he's all for it. If you guys didn't have matching pyjamas already, you have them now, congrats. (If he's still a bloodsucker, he'll definitely still go out of his way to learn how to cook for Tav. Tokyo Ghoul rules though, so Tav gets to taste test a lot. Only the best for his little capri-sun) Overall he's just unashamed and excited to be with someone who very obviously wants to be his, visibly as possible.

(Bonus Halsin!)

Halsin -

This man lives for shared activity. He's quite alright on his own and can allow Tav their space, but going to get massages, haircuts/styles, wine tasting is his total vibe. Just relaxed gatherings together. Nobody lives a spa day like this man. It allows a level of intimacy that nature intends. Cleansing. Careful. Close. He will learn how to do Tavs hair and makeup if asked. Will take pleasure in being able to undress them and put them to bed at the end of a long day. Go on hikes and camping trips, walks through the woods, carving names into rocks and bringing back souvenirs to press into a book that's only getting thicker.

[devilcantspeell]

BLOOD FOR THE WORLDBUILDING ASK GAME. hi ben <3

CASSIAN YOU FUCKING LEGEND I love you for this <3

WORLDBUILDING ASK GAME:

WITH PICTURES!

WARNINGS! ⚠️: Cartoon blood, cartoon gore, body horror, diseases/medical horror, child abuse mentioned, sex mentioned.

.

1. BLOOD - Does everyone bleed the same colour? If not, why not?

The world is run by 3 Major Races! Two are organic, one is mechanic.

In order of hierarchy: Crystalline, Human, and Robot.

2. PEPPER - What is the deadliest poison?

I was wondering what to put for this one before realising there is essentially a 'poison' a strong enough crystalline may give someone manually.

Medusa Rot, or Crystalline Petrification.

It's given by an aggravated spike- this can be purposeful to attack someone or even accidental if the attacker is panicked/agitated enough, and can't control their powers.

Considering how nobles and strong crystallines gave dwindled over the years, and such harsh powers haven't been needed- it's incredibly under-researcved, like an extinct dissease.

So it's not likely the victim or the attacker know.

A timeline of it's affects: Body horror/Medical horror warning?

It affects organic species. However if given to a robot, it's likely it will just fight it's way through it and clog up their systems with crystal growth, giving a relatively similar affect that's got a slightly higher survival chance.

3. CANDY - How do they treat children?

This very much depends on the household!

Though in most houses, Children are raised religious relative to area. Most commonly, Lunnox (In-universe religion of worship of the moon, enforced by the Cobalt Empire which rules the majority of the world and is the largest power.)

If a child is born to a Human and Crystalline, it's likely to be abandoned or orphaned, due to how taboo half-breeds are. The child will appear entirely human, other than perhaps some odd colouring. (Coloured hair, eyes, birthmarks.)

If a halfbred child is kept, the crystalline is almost definite to lose any higher status, and the human is likely to he rejected by peers also. Most halfbreds will just say they're human for slightly better treatment.

Robot children are rare-

Robots are essentially dead souls made posses a robot host body, most likely with their memories gone to function as some sort of labour or built for a purpose.

So if a child is a robot, it's more likely they come from a wealthy family, and after dying or getting sick too soon, was rebuilt as a robot- and kept their memories. This can be controversial. Some consider it mutilation or depriving a child of their original race, some consider it fair to let a child live on.

Noble crystalline children?

Uhhhhhh. yeah.

MOVING ON, FINALLY:

4. BLUSH - What is their view on sex?

Sex, due to the empire being very conservative religious in it's ways, is a taboo thing to discuss.

It's not entirely medieval though, in an 'everyone be celibate' way. Its moreso taboo to discuss in places such as work or in front of elders and superiors- most adults and teens in the modern day will brag about it, or crack sex jokes and stuff like that, similar to your average modern day society. It's still a rather gossipy subject though.

example: If a frat house was personified Vs Bible thumper

YAY IM DONE

Reblogs appreciated!!!

I spent a ridiculous amount of time on this for something that isn't fandom content 💀

So uhhh. Reblog to kill Onyx's dad with hammers idk

Ask post here if anyone wanna ask other things and my askbox is just open in general :)

[innytoes]

Mistakes were made and the GPP?

Willie was with Carrie and the Candis when they got the call. Well, Carrie got the call. They'd been doing each other's nails, not really watching Magic Mike except for the Good Parts. Kayla had gotten some fancy foaming face mask for them to try and it was ridiculous and fun. Willie wasn't sure if it actually did anything but he liked the way it poofed up.

"You what?" Carrie asked, pressing the phone to her ear. The foam was flaking off her face because of her frown. Uh-oh. "Fine. When my nails are dry. No, you sit and think about what you did."

"Uh-oh," Heather said, echoing Willie's thoughts.

"Do we want to know?" Kayla asked.

"The himbos got arrested," Carrie said, sighing. "They want me to come bail me out."

"I'll come with," Willie volunteered. Carrie drove scarily when she was annoyed. Also, she would totally forget to take pictures of them in jail to share in the group chat.

"Let them wait," Carrie said, leaning back to watch Matt Bomer shake his groove thang on stage. "Maybe that will teach them."

"Have you met them?" Kayla asked, which was a fair question.

By the time their nails were dry, their face masks were washed off and they got to the station, over an hour had passed. As Carrie paid for the bail, Willie had his camera ready. The hangdog expressions as first Reggie, then Alex, and then Luke came out were hilarious.

He wasn't expecting the last person.

"JULIE?" he shouted. "You got Julie arrested? And I wasn't even along for the ride? How could you?"

"Please don't take a picture," Julie begged. "If that somehow gets out to my Tía I won't be able to leave the house until I'm sixty." Even though she didn't even live at home anymore. Willie had met Victoria. She'd find a way.

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Willie said, because he wasn't an asshole. He put the phone away, opening his arms for a hug. Baby's first arrest was always a little scary. He remembered the first time he and Alex were arrested, the guy had been in tears. Julie burrowed into his cozy sweater, letting him wrap her in a hug.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"There was a cat," Reggie said like that explained it all.

"We thought it was in trouble," Alex added.

"We got arrested for trespassing," Julie mumbled into Willie's chest.

"Mistakes were made," Luke ended.

"You four owe me so hard," Carrie said. "I'm not doing the dishes for four months."

"That's fair," Reggie agreed. Luke shrugged, and Alex looked properly chastised. Julie nodded, still not coming up for air. Willie gently patted her head.

"How about we go home and you can tell us all about it," he suggested.

Eventually, the charges were dropped when Reggie sincerely described the owner's cat back to them, down to the little black spot under its eye, and they realised that the four really had just been trying to help. Turned out Fluffy was kind of a murderer, and the blood on her paws had definitely not been hers but some poor squirrel or something.

And Julie's mugshot ended up on the fridge with the others, though carefully hidden whenever Victoria would be over. After all, Willie didn't want to miss her until she was sixty.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Unnamed Halloween Fic

Ship: Svente Kramer x Mark Hoffman [Butcher's Market AU], Svente Kramer & Amanda Young (platonic)

Word Count: 706

Summary: I couldn't find the energy to draw Svente & Mark in the Halloween costumes mentioned in this fic, but I managed to attempt to write my thoughts regarding the situation between 12:30 and 1:10am. 👍 It's more of my "Fucked Up Gays" AU! Svente hasn't celebrated Halloween since John died, but a comment from Amanda spurs him into roping Mark into celebrating the holiday with him. CWs for questionable relationships, implied sex, smoking mentions, implied priest kink, brief food mention.

Tag List: @canongf

Svente had sent Mark to check in with Amanda’s progress in gleaning information about their next target, despite knowing Lawrence would’ve had an easier time with her. Mark was sure it was only because he had been the last person they talked to. The one they talked to the most, nowadays.

They met in a secluded but still public area, not far from a café. The conversation was formal until Amanda dropped, “So, are you going to dress up with Svente?”

Mark blinked. “Excuse me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Halloween’s next week, hasn’t he said anything to you?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I would dress up for Halloween? With him, no less?”

She silently handed him a manila folder. “There’s still a little more I think we should know, but I’ve got her routine and her habits down, suggestions for the trap…” The autumn wind pulled loose strands of dark hair into her eyes and she absently brushed them behind her ear. “John used to dress up with him. You know that. It’d make him happy.”

Mark was torn between how to respond. I’m not him and What do I have to do with Svente’s happiness? flashed in his mind. “Don’t come to Svente until you know all the facts,” was what he settled on before turning and walking off without another word. He went home, prepared to ignore the situation altogether, when his phone began to ring. By foresight, he knew who was calling. Dutifully, he answered.

“Home already?” Svente asked tiredly.

“It was a quick exchange. I told Amanda to get back to work,” he held the phone to his chest to exhale without comment, then put it back to his ear and opened the folder, flicking through Amanda’s notes, sketches, and photos.

“Are her notes not sufficient?”

“She told me herself that she needed more information. I took what she gave me.”

“Hold, she’s on the other line.”

Mark set down the phone and browsed the notes more thoroughly while he waited. Meanwhile, Amanda had called Svente to ask about his plans for Halloween.

“Are you going to dress up?” She asked, attempting a cheerful tone that turned bittersweet, “You and John were so sweet as doctor and nurse that one year…”

“I… hadn’t thought about it. Are you going to, Mandy?”

They could hear her blush through the phone, “Oh, yeah, but nothing with too much effort. Just your typical black cat. I’ll be handing out candy…”

A pause. “Why don’t you come to mine and do it? I’m sure I’ll need the company.”

“Oh! Sure!”

They finished their call and Svente went back to Mark. “Hoffman? Hoffman?”

He picked up. “What did she have to say?”

“Never mind that. Come over.”

Mark glanced at the clock. Often he visited under the cover of night, but it was barely afternoon. “Now?”

“As your mentor, it’s an order.”

“Don’t act so tough, Svente. I’ll be there.” Mark’s lip curled as he put them in their place.

~~~

It was only as they lay in bed after the fact that Svente brought up Halloween, though Mark didn’t realise it at first.

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for priests,” they admitted, observing their bedroom ceiling with glazed eyes. Mark looked over his shoulder, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoking a cigarette.

“Are you suggesting something?”

“Picture yourself in a clerical collar.”

Mark grimaced. “I don’t think that suits me…”

“Am I not devilish enough for you?”

He looked away. This was always the part of the cycle that made his stomach turn, the space between the middle and the end. He knew he’d look back on other things with desire later in the night. He felt Svente shift and knew they’d rolled onto their side to look at his back.

“Just one night,” he insisted. “Be the holyman to my sinner.”

“What night?” Mark asked after a decent pause.

“Halloween, of course. I haven’t celebrated since…”

He heard them suppress a nauseous sound and knew he wasn’t alone in his own twisted feelings.

~~~

It wasn’t long before Halloween came and he found himself a priest, with Svente in sparkly red devil’s garb beside him, offering him a chocolate-covered strawberry.

[privmu]

SAM JESSICA EVANS

AGE: 33

BIRTHDAY: 4th May 1991

RELATION: (full/half/adopted/cousin/aunt/etc.) Full

TYPE: (solo/twin/etc.) solo

GENDER: Male

PRONOUNS: He/him

ORIENTATION(S): Fluid

FACE CLAIM: Austin Butler

JOB/SCHOOL

JOB: Voice Actor and impersonator. 

ALUMNI?: Alumni

ABOUT

The Evans home was always filled with music. Sam remembers his dad always playing the guitar and always having country songs playing throughout the house. So it wasn’t long before he had a guitar in his arms. One of his favourite memories was him and his dad with the family around the backyard camp fire singing songs. His dad gave him the guitar from his first tour and it became his prized possession.  As the oldest, Sam always felt like there was a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. His dad always reminded the kids of his life before he won star search and went from a normal person to massive country music star and how lucky they should be. They wanted to give their kids the things they didn’t growing up. So all the opportunities were made for them to be successful. When Sam started playing guitar and singing he was taken to the studio with his dad and got to play with legendary performers like Dolly Parton and Billy Ray Cyrus and after seeing his talent he even got his own recording contract.  So at the age of 13 Sam released his first single “I want candy” which was an instant hit. However the song was accidentally given to two artists at the time and a young Austin Carson took Sam to court for copywrite infringement. Sam lost the case and was blackballed from the music business. So Sam was forced to walk away from music keep his head down and tried to focus on his schooling which was definitely not his strong suit due to his dyslexia.

By the time he made it to 18 Sam wanted to learn from his mother and took up modelling. She took him under his wing and introduced Sam to the modelling world. Sam started being on the covers of magazines and began to be quite the hot commodity. Being in the modelling world intensified the focus on Sam’s body. It started Same obsession with how he looked. He would watch what he ate and over exercise when he was stressed. Sometimes he would starve himself if he was just too busy to eat or he had a big shoot coming up that he wanted to be the shape for. When he tried out to be a runway model his athletic build didn’t fit the lean build of the other models and it sent Sam spiralling into a dark place and his relationship with food it its lowest. So the family tried to get point him in another direction to take the heat off. That’s how he ended up in the most controversial remake of the Rocky Horror Picture show playing  Rocky. The film was not only a bust but it was so bad and so controversial that it all but destroyed Sam’s career. No one would touch him. He spiralled ended up going off grid. He ended up living in a motel and started a new career stripping. 

White chocolate as he was known at the strip club was loved by everyone. He had the moves and the rhythm. Although a weird job choice Sam found he a very good living with stripping, especially with the tips and he quickly went up the ranks to become one of the most successful at the club. It wasn’t his favourite thing to do but he did enjoy people appreciating the work he put into his body. Sam was getting himself back on his feet and setting up a good life for himself when he learnt about the Mayan Apocalypse. Scared that the end of the world was upon the world and he had so much he wanted to experience in his life Sam sold up most of his things and gave a lot away. He focused on experiencing all that life had to offer and show his appreciation to those in his life. It all turned out to be false however and after the date of the Apocalypse Sam realised he was left with nothing.

With that Sam was forced to return home. His family helped him get back onto his feet and they pushed him to go to PSU and branch out his abilities even though he didn’t have the grades. He was however good at impressions. Lucky PSU had The Channing Tatum former male stripper grant so Sam attended PSU and took up an acting course to hone his skills. This way he could continue his love of performing. As his acting skills grew he would add many other acts to his roster and as part of his time at PSU he realised his large mouth was particularly good for voice over work. Not only could he do the most amazing impressions but he could make the most amazing sounds with his mouth. A police car siren, no problem, a motor boat, by all means, beatbox, easy. He was like a one man folly artist.

Along with that one day whilst on his way to college he was out in LA getting coffee when someone mistook him for Justin Bieber and he was filled with a brilliant idea. Hence the creation of his one man show The Justin Bieber experience. Sam would get hired for birthdays and events as a Justin Bieber impersonator and he was pretty good at it. He didn’t have to be himself and no one had to remember him from he bad publicity and he could live through the success of others.  So now Sam works as a voice actor full time. Often at Indigo Sounds where a lot of his work happens. He has a dog called McConaughey. As a side hustle he does have a number of alter egos which he does impersonations of. After all the difficulties Sam has faced due to bad devotions and unfortunate events in the public eye Sam struggles when bed things happen in his life. He has created an alter ego Evan who he often reverts to when needed. Evan is an Elvis Presley impersonator and Sam ofter refers to him as his smarter twin brother. 

[privilege-rpg]

SAM EVANS

☆ FULL NAME: Samuel "Sam" Dwight Evans ☆ GENDER: Cisman ☆ PRONOUNS: He/Him ☆ AGE: 33 (May 4th, 1991) ☆ TYPE: Full sibling; solo ☆ HOMETOWN: Nashville, Tennessee ☆ JOB: Voice Actor and Impersonator ☆ SCHOOL: PSU Alumni ☆ SEXUALITY: Fluid ☆ FACECLAIM: Austin Butler

ABOUT SAM

The Evans home was always filled with music. Sam remembers his dad always playing the guitar and always having country songs playing throughout the house. So it wasn’t long before he had a guitar in his arms. One of his favourite memories was him and his dad with the family around the backyard camp fire singing songs. His dad gave him the guitar from his first tour and it became his prized possession.

As the oldest, Sam always felt like there was a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. His dad always reminded the kids of his life before he won star search and went from a normal person to massive country music star and how lucky they should be. They wanted to give their kids the things they didn’t growing up. So all the opportunities were made for them to be successful. When Sam started playing guitar and singing he was taken to the studio with his dad and got to play with legendary performers like Dolly Parton and Billy Ray Cyrus and after seeing his talent he even got his own recording contract. 

So at the age of 13 Sam released his first single “I want candy” which was an instant hit. However the song was accidentally given to two artists at the time and a young Austin Carson took Sam to court for copywrite infringement. Sam lost the case and was blackballed from the music business. So Sam was forced to walk away from music keep his head down and tried to focus on his schooling which was definitely not his strong suit due to his dyslexia.

By the time he made it to 18 Sam wanted to learn from his mother and took up modelling. She took him under his wing and introduced Sam to the modelling world. Sam started being on the covers of magazines and began to be quite the hot commodity. Being in the modelling world intensified the focus on Sam’s body. It started Same obsession with how he looked. He would watch what he ate and over exercise when he was stressed. Sometimes he would starve himself if he was just too busy to eat or he had a big shoot coming up that he wanted to be the shape for. When he tried out to be a runway model his athletic build didn’t fit the lean build of the other models and it sent Sam spiralling into a dark place and his relationship with food it its lowest. So the family tried to get point him in another direction to take the heat off. That’s how he ended up in the most controversial remake of the Rocky Horror Picture show playing  Rocky. The film was not only a bust but it was so bad and so controversial that it all but destroyed Sam’s career. No one would touch him. He spiralled ended up going off grid. He ended up living in a motel and started a new career stripping. 

White chocolate as he was known at the strip club was loved by everyone. He had the moves and the rhythm. Although a weird job choice Sam found he a very good living with stripping, especially with the tips and he quickly went up the ranks to become one of the most successful at the club. It wasn’t his favourite thing to do but he did enjoy people appreciating the work he put into his body. Sam was getting himself back on his feet and setting up a good life for himself when he learnt about the Mayan Apocalypse. Scared that the end of the world was upon the world and he had so much he wanted to experience in his life Sam sold up most of his things and gave a lot away. He focused on experiencing all that life had to offer and show his appreciation to those in his life. It all turned out to be false however and after the date of the Apocalypse Sam realised he was left with nothing.

With that Sam was forced to return home. His family helped him get back onto his feet and they pushed him to go to PSU and branch out his abilities even though he didn’t have the grades. He was however good at impressions. Lucky PSU had The Channing Tatum former male stripper grant so Sam attended PSU and took up an acting course to hone his skills. This way he could continue his love of performing. As his acting skills grew he would add many other acts to his roster and as part of his time at PSU he realised his large mouth was particularly good for voice over work. Not only could he do the most amazing impressions but he could make the most amazing sounds with his mouth. A police car siren, no problem, a motor boat, by all means, beatbox, easy. He was like a one man folly artist.

Along with that one day whilst on his way to college he was out in LA getting coffee when someone mistook him for Justin Bieber and he was filled with a brilliant idea. Hence the creation of his one man show The Justin Bieber experience. Sam would get hired for birthdays and events as a Justin Bieber impersonator and he was pretty good at it. He didn’t have to be himself and no one had to remember him from he bad publicity and he could live through the success of others. 

So now Sam works as a voice actor full time. Often at Indigo Sounds where a lot of his work happens. He has a dog called McConaughey. As a side hustle he does have a number of alter egos which he does impersonations of. After all the difficulties Sam has faced due to bad devotions and unfortunate events in the public eye Sam struggles when bed things happen in his life. He has created an alter ego Evan who he often reverts to when needed. Evan is an Elvis Presley impersonator and Sam ofter refers to him as his smarter twin brother. 

FAMILY BACKGROUND

Country music star, Dwight Evans, rose to fame in his 20s after winning American Idol (think Carrie Underwood). Evan’s first single “Flowers and Hounds” made him the first country artist to debut atop the Billboard Hot 100 chart and the only solo country artist in the 2000s to have a number-one song on the Hot 100. His debut album, "I Still Believe in Rebellion", was the best-selling solo male debut album in country music history.

Dwight met super model, Mary Tanner at a client mixer where they immediately hit it off. One Elvis impersonator marriage later and the two were now the Evans family. They had four kids together and did their best to keep themselves away from the rumor mill that comes with the spotlight. But like most, it did eventually catch up to them as Dwight and Mary decided to get a divorce sighting irreconcilable differences. The fall out was messy and now Dwight is seeing a much younger woman, forcing the family to take sides as the media circus plays around them.

[autiezo]

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - You see the Kim's eyes linger onto the glorious page of your peak attractiveness. 5 seconds too long. Then, they dart back at you.

PERCEPTION [Impossible: Failure] - Check his ears. Oh, they're the same colour they always are. Makes sense. These are merely pictures of you, and he sees you all the time. The lieutenant wouldn't be moved by something so normal and regular.

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Success] - I wouldn't be so quick to judge. Observe him more.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Oh, gladly.

KIM KITSURAGI - He clears his throat and shoves the book back onto the shelf. He presses his lips together, a small wince, as he accidentally gives the book a minor crease.

EMPATHY [Godly: Failure] - Kim respects knowledge and intellect, and books represent that. Even if the book is mostly eye candy junk. You remember how well he takes care of his personal property. The same rule applies here.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Formidable: Success] - Snake Party, Five Senses, you guys are hopeless. The evidence is right there, how the hell do you not see it?? One of you literally sees shit as a JOB.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Oh shut up, we know our friend. He's perfect. He's eternally unfazed by human impurities. He is our saint and hero.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] - Relax, EC. We'll reveal the truth to these two soon enough.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] - Besides, Poker Face and I are in cahoots. My plan is in motion.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] - And I am 100% sure I'd execute it flawlessly.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] - Go on, then. Kudos.

KIM KITSURAGI - He starts walking out of the pawn shop at a brisk pace. "Come on, let's go," He looks to you and jerks his head towards the door.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] - Pssst. Buy the sexy gay man book. You have to.

YOU - With your eager, greedy hands, you grab the book. As you wave it by the spine, the pages flail around. You call out to him, ignoring the lone judgement of an elderly passer-by, "Wait, lemme buy this thing. It's evidence of my superstardom."

KIM KITSURAGI - His face falls, and he reluctantly nods. He sighs, muttering under his breath.

PERCEPTION [Formidable: Success] - You see his ears going red, and you hear him whisper, "God, please don't."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Wait, why is Kim shy about hot men pictures he doesn't own?

HALF-LIGHT [Medium: Success] - Zip it, idiot. Don't ruin this for us.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] - Fine... I'm joining your circus to bring this to a halt. The book is for Kim, Em.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] - Oi, you fucking spoilsport! Now look what you've done.

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - Ohhh... then yea, let's put the almost-porno away.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] - Wait, sire. A compromise can be made.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - ... alright. This better be good.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] - The plan is simple yet golden, my lord. We pretend that the book is ours. Leave it lying around in the living room often. In the shared living area. Then, pretend not to notice Kim engrossing himself in this art, in secret.

COMPOSURE [Heroic: Success] - I swear to never reveal that knowledge. You can count on me.

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - Hmmm. This isn't a trap to embarass our roommate, right? You guys do realise Kim owns the house, he could kick us out.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - However, Kim Kitsuragi would never abandon us, his dear friend. Just like how we will never reveal to our colleagues, about how he loves Speedfreaks FM and overly-complex board games. Or how he can't resist geeking out over every single piece of fine machinery we come across. A steadfast, mutual loyalty.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] - Fine. Against my better judgement, I'll trust you lads to take the lead. Let's do this.

Mr. February

[wolken-himmel]

In which Malleus takes (Y/n) to the Valley of Thorns during school break and introduces her to his grandmother.

(Y/n) and the queen seem to get along well, maybe too well for Malleus' taste...

Request by anon.

"My treasure, I fear I cannot join you for lunch today... there are some important matters I need to attend to. I hope you're not sad."

Malleus had a sheepish smile on his lips as he gazed down at you with soft eyes. His gaze remained on your face, waiting for your lips to tug down in dismay and for your eyes to sink in sadness.

Yet, what he received instead was a large smile and a dismissive wave of your hand. "No, don't worry about it!" you replied, causing him to snap back to reality in surprise. His green eyes widened in disappointment when the smile on your face only grew. "Your grandmother invited me for tea today. That's so nice of her, isn't it?"

Still, he tried to put on a smile that seemed more forced than genuine. It caused the servants scurrying along the corridor to gasp out in horror and walk past you even faster, afraid of the prince's wrath. His fists shook in what seemed like frustration when he seethed out, "Well, I'm glad you're not saddened..." The smile on his lips completely slipped off his face when you turned around without another word and skipped away.

"I'll see you later, then!" you threw over your shoulder upon realising that you had left him standing there all alone without a goodbye.

Malleus watched you leave, his eyes filled with sadness, until you rounded a corner and completely disappeared from his sight. It was only then that he dared to let out a low growl that shook the floor in form of a small earthquake. The servants dove under tables, afraid of the cracking ceiling and the small particles of dust descending down upon them. When the fae noticed what he had done, he quickly unclenched his hands again, causing the earthquake to vanish. Sadly, his flurry of emotions didn't disappear as easily.

The prince didn't know how long he stood there until one of his retainers approached him — Lilia. The bat fae had a little frown on his face as he waved his hands in front of Malleus' face in an attempt to catch his attention. Once green eyes bore into his own, Lilia quickly asked, "Malleus, are you ready to leave—" The words seemed stuck in his throat when he noticed how sad the prince looked, and he couldn't help but float up to ruffle his hair. "Oh, what's with that pout on your face? Did someone steal your candy again?"

Malleus tried to push Lilia away, but the latter dodged his swipes with unmatched grace. Eventually, the dragon fae gave up and let out a sigh of defeat. "No, Lilia... it's just that my Child of Man seems unaffected by the fact that I can't spend time with her," he grumbled under his breath, an unintentional childishness ringing in his voice.

Lilia had to hold back his laughter at that. "Did you expect her to start crying and begging for you to not leave her alone?" he asked the younger fae in amusement, his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to hide the chortles that escaped his throat.

"Yes," Malleus replied seriously, "I did, as a matter of fact."

Lilia could only shake his head in delight. "Malleus, Malleus..." the ancient fae cooed under his breath and gently took the other's hand into his. Yet, before he could start a heartfelt talk — from father to son — the sound of vases crashing to the floor and two young men arguing came from a nearby room. Lilia faltered and let out a little sigh before dragging Malleus along with him. "Come on, we need to go before Sebek starts complaining again—"

°°°

Time had passed by agonisingly slow for Malleus as his retainers dragged him around to fulfill his royal duties as the future king of the Valley of Thorns. His thoughts during the whole process had tortured him of pictures of you smiling and having fun without him while he was stuck attending boring events. So, when he was finally done for the day and allowed to leave, he immediately vanished and marched towards the room you stayed in, eager to finally spend time with you.

Some part of him filled his mind of thoughts about how you must have changed your mind and started to miss him dearly after his departure. He imagined the smile on your lips when he would fling the doors open and whisk you away to show you the castle grounds and take a walk in the castle's garden.

His hands resting on the doorknob, he exclaimed, "(Y/n), my treasure, I have returned—" Yet, he faltered in his movement when he pushed the doors open to find the room empty of any life. Dreadful silence filled the air around him, especially when your familiar laughter rang out from a nearby room — his grandmother's study room. Immediately, his eyes darkened in bitterness. "Oh, I see how it is..." Without wasting any time, he marched towards the door in question and pressed his ear against the surface, gloomily listening in.

The queen had a small smile on her face, the faintest of laughter still evident in her voice as she asked, "Actually, Beastie, I have been meaning to ask how the two of you met." Then, she fell into a small moment of silence, genuine curiosity decorating her youthful face. "You two seem very different from each other..."

A little chortle escaped your lips at the memory of your first meeting rushing back to your mind. The smile on your lips grew as you began, "Oh, Malleus just appeared in my garden one day! He said he liked the gargoyles of the building I'm staying in, and he just kept on visiting night after night." Your eyes glowed up in fondness. "I found him rather strange at first... He didn't tell me his name, maybe to appear mysterious and such—"

The queen quirked an eyebrow. "So you didn't know his name until later?"

"Correct, I didn't." Your smile turned into a sly grin. "A friend of mine came up with a nickname for him. It's very funny..."

The queen's lips tugged up into a curious smile. "Tell me, Beastie," she urged in excitement.

You couldn't help but giggle before you leant forward and cupped your hands around your mouth to whisper something into her pointed ear. Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, but no matter how much he focused, his ears couldn't pick up what you were saying, infuriating him even more.

His anger only got worse when his grandmother began laughing like she never had before. "That truly is a funny nickname," she mused between soft chuckles. You nodded along, soon prompting her eyes to soften as she gazed at you with fond eyes. "You know, I am glad that the two of you met each other. I rarely have ever seen such a bright spirit such as yours. You remind me of another human child I once met and grew fond of long ago."

The smile on your lips wavered for a moment, and doubt flashed across your face. Your gaze downcast and voice shaky, you murmured, "I like Malleus, I really do..." Behind the door, the fae tensed in fear at what you were about to say, frightened that it may be something that he shouldn't hear. His eyes forced shut, he bit his lips. "But sometimes I just feel like a speck of dirt when standing next to him. He's... the future king of the fae, and who am I? Just some magicless human."

His eyes shot open in surprise. There was nothing he wanted to do more than barge in and take you into his arms to convince you that you were utterly wrong, but surely you wouldn't like the idea that he had listened in on such a private conversation. So, no matter how much it pained him, he stayed outside and gritted his teeth.

After a while of awkward silence, the queen let out a little sigh and took your hand into hers. Her skin was cold yet smooth, causing a shudder to run down your spine. "While magic is something that makes people strong, I do think that you have your own strengths, Beastie," she explained as her glowing green eyes bore into yours. "Such as bringing a smile to other's people faces — a skill one of its kind."

[psithurista]

approach shift pt. eight

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.6k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depiction of anxiety responses.

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Saturday morning rises blue and cold, and you with it.

You sit blearily upright in bed for too long, wrapped in the covers against the chill as you flick through pictures from last night.

It’s all blurred teeth and disembodied limbs draped in pearl-beaded candy bracelets. There are a lot of people you don’t recognise, but Chris looks deliriously happy, which you figure is the main thing. You feel a fresh pang of guilt for making Bear miss it.

You get to the end of the new posts and start from the beginning again, your eyes glazing past ads for vitamin subscription services and monogrammed phone cases.

You’ll message him today, you tell yourself, yawning, shivering. You just need to work up to it. You don’t want to get the words wrong. Or the tone. Or the timing.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle around the apartment wrapped in your comforter, padded like a glass ornament against the world.

You make coffee for yourself and Bear, pouring hers into a vacuum flask to keep hot for when she wakes up. You clean out the grinder—properly, with the little brush it came with, not just shaking it out over the trash, then decide to rearrange the filters into a neat stack so they aren’t all crumpled in the corner.

You’re wiping inside the now-empty drawer when Bear’s door flies open. You catch a glimpse of her as she passes, pillow-creased and frazzled. “I’m so late,” she moans, stumbling into her shoes.

“We didn’t even go out last night; how do you always manage to do this?”

She shrugs, throwing her phone in her bag. “It’s a talent.” You hand her the vacuum flask, and she gasps. “You’re an angel. See you tonight.”

“See you,” you say, watching her go.

Now you’ve taken everything out of the drawers, you figure it’s probably worth doing the same for the rest of the cabinets. You can reorganise everything and actually get a system in place for all the utensils.

It’ll feel good; an easy accomplishment, one you can use to bolster your confidence and sense of capability while trying to decide what to say to Peter.

You put on some music and settle into the rhythm of the task, creating ordered stacks on every surface in the apartment. You unearth the embarrassing ‘STEMing hot stuff!’ mug you’d forgotten about; a joke birthday present from Bear last year.

The morning drips away into afternoon as you hum and sway your way around the apartment. The constant, easy activity keeps you feeling warm and purposeful; it feels so clear, so unconfusing and undemanding on your heart to lift, dust, stack, straighten. You pull all your clothes out of your closet and sort them, finding a jacket you’d forgotten you had and a pair of sneakers with holes in the sides you’d been meaning to throw away.

Once the apartment is vacuumed yet again, couch and all, you light a candle and sit down on the floor to sort the mess of papers and books under the coffee table you’d been meaning to get to. You’d been saving the candle—for what, you aren’t sure anymore—and now the scent of it fills the apartment; sweet and rich. Your stomach growls loudly and you pause, looking at your phone for the first time.

You blink. That can’t be the right time. But it is. Because then Bear’s keys are jingling in the door, and you realise it’s gotten cold again, and you can’t see out the windows anymore because they’ve become black rectangles mirroring the spotless apartment and your own startled face back at you.

“Holy shit,” she says. “It smells like Pine-Sol in here.”

You look up at her vaguely sheepishly as though she’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. “Yeah. I, um, did a little cleaning.”

“A little?” She side-eyes you. “This reminds me of that time you procrastinated for like two weeks contesting that bullshit score you got, when you were too nervous to ask about it.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” you say, affronted.

She stares at you.

“I’m not,” you say.

It’s not like you’ve been intentionally avoiding the message you need to send. You just needed to clear your head first. And the apartment really was overdue for a good clean.

“All our dish rags have been colour-coded,” she observes, her head inside a cupboard.

You keep busy for the rest of the night, taking the world’s longest shower, and then using every single skincare product you can find in the back of the bathroom drawers, including the sample sachets Bear had shoved back there.

Bathed and moisturised and dressed in your softest pajamas, you sit on the edge of your bed and glare at your phone.

Should you be casual about it? Apologetic? Blunt?

You’re overthinking it. Just keep it simple.

hey parker hope you’re doing okay. can i come by? i miss

hey peter. i was thinking and i just really want to apologise for losing my shit at you that night after may’s birthday. but i just think it’s kind of shitty how you

peter, i’m so, so sorry. why didn’t you tell me about

You groan and toss your phone into the pillows piled at the head of your bed. You’re tired. Too tired to think about any of this. You hadn’t realised until now how much the day had taken out of you, but now you’re feeling all that scrubbing in your forearms.

Tomorrow, you think, burrowing down into the warmth of your bed. Tomorrow. —————

Bear drags you out of the apartment the moment you wake up. First to walk laps around the greenmarket, then to what feels like every used bookstore in the city.

You trail her through stacks of shabby Penguins turned spine-out in varying shades of faded orange while she tells you about the girl she’s only just started messaging who may or may not be hinting for her to move in with her already, and try not to look too devastated at the prospect.

“It probably won’t happen though,” she says, frowning at the back of a hardcover Magritte print book. “It’s just something she’s been dropping into conversation and, like, I can’t tell if it’s still a joke or not. Hey, we should go get a matcha.”

By the time you make it home that afternoon, you’re full and happy and barely miserable at all. You curl lazily into the couch while Bear starts on a stir-fry, scrolling through your phone. You’d set up a news alert months ago for Oscorp, back when the dream of working there was still just that, and now you skim through the day’s notifications.

There’s a quarterly financial profile, and a glowing article about one of the company’s recent charitable endeavours; providing water filtration systems to flood-ravaged parts of Papua New Guinea.

You only read the first few lines of it, wondering a little grimly how much PR paid for it to be published. You should probably delete the alert; you’re sick of thinking about work on the weekends. But then, just as you’re about to scroll away, something catches your eye.

'SIX YEARS ON: Has anything changed? Advocates for workplace reform have raised concerns Oscorp hasn’t done enough to meet its court-mandated commitment to transform management of company operations following the release of details from its most recent external review. The damning report comes only weeks after the anniversary of the death of Oscorp intern Gwen Stacy, who has been remembered by a company spokesperson as a “brilliant scientific mind sadly taken far too soon.”

The incident garnered a storm of public interest after allegations Oscorp had attempted to conceal details surrounding then-chairman Harry Osborn’s involvement in the events leading up to Stacy’s death. Unnamed Oscorp sources claimed Osborn was working under the influence of an unreleased drug which had not yet been approved for trials.

While the coroner’s report ruled the death as accidental, Stacy’s family have previously spoken to news outlets asserting the view that Oscorp’s failure to control access to untested pharmaceutical samples led to the tragic event. They did not respond to requests for comment.'

There’s a picture of a girl underneath the article; blonde and freckled and grinning toothily from behind a beakerful of clear liquid. She has the hugest, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You read it three times before you put your phone down and stare at your feet for a few seconds, listening to the sound of your heart pushing blood around inside your head. Then, you pick your phone back up, open a new browser window, and start typing. —————

It’s colder inside than it was outside.

You unclasp your hands from between your knees, shivery and restless, and lean back from the desk to hug yourself, wrapping your arms tight around your body.

Gary’s cheeks are even redder than usual, bright with windburn; redder than his hair and the raw-looking skin around his eyes. He has a half-eaten almond croissant in his hand and there are crumbs all over the front of his coat.

Your leg bounces under your desk while he absently unwinds his scarf from around his neck, first in one direction, then, realising he’s just winding it tighter, in the other direction. He sets his satchel down and unclips it, ponderously slow.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody in less of a rush in your entire life.

When he finally sits, you only manage to wait a few more seconds before you’re wheeling yourself in his direction.

“Hi Gary.”

He swivels his chair to face you, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Hello,” he says.

You scoot your chair a little closer. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You look at each other for a minute. “I like your plant. Is that one of the ones they were giving out from the Wellness Lounge?”

“It’s fake.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “at least they’re trying to branch out.” You continue looking at each other.

He nods solemnly. “That’s funny.”

You give up. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Oscorp. You’ve been here a long time, right?”

“I guess. Would you consider seventeen years a long time?” He doesn’t ask it with any apparent sarcasm. You don’t answer, just in case it’s rhetorical.

“I wondered if you know much about what happened with Harry Osborn.”

He looks at you with what might pass for mild suspicion. “It’s classified. You’re not going to put this on the internet, are you?“

You shake your head, giving him a little smile. “Just curious. I happened to get here kinda early this morning and stumbled across a few files while I was working. There are entire pages redacted and it just seemed really weird, so I just wondered what it was all about.”

He shoots a quick glance behind you, then lowers his voice. “Yeah, they really didn’t want any of it getting out. He was messing around with unapproved samples, even testing them on himself. And it did something to him, he went completely nuts. Took one of the interns hostage, then he killed her.”

Your heart rattles jagged and loose in your chest. “Gwen Stacy.”

He nods. There’s powdered sugar in his moustache. “Yep. They ruled it an accident, and that was the official story, but all of us who were working here then heard whispers trickle down about what really happened.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? Like I said, he went completely crazy. I doubt he even knew what he was doing. The facility he’s in? It’s not really a hospital. Or, it’s a maximum security hospital, if you get my drift. That’s why we don’t have the intern program anymore. Only graduate positions. You’re the replacement.”

It feels a little bit like how you imagine swallowing drain cleaner must feel. “The replacement,” you echo weakly. “That’s me.”

He seems to realise then how much he’s said, and he snaps his mouth closed. A beat passes, then he squints. “They made you sign an NDA when you started, right?”

You force a little smile. “Sure did.”

He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but then, it’s hard to tell when his face is about as animated as the plastic succulent on his desk. “Well. Good. I better get to work.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You awkwardly scoot yourself back to your desk and stare at your reflection in the black monitor for a while. So May had left out a pretty important detail. Losing Harry and Gwen simultaneously hadn’t just been a case of unfortunate timing.

Gary’s confirmed everything you read, but it’s only made you more frustrated. There’s still something huge and obvious missing here that you can’t find in any of the files or reports or news articles, and it’s the thing you’re most confused about, more than whatever Harry Osborn was doing, performing reckless testing on himself.

Namely: what in the fuck was Peter doing there when it happened?

You’re still facing off with yourself when Doctor Brant walks in and you nearly knock all the shit off your desk in your scramble to look busy.

The day can’t pass fast enough.

Nothing seems to go right. The bottle slips out of your hand while you’re trying to refill the autoclave and you end up pouring distilled water all over your shoes. You forget your swipe card when you go downstairs to pick up a box of equipment and have to call security to let you back into your office.

And to top it all off, you’re still having issues with your starting cultures. You’re standing at the bench in the lab, frowning at yet another failed batch, when there’s a strange wheezing hiss from the vents overhead.

You look up.

Of course it’d just be the cherry on top if the air gave out and you ended up passing out from preservative fumes. 

You’re the only one in here at the moment; everyone else is back in the main office, so you carefully replace the lid on your samples and head for the airflow controls.

Which is when the lab plunges into complete darkness.

“Oh, great,” you breathe. You stretch your arms out in front of yourself, groping for walls. “Hello?” you call. “Is anyone else here?”

There’s no answer. You spin around and bump into the cold steel edge of a workbench. Fear trickles into your stomach as you realise you don’t know which way to go. Something smells off, like melting plastic.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and emergency lights flick on in little strips along the floor. Some of the panic leaves your body, and you make it to the doors, slapping your palm hard over the manual release so you can get out.

Everyone in the darkened office is standing around confused and talking loudly at once. A few people have the flashlights on their cells turned on, and you hold your hands out to block the light from your eyes, sidling toward the walls to get away as they all turn to blind you at once.

Doctor Brant‘s face looms out from the shadows of his office doorway looking tense. You make a beeline for him. “What’s going on?” you say, awkwardly falling into step beside him. “Power outage?”

He barely glances at you, striding forward. “So it seems. But the backup should have come on by now.”

You realise then where he’s headed and your mouth drops open. “Oh fuck. The freezers.”

A wry look barely breaks through the worry on his face. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

Some of the samples in those freezers are originals, more than twenty years old. If they warm past a certain temperature…

That’s years of work, gone.

The plastic smell has grown stronger, and there’s the distant sound of an alarm ringing, long and unbroken. A couple of people exchange tense looks as you trail Doctor Brant past them. “Should we be getting out of here?” someone says.

“It’s probably another drill,” someone replies, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, but. With the power cut?”

Doctor Brant pauses to look back around the office, his hand on the glass doors leading toward the freezers. “Everybody, please make your way outside. Meet at the assembly point. I’ll be down behind you.”

There’s some half-hearted grumbling about this; it’s a long way down using the evacuation stairs instead of the elevators, but then a low, distant rumble sounds from somewhere underfoot and everybody shuts up. There’s a brief bottleneck at the door as everyone tries to squeeze through it at once.

Your desk is on the other side of the office. You can practically hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head: stay calm, forget about your personal belongings, keep up with the group.

But your phone is sitting right in the centre of your desk. It’ll only take you an extra second to grab it.

You shuffle forward gingerly, just to make sure you aren’t about to blind yourself walking into the edge of a shelf in the gloom. Without the extra light from everyone’s phones, it’s even darker than before. Dust motes fall shivering off the lifeless light fixtures overhead as the building vibrates again, harder this time.

You slide your phone off the desk and flip it over so you can stick it into your back pocket, barely glancing at the notification on the screen. Then, the words belatedly registering, you stop. You don’t mean to. You need to get to the stairwell. But you can’t force your body to move.

1 Unread Message from: p.p.

Read it later, you think furiously at yourself. Later, later, later.

But your feet are still rooted to the floor. You need to see what he’s sent. You’ll be quick. Just a glance.

You stand stupid with panic and indecision, neither opening the message nor unrooting your feet. You’re frozen for what feels like a long time, but must only be a couple of seconds.

And then the decision is made for you.

The wall closest to the foyer rushes outward in a tsunami of smoke and insulation, and you hit the edge of your desk hard.

Everything goes black for a couple of seconds. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the grit of dust, and your ears hurt; ringing with burst-out silence. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth from where your teeth snapped shut against the inside of your lip and it feels like you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

When you manage to blink your eyes open again, you’re slumped half-under the desk. Probably a good thing, your shocked brain manages to think; it probably sheltered you from the ceiling panels crashing down. You scramble onto your knees, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel, and peer out.

You can’t see beyond the next row of desks. The smoke is too thick; and it’s too dark to make out much more than the twist of wires hanging from the ceiling where the lights have fallen loose.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You lean back against the desk and try to think. The smoke is coming from the direction of the stairs to the main foyer, which means you can’t get out that way anymore. If the stairs are even still there.

Is there another way down from this level? Surely there must be. You probe your fingers delicately at the back of your head and wince. You have no idea what happened to your phone, so you’ve got no flashlight.

The lab, you think. There’s another emergency exit through to the other side of the lab. The stairs are behind a firewall.

You manage to get your feet underneath your body and shakily stand. It’s quickly becoming unbearably hot in here without the air working. You tuck your mouth and nose into the crook of your elbow as you pick your way forward. Your hearing is starting to come back a little; just a dull roaring sound and that alarm in the distance, still blaring.

You make it all the way to the lab door before it hits you. Doctor Brant.

You wheel around, squinting through the smoke. Fuck. Could he have made it out with the others? Maybe he’s already gone downstairs and is safe, waiting outside somewhere. You only need to think about it for a second before you know you can’t possibly leave without making sure.

You lurch toward the first of the control doors. “Doctor Brant?” The air burns your throat on the way in, and you cough so hard it feels more like a heave.

The heat is worse over here. You touch your hand to the release and hiss, pulling it back. The metal feels like touching the element on a stovetop.

Maybe you can wrap something around your skin to protect it. You hear what sounds like your name, yelled hoarse, and pause. You can’t tell which direction it came from. “I’m here! Oh, God. Doctor Brant? I’m right here. I’m gonna try to find another way to get you out. Hang on.”

You turn to search for something; a discarded jacket, or scarf from the back of somebody’s chair, and there’s a flicker of movement at the other side of the office. The sight unleashes a fresh screech of alarm in your brain. You duck behind one of the still-standing desks and peer out just in time to catch a shock of bright red swimming out from the haze.

You lean around the side, blinking, trying to make it out. The shape turns, and you see it right as it comes toward you: the panels of blue disturbing the red, the printed black over the chest; the long, sharp legs jointed out from the body. Him. Again.

Your stomach drops out. You seize the pen cup from the top of the desk and throw it as hard as you can, stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” you warn, pointing, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, stop, fuck—” he splutters, hands outstretched, ducking to dodge as you launch a wireless keyboard at him. You dash behind a pillar and run bent-over toward the maintenance hallway. You don’t know if he saw you, or if he’s following.

You know you should probably stop and consider why you’re actually running away from him when he’s probably only trying to help you. But your heart is going too fast for intelligent thought right now. Like a rabbit, without reason or rationale, fuelled by terror and adrenaline.

You hit a dead end and stop. Can you get to the other exit from here? What about Doctor Brant? Your eyes are burning and you scrub the back of your arm across them to try to clear the smoke. You turn to go back the way you came. But he’s there. And he’s already coming toward you. You let out a strange, retching sob-sound. “No. No, no, please, no, get away.”

He steps forward, angular grey eyes looming up out of the smoke and you wheel away. “Hey, stop, don’t go that way—”

Your lungs are on fire, and your eyes are streaming so badly you can’t tell which way to turn to run. He closes the distance between your bodies and then his hands are on your shoulders.

“Listen. Hey, hey, stop, we don’t have time for this, listen, listen to me.” You’re panicking, blind and overwhelmed and terrified, your heart clawing its way up your throat, trying to shove his hands away.

There’s something wrong with all of this. His voice doesn’t sound like you remember—but it does sound the way you know it’s supposed to, and that makes no sense, and your brain is screaming the explanation at you like a cageful of trapped birds screeching and beating against the inside of your skull, but you’re fighting it too hard to listen.

The floor has started vibrating under your feet again, and everything rumbles and groans; a loud pop of breaking glass audible far too close for comfort, but you don’t stop shoving at him as hard as you can, still twisting, trying to get away.

Then one of his hands is around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can’t twist away, and another is on your face, pushing back your hair. His voice is back, loud and firm and right in your ear, cutting through the rush of noise, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Listen to me. Jersey.”

It falls absolutely silent inside your head. You can still feel the smoke in your eyes, in your mouth, but you’re no longer coughing.

You’re no longer breathing.

He’s still talking, the shape of his lips moving alien through the thin red stretch of his mask. “Just breathe. I’m gonna get you outta here. But you gotta tell me if there’s anyone else in the lab who needs help. Hey. Hey, hey, breathe.”

Your mouth moves on its own. “Doctor Brant. He was in the sample freezer. He was…he…”

“Breathe,” he says again, quiet, and you do. The hands that had been shoving at his chest now press shakily to the shape of his body underneath, and, dazedly, you trace the outline of his collarbones. Your throat burns.

“You. You idiot,” you gasp hoarsely, new tears springing to your eyes. “Peter, you—you, you fucking, you idiot—”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your waist, and then the ground disappears from beneath your feet.

You sag your weight against him as he pulls you forward through the smoke. Something shears bright against your face and you tuck down into his chest, both of his arms keeping you tucked away from a sudden blaze of light and heat. There’s a crash from behind you, then another in front, and suddenly beautiful, clean, cold air is rushing at your skin, pulling your hair free.

Broken glass crunches under your feet as they finally meet the ground. The arm around your waist releases you, and he’s gone.

You blink in the bright sun. You’re outside. Then all the noise rushes back in, and there are new arms around you.

“Hey! We got another one, get her out of here…”

“Are you okay?” someone is saying, their safety hat-shadowed face close to yours. 

“Careful of the bleeding. Here, take her,” comes another voice. You can barely hear them under the wail of sirens.

“She’s in shock,” the first person says, and there’s a hand on your arm, pulling you forward, toward the ambulances and fire engines lined up across the street. You look back over your shoulder. They’ve cordoned off the entire block. There’s ash in your mouth, and you nearly stumble.

The person holding you pauses, turning back toward you. “What? Did you say something?” They’re half-shouting to be heard. They’re just a blur, like a stranger in a dream.

You stare at them. It feels like your face is doing something incredibly interesting. Did you say something? The ash is gritty like sand against your teeth, on your tongue.

“I need to get back inside,” you hear yourself saying now, quiet and clear, your voice disconnected from your mouth. You need to get back into the building. You need to.

“What?”

Then you’re shoving at the hand on your arm, twisting out of their grip. Someone shouts out with alarm behind you, and you’re running, clumsily, tripping over rubble as you throw yourself back toward the police barricade blocking the entrance to the building.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!”

You don’t care. You’re not leaving him.

Which is when there’s a shriek of metal overhead. You and everybody else on the street look up just in time to watch every remaining window on the top half of the building explode outward in shards of skin-melting heat.

[dumbfizzkpop-blog]

🍒 Jung Hoseok Aesthetic Ship 

Requested by: @xxxibmimi

“Hi! I was wondering if I can get an Aesthetic Ship with a BTS member? Thank you so much!” 

Your Aesthetics

Jumping with enthusiasm during night walks

Uncontained laughter

Neatly wrapped presents decorated with roses

Growing old with your loved ones

Honey tasting kisses

Oversleep and lose important meetings 

Sugar coated marshmallow treats

Eyes full of hope and happiness

Open arms waiting for a warm hug

Keeping roses as bookmarks

Your Song: Cherry on top by 10:45 (Uni+ G)

Put my cherry on top, put my cherry on top My heart becomes like a cushion, it knows that taste, it’s cake A different love, it only comes to us.

Give me love, give me love, give me love Baby, you're so sweet Give me love, give me love, give love Baby no more. Give me love, give me love, give me love. Come on give me one more. For you, for you, for you, for you love. Baby for you, only for you. You're so sweet, baby sweet and sour. You're so sweet, it get's so sweet. You only look at me, cherry on top. I liked you because you're special to me.

~Admin G🌹

[rumblelibrary]

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend” 

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up. 

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it 

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[remsmoonlight]

— title : sweeter than candy

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : daryl is good at keeping things buried, but when the thought of words left unsaid do you both realise you have both been thinking the same thing about the other. 

— warnings : mentions injuries, mentions of death

“ hi!! OMGG I came across your account and I’m obsessed with your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a Daryl Dixon x Reader following candy coated promises. Where Daryl has developed feelings for reader and following an errand run she gets injured and has to stay in bed. And Daryl find out! If that makes sense! Thank you!!! “

           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A deep desperation of yearning to be useful has led you to forget the risks involved in the interminable list of things that wish to cause you harm and are able to on such an intense scale. Luck had been on your side for so long, the illusion of life’s greatest ally refusing eluding your group for this long has proved itself to be just that — nothing more than an illusion. Once the burning of fear had dulled to nothing more than a dim ache, all you now feel is the one wound that does not run red yet pours into your veins as if it does. Stupidity. You’d volunteered yourself to go on a run with a small group, you’d spent enough time before the barbed wire fences, that you felt yourself becoming trapped.

A deep regret that would follow you even in death would be if any of your group would, too, meet their chapter’s end too soon by an immense error made on your part.

One thing that lays dormant in your mind, yet unable to completely fade is the fear of becoming too settled in safety. Spending too much time wrapped in a blanket of comfort that provides refuge from the grit the outside world revels in only hands you a vulnerability unsuitable for a reality submerged in death that roams freely. You don’t want to forget how to survive, you’ve come too far for that.

Part of that is how you have ended up being put to bedrest.

Your brain is yet to sort through and file the fleeting images that blend together into one disorientating image instead of a folder of what had occurred picture by picture. In one instance the group and yourself had been rummaging through the shelves that still contained some stock and the next, you’re rushing Maggie out of the way and pushing over shelves onto a growing horde of walkers. Though in the next second, your heart fell a thousand feet below as you lost your balance from the liquid coating the floor from where they’d tumbled and smashed to the floor, with the shards of glass forming a bewitching hazard.

“ your ankle still givin’ you trouble? “

The voice pulls you out of your thoughts, your sight settling on Maggie.

“ I don’t know if that hurts more or if these scratches do. “ You complain, your fingers lightly tug at the bandages that cover the fresh wounds that coat both of your palms, you take note of a number of loose fibres from the material.

“ Glass’ll do that to ‘ya. “ She chuckles, slowly moving into the room. She grabs a chair from the metal desk on the side and moves it next to your bed. “ I never got a chance to say thanks. “

“ You don’t have to worry about it. “ you refuse, shaking your head in turn.

“ I feel it’s my fault you’re like this. “

“ If we’re going to blame anyone, let’s blame my eyesight. I should have seen that wet patch. I should have been more careful. “ Frustration that burns bright in your reply as you turn away from her. Perhaps you’d spent too much time concealed from the harsh reality that constantly claws at you all as it takes refuge in a thick coat of a hauntingly isolating fog as it waits to drag you down with it further into the depths.

Mistakes are synonymous with fatalities now, one moment you’re on top of the world and in the next you can be in a free fall clutching the thin air as if it should be your saviour. Never have moments been promised, and this fact has never shone clearer than when the dead claimed the Earth for itself in an effort to void it of life wholly.

“ Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. “ Maggie brings a hand forward to squeeze your shoulder momentarily, a comforting smile packaged with it easing some of the self loathing you could feel weaving itself into your being.

“ I don’t have much to do in here by myself, I have to keep myself entertained somehow. “

“ Well, I got an idea.. “ She trails off, a mischievous grin lifting her lips.

“ Maggie.. “ You utter a strict warning, already knowing where the conversation is about to lead.

She pauses for a second, laughter bouncing from grimy wall to grimy wall as she reacts to your cautionary tone, the light in her eyes bursting with the power of a thousand stars as it illuminates her features. Gratitude for the fleeting moments of rare normalcy that reflects a past occurrence in the old world runs deep, for a fraction of a second you can pretend you’re simply two friends joking about something goofy and foolish. For a minute, you’re not sheltering in a decrepit prison as you run from walkers, it’s a perfectly average afternoon.

“ You can’t tell me you don’t realise the way he looks your way now? I know you’ve been lookin’.. “

“ Okay, I think I'm tired now. “ You huff, shifting your body as to your ability with your injured ankle to face the wall that has an array of stains permanently painted into its surface.

Maggie only laughs in response, the sounds of steps dulling into nothing more than a ghost of an echo that informs you of her departure. Her words have pulled a string you’d not wished to pay attention to until it would be absolutely necessary. Needless to say that as much as you’d tried to bury the budding seeds of affection into the dirt, they’d only bloomed in force into a sea of colour with the evidence left to coat your fingertips for everyone to see.

Never had it been your intention to entertain this idea, when anything positive you’ve managed to seize with both hands can be ripped away so unexpectedly that you are left to nurse the empty space left behind of what once had been, grieving the idea of what could have been. However, there’s a dim curiosity that softly grows in size that envelopes around you, compelling a desire to reacquaint yourself with a human intimacy that fell to the back of the queue as the instinct to survive overwhelmed it. You don’t want to fear living, you don’t want to fear connecting to others on a deeper level, but you can’t help but simply.. be afraid.

Had you been in a different reality where the world continued on as normal, you would have probably fallen under his spell sooner.

Only after that one night you’d spent on watch together after he’d gone out of his way to bring you such a simple gift illuminated him in a way that your sight would often lean towards him. Many times you would find yourself analysing his actions on a deeper level, a coy warmth burying itself in the pit of your stomach when realising he’d included you in his thought process. From the chocolate bar, to you being the first person he’d check on if you needed anything before heading out on a run, to even the simple act of being there just to talk when life felt rough. A shape of one Daryl Dixon had been carved out by the man before either of you had realised.

A thunderous groan erupts from your lips as you turn onto your back to stare at the bunk on top with the realisation hitting you like a train threatening not to stop. You completely adore the Dixon.

About an hour away from the Prison Daryl secures the last of the rabbits caught, they swing side to side with each of his calculated movements. All Daryl finds himself wanting to do is to get back to the Prison, unable to push down the inclination of being back to the comfort the life behind those metal fences bring. It’s been a long day and all he’s interested in is getting back to those he holds dear.

That thought is when a fleeting frame of your face crosses his mind. Though he speaks not of which he truly wishes to share, the time you do spend together is something he cherishes more than a billionaire would with all of the money and rubies in the world if they had them in the palm of their hands. The darker side of him, the side that would always listen to those who preferred to taint his waters with their gloom, doesn’t allow the emotions constantly swirling within him to be touched by the burning sun rays as they are laid bare.

Heavy breaths fall without grace from his chest as he’s let through the gates, the stony expressions etched deeply into Carol’s features. No words need to be uttered to know it’s to do with you, Daryl doesn’t even allow a thought before he’s making his way on a path he has walked a thousand times and will walk a thousand times more. Creaks that echo in the darkening corridors that are not lit by the comforting flames of candles, the prison sounding as if it’s more in pain than it appears — still, he pays no care. His only goal is to check on you, he’d be unable to forgive himself if anything were to happen to you and he’d never be able to see you one last time. His brain conjures a number of horrific scenarios and tainted pictures to accompany them as it runs wild in a sea of dread.

The crossbow that had been secured in Daryl’s grip is lowered gently to the ground as he scans your form, a grateful sigh when he sees the slow movement of breathing.

He lowers himself into the chair next to your bed, trying to pinpoint the moment he’d stopped gazing upon your form as a friend to replace it with an aura of starlight — no longer did he see the colour of your eyes, but galaxies full of life and wonderment. Daryl allows himself a few seconds to chase each other by as he considers his next action, though deep down he’s aware his decision had already been chosen, as he threads his fingertips into yours to allow your warmth to comfort the panic that had been raging at the thought of your demise. His thumb traces a circle that is light enough to keep you tucked away in a slumber and as a comfort technique for him, where his mind allows him the time to placate himself.

Before he’s aware of it, the sky blends into itself once more as the pastel hues paint it with dashes of gold from the sun as dawn breaks and he’s hunched over with your hands still connected as one — the position held the entire night. Nothing can be heard in the confined space except a symphony of soft breathing from you both, the serenity only the early hours in which no one is awake brings comfort to the sleeping forms of you and Daryl.

A lengthy yawn escapes your lips as your eyes fight to open as they blink heavily to adjust to the light that invades as much as it can. The weight of something lying comfortably in your hands confuses you, as you distinctly remember there had been no pressure previously, the image before you washes your entire body with the icy grip of shock as you scan the trail leading from the hand within yours to the person it belongs to. Teeth grip your bottom lip as you bite it, attempting to battle away a smile that wishes to break free, you can’t believe the sense of humour that the universe has. Not an inch is moved by any part of your body, you seek to savour the intensity that such a simple action bears, your eyes positively glowing in adoration as a softer side to the man is revealed. Moments like these are few and far between, it leaves you wanting to bottle it up and pocket it forever.

A squeak of displeasure cuts through the serenity the early hours have worked so hard to cultivate as you inch your injured ankle to the side, clearly different positions prove to be the opposite of beneficial. The noise is enough to wake Daryl, his sudden alertness makes you doubt whether he’d truly been in a deep rest, but it’s the least of your worries as he realises he spent the night with his grip connected to yours. The warmth that brought a grounding comfort to your being now is a phantom touch you crave again once an eerily coolness now surrounds your empty palm.

“ ‘M sorry ‘bout that. “

“ There’s nothing to apologise for, Daryl. It was nice. “ You confess, your volume touches the air with a softness of a feather that descends to below in an elegant waltz.

“ Mhm. “ He turns his gaze to the floor, a thumb is chewed upon lightly as he’s wondering what he should say next. “ ‘Was worried about ‘ya as soon as I got back. “

“ Yeah, things just kinda happened. “

“ ‘Ya gotta watch y’self more out there. “ He scolds you with a light scorch of misplaced anger that almost lays eternally with him, a wave of anxiety at the thought of losing you are twins in a realm of horror he never wants to bear witness to.

“ I know, Daryl. “

Poisonous words full of fire and fury born out of dread of your existence in his life being cut short itch to burn your indifference to the situation. As he settles his gaze upon you, all he can see are the stolen moments you both have shared away from the group, where the person he’d created in his head built without even speaking to had been smashed into shards the more he got to know — you’re a fresh breath of peace in an unstable world that thrives on chaos. Quiet moments where all he can hear are the flickering embers of the fire are the memories he finds himself kicking for, all that lost time to never be recovered due to his preconceived notions.

“ Do ‘ya? “ Daryl shakes his head in frustration, his soul a pot of swirling emotions and thoughts blinding him to the point he can’t see straight. “ I can’t lose ‘ya. “

His voice is so low you barely hear it, your brows thread together in the slightest form as they’re unused to the window of Daryl’s vulnerability being so widely open.

“ You won’t. “ A faint twitch of your lips means well, you try to comfort the man. Your touch is delicate as your palm overlaps his with warmth.

“ Y’can’t promise that. “

“ But I can try! “ You argue lightly, a bounce in your response.

“ Forget it. “ Daryl sighs harshly, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts that run circles around his mind.

“ Daryl! Wait. “ Your voice falls on deaf ears as he’s already halfway towards the exit of the room, for a moment you forget your injury and a burning sensation flies with boundless wings up your protesting muscles and you land in a heap on the floor. The bandages do nothing to cushion your fall, you cry out in pain from the intensity of the throbbing plaguing your body.

“ Why can’t ‘ya be careful!? Damn it. “

Before you know it, Daryl is level with you as you feel his touch grazing your skin — ensuring you’d not injured yourself further. Guilt pools in his stomach at the thought of your current suffering being his fault, his ire now directs itself brightly towards him.

“ Dar — what’s going on? Why are you acting like this? “ You quiz as your expression contorts into a grimace. You’d not seen him behave like this for what feels like a long century, even more so when directed towards you.

“ Like what?! Huh? “

“ You’re being crazy! “ You state, your finger jabs into his chest.

“ Ain’t it obvious? “ Daryl asks suddenly.

Your head shakes, confusion clouds your features as if it’s an angry storm that has waited long enough for the calm — nothing can be seen through the darkened skies. All you want is for the sunny rays of truth to shed light upon this mess.

“ ‘Ya mean more to me than you should. “

“ Daryl? Do.. do you — ? “

He nods suddenly, unable to hear the words out loud no matter how true they ring, because as real as it is. There would be no taking it back then. Your lips purse as a sad smile lifts itself with no help from you, your heart hurting as you realise this could have been avoided entirely since you both appear to be on the same page. You acknowledge the fact that actions would speak louder than words in this scenario, your fingertips brush through darkened strands of hair as if they play a sheet of music with the aging competence of a commanding pianist. This is one of many songs your mind finds itself conjuring, a burning hope of this forging something more between you. It’s not long before your arms are wrapped around his neck, with Daryl unable to believe the scene in which he finds himself in, you’re a sky full of stars that he finds himself wanting to get lost in.

“ We can take this one step at a time, yeah? “ You question softly, not wanting to be witness to the fleeting images of a set of angel wings.

He agrees silently, a warmth spreads outwards from your cheeks and treks outwards to cover your completely. The moment is sweet, as it concludes with a honeyed kiss on his tanned cheek. In one frame you both are thinking the same thing, just how lucky you are to have fought through your fears of living and given in to taking the plunge into unchartered waters that Maggie and Glenn have already found themselves navigating.

In a world full of the dead, you both agree that to love shouldn’t be a reason to cower and hide.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Red

Summary: Y/N has been having an infuriating dry spell in the love department lately, thanks to lockdown, and her roommate Jensen is getting fed up with her attitude. So, he lets her in on a little secret…

Pairing: Danneel x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: female masturbation, talk of male masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, lockdown was hard on singletons but great for phone sex operators Word Count: 4.5k Created for: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Sex Hotline AU | @spnkinkbingo - Tribbing

A/N: Requested by @danneelsmain - hope this lived up to your expectations babe! I haven't written Danneel before but I really enjoyed writing this ❤️

“Yes... yes... yesyesyes–”

“Hey, Y/N!” Bang, bang, bang! “Hurry up in there will ya? I’m dyin’ here,” Jensen jiggled the doorknob to no avail, and Y/N was incredibly thankful she’d remembered to lock it this time.

I’m dying here, Y/N thought to herself, pulling the shower head from between her legs with a frustrated huff, the water swirling down the drain carrying the fading vestiges of her almost-orgasm with it. She had been so close. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Just a minute!” she shouted, frustration tipping over into anger. The knob on the faucet was twisted to the ‘off’ position with unnecessary violence, and the shower curtain was attached at one less ring than it had been half an hour ago when it was yanked open to settle against the back wall of the tub.

Bang! Ban–

“Seriously, Jensen?!” Y/N barely had the towel secured around herself before she threw open the door, hastily ducking to avoid Jensen’s knock-in-progress.

“Thank fuck.” Jensen danced around Y/N and shoved the door shut, sending Y/N slipping across the tiles on her still-wet feet and locking her on the other side. The clearly audible hiss of Jensen relieving himself leaked through the door and Y/N growled in frustration, aiming a kick at the door before stomping down the hallway to her room.

He couldn’t have waited ten more seconds…

It had been bad enough that lockdown got them all stuck at home with no possibility of one night stands, or follow-up booty calls to keep her sex drive in check, but now Y/N was having an even bigger problem. She hadn’t been able to get herself over the finish line for at least two weeks, and she had no earthly idea as to why. Y/N was beginning to think that regular orgasms were part of the reason that she was usually nice to be around, because right now she felt like she was one bad joke away from stabbing somebody.

And that someone was likely to be Jensen.

Tucked up into the corner of the couch was Y/N’s standard position these days. She wasn’t sure what was playing on the TV, something as mindless as she felt right now.

“Budge up.” Jensen hit her feet and flopped back gracelessly on top of them without giving her the chance to move them.

“Ow, asshole!” A pillow whipped through the air and collided squarely with the side of Jensen’s face.

“What is your problem lately?”

“You, clearly,” Y/N snapped, pulling her knees into her chest defensively. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “No, it’s not you,” Y/N admitted, letting some of her aggression seep out of her frame with her words. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

There was a stiff silence between them, Jensen waiting for Y/N to break and answer his question and Y/N knowing that she didn’t want to talk about this with Jensen but not seeing a way out of the conversation. Jensen had an irritating habit of getting her to open up about things she never planned on telling people – like the fact that she was gay. And now he was about to hear far more about her sex life than she ever wanted to share with someone of the male species.

“I’m, um,” her cheeks were on fire as she glanced up to see Jensen looking back at her with concerned curiosity. “I’m… having a problem,” she finished lamely.

“Okay…”

“I can’t… Do you ever–” Y/N choked on the words every time they tried to bubble through. “So… um, it’s– it’s been a while.” She saw comprehension flash over Jensen’s freckled face a moment later.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know PornHub has a whole section for lesbian shit, right?” Another pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, okay, ow,” Jensen rubs his jaw in exaggeration. “But seriously, it’s been a while for everyone. You just gotta take business into your own hands.”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that?” Y/N hissed, unconsciously checking around them as if someone else was in their apartment who might overhear.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t like,” Y/N made a variety of nonsequitous hand motions that had no bearing on the word ‘orgasm’ but Jensen seemed to get the message.

“How long?” he cringed.

“Like, almost three weeks? And it’s not like I haven’t been trying like, everything, I just… can’t,” she shrugged helplessly. “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you? Is there something like, physically wrong with me?”

“No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” Jensen rushed to reassure her, patting her leg awkwardly. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“So it’s happened to you too?” Hope shone from Y/N’s face that maybe she wasn’t doomed to a life empty of sexual pleasure.

“Well… no, not exactly.” Y/N’s shoulders drooped, hopes slashed.

“How are you staying so sane?” Y/N accused. “You used to be with a different girl every few days before all of this.”

“Hey! I was not,” Jensen was mock offended but Y/N could tell he was also a little proud. “And I’ve, uh… I’ve got my sources,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered her question.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, have you been sneaking out behind my back!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “nothing like that.” Jensen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen as Y/N watched.

“Jen, if you’re trying to show me porn, I’m good. Don’t need to see what you get off to,” Y/N shuddered at the thought. A text beeped on her phone a second later, Jensen’s name popping up on the screen.

“That’s my source,” he explains and she opens the message to see a 1-800 number, next to the word Red.

“Red?”

“Red.” Jensen confirmed with a wicked grin, nodding sagely.

Y/N could not believe she was about to do this. She looked down at the number on her phone screen, ready to dial as soon as she pressed the little green button. Jensen’s assurances echoed in her head. Best phone sex I’ve ever had… she actually gets off with you, she’s not just faking it… sounds so hot, and her body is killer in her profile pic. Admittedly, the picture he’d shown her had been really fucking sexy. A slender girl in small red panties and unfairly pretty breasts cradled in a satin bra covered in little hearts, dark red hair pinned up around her face in a vintage style.

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Y/N pressed dial and held the phone up to her ear. It rang a few times before connecting to an automated menu, and Y/N was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to ask an operator if she could speak to ‘Red’.

Thank you for calling the Sugar Lips Hotline. Please enter your card details to continue.

Jensen had warned her about this part, so she had her card sitting out of her wallet on the desk in front of her.

If you know who you are trying to reach, please press one. If you would like to be assigned a random operator, please press two.

Y/N shakily pressed the number one, and then put the phone on speaker while she was at it.

If you would like to speak with Candy, press one, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Kitty, press two, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Lance…

Y/N wondered if she would still have the confidence to go through with this by the time the robotic voice mentioned ‘Red’.

If you would like to speak with Red, press thirteen, followed by the pound key.

The moment of truth. Y/N entered the number 13 and then pressed the pound key. The line began to ring again.

“Hi there,” a temptingly soft voice slipped through the receiver of the phone sitting on the desk in front of her.

“Hi-i,” Y/N’s voice was jarring in comparison, breaking on the first word she uttered.

“Oh, so I’ve got a pretty little girl on the line today, huh?” Y/N didn’t know how to answer so she didn’t, hands frozen in a death grip on the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/N,” she whispered back, suddenly scared that Jensen would be able to hear every word being said in her room. Quickly digging into her pockets she pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her cell. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

“That’s such a pretty name, baby,” the woman cooed, and now her voice was right against Y/N’s ears; it felt like she was in the room, whispering against her skin. “I’m Red.”

“That’s what I should call you?” Y/N managed to keep the tremor out of her words this time.

“Unless you want to call me something else? I can be whoever you want me to be baby girl. Mommy, ma’am, mistress…” Y/N’s heart thundered against her ribs. She realised that she had no idea what she wanted from this – she just knew she was desperate. “Or maybe you want to be in charge? I could be your baby, your good little girl.” Y/N wished she could see Red right now, watch what she looked like as she purred all these promises down the line, teasing and tempting.

“Is,” Y/N gulped, “is there anyone you want me to be?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, and Y/N could imagine her shaking her head, red curls flying by her cheeks. “This is all about you Y/N. I’m here to make you feel good.”

Y/N felt a lick of heat curl in the base of her stomach, twisting itself around her intestines.

“Yeah, I could use that,” she laughed nervously, figuring she should be honest if she wanted this to work out well. And she really needed it to.

“Oh, have you been feeling a little pent up baby?” Red’s voice echoed in Y/N’s ears. The small vibrations coming out of her earbuds were enough to start sending a pulsing sensation down the side of her neck, worming its way under her skin and into her veins. Christ, it had been too long.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I betcha we can fix that. Are you somewhere comfortable sweetie?”

“I could get on the bed?” Y/N offered, wondering why she hadn’t started there in the first place, rather than at her desk.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Red purred seductively. “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, get yourself nice and cozy. Maybe prop a pillow up next to you and think about me snuggling you in real close. Wish I could be there to put my hands all over your body.”

Y/N was thankful she was already sitting on her bed by the time Red finished painting her little scene because if she’d been walking, she’s pretty sure her knees would have given out.

“Fuck, it’s been so long since I felt another girl’s hands on me.” She tried not to be embarrassed at how whimpery her voice had gone. If this went well it was about to get a whole lot worse anyways.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Red breathed heavily. “Run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, down your back. Would I find a bra there to unhook, baby?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, arching her shoulders and feeling the band scratch taught around her ribs, pushing her breast up towards her chin.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

“Okay,” Y/N felt her voice shake as much as her hands as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, breathing deeply when the pressure of the garment disappeared.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it baby?” Red laughed knowingly.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, loosening up a little at the acknowledgement of a shared experience, something all girls could relate to. She pulled her arms through the straps beneath her sweatshirt and shimmying the discarded bra out the bottom before pushing her arms back through her sleeves. The peaks of her nipples tightened as they caught on the pills of fleece that now sat against her chest.

“What else are you wearing?”

Suddenly embarrassed she hadn’t thought to put on anything sexy in preparation for this call, Y/N didn’t manage more than an “um…” before Red laughed, a warm sound that melted into her like chocolate against your tongue.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded before she remembered that Red couldn’t see her. “Bet it’s something really sexy,” she attempted to flirt, cringing at how awkward she sounded.

“Well that depends,” Red mused. “Do you like lace?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. She loved seeing girls in lace lingerie; the way the delicate weave of the pattern offered small tastes of the skin it covered, the way you could feel someone’s warmth seeping through such a thin fabric so easily, the way it felt to have someone touch you or suck you through such a meagre sheet of modesty…

“What about stockings?” Red voice broke through Y/N’s train of thought, pulling her back to the vaguely out of body experience she was having.

“Love them,” Y/N answered quietly, trying to pitch her voice the way Red was, low and alluring.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she sighed dramatically. “Because I’m not wearing anything at all right now, sorry to disappoint.” Y/N couldn’t see her but she would bet anything Red was wearing a big pout right now. She wondered what her lips looked like. In her head she pictured soft and pillowy.

“You are such a tease,” Y/N laughed, hoping to disguise the pang of arousal that had shot through her a moment before.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Y/N found herself admitting unconsciously.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna get naked too baby girl?”

A throb of desire fluttered between Y/N’s legs, her pussy clenching, and when she squirmed back into her pillow a little she felt the lace fabric of her own panties sliding a little more between her thighs. Her arousal had started to soak out of her and into the material.

“You want me naked?” Y/N’s words scratched their way out of her throat, trying to pull her confidence along with them.

“Oh god, please baby,” Red moaned loudly, but it didn’t sound fake. It was like Jensen had told her, it sounded like she was really enjoying this, and like she was actually getting off on what was happening between them right now. “Want to feel your skin against mine.”

“I want that too, baby,” Y/N’s hasty breaths shook her words. She stripped out of her underwear and shoved her phone and headphones down the front of her sweatshirt so she could shimmy it over her head without disconnecting the earbuds. She didn’t want to miss anything.

“God, if I was there I would kiss all over you. Bet you taste amazing,” Red sighed, and Y/N could hear something shifting over the phone, like fabric moving around.

“Are you on your bed too?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, all spread out for you baby girl.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Y/N’s confidence was starting to build as she heard how much Red sounded like she’s into this, and she couldn’t deny she was turned on too. She felt wetter than she’d been in weeks, and when her fingers drifted down over her stomach its muscles twitched in anticipation of where she was about to touch.

“Where do you want me to touch?” Y/N let her eyes slide closed, and she could imagine Red batting her lashes as she asked - where do you want me to touch? - She pictured the girl she’d seen in the photo poised over her, legs straddling Y/N’s hips as Red ran her hands over her own body, fingers trailing over her throat, fondling her breasts, twisting around the pink flesh at the tips of each, lingering on the soft of her stomach before dipping lower.

“I want you to touch between your legs and tell me how wet you are,” Y/N said between deep breaths, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m already so wet for you, baby,” Red gasped, and Y/N hoped it was a reaction to her fingers slipping inside her pussy.

“If you were here with me, what would you do right now?”

“I’d make you watch me fuck myself on my fingers.” Holy shit, Y/N couldn’t help the moan that bled through her lips, and she heard Red chuckle. “Yeah, you like the sound of that baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N whimpered, her own fingers finally making their way between her legs and sliding easily through the slick she found there.

“I’d straddle myself right over your face, so you could see my fingers fucking my pussy, feel me dripping on you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And then, when my fingers are nice and soaked, you’re gonna suck them clean like a good little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” Red’s monologue was absolutely wrecking Y/N, she wanted everything the woman on the end of the line was describing so badly. “Want you to do it to yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you. Can you get those fingers nice and wet for me baby?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Y/N pushed two fingers inside her pussy, clenching around them wantonly. She must have let out some kind of noise because Red giggled again before she continued talking.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me baby girl, until I can do it for you.” And fucking hell, the thought of Red actually with her, touching her, fucking her… “Your fingers nice and dirty now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N squeaked, pressing against her g-spot to get herself even wetter.

“Good girl,” Red hummed. “Now suck them clean for me, Y/N. Want you to taste just how sweet you are. God, wish I could taste you too,” she moaned, her breath hitching.

Y/N obeyed Red’s instructions, sucking her fingers into her mouth and twirling her tongue around them, curling it across the dips and whorls of her fingertips. She groaned around the digits in her mouth, trying to make it audible that she was doing as she was told.

“Good girl,” Red cooed again, obviously hearing Y/N’s sucking. “Good filthy girl. You’re so dirty aren’t you baby, bet you’re dripping onto the sheets right now you’re so horny.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt her whole body clenching as she pushed her hand back between her legs, toying with her clit and sending fresh jolts of desire to her core. “Fuck, I’m touching myself again. Couldn’t help it, you’re so hot baby.”

“I want you to touch yourself sweetie. Want you to make yourself feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good too,” Y/N whimpered, maybe stupidly, but she remembered Jensen saying that Red got off with him and she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know that Red wanted her, that Red found her sexy. She didn’t want to be in this alone.

“Oh, I am feeling so good baby girl,” Red assured Y/N, her voice brimming with sincerity and whimpers to back it up. “Fucking myself so good, pretending it’s your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Y/N couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The more she played with herself the foggier her brain got.

“What are you imaging right now?”

“Thinking about you, you on top of me.”

“You want me on top, huh? Want me to hold you down a little, baby?”

“Mm, yeah,” Y/N sighed, slipping two fingers from her free hand down to her entrance and pushing them inside, keeping her other hand on her clit, rolling it between her fingers. “You could hold me down, grind yourself against me. Use me to get yourself off.” Y/N’s breathing was ragged now, and the fingers inside her pussy sought out her g-spot again, starting to focus their efforts a little more concertedly on the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Oh sweetie, that’s so hot, fuck,” Red moaned heavily, her breath catching on her curse. “I’d grind against you so good. Rub our pussies together, all slick and hot, grind my clit against yours nice and hard. Fuck, touch your clit for me baby.”

“I am,” Y/N gasped, drawing fast little circles over the nub between her legs. “Fuck, want all that so bad. Think you could come like that? Just from rubbing your pussy on me, getting me all wet and dirty?”

“Fuck yes, love rubbing my pussy on yours, love grinding our clits together. I could tease you so good. Go nice and slow, wonder how long you’d last before you start begging me to let you cum.”

“I’m close,” Y/N whimpered, surprised at how true it was. She hadn’t gotten so close to cumming this quickly in ages.

“Already baby? You naughty little girl,” Red groaned, and the sound of bed springs crackled through Y/N’s earbuds too. Y/N pictured Red arching off the bed, fucking her hips into her fingers. “You want to cum for me baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes please,” Y/N begged, feeling the muscles in her thighs and stomach starting to constrict, heat singing through her veins.

“Not yet baby, keep fucking yourself.” Y/N let out a pathetic whine in protest. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetie. Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Good girl, I’m so fucking close baby.”

“Fuck, please, want you to cum. Want you to cum with me.” Y/N’s eyes squeezed tight as small pinpricks of light started to burst in the darkness of her vision.

“Gonna cum for you, baby girl,” Red cried, voice high and tight. “Fuck, I’m gonna squirt, I can feel it. Gonna squirt all over your pussy, fucking soak you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt like she might actually start crying, she needed to cum so badly. She was so so so close.

“Rub that little clitty, pretend it’s me rubbing up against you. All hot and wet,” her voice was breaking, her words short and breathless, and Y/N could tell Red was as close as she was. “Gonna cum all over you. Fuck, gonna squirt so hard bet I could actually cum inside you.”

“Holy fuck!” Y/N’s hips snapped into the air, searching for the imaginary body she wished was there. It was becoming hard to hear through the intense buzzing in her ears. Every nerve in her body was pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Cum for me Y/N, c’mon baby, you can do it, want you to cum for me like the good little girl you are baby, c’mon.”

Y/N was sobbing, wrist pistoning her fingers in and out of herself faster than she ever remembered being able to move, and she felt the walls of her pussy clamping down, trying to keep the pressure inside where it wanted it. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Everything froze. She might have screamed, but to be honest she couldn’t be too sure, because she couldn’t hear anything except the white light that had flooded the dark space behind her eyelids.

Lockdown became much more bearable after that day. Though Y/N did have to try really hard to not think about the fact that she and Jensen were kind of fucking the same girl. In a way. It was weird. But if she ignored that part, then her ‘dates’ with Red were perfect. She was finally able to release all the tension, sexual and otherwise, that this whole mess had building up in her system constantly. And eventually, the world started to open back up and things started to get just a little bit easier.

Y/N wondered what she would do when lockdown was well and truly over. When the bars and clubs opened up again, would she and Jensen go out and try to hook up like they always had before? Would everything just go back to normal? Would she still want to call Red if she was getting actual sex with a real girl, and not just her hand or a bit of silicone? Yes. The answer was most definitely yes, Y/N had to admit to herself. Even though it was just phone sex, it was still some of the best sex she’d ever had.

Well, Red is a professional, she thought to herself wryly as she spooned some froth onto the top of the cappuccino she was making. The coffee shop she worked at had reopened last week, finally.

“Y/N! Can you jump on register while I take my break?” Michelle called from the end of the counter.

“Sure thing,” Y/N smiled and wiped her hands off on her apron, making her way behind the other baristas to the cash register. She briefly glanced at the line of people waiting to order – a couple of college kids carrying some scary looking textbooks, a portly man scratching his bald patch, a pretty girl with shiny hair and awesome winged liner. Y/N blushed as she caught the eye of the girl, and immediately looked back at her tablet, typing in her register code.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Y/N’s customer service voice was alarmingly cheery, and the two college guys blinked, startled, clearly still unused to interacting with humans again – Y/N knew the feeling, cringing internally. She made a note to dial the pep back a little.

“Hey, what can I get you?” It was the pretty girl at the front of the line now.

“Um, I’ll have a caramel latte, please,” she answered with a bright smile, red lips stretching across shockingly white teeth.

“Size?” Y/N asked, tapping the order into her tablet.

“How big can you make it?” the girl giggled, and Y/N looked up, something tugging at the back of her mind.

“Um, large?” Y/N answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was bugging her so much. The girl just nodded, politely accepting the fact that Y/N had skated over her joke. “Can I get a name for the order?” She grabbed the large sized cup and uncapped the marker, hand poised over the white cardboard, ready to write.

“Oh, sure. It’s Danneel.”

“Danielle?” Y/N asked, her mind still wandering.

“No, Dan– you know what, it’s a weird name. Just go with Red.”

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