#i'm so behind my own schedule it's ridiculous

[hanatatami]

Siegfried with the widdershins color palette would be really cool!

I remember someone telling me like half a year after I started playing, almost two years ago, lol everyone has Siegfried you can get him from the tutorial even!!! I got him like three months ago ?_? Where was he hiding

This was one of the requests I did for this palette challenge! Thank you everyone who sent me their request!

[haasegawa]

.

[giddyfatherchris]

📱✏️skz reactions — how they react/comfort you (when you’re going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. changbin, seungmin, i.n

type. requested

warnings. none

a/n. i loved writing these honestly they gave me so much feelings lolol i only wrote it for three members (as per requested) but if getting the reactions from the other members would be something interesting pls let me knoww🤭 again, thank you so much for the request my angel love ya xxx @solisyeah

hyunjin, han & felix

bang chan & lee know

Changbin

As soon as he saw the words on the screen, his heart tightened in his chest. The sorrow he could feel from you pierced his heart. He knew how sensitive you were, and how hard you tried to make things work for everyone. To hear gossip behind your back and to learn that some of your so-called 'friends' were the source of it hurt more than you could explain. He felt so angry at those people for treating you this way it made it hard to concentrate. So, even if you didn’t ask him, he cancelled his workout, gathered his things, grabbed his keys, and headed out. 

When you heard three little knocks on your door, confusion made you tilt your head on the side with questions swiveling in your mind. In your crying and saddened haze, had you forgotten you ordered your favorite comfort snacks? You headed for the door, wrapped in a blanket, your face the only part of your anatomy visible. You cracked the door open and felt your heart skip a beat when your gaze met with the sight of Changbin, holding a plastic bag with an adorable smile on his face.

"I heard my angel was not feeling too good. Couldn't leave you alone in your apartment now, could I?" he explained with a nervous smile before sheepishly adding, "I got us some snacks."

Your eyes filled to the brim with tears as you pulled him inside and into your blanket for a hug. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his subtle cologne. 

"Hey, y/n, look at me."

You reluctantly pulled away to look at him. He took like a punch to the gut the saddened look on your face. He lifted his hands to cup your cheeks and almost melted at how adorably they pushed under your eyes. 

"I'm here. It'll be okay. Let's go cuddle now." He nuzzled your nose with his own and kissed your cheek as he nudged you towards your living room.

When Changbin looked at the time on his phone for the first time of the evening, he realized it was now very late. Yu were asleep on his shoulder, looking so peaceful. You had spent the night eating the snacks he brought and talking about the shitty situation you were in. He had helped you prepare a few speeches and things to say once you would be confronted with the concerned people again. What started as stressful preparations ended with a lot of laughter as Changbin started making ridiculous impressions to help you practice. Once you both settled down, you decided to put a movie on, and not even halfway through it, you had fallen asleep, completely extenuated from the emotional turmoil. 

The young man looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes. He promised himself he would never allow anyone to hurt you if he could help it. Softly, he pushed a strand of your hair away from your face. His heart almost exploded when you softly grumbled and wiggled closer to him.

Yes, he would always be there for you, he swore as he kissed your forehead.

Seungmin

He was utterly furious, there was no other way to put it. The way your lip started shaking when he finally got you to explain the situation to him almost drove him crazy. 

He paced in his room, even after seeing you, even after you texted him and promised you were now okay. 

Since he had a schedule the next day and would need to leave early, you had met up at a cafe after work. You hadn't even sat for a second that he noticed you seemed off. You avoided meeting his eyes and lacked the usual cheery enthusiasm he pretended annoyed him. For a second, sickening fear held power over Seungmin’s body. Maybe you were here for an entirely different purpose. Maybe you were here to have a hard discussion about your relationship? He felt sick at the thought, but tried pushing it away as he pushed you for answers. Once you explained, all fear disappeared and was replaced with simmering protective rage.

You seemed to feel better after admitting you had a messy fight with some friends, and when you kissed him goodbye, you did look better. Every evidence pointed to it, but still.

He was the one who couldn't let go. Let go of the look in your eyes when you said your friends were turning against you for no apparent reason or without allowing you to discuss it. 

That's why he was still pacing in his room at 9:00 pm. That's why, at 9:10 pm, he grabbed his bags and headed for your apartment. 

You welcomed him with a happy, but confused expression. He looked so riled up, so angry. You couldn’t understand why he was having such a reaction.

"Because I love you," he blurted out, "and I don't understand why someone would willingly make you feel this way. Make you hurt like this. You've been handling this so well, and as much as I am proud of you, it also infuriates me. I wish we could punch them."

His confession made you look at him with big eyes and a slightly opened mouth. You knew he loved you, but he didn't necessarily say it as bluntly as he did now. And especially with what you were going through, it felt so good to hear. You walked over to him with a small smile and hugged him, feeling so thankful for how deeply he cared. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around your body, resting his cheek on your head. 

"I love you too, Minnie." 

He lost a breath and brought you closer. "I just don't like seeing you like this," he grumbled through your hair.

You pulled back to look at him with amused eyes, not hating this protective side of him, when you our gaze focused on the clock on the wall for a second. "Oh my god, it's almost 11:00 pm. You have a schedule tomorrow! You have to go home and rest!"

"If you think I'm going anywhere tonight, you're fooling yourself. I brought my bags and told Chan I was coming here. So, he will pick me up tomorrow."

I.N

Your voice on the phone had sounded so distant. I.N knew something was wrong when you said you couldn't hang out with him and the boys tonight. You hadn't mentioned anything in particular, but he knew about the situation you were going through with one of your friends. Every protective instinct awakened as he debated whether to leave it alone or run to you. It took about five minutes of his knee bouncing up and down relentlessly at the restaurant for Lee Know to tell him to go.

"I don't know what's going on with Y/n, but you should go." I.N looked at his hyung with unsure and questioning eyes. "Go to her," repeated Lee Know, his disinterested manner replaced with calm seriousness for once.

That's all it took for I.N to run to your apartment. He sent you a quick message to warn you of his arrival, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was met with when you finally opened the door. 

Your hair was messy, and you wore some of his old, wrinkly clothes. With dark circles under your eyes, you looked like a ghost of yourself. His heart tightened at the sight. 

"Innie?," you mumbled before he stormed inside, bringing you close to his chest, head resting on yours. 

Once settled on the sofa, you finally explained the whole situation. He knew there was some misunderstanding with one of your friends at work. What he didn't know was that it had evolved to devastating heights. Your 'friend' had started bad-mouthing you to everyone, trying to make it seem like you were the villain. The worst is that you had already apologized and admitted your responsibility in the situation, hoping they would do the same and it would clear up. Instead, the other person had laughed in your face and turned their back on you. 

Losing that horrible person wasn't what stressed you out. It was the fact that this was all happening at work, and they were handling it so unprofessionally. They kept turning some of your coworkers against you and tried to give you a bad reputation. You had started to feel worried about your job and doubled the amount of work you got done to thwart their undermining. Hence, the rough-looking appearance and how distant you had been.

I.N listened to it all, feeling his anger grow with each passing second. It took all in him not to suggest he visited them, but he knew you would hate that. So he kept his mouth shut, softly played with your hair, and tried to be as supportive as possible. Still, he was determined to help you at least a little and suggested you organize a meeting with your boss the next day where you could professionally explain the situation so he wouldn't get any wrong idea from the wrong people. 

Once done with preparing that, you were much calmer. Your rational boyfriend’s mind having once more proven incredibly useful. Tears had finally stopped strolling down your face, and for the first time in the evening, you looked at him with a small smile adorning your lips. 

"Were the boys mad you left in such a hurry?" you quietly asked.

"Of course not. Lee Know hyung was the one who encouraged me to go."

"And you left just like that? For me?"

His gaze settled on the uncertainty of your traits, and he felt his heart soften. "And I would do it over and over again."

The shine in your eyes took his breath away. He stroked the side of your cheek and pulled your head down so it would rest comfortably on his shoulder. "Please, whenever something like that happens, tell me. I want to be there for you. I want to support you through anything, but I can't do that if you won't tell me."

You nodded, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you with my problems. Especially since you were off tonight." 

"Tssk, don't say such nonsense. I've been with these guys almost every day for the past six years, this feels like a breath of fresh air.

You chuckled and nuzzled in his neck, "I love you, jeongin."

"I love you more," he whispered before linking his lips with yours.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Nine

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.4K

Warnings: slightly suggestive but not really

Series Masterlist

Esteban Ocon was bringing her dinner. She hadn't met him before, but he'd been in the lounge once or twice. His height made him unmissable.

But why the hell was he bringing her dinner?

"Charles said to bring this to you," he said as he placed it on the table in front of her.

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. And then she leaned forward in her seat and checked inside of the bag. "Charles asked you to bring this to me?"

When he nodded, a grin lit up her face. "Holy fuck, that's so cute," she mumbled and pulled the food from the bag. "Where is he tonight, anyway?"

Esteban shrugged his shoulders. "Doing something for Lorenzo, I think."

It continued on in this manner for a few weeks. Charles would bring her dinner and, if he couldn't, Esteban would (she'd gotten to know Esteban pretty well since he started bringing her food. He was funny, somewhat easy to get along with).

But her favourite evenings were the ones with Charles. He'd get there early for his own piano lesson (could you call it a lesson if the piano ended up abandoned and she ended up on his lap?) and run out for food between her performances.

She'd developed a habit of running late for the second half of her performance. But Charles was just so convincing when his fingers were dancing to the side and hooking her underwear to the side.

But Arthur was starting to catch on. Arthur was starting to get annoyed.

It wasn't often he got to watch her perform. She might have been one of his best friends, sure, but he was a busy guy. But every time he'd been at a performance recently, they were behind schedule, by a lot.

He couldn't pretend he didn't see his brother making his way backstage between every performance. Plus, the lounge was getting more complaints than normal (which wasn't a lot of complaints, but Arthur was used to none).

It was a Thursday when he finally decided to follow his brother backstage. He saw the small pastry container Charles was carrying (because, face it, they couldn't have take out every single night) and followed him to the back rooms.

"Aha!"

It didn't have to be such a dramatic, "gotcha" moment. But Arthur was "French", everything he did was dramatic. "I knew it!"

They weren't even doing anything. But the two were still like deer caught in headlights, frozen as Charles went to open the pastry box.

"Arthur," she started. "What?"

He gestured to the two of them. "I knew it! I knew this!"

Her eyebrows were raised and she spared a look at Charles before turning her attention back to Arthur. "Knew that your brother sometimes brings me pastries as a way of thanking me for the piano lessons I've given him?"

Arthur's face dropped. "What? No," he insisted with a shake of his head. "I know about you two, I know that you're doing the nasty."

She repeated the words back to him, just so that he could hear how ridiculous they sounded.

As funny as keeping up this charade was, Charles was becoming bored. Not bored in the sense that he wanted to find something else to do. But why shouldn't Arthur know? The sooner Arthur knew, the sooner he could bring her around to meet his maman. Only good things could come from Arthur knowing, he thought.

So, Charles spoke up, interrupting them. "Would you be angry?" He asked his little brother. "If there was something happening between us?" His hand fell into her own and he laced their fingers together.

And suddenly, Arthur straightened up his posture. He'd expected Charles to like her, of course. But this was all happening very first. And it was affecting his business, and that was what really got to Arthur.

"You guys can do whatever you want," he said honestly, "but don't let it affect my lounge, or I'm kicking both your asses out of here." He checked the time on his watch. "Speaking of, you need to get back on stage."

She stood, held her hand to her head and saluted. "Yes sir," she said in jest.

Before she could run off to the stage, Charles had a gentle grip on her wrist. He used his free hand to tear a piece of the muffin away from the rest and held it up to her mouth. Gratefully, she took it. "Love you," she said through the mouthful as she fixed her makeup, but it came out more like 'wov oo'.

And, as she ran off to the stage, Charles sat back in his seat, staring at the door she had excited through. There was a certain amount of shock on his face as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Don't tell me that's the first time you guys have said it," Arthur mumbled as he sat down opposite his brother. The soft, melodic sounds of the piano filled the room.

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. It had been a matter of weeks. God, a month and a half ago she'd been terrified of him. Surely she couldn't love him.

But that was what she'd said, wasn't it. She'd said she loved him. Why would she have said that if she hadn't?

"Well," Arthur began as he reached across the table for the rest of the muffin (he couldn't help but be surprised when Charles actually let him take it), "do you love her?"

It wasn't the most comforting thing Arthur could have said. But would telling Charles that she hadn't meant it romantically have made it worse or better? Either way, that wasn't what he said.

Charles didn't answer. He kept his head in his hands as he stared towards the door.

Arthur offered him a piece of muffin (of the muffin Charles had bought). "Relax, she won't be offended if you don't say it back."

"She won't?"

"Probably doesn't realise she's said it."

"She doesn't?"

Arthur gave his brother a sympathetic look. "Come on, let's get you a drink and watch the rest of the show."

***

He'd only had two drinks the night before. And Charles was grateful for that. He wouldn't have survived this meeting with Lorenzo without it.

"You want me to what?"

"Go to Italy," Lorenzo repeated.

For the life of him, Charles couldn't fathom why. The Leclerc family had deals in place with the Ferrari family ever since the first Monaco Grand Prix. They'd never crossed paths again. Not until now, anyway.

"If the Ferrari's think they can screw us over, they've got another thing coming," said Lorenzo. He threw a folder in Charles's direction, one Charles slid into the inside of his jacket.

The Ferrari's were car manufacturers, not a crime family. This might have been the easiest assignment of Charles's life. That was why he found himself running to her apartment, folder still tucked in his jacket.

The 'love you' incident hadn't played on his mind anymore since Arthur had calmed him down. It wasn't a romantic moment, so why should he overthink it? He knocked on the door and waited patiently, keenly aware that he was patient for nobody else.

And then, dressed in pyjamas, she pulled open the door. She barely got a 'good morning' out before Charles was on her, cupping her cheeks as he kissed her.

"Come with me to Italy," he said as he pulled away and pressed his forehead against her own.

Her eyes were lighting up from the very idea of it. "Seriously, Charles? You seriously want to take me to Italy?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "I can get Arthur to get someone in to cover at The Lounge, can get him to give you holiday pay and stuff. Just, let me take you away."

She didn't have to think about it much, did she. "Okay," she said, grin splitting across her face as she nodded. "Okay, yes, take me away, Charles Leclerc." She pushed him onto her sofa and pounced.

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[eldritch-spouse]

[There's something in my drafts I'm hardly going to finish, so I'll just leave this here.]

Full: Option 1; Option 2

TW: Degradation; Public humiliation

You meet behind the local mall.

The same one he first stalked you in, of course. You're a sentimental sap, after all, but it also helps you remember to not feel bad about anything you do to Patches. He's just a creep, always been one, and creeps don't deserve anything.

Certainly not when they arrive 10 minutes after the scheduled time.

You watch him meekly trudge towards you, slightly shadowed by the more secluded nature of this location. Patches has the decency to look embarrassed, rubbing his own arm and refusing to make eye contact while his old boots all but drag on the rocky ground.

He listened to your advice from last time, at least, making an effort to look more normal by wearing only his shirt and pants. Putting aside the garish shoe wear and the fucking ridiculous hat he refuses to part ways with, he could almost blend in well enough with other monsters.

This style of clothing isn't his preference, if the way he's shrinking even more into himself is any indication.

" Oh goodie, look who finally decided to show up! "

The dullahan immediately starts scratching at the bold veins on his arms, irritating the pockets of magic beneath his skin.

" I- I'm so sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to be late- It's- My... " He chokes a little. " My work... There was a- "

" Did I ask for excuses? "

Your tone is your most powerful weapon. In the flip of a switch, sugary, sardonic babying can become a bitter, chilling warning. It always seems to catch the undead's breath.

" No, ma'am... "

" You know, this happens a lot Patches. I'm starting to think that maybe you don't want to see me at all. "

The words make him panic, wide sockets peeking from his downturned hat to gouge the seriousness of your words.

" Ne- Never never! I lov- "

" Then don't waste my time. " You smile. " Are you getting cocky because I happen to find you mildly entertaining? Do you think you have a shot with any woman out there? " You speak as if you're addressing a crippled animal. " Oh, you dumb little thing, there's nothing in that head except seeds, hm? "

There's already some color around his face. " ... Yes, ma'am. "

" Good. " Your hand reaches to pet him under the chin. " Good boy, we keep our expectations in reality, don't we? We know you're just a loser, and losers don't get to waste anyone's time. That's rude, isn't it? "

Just this once, you allow him to nod instead of verbally answering.

There's a silent beat, before one stocking clad leg raises and your heel collides with his knee, sending the monster tumbling down. It wasn't a particularly strong hit, just something to make him smarten up.

Properly trained, Patches stays down, looking up at you with poorly masked anticipation.

" Well come on, dummy. " A foot taps against the ground, shiny black pumps that he bought you, with a small moon-shaped jewel on the front. They're pretty, his eyes twinkle with happiness just looking at them on your feet. " We're not going home until I feel like you're sorry enough. "

Patches knows what to do. He flattens to the ground like no more than a worm. Anyone could realistically pass by this nook and see him prostrated before some woman, slimy green tongue out to polish already spotless shoes.

Annoyed, you swat that large hat away, putting it on yourself instead.

" My hat-! "

" How am I supposed to know if you're doing a good job if I can't see you? " He looks back down, defeated. " God, you're so stupid. "

That gets him to work. The dullahan is nothing if not dedicated, quickly getting into the task. He lavishes the sides of your pumps, tongue flirting with your skin and hands twitching on concrete when you warningly 'tsk'. The length of them is peppered in carved kisses, and he pays special attention to the jewels, huffing with what you already know to be pure neediness. His drool leaves a translucent yet slightly green sheen behind, which looks almost pretty under the light.

Or maybe you're just mildly depraved.

Not as much as Patches, at least.

" What a good job you're doing down there! " You coo, the same way you would at a golden retriever that just handed you its paw. " You've always been good at this, maybe it should be your new profession, hah. "

He makes some kind of breathy mewl, now just retracing his earlier work. You figure that's enough for now.

" Okay okay, stop, I can almost forgive you. "

Patches looks back up at you. " Almost M- Ma'am? "

" Stick your tongue out. "

He does, a rather lengthy magical muscle protruding from that gourd head. You suppose, had you the means to, you'd also give yourself a rather large tongue.

" On the ground. "

The undead makes a face, lowering it as told and likely getting a nasty flavorful of whatever filth has touched the concrete before.

One heel rises, the flat end of your sole perching against his face, the pointed end swiftly descending into that exposed clapper. You make sure to grind it in, sink it, hearing his garbled cries as Patches instinctively tries to retract his tongue. He doesn't know what to do with his own head while trapped like this, the lights in his sockets blurring when tears form around the edges, painting his face.

You don't stop until he's sobbing quietly, shaking yet defeated.

" There we go. I think I can like you again. You're always so obedient... "

Your heel punctured deep enough that you kind of have to give it a shake to release the dullahan's tongue. He makes another pained whine before moving back, holding the damaged muscle as it limply hangs off his wide mouth. It's a tad dirty, but the most striking detail is the hole on top of its flat surface, oozing some kind of thick gel that you can't quite call blood.

He rises awkwardly, back still curved, trying to wipe his own summoned tongue clean before putting it back in his mouth and swallowing his own magic.

" Huh, you could almost pierce it, pumpkin. I bet that'd look good on you. "

And like the flattery-hungry loser he is, Patches smiles faintly through the pain.

Your eyes rake down and find what comes as no surprise. He's already more than hard. In a way, it's kind of better this way, not having to work at all to get him in such a shameful state. You could give Patches a look, and he'd probably begin chubbing in seconds. The problem is keeping it that way, and preventing him from getting excited enough to end things prematurely. Your new pet won't become a disappointment, surely. Not if his discipline continues.

A decently sized cock strains against the tight fabric of his pants, already forming an unsightly patch -Hah- of wetness. You've always liked one thing about him. Well, that's a lie, you enjoy lots of things about Patches. But- The way the prominent veins along his body continue into his endowment is also very pleasing. It makes you want to hurry things along, in spite of your modus operandi of grinding out the maximum potential of every second in these encounters.

" Try not to ruin your pants before we get home, okay sweetie? " You mock. " Did you bring it, by the way? "

The dullahan nods frantically, waving his hands in front of him in a specific pattern that, upon the snap of his index and middle finger, summons forth a collar.

This velvet dark green circle with intricate leaf patterns on its exterior. Two small white jewels frame the silver hoop where the chained leash in your purse attaches. You spent some time designing this beautiful adornment, more time than he deserves really, oh but it's in your nature to be a perfectionist. There were some hiccups. Particularly around the fact that dullahans are apparently frightened by gold... Your first purchase was trashed immediately, needless to say.

Last time you met, Patches had forgotten his collar. This was a grave offense to you, punishable by sharply diminishing his time with you. See, to truly punish this undead, you can't just promise him pain or ruined pleasure, he enjoys those. To upset him, to make consequences tangible, you deny him your time- And it's wonderfully effective!

Exhibit A, Patches has remembered to bring his collar today, after the previous session lasting only half an hour.

" Good boy! Perfect. See? You can learn. " He actually preens at that. " Now put it on. "

When you clip the leash to the monster, he's staring deep into your eyes, sockets pulsing heart-shaped lights as his breath becomes shallow and hot. Oh yeah, he's checking out already.

Good.

" Walk. "

[bradshawsbitch]

mess w/ roommate!bradley 😵‍💫😵‍💫 for blurbs:)

oof, okay we're starting off on a roommate spree here folks! i love it so much. I tweaked it a little bit because I'm just such a slut sap for first times 🥹

[ MESS ]  our muses are supposed to be cleaning up in the shower after sex,  but sender starts to finger receiver. 

warnings; female reader, afab!reader, roommates to lovers, smut 18+, fingering, masturbation, tit worship, thigh grinding, pet names

word count; 2.4K (did you say blurb?! god damn it I have a problem)

tagging some people; @roosterforme @mak-32 @lt-bradshaw @roleycoleyreccenter

"Bradley." you tried to keep your voice stern, shoulders squared, and eyes blazing with the power of every woman who had ever cleaned in her entire life. "We need to have a conversation."

"Alright, what's up, tiny?" Bradley looked up from the paper he was reading, the nickname he'd given you did nothing to alleviate the frustration you felt with your roommate. You weren't tiny, you were actually on the taller spectrum of it all, according to you. But not to chicken man.

"Have you--" you had to cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to make sure you didn't accidentally hurt any feelings here. "Has anyone ever taught you how to properly clean a bathroom? Because I distinctly remember that we said yesterday that I would take the kitchen, and you would take the bathroom." Bradley had skirted that particular chore one too many times.

"I don't follow," Bradley furrowed his brows and put his paper down beside him.

"There's still your tiny facial hair remnants in the sink! And don't get me started on the shower! Did you even scrub the shower walls?" Bradley blinked at you. There truly was nothing behind those big brown eyes, huh? Just sawdust and jet fuel.

"Tell me who to contact to file a complaint about your lack of cleaning knowledge." you put your hand on one hip, unfortunately taking the well known stance of a woman scorned.

Bradley licked his lips before looking down at his lap. You thought you knew what might come next. As he looked up, there was a perfect iteration of a hurt expression on his face, those same brown eyes now misty and puppy-like.

"My mom--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake Bradshaw, you already pulled that card this week. Ain't no excuses for being in your mid thirties and not knowing how to clean your own damn bathroom!" try to get out of that one huh, feminist king. See how you'll chicken your way out of that.

You figured Bradley might take offense, or at least start arguing with you. He'd been well known for his short fuse. To your great surprise, those big eyes that had just been misty widened initially in shock at your brusque statement, before his head tipped back and a roaring laughter eased from his throat.

"Oh god, tiny - you're just perfect, aren't you? You're right. I should know better," he now moved to stand, mirth playing in his eyes as he took a few steps forward until he - to your great annoyance - towered over you.

"I know this is not supposed to be your job then," he murmured softly, using his hand to make your stubborn gaze meet his "but would you be so kind as to show me your preference in making our bathroom squeaky clean then, doll?" he was smirking now.

God damn naval aviator knew he was hot. It irked you that you could not say that he didn't affect you. His little pet names, his stupid broad shoulders, his ridiculous sun kissed skin, the way he always smelled so good the way he--

"C'mon tiny, we got a tight schedule now!" Bradley called you out of your dazed state, and you huffed as you followed him towards your spacious shared bathroom.

"Alright, sweets, talk to me." He talked as if you were his god damn backseater, trying to blow up the enemy toilet. "What's the first step?"

Rolling your eyes, you started to peel off your socks and shorts. "Tiny!" Bradley's eyes went wide before he averted his gaze promptly.

"Oh, c'mon, Bradshaw, don't tell me you're in your mid thirties and have yet to see a woman in underwear," you smirked "I'm gonna walk you through a deep cleaning. Don't want to ruin my clothes. Tends to get a little wet,"

If Rooster's lips wobbled at your use of the word 'wet', you chose to ignore his childish quirk.

"But if you want to ruin your Grateful Dead shirt by getting cleaning shit on it, fine by me," you shrugged before ridding yourself of your top, leaving you in a matching black panty and bra set. They were plain, nothing sexy about them at all.

Swiftly pulling out the cleaning supplies, you started ordering your roommate around the bathroom as the two of you started to hose down the room. You hadn't made it far in your mission to scrub the sink before you felt a spray of water against your back.

Turning around, you were met by a mischievous looking Bradley, the shower head pointed straight at you. If looks could kill, you're sure Bradley would have a paper cut by now. Maybe a bruise.

"Rooster!" you tried sounding stern, but it came out more as a tired whine. "Hey, I'm sorry, Tiny - c'mere!" Bradley must've sensed you were starting to get fed up, because he opened his arms to you. Stupid naked, muscly chest looking inviting and warm as hell. You stepped into the shower, wrapping your arms around Bradley's waist as he maneouvered the shower head back into it's position on the wall.

It seemed like neither of you cared that the warm water was now washing over the both of you, your underwear becoming soaked. You'd always wondered what it would be like to shower with your roommate, but you never envisioned this scenario. In your scenario there were even less clothing, and much more moaning.

It wasn't always easy, breezy (but definitely beautiful) living with Bradley - in spite of the fact that he lacked competence in bathroom cleaning, he made up for it in every other aspect of householding and in his caring nature.

"This feels good, Tiny," Bradley murmured against the top of your head as he held you. "Told you it'd get wet," you mumbled against his skin, your lips currently smushed against his sternum. You could feel his chest rumbling as he chuckled, his large hands leaving their safe spot in your embrace. They started gently caressing your sides, before one hand again found it's place on your chin - tilting your head softly upwards.

Looking into Rooster's brown eyes, there was no twinkle of mischief left, nor confusion or mistyness - you weren't quite sure what this look was. As his other palm cradled your jaw and a portion of your neck, it dawned on you. Before you could name the emotion, Bradley's lips were upon yours in a wet kiss.

His lips moved slowly against yours, as if he was giving you the option to either engage or leave. A soft noise left your throat as you pushed up on your toes, wanting to feel more of him. The grip he had had on your chin eased, that hand moving to grip at your hip to keep your body steadily pressed against his.

"Wanted to feel you like this for fuckin' ever, Tiny," Bradley groaned as you took a gasping breath, his lips kissing down your throat. "Bradley--" you whined, eyes fluttering shut as his skilled hand rubbed at your ribs, slowly inching up towards the underside of your breasts.

"Is this okay, doll?" he breathed against your ear, his mustache tickling slightly against your earlobe.

"So okay, Rooster - oh god," you moaned softly as his thumb graced the swell of your breast, applying just enough pressure to send anticipatory waves of pleasure rolling through you.

"Please, I-- more," you whimpered, your hands tangling into Rooster's damp locks, tugging slightly - eliciting a rough groan from him. "More of what, doll? Tell me," his voice was husky against your throat as he switched sides, tongue soothing where his teeth nipped and his lips latched on to suck marks onto your soft skin.

"You-- Please!" his hand was still teasing the underside of your breasts, and you were squirming against his warm body, trying to make him fucking grab them already. You needed his hands on you.

"Words, sweetheart," he sounded pleased, a smile forming against your skin. Yanking his hair a little harsher, you licked your lips as the water cascaded down Rooster's well muscled upper body.

"I need your hands on my fucking tits, Bradley," you commanded, a certain bite to your tone that had a moan rolling off of Bradley's parted lips. Your words seemed to have triggered something in your roommate, because he promptly pressed you against the cool tiles of the shower wall. Not before his one hand had swiftly undone the clasp of your bra, flinging the wet garment to the floor.

"Such lovely fucking tits," Bradley groaned, eyes transfixed on your naked breasts as his large hands covered them, his fingers squeezing and kneading in unison. Letting your head fall back against the wall, you let out a long, relieved moan at the stimulation. Bradley whispered out a breathless 'Fuck' as his thumbs rolled over your nipples, taking in how well the soft flesh looked squeezed in his hands.

"Fuckin' dreamt of these tits for so fucking long," Bradley confessed, leaning down to let his warm tongue circle over the now pert nipples. "Wanted to hold them, lick them, suck them-" at the last word he let his lips enclose around your nipple to suck, making you cry out - the sound echoing over the sound of rushing water.

"Fuck them," Bradley growled as he put more pressure into his kneading movements. At this he looked into your eyes, pressing his body up against yours, his thigh slotted between your slightly parted legs.

"Bradley," you whimpered, not in a state of mind to say much else, and the fire it ignited within those brown eyes had you whining in pleasure again, his thigh pressing against your clothed core. "Wanted to make you mine for so fucking long," Rooster continued, letting his lips meet yours for a hard kiss.

"God, make me yours, Rooster," you whined, grinding down against his large thigh, needing the heat he'd started in you satiated.

"Fuck, Tiny!" he rutted his pelvis against your own thigh, and you could feel how hard he was against you.

"C'mon baby, tell me what you need," your roommate murmured before he once again leaned down to lick and suck at your breasts, relishing in finally getting to drown in their supple flesh.

Who knew Bradley was a tits man?

"Need your hands," they were everywhere and nowhere all at once, you needed them to bring you more pleasure.

"Need my hands, hm? D'you need them here, sweets - is that it?" his left palm had left it's perch on your breast, reaching between your bodies to cup against your soaked pussy. A soft mewl left your parted lips as you nodded fervently.

"Yes! Please, Bradley," you were practically begging for him now, but you found you didn't care.

"Sweet girl... fuck - I'll take care of you," Bradley's voice sounded a little wrecked as his fingers slid underneath the soaked cotton of your panties, his fingers rubbing against your core. Lifting your leg, you held it against Bradley's thigh to give him easier access, your hands gripping on to his shoulders as he let his cupped hand, two middle fingers, glide through your folds over and over again.

At the sensation of one of his fingers slipping into your welcoming heat, you let out a gasp - tightly followed by a moan. Fuck, even his fingers were big. Your hips started moving on their own accord, slowly swivelling against Bradley's hand. His other hand had begun pushing at his wet underwear, only managing to pull them to rest past his hips - successfully freeing his hard cock.

"You drive me crazy, Tiny - I've heard you touch yourself through the walls for so fucking long. Your little gasps and moans," he groaned, adding another finger to your hole, fucking them slowly in and out of you as the heel of his thumb dragged against your clit.

"You know why I call you Tiny, baby?" you shook your head, delirious with pleasure as you noticed Bradley had wrapped his other hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, the thick tip of him rubbing slightly against your abdomen.

"'Cause of your tiny fucking gorgeous moans as you try to keep quiet," Rooster moaned loudly as he pressed his cock harder into your skin for friction "Try to keep from moaning my name, huh?"

Nodding your head, you were properly grinding down onto Bradley's fingers now, fucking yourself against his palm as you bit your lip. "Yes, Bradley! I thought of you," you whined out, finally opening your eyes to look at him, soft moans and gaspy breaths rolling from your parted lips onto his as he pressed his forehead onto your.

"You gonna cum for me, Tiny? Gonna moan my name as you fuck yourself on my fingers?" brows pinched together, nodding against his forehead, small mewls and moans left you as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers meeting your bucking hips as they curved inside of you. The sound of him fisting his cock against your skin adding to the sensuality of it all.

"Bradley," his name was a drawn out moan "I'm gonna cum so hard on your fingers," you mewled out, pressing your tits against his hard chest. He didn't speed up his movements at your warning, but kept the pace and angle at the almost exact position of where they had been when you uttered the words.

"Cum for me." Bradley spoke against your lips "Look at me." he commanded, brown eyes meeting yours as you gasped, hips grinding hard against the palm of his hand before you let out a tiny moan of his name, euphoria washing over you as your body convulsed from the pleasure your roommate was giving you.

Bradley let out a soft curse, his fingers still fucking into you as he moaned your name, hips stuttering as he fucked his own hand too, his cum coating your hips and thighs as he shot his load over you. Slowly easing his two fingers out of you, you whimpered at the sensitivity, letting your arms wind around his neck as you buried your face in his skin.

"Bradley..." you voice was small, and his strong arms circled around your waist, hands resting on your ribs as he held you. "S'okay Tiny, I've got you," he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"I've got you," he repeated, softly caressing your skin.

"We're gonna have to clean this up..."

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

ASSMU Behind the Stage Ver.B [Natsuki, Syo, Ai, Nagi, Yamato] - Translation

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Ai: It is interesting that towards the end of the song, when the 18 of us sing together, the position of the five of us splits into two, with me in the center.

Ai: On the right are Natsuki and Yamato, who are large and adult-like, and on the left are Syo and Nagi, who are small and cute.

Nagi: Nagi may be small and cute, but my feelings are the greatest, so I’ll make the audience more excited than anyone else.

Natsuki: Wah! You’re so lovely, Nagi-kun! Not only are you cute but you’re also cool! Gyuu!

Syo: W-Wait a minute!!

Nagi: Woah!

Syo: Wait, Natsuki! Don’t go hugging Nagi! If you’re gonna do that, it should be with the super cool me.

Natsuki: I understand. Of course, Syo-chan is always cute and cool too. Gyuu!

Syo: Argh! I got it, but-! You’re squeezing too hard!!

Nagi: Jeez, what are you two doing? It can’t be helped. Nagi will teach you how to hug more cutely. Come here for a second, Natsuki.

Natsuki: Okay. Is it okay if I just wait here like this?

Nagi: Yes. Lean down a bit more. Like that. Here we go. Gyuu~ Then let’s both look at Syo and wink! How was that?

Natsuki: It makes it look like we get along well, which is very good.

Syo: Wow, that was damn clean.

Yamato: Hey, Natsuki. If you have any energy left over, be my opponent.

Natsuki: Really? That sounds fun too.

Ai: That kind of thing should be done after practice, not now. Incidentally, I'm pretty confident in my own skills though.

Syo: I mean, I'm not losing either. I'm not talking about height or arm wrestling! What's needed for a live performance is spirit! I'm going to put my heart and soul into singing and dancing for my fans.

Yamato: Yeah, exactly. I can’t waste time. I need more stamina to put on the best live performance I can. Should I increase my training? First, 500 push-ups!

Syo: No, that's ridiculous. We finished practicing the basics and now it's time for the dance lesson.

Yamato: Don't be so rigid about something being a little out of order. Let's do it together! 1, 2, 3…

Syo: I haven't said I'm going to do it yet! Ah, damn it!

Yamato: 4, 5, 6…

Syo: 7, 8, 9, 10

Ai: Okay. I'll leave the push-ups to you two. Shall the rest of us go over the moves again?

Natsuki: Yes! That’s right, Nagi-kun. How about we try to incorporate a moment of interaction with the fans like we did just now in the song?

Nagi: That might be good. Let’s see…

Syo: (out of breath) Hey, don't just leave me like this, do something about it!!

Ai: (sigh) It can’t be helped… Yamato! Let's stop that for now. Since we're all here, let's all review the choreography together so that we're all in sync.

Yamato: Now that you mention it, you’re right. Got it.

Syo: Thank god! I'm so glad Ai’s here.

Natsuki: Ai-chan is our center not only in that part of the choreography but also figuratively.

Nagi: I guess I can kinda see it.

Yamato: Natsuki, that was a good line!

Syo: I feel like having Ai in the group gives it a nice balance. Let the five of us create a new harmony.

Ai: I think I understand what everyone is trying to say. Well, thank you. Now then, I think we should get back to the lesson. After this, Syo and Yamato will do push-ups. Let's start again from the beginning.

Yamato: Sounds good. It’s the perfect schedule.

Syo: Let’s do that. I’ll do my best!

Natsuki: Then I'd like to join in on the push-ups too.

[kimsohn]

jay (enha) +  giving the other a spoonful of the meal they’re cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls. 

sweet . jay x gn!reader about . 646 words, fluff warnings . kissing (?), lots of food mentions

a sharp clatter behind the living room startles you, and you turn around to see jay scratching his head, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"sorry love, i accidentally dropped the pot... again."

you know very well that he's especially stressed today, but it's not because he's your boyfriend and you know him so well, but rather you've heard one too many of his mishaps prior. the two of you were getting ready for a party to celebrate his successful comeback, and while you had conquered the decoration aspect (see: the colorful arrangement of balloons and banners hanging in the living room), jay was not so triumphant in attacking the cooking portion.

your boyfriend is an amazing chef, and the two of you know that. more than often it's hard to plan outside dates with your hectic schedules, so you usually find yourselves sandwiched together and munching on one of jay's delicacies in substitute of a restaurant dinner. the only reason he's having trouble today is because he decided to stray from the comfort of his specialty and tackle something new: desserts. specifically, tiramisu.

however, jay actually seems to be doing pretty well because the smell coming from the kitchen is delectable. his only issue is his nervousness, hence the racket in the kitchen every five minutes.

"are you sure you don't need help?" you ask, knowing very well he's doing just fine on his own and the only real assistance you could give him is a hug.

"actually, c'mere. you can taste this mascarpone filling and see if it's sweet enough."

with quick strides, you make your way over to jay's side, hoping that he can't see the eagerness in your eyes. you've always loved his food, even when he thought he added a little too much salt or burned it, and you know that his filling will be close to perfection.

he tilts your chin up slightly, scooping a spoon of the filling and bringing it to your lips. your heart warms at the gesture, your jay that is always so caring, and as you mouth the mixture he wipes the slight remnants of it that have lingered to the side of your mouth.

but you don't even have a chance to thank him, because the creamy delight that fills your mouth clouds all your senses. it's ridiculous how he even doubted himself, and you're five seconds away from telling him that professional chefs should be glad he chose the idol life. the concoction is as perfect as it can be, and the cook who made it is even more perfect, so much so that you don't even try to hide the smile that crosses your face.

"it's sweet enough. it's actually perfect, and i'm sure i would eat this alone if you gave me a bowl."

"really? are you sure? you know my members have at least one sweet tooth..."

"here, you want to try?"

you don't even give him a chance to respond before pulling down on his collar and engulfing him in a kiss, making sure he can taste the filling on your lips as if it was chapstick. when you pull away, he's bewildered and flustered, and you both have matching blushes scattering across your faces at your boldness.

"you were right, it was pretty sweet," jay says, "but i can't tell if that's because of the sugar or your lips."

it's safe to say the filling is long forgotten when he leans in for another kiss, but at least the other members are content with jay's finished product when they stroll in an hour later as you both try to hide your swollen lips and mussed-up hair.

"what's your secret ingredient to making your food taste good?" jake asks, trying to sneak another bite of the dessert.

jay smiles at you knowingly, your shared secret drifting through the air.

"love."

[buzzcutlip]

congrats on 100 maggie that’s amazing!! 🎉🫶🏻

could I request carmy with a single!mom reader and they’re still kinda fresh in their relationship and with both of their busy schedules it’s hard to have any alone time and whenever they’re trying to have privacy for adult fun time it keeps being interrupted by reader’s little one bc reader’s daughter loves carmy and they’re both going crazy but also love becoming a new lil family. I just keep thinking about how carmy would be with a little kid and how he’d take over the role of a stepdad-dad 😩

Thank you! :)

I would like to say that I love kids and I worked in childcare for years. However, I'm not much into kid fics - rarely read them and never wrote one! Your prompt got me thinking so I'm sharing my head canons about stepdad!Carmy (explicit stuff behind the cut!)

You're so scared to tell Carmy you're a mom because you've started having real feelings; it's not just fooling around anymore. When you finally share that you've got a little girl, you're sick to your stomach with nerves, worried about the possibility of being rejected or ridiculed. But Carmy surprises you—pleasantly—by not freaking out at all. He nods and asks a couple of basic questions: "How old is she? Who's looking after her when you two are together? What's her favorite Disney movie?"

Carmy does freak out—once he's at home. He barely sleeps that night, thinking of all the ways the "wrong" in him or with him could rub off on the little girl once they meet. Because he's a messed-up grown-up who has no clue how to behave.

You can't keep putting off Carmen meeting your daughter after four months of dating. You can't, and you don't want to. It takes a bit of effort before Carmen opens up about his difficult childhood and messed-up family. You assure him that it's not going to affect your daughter and promise him that you absolutely believe he's a good person.

Your little one is almost four, and she's independent, sassy, and loving, so she probably understands Carmy's hesitation and worries better than you do—without Carmen ever needing to say a word. She knows he's a chef—a cook—so she takes his hand and shows him her own wooden kids' kitchen. Carmy's eyes are huge and glassy when he looks up at you, and you hold back your own tears.

The first time you witness Carmy and your daughter cooking together (not in the kids' kitchen), your heart almost stops. You know how sacred the kitchen—any kitchen—is for him, as well as the whole process of meal prepping. They're just baking cookies, from what you can see over Carmy's broad back, flour everywhere, and he uses the softest voice on her: "You make a ball from the dough, that's right. Well done, chef," and "You got it, darling," and "Good job, good girl," followed by a high-five, your daughter giggling, clearly proud of herself.

That night, you ask Carmy to stay - the first time while your daugher is at home too - and he agrees, with a soft smile and a chaste kiss to your temple. You're a bit apprehensive about having sex, anxious about your little one overhearing something or waking up in the middle of it, but at the end it's you who asks Carmen for it. You beg him with your eyes, your hands and mouth, and who's he to say 'no'? The day had been emotional and the remaints of it hang between you as he fucks you on your back, staring into your soul, reaching there with his cock too. You're kinda trying to hurry up, Carmy thrusting into you with sharp movements that make you gasp out puffs of air between the two of you. He leans in to whisper into your ear "You're taking it so well, you would take my load so well, would you want another baby, hm?" His words surprise you and make you so hot that you come with a startle the next second.

Fuck, Carmy Berzzato wants a kid with you?

[woo-wahhhh]

[ the dance stage is upon the back of my neck–; ] believe it or not, aventurine was seldom this reckless– yes, he had a reckless streak in him; he wasn't so foolish to argue against that allegation, but he would like to argue that he always operates on a strictly calculated gamble and never one without even the sliver of a chance of falling on the right side of the die.

yet this– this was odd for even him.

what a pesky kind of temptation, aventurine thought to himself, when your fingertips danced along the nape of his neck, nails slipping under his collar, unintentionally driving a new wave of desire to crash over his skin. he braced his hand on the bed frame frame behind you, hazily making sure he didn't didn't topple down on you– that would be another can of worms to open, perhaps even peskier than the way he was now making out with his own secretary.

it was strange; odd, even, how usually, he would always have his wits with him, no matter how much he had to drink. he wasn't one to fool around with other people– money was enough for him– and yet, there he was, completely sober in terms of alcohol consumption yet intoxicated on the sweetness of this unintended kiss.

"oh- ah, that tickles!" those were the first words spoken in quite a while, only leaping forth from your mouth when aventurine had pulled away for a quick moment, only to press his lips hotly against your throat, no doubt leaving a bruise or maybe even a hint of your lipgloss that streaked crimson across his lips. he shivered at the sensation of your cold palms suddenly laying flat over his shoulders and under his shirt, almost biting down from the shock.

this was odd for him, since he thought he'd already learned there was absolutely no worth in jumping headfirst after fleeting feelings of attraction and, if he dared to perceive it, affection. it would always disappoint him in the end when he would be the one to stand alone.

but maybe he was growing weak.

maybe i actually need to schedule an appointment with ratio, he pondered, suddenly pulling away to examine your flushed face. your expression was so lovely, cherry red heat blossoming across the apples of your cheeks as your panted, face tilted into the hand that he cupped your face with. you were so strict, under normal circumstances, unbothered even when he asked you of the most ridiculously outlandish requests for the sake of his missions and business deals, but here you were, sickeningly content as you nuzzled your nose against the palm of his hand.

he nudged your bottom lip with his thumb, gathering the shiny lipgloss under his skin and lifting it to his own lips to smear across his mouth. it was a bit endearing how your legs, which had been wrapped around his waist, tightened, just for a heartbeat– he supposed his actions had the same effect that yours had on him.

"... sir?" what a time for honourifics, he chuckled to himself, suddenly pinching your cheek in response to the gentle call. "is... is something wrong?"

"no," he replied promptly, much to the surprise evident across your visage. "i'm just thinking that you're much bigger of a gambler than i am,"

"is... is that an insult?" why so earnest?

"... the fact you ask me that in the first place feels like an insult to me,"

"oh,"

"mhm," aventurine hummed in agreement, watching your lips purse into a sheepish line, just like you always did whenever things got awkward– how you were bold enough to even get to this point was beyond him. but perhaps that was your charm, the same way his uncanny confidence and gusto was his. "you're going to regret this in a couple system hours, aren't you, my dearest secretary?"

you peered up at him owlishly– "not really. you're a wonderful kisser, sir,"

"i... if topaz catches wind of this, she'll report me to HR,"

"but she won't," he had to say, he was quite charmed by that challenging glint in your eyes, "so you're fine?"

"i'm rubbing off on you, huh," he mumbled, half covering his mouth with his face to stifle laughter that was too boyish for a grown man like him.

"even so," you murmured, suddenly flopping onto your back, a dull thud resonating from the– well, his, mattress. you were pouting, your lips were endearing and it was driving him nuts somehow. pesky, pesky, pesky! "i do like your company,"

his eyebrows arched up at your words. "that's all?"

"do i need more of a reason to spend time with someone?"

he wanted to laugh, half disbelieved by the simplicity of thought. but it wasn't a completely incorrect train of thought, much to his dismay. "your reasoning is quite simple,"

"why must i complicate everything?" you countered, extending a hand forward. your fingertips could graze his collar, the skin on his neck, yet you simply remained in one place, so tantalizingly at arm's length. "perhaps sometimes i just want something."

"nothing more, nothing less," he murmured, more to himself, but perhaps he finished your thought as well judging the surprisingly bright grin you shot him.

"your gamble's paying off quite well," aventurine grinned, placing your hand against his neck and leaning down. "i almost think it's a bit... too good of a gamble,"

"i learned from the best,"

"sweet talking now, huh? i don't hate it." yes, he quite enjoyed it, in fact, so much so that he didn't think twice when closing the distance, teasingly licking your lips before sealing them with a kiss and giving into the heated desire dancing its way up his spine.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.4: Waves (Spike x YN)

Request: Nope. Part 4 of the Multi Fic.

TW: Mentions of blood and phsyical harm.

Summary: Spike is worried for the cursed slayer. He wonders if she can manage in her own.

Word Count: 2.2k

Previous | Next

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Another night of hunting. Another night covered in blood. You walked half contorted body down the street, in pain after your battle. Your body was regenerating but it was still painful. How many more nights of this hell before you found peace. You would cry, like you did in the past, but there's no point. It brings no relief. So, you just hobbled home in the dead of night hoping no civilian would catch you. Cause what a horrifying sight you are.

Smoke litters the air as Spike exhales. Another night of helping the slayer. Another night of getting his ass handed to him for getting cocky around her. He wishes he wasn't infatuated with her, but life just happens. A quick thought interrupted his line of thought. The cursed slayer. He hasn't seen her in 3 days. He misses her. Now that she doesn't work at The Magic Shop it’s harder to see her. Maybe every other day he'll see her in the cemetery with Buffy or alone but never on a consistent schedule. He knows where she lives... he could visit her. He would blush if he had any blood to produce a blush. How silly is he being? Him, chasing after the cursed slayer. Ridiculous.

He trails off from the cemetery, still debating on whether to visit y/n or not. What reasons would he have for stopping by? The waltz! He offered her a dance! He stops in his tracks and shakes his head. He was being silly. No one that experienced and ancient would care to spend time with him. Even if they were friends. She was just being polite. He tried to reason with himself. He has never felt so much doubt over someone. With Buffy it was straight forward, stalk and wear her down. With y/n it’s so complicated. Like playing a game without rules.

His attention is caught by a trail of blood on the ground. He's on high alert. He follows the zig zag of blood down the street. This is the street to y/n's house. He walks faster, afraid for her safety. As he turns the corner he sees her, a macabre sight of body parts twisted and torn. He holds his breath as if he had any. He rushes to her side.

You become aware of a presence behind you. You're tired and badly hurt, but if a fight has to happen then you are ready.

"Y/n!" Spike yells after you.

The wave of relief that washes over you is insurmountable.

You barely turn as he runs up to you, worry etched on his face.

"Despite my current presentation, I'm fine." You interject before he can get a word out.

"You look like death."

"I'll survive." You try to hobble past him.

Without any warning he scoops you up into his arms, your face against his chest. You feel a blush coming on. He starts at a steady and careful pace back to your house.

"I can walk." You argue.

"Barely" he says.

You sigh. You would never admit it but you like how it feels to be taken care of. You breath in the scent of dirt and leather that clings to Spike. You stay quiet the rest of the way, contemplating how much different your life would be if you had Spike around. You wave the idea away. He belongs to Buffy and you belong to the curse, simple as that.

You reach your house, still in his arms. He gently puts you down on your feet. You're surprised by his gentle nature.

"Thank you." You smile, trying to steady yourself.

"What are friends for." He pauses for a second. "You owe me a dance." He felt like a putz bringing it up in her current state. Why did his brain short circuit around her?

You chuckle. "I haven't forgotten. Maybe next time." You turn away and walk inside your house.

As soon as the door closes, he hangs his head. What an idiot he's being! Asking for a dance when she can barely move. Might as well wear a sign that says touch starved. He walks back home, hands in his pocket, angry and embarrassed. He can still smell her blood on him, making him hungry.

The next day he was itching to see y/n again. He had to wait at the cemetery, maybe? Walk up her street? He didn't know where to locate her, simply that he had to make sure she was okay. After a while he gives up and starts to walking by y/n's street to find her sitting by the curve. She looks in pain.

He rushed to your side. You have a broken leg. You thought it would be a good idea to limp back home after your early but painful altercation with a demon. Spike crouches down to your level.

"What do we got here?" He says in a playful tone trying to hide his concern.

"You should see the other guy."

Spike frowned at seeing the damage. "Can you get up?"

"Yes. And no, you're not carrying me today. I've been taking care if myself for years and I can do it now."

"A bloody terrible job you've been doin’."

"Rude" you get up and start limping again.

Before you can get your footing Spike sweeps you up again. You protest but he hushes you. Again, incredulous. This man is sweet but is getting on your last nerve.

"Sorry love, can't let you waste away." He looks down at you. He notices how fragile you are in his arms, how good you feel so close to him, and how much power he has over you in this one moment.

He quickly looks up, trying to avoid your prodding gaze. "Tell me what happened."

"Simple. Demon had a club. I got cocky. He swung, broke my leg and I swung my sword and cut his head."

"Big fan of decapitation, I see."

"All in a night's work." You grinned.

"You say you’ve always taken care o’ yourself. Does every night end like this?"

"Most nights, yes. It’s just me and the big bad demons. I do get careless cause of the whole immortality bit."

He nods. You both reach your house. He gently puts you down on your feet. You sway and he catches you. You look up, your faces mere inches from each other. You take the time to admire his chiseled face, his sharp cheek bones and his blue eyes. All the while he enjoys getting reacquainted with the valley of your lips, and the deep hue of color in your eyes. He wonders how soft your lips really are. He pulls back at the thought and you almost stumble onto him. He steadies you, from a distance. You laugh at his reaction.

"Once again, thank you. You always seem to show up when I need you, and I appreciate that."

He nods, contemplating his next move. You turn to open, enter and close your door. However, Spike puts his foot on the door.

"I don't want you goin' out without me."

"Excuse me?" You're incredulous.

"Every time you're alone you get hurt. We can't have that now, can we? So, you're with me from now on."

You stand there speechless. Before you can retort he ends the conversation with "I'll pick you up at 9." And walks away.

The following night you wait for him, amused at how the night will turn out. A knock is heard in the distance. You open it to see Spike, your chaperone of the night.

"Good evening. Where to m'lady?"

You laugh at his antics. As you walk towards the woods you explain to Spike your goal for the night. To take down set of twin demons that have been trying to lure children to eat them. Spike is attentive and energized. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove to you that he was no sniveling child vampire. Just because there is an 800 year difference between the two of you, it doesn't mean that he's useless.

You both make it to an empty playground.

"Here?" Spike asks.

"Here." You confirm.

So, you sit and wait. Spike steals glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. He has never felt so small and shy. You turn to look at him and smile "nervous, baby boy?"

He is taken aback, speechless. Baby boy! You had some gal! He didn't know if to fight back or let you dominate him. Neither action came to fruition due to two big demons coming into view.

You stand ready, "show time, baby boy." You run up at the twin demons.

Spike needs a minute to rewire his thoughts and calm his feelings. Once reconnected he runs after you to back you up.

You both go on a head on collision with the demons. Spike is surprised at your direct approach. He can tell you're too focused on the win and not on your safety. He swoops in to play defense and keep you safe. While you work on slashing and punching, Spike works on blocking and moving you out of the way. You both work as a unit, fearless of what’s to come. Your bodies speak a language that only you two understand.

The demons are tired and bruised but you guys aren't done. Spike calls your name as he pushes one of the demons your way. Your sword is ready, and you stab into him with ease. Spike misses his cue as you call to him and the other demon attacks him, hurting him. You call to him one last time throwing your sword his way. He catches it with ease and stabs the demon multiple times. You're both triumphant.

You walk up to Spike to assess the damage.

"It's bleeding but not terrible" Spike states.

You nod and sling his arm around your shoulders. You both limp towards your house.

"Thank you. You were amazing." You compliment him.

He smirks, "You weren't half bad."

"If you hadn't been there those demons would've taken me out."

"I know" Spike smiles his shit eating grin.

You stop at your porch and Spike moves away from you. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow night" and he starts walking away.

"Wait, I'm gonna patch you up." You stop him from moving farther away from you.

He freezes. "Love, I'd have to come in..." He trails off at the prospect of being in your home.

You chuckle. "I know." You stand inside your house. "Go ahead, ask."

He couldn't believe it. Dead heart be still. "Can I come in?"

"Nah."

Spike's jaw drops. Ridiculous. He feels like storming off until he hears you laugh which makes his blood boil.

"Wait! Don't leave. I’m sorry. Ask again. Please." You say trying to get your laughter under control.

He asks again, and you say yes. And he feels all the air, if any, leave his body. He was elated and giddy.

He saunters into your home as if it was his own. He takes in the space, the furniture.

"Take a seat, I'll be right back" you point to your couch.

You bring him a cup of water and a med kit. He is humbled at your gesture. So simple yet so loving.

"Take off your shirt." You say as you look through your med kit.

"Buy me a drink first, love" he chuckles and complies.

You make an annoyed face, but it’s quickly washed off at the sight at his body. He was breathtaking. Dips and valleys hidden under hard lines of muscles. You remind yourself to breathe. You refocus and go to tending his wound. You are careful, loving as your work on him.

He admires your gentle hands, So carefully caring for him. Buffy would never. Yet y/n will always. Always. He snaps back from his reverie as you apply the anti-septic to his wound. It stings.

"All new!" You state looking at your handy work.

"Thank you..." he mumbles as he pulls his shirt down.

"My pleasure. I mean, it was a pleasure to help. I mean not that I take pleasure in seeing your hurt. I mean - " Spike places his pointer and middle finger to your lips. A firm but gentle gesture.

"I know what you mean." He smiles, a genuine one. "I have to go now. The sun is rising."

As he turns away you pull at his duster. "Stay."

He turns slowly, in surprise of what he just heard.

"Stay" you repeat. "You can stay on the couch. It’s a pull out."

He makes eye contact. He steps closer, purposefully entering your personal space. One hand distracts itself by playing with your hair. The other ghosted over yours at your side.

He knew, in that moment, that you would look out for him no matter what. The woman he got to know before he knew her as the cursed slayer was still there. The attentive eyes, the smart mouth and the loving heart. All that he needed. He refuses to let himself drown in this feeling. Not yet. He needed time before he let himself swim in your waves of love. But there was no harm in taking a dip, just for tonight.

[respectthepetty]

With My Dear Bro Day Four & Five

Love Tractor's leads got sent to El Nido in the Philippines by the production company and recorded it for With My Dear Bro. I got nothing but time, so I'm binging it and writing it up in three posts: One, Two, Three.

Do Won is holding onto a can of Raid like his life depends on it spraying the entire bedroom, so Yoon Do Jin decides to film him, but Do Won tries to hide in the bathroom, then asks for Yoon Do Jin's help picking out sunglasses. This is carryover from Day Two & Three because Yoon Do Jin notices that Do Won, a shy guy, hides behind his glasses.

Yoon Do Jin is giving compliments ("You look good") and compliments.

Then, he strategically plans for them to stumble upon a seafood restaurant even though he already looked it up because Do Won just casually mentioned that he wants seafood! This man is dangerous!

While at the restaurant (that Do Won is very excited about and Yoon Do Jin is very pleased with himself over), they discuss buying each other clothes and forcing the other to wear them. Do Won has stipulations. He wants a cool-colored Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. Yoon Do Jin says he trusts Do Won to pick out what is best for him. But they get sidetracked because Yoon Do Jin wants to feed a dog. Do Won says no. So Yoon Do Jin feeds Do Won instead.

Do Won takes intricate photos of his food and Yoon Do Jin loves it.

Whoever said to send them on this trip deserves a raise! Do Won keeps asking if Yoon Do Jin likes the food as he keeps giving Yoon Do Jin food on his plate, but Do Won comments that "the forehead doesn't lie" so he stares at Yoon Do Jin's head because he thinks Yoon Do Jin doesn't actually like it.

They split up to do their competition shopping, but IMMEDIATELY Do Won gets anxious being alone and people watching him. He is the dog drinking coffee in the burning building. SOMEONE ADOPT HIM!

But Everyone's Best Friend Yoon Do Jin is thriving! He is waving at todo el mundo, singing songs in the street, and haggling which seems to be his favorite activity.

SOMEONE ADOPT HIM NOW!

They meet back up but Do Won is late because *ANXIETY!* and Yoon Do Jin fakes a fight with him because Do Won, the entire trip, has been harping about sticking to the schedule and being on time. Yoon Do Jin, once again, questions if Do Won is a man who keeps his promises. It's ridiculous and makes Do Won smile.

They go back to the house, and Do Won is cooking chicken for Yoon Do Jin. Yoon Do Jin mentioned his weight management previously (he was apparently heavier), so the chicken is good for his diet. Yoon Do Jin is going out on the motorbike to buy the fruit that Do Won likes. Do Won tells him to be careful, and Yoon Do Jin tells him if he sees a bug to call him. Do Won is not amused.

Yoon Do Jin goes back to the same market that he got the free fruit and haggles some more because now they are all best friends and in love with him (the crew blew up the girl's head just so we could know it was HER who complimented him). Dangerous, this man is.

Yoon Do Jin returns looking like he robbed the place with eighty million bags but stands outside for a bit watching Do Won make the food until Do Won notices.

Yoon Do Jin says he doesn't normally like fried chicken, but he really likes Do Won's. Then, he says the pineapple is so good, he'll probably see it in his dreams. And that poster about being loved just casually hangs behind him.

Then they exchange the clothes they bought each other, and this shit is LOUD AS FUCK compared to Do Won's normal style.

Do Won gives Yoon Do Jin the slippers he wanted the first day, a cool colored shirt, and SUNGLASSES! Someone clearly won this competition, and it ain't Yoon Do Jin.

Loose threads: Do Won is always tripping over his own feet. They wore those Hawaiian shirts to bed. Yoon Do Jin always cuts off the light at night because it's so dark that Do Won is already in the bed. When looking for a shirt for Yoon Do Jin, Do Won had to keep telling everyone it was for his large man friend. AND frugal Do Won went over budget getting the gifts because he felt Yoon Do Jin deserved them, while Yoon Do Jin was worried that Do Won would be upset if he went over budget so he bought cheaper items.

Obsessed.

It's the final episode and Do Won is still attached to the can of Raid since his normal bug killer, Yoon Do Jin, is still asleep. Do Won tells Yoon Do Jin about it as he mists him later in the morning. It's their thing.

Do Won presents his gift to Yoon Do Jin, and by "presents", he actually slides it onto the counter as Yoon Do Jin's back is turned, then runs away, and puts on his sunglasses. Yoon Do Jin is De. Fucking. Lighted. as he recites the heartfelt message Do Won wrote on the back of the poster in his cockiest voice. Then, he asks Do Won if he is shy as he states he will get a frame for his poster. A DANGEROUS MAN!

They head out to the final destination before the leave back home. But it starts to rain and Yoon Do Jin, a dangerous man, drops this banger of a line after Do Won tells him that his tension goes up when it rains. Do Won looks directly at the cameraman, The Office style after Yoon Do Jin drops this line. Do Won is the only reason I think this is real because he looks like he is being Punk'd every single second of this interaction.

They finally are able to get on the ATV, but it takes a second for Yoon Do Jin to figure out how to go. However, he loses his cool when Do Won KEEPS MAKING ODD NOISES!

They switch drivers. They ride faster. Then, they play on the beach. Yoon Do Jin asks Do Won for a reflection on the day, and Do Won says "The beach . . . is nice" and I think that is the most he has said in one go! Yoon Do Jin also takes off his shirt because . . . DANGER!

They go back to the glamping spot which is a yurt with TWO beds, and Yoon Do Jin does this ridiculous crawl into the yurt so mosquitos don't get inside, and when Do Won tells him to put repellent on, Yoon Do Jin drops another doozy line saying the mosquitos will ignore him then and he doesn't like being ignored (he is firing shots at Do Won for ignoring him sometimes). He also states he doesn't like his shirt, so DO WON GIVES HIM ONE OF HIS, but Yoon Do Jin doubts it will fit. However, it does, because Do Won made sure to get a big enough size because he made it FOR him since he designs shirts. As usual, Shy Glasses has to look away after that confession.

So Yoon Do Jin gives Do Won a gift too. Lip balm? Because he notices soft lips Shy Glasses is always applying lip balm. WHERE IS THE BRACELET?!

IT'S HAPPENING! IT'S HAPPENING! Yoon Do Jin is going to give Do Won the bracelet, BUT . . .

DO WON REJECTS IT!

But Yoon Do Jin is a dangerous man and tells Do Won it's an "amulet" to ward off ghosts since Do Won said he saw a ghost earlier. The gift is accepted.

They go outside to eat by a nice blazing fire. They act like their roasting sticks are fishing poles, they light marshmallows on fire, and they eat like caveman, but a dangerous man takes it too far.

They have to go back in because it starts raining, and Yoon Do Jin makes a dad joke through poetry (he has been doing this the entire trip), and ends it with "it . . . was nice" because he must tease Do Won about his reflection earlier on the beach. Do Won responds that he wishes he hadn't let his anxiety get the best of him on the first couple of days and that he was more like Yoon Do Jin. Yoon Do Jin reveals that he always travels alone, yet felt really secure traveling with Yoon Do Jin.

Do Won asks where they should go next, and Yoon Do Jin, a dangerous man, jokes that Do Won just wants a second season with him, but then offers up his dream place because it's "more realistic" which gets an honest laugh out of Do Won.

Hand over heart, I WANT A SECOND SEASON!

I don't care if this was scripted or not. Shy Glasses and a Dangerous Man who is everyone's best friend deserve more of my attention.

Or all of it.

[freesia-writes]

For the bed-sharing prompt...

9. we sat on my bed and talked for hours and eventually we just fall asleep

Howzer

New relationship

(I feel bad, because I'm so predictable and you probably dread my asks...it's just I see lots of fics for my other favorites but not much for Howzer...)

Thanks! And don't feel like you have to!! Only if you're feeling it.

@clonethirstingisreal

I absolutely do NOT dread your asks, especially when they are for my favorite boy!! :D I'm gonna make one little tweak from bed to couch since it's a new relationship and my brain isn't braining any other way, LOL.

A thrill ran through you as his arm brushed against yours when he shifted slightly to pull the lever for the recliner, allowing him to spread out luxuriously next to you on the plush couch. He folded his arms behind his head with a content sigh, tilting his face so he could continue to watch you as you shared about a primary school teacher that had provided you with enough ridiculous stories to last a lifetime.

"So I've got refresher duty, and I'm in there mopping... and she's in the stall, I guess. All of a sudden she calls my name. From the stall. Okay... so I answer, and she asks me if I can give her a big wad of wet paper towels as well as some dry ones," you say, reveling in the adorable wrinkle of his nose as he listened with delight.

"Who asks that?!" he laughed, and you sat up straighter, crossing your legs so you could face him more fully to finish your story with increasingly theatrical arm motions.

"I have no idea... But I have to admit... my response wasn't the nicest. I was kind of an idiot as a kid," you confessed, the glimmer in his eyes hinting that he probably wasn't the most innocent angel either.

"Uh oh."

"Yeah... So I got this HUGE wad of paper towels, like... I'm holding it with two hands, and absolutely SOAKED it under the sink. Then I rushed over to the bathroom... and..." you were dissolving into guilty giggles, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. But you were too far to stop now. "I threw the entire sopping thing over the top of the stall door... and it landed on something with a massive SPLAT... and then I ran away."

"Oh my gosh," Howzer laughed, palming his face. "Was she screaming at you?"

"No!" you said between chortles, "That was the weirdest part -- she was totally silent!"

"Probably rethinking every choice she made in her life that got her to that point," he observed, and you laughed, relaxing into the couch next to him. The recline of his seat tilted the cushions toward him, and you found yourself leaning on him slightly more than before. It gave you tingles, and he didn't seem to mind. Grateful that he wasn't abhorred by your childhood weaselry, you continued with other, more flattering stories in between the ones he was sharing about his own shenanigans as a cadet.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye. You were absolutely in awe of his simultaneous sweetness and mischievousness, his cleverness and integrity. The room was so warm and cozy, with a fire flickering in the hearth and the steady sound of rain tapping against the roof and windows. The rumbling sound his smooth voice made in his chest was lulling you to sleep, and as he talked about the regimented training schedule of his adolescence, your eyelids slowly fluttered closed.

Howzer noticed when your head slowly tilted to the side, the weight of him beside you pulling you toward him, and he carefully pulled his arm out from beneath you, allowing you to slump into his side, face resting on his perfectly broad chest. His own heart was thumping in his chest as he tentatively stretched his arm around you, tucking it snugly along your back as he relaxed his own head back onto the cushion. With a deep, contented sigh, he gazed at the ceiling for a while, lost in thought as he watched the shadows dance gracefully.

You woke a few hours later, coming to with a blissful awareness of being insanely warm and comfortable. As you took in your surroundings, you felt fireworks in your chest at the sight and feeling of Howzer peacefully sleeping next to you, one strong arm holding you gently against him. You didn't know how you'd gotten there, but you weren't about to start asking.

[harocat]

ooh, I am torn between "untitled document" and "reverseAU". Please pick one for me!

I only included untitled document because it's funny to me, so it's good you chose two.

This is the whole of untitled document. To this day I have no idea what it is.

'reverse AU' was a classic Yuri on Ice prompt that was essentially just a role reversal of canon. I really liked the way my idea played out, but I sadly never got around to finishing it.

Anyway it's a good chunk of words, and I'm pretty certain I'll never finish, so I'll just put it behind a read more. Yuri on Ice fans come get your food.

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

Victor had slipped in after public ice time was over, after the last of the beginner skating lessons were done for the day, and kindly asked Yuuko Nishigori, the young woman who worked at the rink, if he could have some private ice time.

He was surprised when she recognized him, professing that it’s not every day a world-famous figure skater came into their rink out of the blue and asked to skate. Victor didn’t think he was particularly world famous, but he supposed, if you were a skating fan already, he might be recognizable.

“You can use the rink while we’re closing up. That should give you about forty-five minutes? If you want more ice time than that, you’ll have to schedule it with us and pay for it in advance.”

Victor nodded, pleased that the woman spoke English well, because he didn’t know more than the most basic of Japanese.

He was still feeling the effects of jet lag, so once he’d laced up his skates he spent a good ten or so minutes just skating around the rink, orienting himself with the setting and breathing in the crisp cool air of a rink well loved.

And then, he began to skate. It was a program he knew down to his very bones, better than his own programs from that year, which to be honest, considering his last experience in competition, he’d rather forget anyway.

When Yuuri Katsuki skated, it was like he made music with his body. Victor thought that, even if he went out there and skated a program with no music playing, it would hardly make a difference, would hardly diminish its beauty. Yuuri was the music itself; it flowed through him and was expelled from his fingertips, from the silver of his blades flashing and gliding across the ice.

It took Victor’s breath away, but he hardly cared. Even if Victor could no longer breathe, he was sure he could survive on Yuuri’s skating alone; on the serenity of his smile, on the grace and poise he moved with.

If Victor could skate like that, if he could skate even half as well as that, he would be happy. If he could stand on the podium with Yuuri Katsuki, know that Yuuri had watched him skate, had been impressed by it, then it would have all been worth it; the pain in his leg that occasionally still ached to this day, the years of recovery from an injury that could easily have been career ending, the biting commentary and the cynicism the media had had about him; ‘just give up, Victor Nikiforov is over’ for season upon season. The Russian skating federation would rather be done with him, he knew it. There were new stars on the rise; junior world champion Yuri Plisetsky for one. And even Georgi Popovich, his longtime rink mate, had managed a top six finish at worlds in Victor’s absence just days before.

There was no music as he began the program; Yuuri’s program, the one he’d just won his fifth world title with, his fifth grand prix final gold medal. It was the program that Victor skated every single day because he loved skating, and this was the one thing that could remind him of it.

He heard the piano in his head as he skated, listening to the sound of his blades across fresh ice, allowing it to soothe him as he ran through the elements of this ridiculously difficult program that he loved so much. His jumps were coming easily, and he breathed a sigh of relief at that. The tiny amount of pain in his leg, he knew, was because it was still stiff from the plane ride.

Victor knew that even at his best, he lacked Yuuri’s grace. He’d been told growing up, back when he was fresh from his second junior world title, back when he was on the trajectory to shake up the senior world, that he was an excellent all-around skater. But Yuuri, Yuuri was art. It could have been his ballet background, but Victor had known other skaters with a similar background, and none of them moved like Yuuri.

He let the imaginary music carry him through the second half of the program, making the decision to downgrade a quadruple loop into a triple (he’d never managed to master that jump), and closed his eyes as he launched into the step sequence, the element Yuuri was most famous for and the thing Victor was least confident in. It was almost too much for him, Yuuri moved quick as lightning during this part and Victor thought that perhaps, if the music were playing, he may have fallen behind. But…

The last jump was a quadruple flip, and Victor was still amazed at how Yuuri put it at the end of his program, but laboriously, because he was tired, and he was feeling the burn in his chest and his legs, he launched into it, landing it cleanly and with a flourish.

He ended the program, his hand over his chest and his other arm reaching out toward the edge 

of the rink.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, imagining applause, imagining that he’d successfully skated a clean program in competition, and one as difficult as this.

When he opened them, there was no applause, but there was an audience.

Yuuri Katsuki stood at the edge of the rink, his eyes wide behind blue frames and his mouth wide open.

Victor almost fell over, only narrowly stopping himself from falling on his ass in front of Yuuri Katsuki himself. Sure, he knew this was Yuuri’s hometown. That’s why he’d come here. But Yuuri didn’t live in Hasetsu, he trained in Detroit, and how was he—to show up right now, of all times? Victor breathed heavily, exhausted and winded from the skate, as Yuuri made direct eye contact with him.

“You cut your hair,” Yuuri finally spoke, and that was what he’d said? Victor touched the back of his head, feeling the freshly shorn locks. It still felt strange to him. He’d had long hair since he was a preteen, but despite it being a big change, he didn’t think it was that high on the list of things Yuuri would want to comment on at the moment.

“I—I—yes?” Victor finally managed.

Yuuri let out a short laugh, and Victor swore that his cheeks pinked, just a little. “Sorry, I was surprised so I just… said the first thing that came to mind. That was weird.”

Victor felt his nerves, which had been taut as a bow string, loosen at that. “It’s okay. I just wanted a change, I guess.”

“I get that.” Yuuri paused and cleared his throat. “Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor nodded, a smile blooming on his face, because Yuuri had said his name, knew who he was.

“That was my program.” Yuuri’s grip tightened on the edge of the rink, and did he look nervous? He dropped his eyes to the ground. “You’re in my tiny hometown, which no one ever visits, and you’re skating my program?”

Victor grimaced inwardly. When he said it like that, it did sound like Victor was a bit of a weirdo. Victor just nodded, because what could he say now?

Yuuri lifted his hands from the barrier and squeezed them together, as if trying to stop himself from fidgeting. He let out a deep breath. “It was beautiful, Victor.”

He must have imagined the way that Yuuri’s eyes were shining when he lifted his head, must have been seeing things to think they looked like they were glittering with unshed tears.

“T-thank you,” Victor finally managed, breathless. He dared to skate closer to the edge of the rink, closer to Yuuri Katsuki, who was here and real and in front of him and thought he skated beautifully.

But Yuuri’s expression quickly shifted from one of amazement to one of--- irritation; anger? 

Victor wasn’t sure, but his eyes grew wide and he skated a few steps backward.

“Why weren’t you at worlds?” Yuuri asked, and he sounded upset; angry even. It wasn’t like Yakov’s anger when he was shouting, or Yuri Plisetsky’s anger… pretty much all the time. This was something else entirely; anger edged with hurt, frustration, betrayal?

“I-I did badly at nationals and didn’t qualify,” Victor replied, confused. Why was he eliciting this reaction from Yuuri?

“If you’d gone and skated like that, you would have been on the podium!” he raised his voice. “If you’d landed the quad loop, you might have even been able to beat me.”

“I don’t think I---“

“I had no idea you could skate like that! Giacometti is good, but what you just did was,” Yuuri took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, “it was incredible.” 

Victor gulped, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “You think so?” he asked, and it was quiet, but there was an edge of excitement to it. 

Yuuri crossed his arms. “Sure, yeah. You would have placed above Chris and Otabek easily.”

“And you?”

Yuuri nodded, and there was something like a spark in his eye. Victor didn’t know what to think of it. “With a little bit of work, yeah.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re underestimating yourself, are you?” Victor let out a short laugh. He knew from years of experience, of watching interview upon interview and reading every magazine that he could get his hands on, that Yuuri could be modest to a fault. He skated to the edge of the rink, closing the distance between the two of them until he was only a foot or so from Yuuri Katsuki.

It’s not as if it was the first time he’d ever seen him. They’d competed against each other several times before; at worlds, at the Grand Prix final, and at a couple of Grand Prix events throughout the years. But Yuuri was reserved, choosing to surround himself with only a few close friends, and although in general other skaters liked him and found him friendly, he wasn’t close to many of them. Victor had exchanged a few short snatches of conversation with Yuuri, but nothing lengthy, and certainly nothing like this; where it was just the two of them, alone.

“I’m not,” Yuuri replied.

Victor took a deep breath and placed his hands on the barrier of the rink, right next to Yuuri Katsuki. Their fingers were only inches apart, and Victor took a moment to imagine…

“I um, came to Hasetsu because it was your hometown,” Victor began. “After what happened at nationals, skating was difficult for me. But then… I decided to practice with your free skate from this year, and it really helped.”

Yuuri blinked, confused. The rink was so quiet, just the two of them, their breathing, and the fans that kept it cool.

Victor let out a brief shudder.  “My coach, Yakov, thought I was obsessed, but he didn’t understand that this program was what was keeping my skating alive.” His lips quirked up in a small smile. “He told me to take a vacation.”

“So you came to Hasetsu?” Yuuri leveled him a look.

“You’ve always inspired me, Yuuri, from the first time I saw you when I was a child. I thought, if I could visit the place my inspiration found his inspiration, maybe that would help me.” Victor felt his cheeks flush despite himself.

He must have imagined the way Yuuri’s cheeks pinked as well. “I inspire you that much?”

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” Victor let out a nervous laugh.

Yuuri shook his head in the negative. “No. It’s… nice, actually.”

Victor’s face brightened at that, his smile wide and beaming. “Yuuri!”

“But I didn’t expect this, that’s for certain.”

“Well I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you lived in Detroit.”

Yuuri pushed his glasses up and brushed a stray hair out of his face. “Oh I do, but since Worlds was in Tokyo this year, I decided to come back home afterward for the off season. I just got here, and I have a key to the rink so…” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I just can’t believe you visited Hasetsu just because I’m from here.”

“And memorized your program,” Victor muttered.

“That too.”

Victor reached up, hesitant, and placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It shouldn’t be that surprising. Do you have any idea how much you’ve inspired people?”

[myz-wykkyd]

A/N: This is a scheduled post.

This meme has been in the works ever since it began it's circulation through my little tumblr niche. It took me a ridiculously long time to finish because I'm a perfectionist who NEEDS a perfectly matched aesthetic for everything I make. Explanations for my choices can be found under the cut<3

Color: Pink- which should come as no surprise! The color pink is said to represent friendship, affection, harmony, inner peace, compassion, nurturing, approachability- and love.

Flora: Wild Roses. These flowers are said to signify love, femininity, grace, elegance, and delicate beauty. But they also represent resilience and persevere in the face of life's challenges. That strength and beauty can coexist is the perfect embodiment of Rosalie as a character. Oh, and it's also a bit of a play on her full name- Rosalie Wilde. (A/N: I'm aware what's pictured isn't a species of wild rose. But since MTAS Rosalie lives in a sci-fi post apocalyptic world, I don't believe it's outside the realm of possibility that new species of wild roses within the universe could be descendent/resemble domestic species from modern day. )

Fauna: Horses. Throughout history, horses have been associated with independence, strength, courage and freedom. Which, again, perfectly reflect Rosalie as a character. They also just so happen to be her favorite animal in the world and I've always pictured her owning several.

Object: A pair of pink cowgirl boots. A juxtaposition much like Rosalie herself. They're cute- but made to be durable. I had a hard time picking for this category. Other objects I was considering include: Fresh baked apple pie, A pink dress, and her violin/fiddle.

Song: Tough by Kellie Pickler. Again, had a hard time picking a song for this category- but for the opposite reasons of the object category. Finding a good, country song that fit what I wanted both IC and OOC was surprisingly difficult- and I'm still not quite happy with this choice. But it was the best I could do.

Feeling: Love. Both platonic and romantic. The motivation behind many of Rosalie's words, actions, and goals in life.

[harrisongslimited]

George Chapter of the Day #7

I Saw Her Standing There

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, adult situations, slow romance brewing, smoking.

Thank you to picture owner.

Chapter 7

The weeks flew by. Shooting was done, and the concert was scheduled for the following Friday. Joie was constantly on the go. Out to the pubs with Freda. Lunch with Cyn...and George took her everywhere...or anywhere she wanted to go. The more time she spent with him, the closer they became.

Joie woke to the sounds of the ever-constant chirping birds outside her bedroom window at Freda's. The night before, she and George laughed the night away, sharing fish and chips and a beer, at a little dive he frequently visited.  She even tried eating fish for George's sake, but one chew turned into a huge gulp, Joie shaking her head furiously, her hand signaling that she still wasn't a fish fan. The chips were good though, so she filled up on those.

When Joie finished her beer and was about to explode chips all over the sidewalk, George took her hand and walked her back to the car.  His hands were delicious. Strong, Gentle. She thought about her feelings for him, but she knew she was leaving in another couple weeks and figured not much could really happen between them. He was...well, a Beatle. She was just Joie.

From Freda, Joie began to learn about managing a wildly popular rock band. Freda was almost on her own, opening mail by the hundreds, sorting what belonged to who and what should be pitched into the trash. One Saturday, Joie offered to help Freda when she needed to go into the office to catch up.

Freda hugged her. "Yes, Yes, Yes!" she replied.

..........

 Joie was stunned by the amount of mail. Thousands came in every day. Thousands of pieces of mail. Asking for autographs, asking for locks of hair, asking for a Beatle to come to a birthday party. And things came in by the hundreds. Panties, bras, teddy bears, pillows. Handmade gifts.

"My Lord, Freda. What do you do with all this stuff?" Joie asked. "How can you possibly answer all this mail?"

"The boys help when they come in. Sign special things, do things for me. They are all very good about that. They really care about their fans."

"But this..." Joie pointed to the thousands of letters.

"I know" Freda answered, wiping her forehead. "At least I have a staff now. Before it was just me. We still don't have enough people to help. I talked to Brian about it. We need more help."

"Well, you've got an extra pair of hands today, Freda. Tell me what I can do." Joie said, rolling up her sleeves.

Freda grinned. "You don't know what you are getting yourself into...."

Joie touched her arm. "I'm ready. You name it."

"Well, just start opening mail. Requests for signed pictures go in this pile. People who want to be part of the fan club go in this pile. Ridiculous requests go in that pile. The sexy ones and requests for a Beatle baby go into the garbage. Don't have time for that nonsense. There are plenty of honest, caring fans who need our attention."

"Got it," Joie acknowledged.

"And for Lord's sake, watch out for paper cuts!"

Joie laughed.

Brian did not. He stood at the office door and surveyed his kingdom. "And Miss Kelly, when did we get more help without my knowledge?"

"Oh, Mr. Epstein, this is Joie Armagh. She's friends of the boys who is staying with me. Remember....California?"

Joie remembered the weak handshake but still extended a hand.

"Hi Mr. Epstein. Nice to see you again."

Brian nodded at her and weakly shook her hand. "But why is she working?"

Freda's eyes darted from Joie to Brian and back again. "Oh, she's just opening letters. Just to help. She came into the office with me today to volunteer her time."

"Nice to have you, Miss Armagh, but you will have to leave. There are confidential matters being conducted here and we can't have strangers in the office."

His cool smile made Joie grimace. Joie tucked her short hair behind her ears and stood up straight.  "Absolutely, I understand," she said in agreement. "I will be leaving immediately. I didn't mean any harm."

"I'll meet you for lunch," Freda told her softly. "Barney's across the street. 1pm."

"Got it!" Joie said as she collected her purse and made her way out of the North End Music Store offices.

..........

The Beatles went about their business, putting the movie together and creating a sound track. Joie didn't see much of them, but talked regularly to George, who seemed to have taken the role of her big brother. At least that's what she thought. But he called Freda one day and invited them both to his mum's house for dinner.

"You will adore his mum and dad," Freda informed her. "They are absolutely wonderful. Funny, sweet, and mum is a master chef. She could make filet mignon out of horse leather."

Freda drove, stopping first at the florist for some flowers for George's mum and then the chemists, picking up  the tobacco that George said his dad smoked in his pipe. The 2 women then headed north, talking about life in America versus life in England.

"I love it here," Joie told her. "I can't believe I'm going home in less than a week. The time just flew by. And you've been so kind to me. I don't know how to thank you."

"It's been nice having you, "Freda told her. "I wish you could stay longer."

"Me too!"

"Have you thought about staying? I mean, seriously?"

"Umm, maybe once or twice. I went so far as to apply for a Nursing Grant to study England's National Health system. It would give me another few months....but I haven't heard anything yet."

..........

George's family home was warm and friendly. His mum had a nice dinner waiting for them when they arrived, but they decided to sit and talk as they waited for George.

"He's always late you know," his mother told her and Freda as they sat in the kitchen. "Always. Even as a little boy."

"What was he like as a little boy?" Joie asked.

"Always focused on the guitar. Practicing, practicing all the time. Then all of them would come over and make such a racket. But I loved having them. I can't believe they have had the success they had. Things didn't look so promising when they were sent back from Germany."

Louise Harrison told them about their Hamburg days and George getting kicked out because he was underage. "That was the low point. I didn't think they would stay together after that. But things just seemed to move along and now...."

The front door suddenly swung open and George popped in, combing his wind-blown hair with his fingers. He smiled at his mum and dad and Joie could see there was a genuine affection between all of them and she felt right at home. George seemed different. Calmer, more open. Joie studied him as he kissed his mom and greeted his father Harry. Then he greeted Freda and Joie.

"Can I talk to you Joie? Outside for a minute"? he asked with a serious expression.

Joie thought for sure she was going to get a lecture about going to NEMS with Freda and offering to open mail. Suddenly she giggled to herself. She wondered if she'd get a spanking too? Maybe if she asked??

She followed him into the backyard for a cigarette and a talk by the swing that was surrounded by lovely flowering plants of all colors and shapes. It was a place for romance, if you asked Joie, not a stern talking-to.

He turned and offered her a cigarette, lit them both and took a deep drag. Joie was wondering if he was summoning up the courage to let her have it. 

Then he cleared his throat and started. "We...John, Paul and Ringo too, would like you to stay in England if you want to. We can arrange for a 6 month work pass. We had to prove that you could do a job for us that no English bird could do. And we came up with an answer: American Consultant. That's what you would be. You'd work with Brian at NEMS, help Freda with the American fan mail, help us before we tour the states. We have several tours coming up and you'd be a great organizer."

Joie's eyes grew to the size of saucers. She, for the first time in her life, was speechless. "I...I... don't know what to say....," she answered a bit shaky. "I mean I'd love to. But I have family and responsibilities back in California."

"I know. That's why I thought we'd try it for 6 months. I mean, if you like it here, it would be a great way to earn money, travel, learn the business...." George seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Well, you don't have to ask me twice," Joie finally broke into a big smile. "I'd love to stay....but I'd hate to keep imposing on Freda..."

"We'll figure that out since you accepted the job. We'll get you a car because you will be running errands for us. It's getting too hard for us to do it ourselves....even in London."

"I thought that's what Mal did," Joie laughed.

"He'll be on tour with us. We will all be gone for awhile starting in a month or so. But we'd ask you to come to America with us. Show us the ropes. And then come back to England. At the end of the 6 months, you can go back home, or we can get you a permanent visa."

"George," Joie hesitated before continuing. "Whose idea was this?"

George looked at her straight in the eye. "We decide together. We stick together. We might fight, but we are family and John, Paul and Ringo are the ones I trust and rely on. We'd never make a decision without everyone agreeing."

"Well," Joie said, "I'd need to call my dad. I'd need to get an extension from school...."

"Can you do that?"

Joie nodded. "I'm pretty sure I can. I've applied for a grant to study the National Health system."

"Well, call your dad and see what he says and let me know." George continued. "We would love to have you stay on for awhile. You are a big help."

Joie laughed slightly. "But I haven't done anything, George..."

He looked at her sadly for a moment. "You've been a good trusted friend. And those are few and far between these days."