#just shades of red and that doesn’t kill people

[therabbitthatpostthings]

I do thinks it’s funny that before they developed Marcy and Simon’s relationship, she was only “royal” he never messed with. Coincidentally she’s the only one who goes by Queen. Despite their being no vampires left cause she hunted them all down and no one (other royal families) acknowledges the Nightosphere, they still consider her royalty and invite her to Princess Day stuff.

By all means Marcy is still a Princess of the Nightosphere but I don’t think anyone is bold enough to press her on it. She did hunt her entire “kingdom” to extinction so-

Just a funny little thought that the Kingdom’s of Ooo could not give a fuck about anyone else until it affects them and that’s kinda funny-

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, it was a big piece of work, hah

I took a break from RW and decided to draw something nostalgic

Actually I've been stuck with this idea for two years now and I'm glad I finally found the strength to do something about it. Thanks for inspiration from one good man)

Long story short

In this AU autobots and deceptions are two unions of different tribes: mudwings, seawings and sandwings for the firsts and icewings, nightwings, rainwings and Pantala tribes for seconds. Skywings doesn’t exist anymore (because we need someone who takes place of predacons).

People are just people or scavenger if you prefer. And instead of whole cosmos it’s just two mainlands.

- Optimus Prime - I kinda like tfp Optimus. So formidable, powerful and mysterious but really gentle at the same time. And mud/sea combo works here in the best way. As the representation of two main tribes union and strong father/brother figure for team members.

I also think he might be an animus (but don’t use his magic often, especially for killing someone)

- Ultra Magnus - Pure Icewing already will be great for him, but I gave him part of seawing so he could be more like an Optimus. But instead of being softer and warmer, Magnus is more cold and pragmatic version of him. A character who sees other dragons not as close allies and friends but as ordinary soldiers.

- Ratchet - Yeah, the seawing would fit him better, but i just don’t know how to make the colors work here sooo… he’s a weak-fire mudwing. Like a skywing, but mudwing. Why not. Make sense with his lack of guns in origin. I think he’s design can be better, and maybe I’ll remake it.

I love his arc of recognizing people as equals and especially his interactions with Raphael. I think Ratchet often read him scrolls about history and magical artifacts.

- Bulkhead - No surprises here - mudwing fit him perfectly. I think that the Wreckers could been a big and strong mudwing troops, and Bulkhead was a bigwings in such a one. He is lost a lot of his siblings during the war, and therefore tries with all his might to protect the new members of his family. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miko and Jackie, so for me he’s one of the cutest character, and I tried to make his forms round and soft.

- Bumblebee - I know that majority draw him as a hivewing, but in that case the most logical for him will be a night/sandwing. Literally, autobots get their own Sunny)

I think in this version with his lack of a voice he could communicate using sign language or some variation of aquatic.

- Arcee - Also nothing special - she is a seawing. I originally wanted to give her a helmet but it was too hard to draw. Just like Sunny she was born pretty small and now even younger dragons can be bigger than her. I’m pretty sure she is old enough to have seen Bumblebee when he was a dragonet, so she's literally like an older sister to him.

Actually she really gives me a Queen Glory vibes with her sarcasm and dangerous beauty, so rainwing might fit her as well.

- Smokescreen - I used to think he was just a cringe, but now I realize he's a pretty interesting and realistic character. Like Ultra Magnus, I wanted to make him look like Optimus, only this time Smoke is more of a younger and much more irresponsible version of him. I think in this version (being part rainwing) he's trying to mimic Optimus's coloring using same red, blue and pale-gray shades.

- Wheeljack - The scruffy boy! I think in this version he could be Bulkhead's "adopted sibling", so they are really close to each other. And, because he spent most of his life with Bulkhead, it's harder for him to get close to other tribes and dragons.

Painting scales to keep canonical colors is kinda cheating, but for this dude it totally works. He should have a pretty bright appearance with all those scars and bright spots.

Cliffjumper - Ohoh… this poor guy. I didn't even think of putting him here, but I like his smug face too much. Even making his scales darker than the original, it's still too brightly colored for mudwing. He probably jokes about it a lot, saying that his ancestors were skywings.

I really like his dynamic with Arcee, and it's a shame we haven't seen much of their relationship. I think I need to do something cute about that.

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: First Meeting (The Sunshine Verse)

Summary: You come face to face with the leader of the Batclan mob

Warning(s): Possesive behavior, scarring, kidnapping

You don’t remember being drugged, you don’t remember losing track of Lyre, you don’t remember going anywhere and yet you’re here, stuck in an unfamiliar room, a chain on your ankle. You’re unsafe, you know this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The room is clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it smells like lemons, not lemon scented cleaner but real, fresh lemons. You hate it. It's not your first time being kidnapped but usually you’re confined to a dark room or messy, dirty basements that make you want to throw up. This is your first time being kidnapped since joining the force (you had a really unique childhood okay)  and you can’t help but wonder why you've been taken, if someone thinks you'll have real information for that.

Soft, well muffled sounds start up next to the door but quickly fade to silence. You hate it here, the thick silence, the not knowing where your best friend (brother) is, the chain that rests on your ankle. Speaking of the chain, you haven’t tried to walk yet and you can’t help but be curious. Slowly, carefully,, you get yourself out of bed and walk to one of the doors, letting it creak open. It;s only a bathroom. There’s one other door in the room and you’re pretty sure that you know where it leads. Out of here. You start walking towards that door but the chain stops you before you can get too close. Going back a few steps, you make a few loops in the area that seems safe and attempt to run towards the door. Immediately the chains are pulling you back and you slam to the floor. Well whoever has you certainly isn’t an idiot, which makes your job all that much harder. 

Eventually you pull yourself off of the floor and crawl to the bed. As soon as you’ve arranged yourself in a manner that doesn’t hurt too much, you’re asleep. 

“Lyre,” you call, listening to the echoing chirps of the birds, trying to ignore the sounds of “lyre, lyre, not lyre,” to themselves, loud as can be. It’s foggy out today, but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. The walk to work is weird without your best friend, but peaceful, even though the birds are chirping loudly, mocking birds calling Lyre’s name. As you’re approaching the police station, you note the crowd of people, how their murmurs grow and change. They’re all saying his name. You get closer and your best friend (brother) is just laying there, spread out on the pavement, his blood staining everything a terrible shade of red. You kneel down, staring at him. Lyre’s eyes are wide open, unseeing and you can’t help closing them. Your hands are red now. 

You wake up screaming. 

It takes a minute of blind panic for you to calm down and become aware of your surroundings again. You’re in the same room as yesterday and still sore as fuck. The only real change is that there’s a chair in the middle of the room, well more like a throne (you may or may not role your eyes) and a man sitting on the throne. He’s wearing a venetian carnival mask, black with a white bat around each eye. Every gothamite knows it as Sire’s mask. 

You’ve been kidnapped by the fucking bats. Shit! 

“May I help you?” You ask politely as you can manage. Sire’s mask, cold and porcelain keeps smiling,golden even as the man takes off his fucking mask. You’re going to die, you’re going to fucking die. You look down so you can’t see his face. The man sighs.

“You can look up. I have no plans to kill you. Rather I’d like to thank you. You took care of my son while he wouldn’t allow me to.” Now you’re confused. You chance a look up and meet the eyes of bruce fucking wayne, gotham’s biggest  philanthropist. You don’t even know what to say, because the man who’s been credited for saving Gotham is the one keeping it in order as the cruelest man on the east coast.  “I don’t understand Mr.Wayne. I don’t know any of your children.” 

Bruce Wayne smiles faintly, “Not even Jason?” Every single person born and bred in Gotham knows the tragedy of Jason. It’s said that a mobster went after him and killed him, and in revenge Mr. Wayne swore to oust the mob from Gotham city. Knowing what  you know now makes you wonder what really happened. “No offense but I’m pretty sure that Jason is dead.” Wayne laughs bitterly. “We thought so but when your friend Lyre had to go to the hospital,, my doctors found something pretty interesting. A blood match. Would you like to guess who exactly is the match” everything starts to fade out and go dizzy. You were the one that made Lyre go to the hospital because he’s always hated hospitals. “Was it Jason?” 

“It was Jason.” Wayne unless his legs, neatly rearranging himself. “I’d like to tell you a story.” You shrug, looking away. “When my son was a child, he lived on the streets. One day I had a meeting in Crime alley and he was crazy enough to try and steal the tires off my car. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. It’s so much like the Lyre you know that you know, mischievous and carefully reckless, always doing something that he shouldn’t be. What was real? ��And when I came back to my car, there was this tiny vicious little boy fighting my guards and fucking winning. I’ve always been fond of stubbornness and there was something about Jason’s desperate desire to survive that stuck me so I brought him home with me. He’s been a member of the family ever since.” 

When Wayne talks about Jason, you’re reminded of a Pet owner talking about their best show animal or something. He’s not talking about them like they’re humans but as if they’re prizes to be won. He sounds like a collector, marveling over his trophies. You can’t help but want to upset this man, can’t help but dislike him. 

“If he was a member of your family, why did he leave you?” Maybe he’ll hurt you, maybe he’ll kill you but either way you’re going to mouth off for lyre. Wayne’s expression doesn’t even change.  “I have six other children,” he explains, “and half of them have anger issues. Do you really think that you’re going to phase me?” 

Your logical mind reminds you to be polite, your desire to live tells you to go apeshit. “That doesn’t answer my question,” you snap, ignoring his question all together. He doesn’t even blink. “Jason left because he didn’t agree with our methods. He did not understand the reasons I allowed my youngest to work in the basement at twelve nor did he appreciate our love. “ You’ve heard the stories from Lyre about his family, about the scars he carries from their love. Now that you've met Wayne you can’t help but wonder how many of those scars are physical. There’s a scars on Lyre’s back, tally marks, five of them to be exact. Are those from here? Are his tattoos from here? 

“When do I get to see Lyre again?” 

Wayne smiles Serenely, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a monster, instead he looks soft, and almost genuine. “When Jason calms down enough to be safe to be around again.” You tilt your head, wonder what he means and carefully do not ask. “Am I stuck in here permanently?” Wayne shakes his head politely. “No you’ll be coming to dinner tonight and Alfred will help you order anything that you might need.” That’s not what you mean. You want to go home. “Can I go home?” “This is your home.” You scoff and bear teeth. “My home is a little apartment by the wharf, not a mansion full of crazy people.” 

Wayne’s smile turns sharp, vicious. “I’d like to remind you that your privileges hedge on your good behavior. It’d be very easy to lock you away until you’re feeling more polite.” You get the feeling that wayne isn’t making a threat. He’s making a promise. 

[yelenasdiary]

Reader x Vampire!Kate at a halloween party where reader thinks Kate is just a hot girl in a really good vampire costume (instead of those crappy fake plastic teeth) and doesn’t realize until Kate is buried deep inside her, strap and teeth, that she just is an actual vampire

Hunger

Pairing: Vampire! Kate Bishop x GN! Reader

Summary: A fun hook up turns your life upside down. 

Dark Angst, Smut 18+ ONLY! Minors & Men, DNI!!

Warnings: Top! Kate, Strap On Use, Oral (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving),  Mentions of Blood, Kinda Murder? But also, Not? Mentions of drinking | 1.5K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x

October Special Masterlist 2024

The room was vibrant with different costumes, small talk and chilling laughter. With a drink in your hand, your eyes were locked on the tall dark-haired woman from afar. You watched as she mingled with those around her while she sipped on the drink in the red plastic cup in her hand, just wondering who she was. Unable to take your eyes off her, you were glad you decided to go with dressing up as Wednesday Addams with some of the compliments you received from people passing by you. 

“Your costume looks great! You’re killing it with that stare too!” One would comment, making you break character to give them a light chuckle and a thank you before your eyes would drift back to the unknown woman. With a few more sips of your drink, you decided to talk to her. Walking through the small crowd of people, you finally greeted her with a soft smile. 

“I like your costume” you said, now closer to her you were able to really take in the detail she had put into the outfit. Her long cloak from afar looked black but up close you could tell it was a dark purple, the inside was a shade of lighter purple. “It’s the best I’ve seen here tonight” you added as she turned around to face you. Her purple vest stood out perfectly against the black shirt she wore underneath, you liked the fact she didn’t go for the standard black and red vampire look. 

“Thank you” she smiled, “your costume is great! Can never go wrong with Wednesday” she added with a light chuckle. You couldn’t help notice how high quality her fangs were, they looked natural as if she was born with them. 

“Oh this? Thanks! I just threw it together last minute” 

“You must be one of many talents then” the woman whose blue eyes danced with the fairy lights that hung from the roof, smiled softly. “I’m Kate” she added. 

“Y/n, this might be a little too forward but forgive me, can I get you a drink?” You offered. Kate nodded, “you’re in luck, I just finished mine” 

You gave Kate a soft smile before you wandered over to the drinks table and pour the two of you a fresh drink before returning to her.

“So, Y/n, do you always stare at people at parties?” Kate asked, taking you by surprise. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry” you said with light laughter, “I really was admiring the details of your costume. I thought I did a somewhat decent job at not making it obvious that I was staring” you add. 

“It’s more of like a sixth sense, but I’m glad you like my costume” Kate smiled, easing your worries that you might have scared her off. The tips of her fangs piercing over her bottom lip gave you another reason to admire them once more before the soft sound of the next radio hit song started to play in the background. Kate’s head naturally starts bopping to the tune, “would you like to dance?” You asked.

“You dance, do you?” She questioned. 

“Not the best but I’m pretty sure nobody will notice that since most people are already tipsy or drunk” you replied with a light chuckle. 

“Maybe your moves will cover up my horrible moves then” Kate smiled once more before the two of you moved away from the corner of the room. 

The cheap LED light strips flicker between red and orange colors, Kate’s hands placed on your hips while you twirl in her hands. She pulls you closer into her allowing you to press yourself up against her, there’s no point in acting as though you didn’t feel the packing bulge in her black jeans. You look up at her with a soft smirk, “sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Kate whispers, playfully. 

“It’s a good startle” you replied. 

You move together, losing themselves to the music, your bodies swaying in perfect harmony. The environment around you fades like magic as if it’s just you and Kate in the room. She leans down slightly from behind you, “do you wanna get out of here?” She whispers closely to your ear. You nodded softly with a growing smile on your lips.

----

Your soft moans filled the room of Kate’s studio apartment, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped the black silk sheets of her bed. Her tongue swirling around your clit while two fingers pumped in and out of you. “G-god!” You moaned, throwing your head back, “don’t s-stop!” You added as Kate began to lap at your soaked cunt, removing her fingers to dive her tongue inside you. 

“F-fuck!” The word left your lips between moans, Kate’s tongue speeding up, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Your heartbeat fastened, your back began to arch, you were close until she stopped, teasingly. 

“Hey!” You groaned as Kate kissed up your body to your neck and finishing at your lips. “I just want to see how pretty you look for me when I sunk myself into you” she spoke while she leant back and began to undo her belt. Your cunt throbbed for more, your hand wandering down to touch yourself only to be pushed away by the brunette, “don’t you dare” she said, her eyes flickering up at you as she finally released her purple strap from her jeans. 

She slid the tip of the fake cock between your wet folds, making you moan once more when she brushed over your clit before slowly sinking into you. She allowed you a moment to adjust to her but with the alcohol in your system and her hovering over you with her deep blue eyes, you couldn’t help yourself by pulling her down to your lips and kissing her. 

“Please move” you smiled sweetly against her lips before she began to move her hips. She started slowly, capturing your every soft moan and the way your eyes slightly rolled back while she pumped in and out of you. “God, I bet you taste so sweet” she groaned as she sped up her movements. 

You didn’t catch onto her words as she lent down, placing kisses on your neck. The blood rushing through your veins making her run her tongue over her lips with hunger while she continued to leave marks on your neck. Your nails digging into her naked and cold back, drawing small lines of blood as Kate drew back her fake cock just to thrust it back into you.

The feeling of the tips of her fangs brushing against your neck made you throw your head back ever so slightly, allowing her more access to your neck. One of Kate’s hands found yours, interlocking fingers with you just as you arched your back, pressing up against her. She couldn’t take it for a second longer, her fangs fully exposed before the sunk into your neck at the perfect timing. Your orgasm took over your body, your legs shook, locking Kate in place by wrapping them around her waist.

The warm and velvety taste of your blood quickly became addictive to the vampire. The sharp pain of her fangs sucking your blood straight from the source overlooked with pleasure. Your soft moans in her ear making her crave more, sinking her fangs deeper before you were shortly hit with horror as she sucked the life from you. Like letting the air of a balloon free, you felt her stealing your blood, her strong body keeping you from pushing her off. Your nails digging deeper into the skin of her back as your vision faded to a cold darkness.  

It took every bone in her ice-cold body to stop herself from killing you completely. She pulled back, the last precious drops of your blood falling from her fangs, staining the sides of her lips before she licked them clean and with care, she slowly pulled out of you before she took off her strap and left the room to grab a warm washcloth. She cleaned you up thoroughly, placing an ice pack over the bite mark where her fangs once were before she sat in the armchair in the corner of her room.

She often found herself sitting here and watching another busy street in New York crowding with people but this time, her chair was facing her bed. The faint and slow sounds of your heart beating made her wonder why she hadn’t put you out of your misery completely. Your blood a curse to her, she would never be able to taste you like this again.

With every passing minute, your heartbeat got closer until eventually Kate was sitting in complete silence. Her eyes glued to you as you began to wake up, your eyes now a deep red as you looked around the unfamiliar room before you sat up. Kate smiled softly as she watched the red in your eyes fade to a pot of honey like color, your mouth opened slightly to speak, “I know sweet thing” Kate said before any words could leave your lips. 

“You’re hungry” she added.

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[redstarwriting]

hobie brown with a pink gf

hobie brown x badass pink!fem!reader hcs

request?: yes

request: “HI RED!!!! idk if you’ve done this already but i really wanna see what hobie would be like with a badass pink!gf. like she wears pink demonias nd stuff but can like hold her own yk? i hope this makes sense LMAO”

requested by: anon

warnings:  language, mentions of stealing, alluding to s*xual harassment from men, cops

a/n: omggg the only person i could think of with this request is chrissy chlapecka wearing her all pink outfits and telling everyone to hit men with their cars LMAO thank you for the request, anon🖤

───────────────────────────────────

- givin me chrissy chlapecka vibes - he loves it - listen - if you have any type of distinct style or attitude going against what most people believe - or one that challenges any type of authority or societal beliefs - Hobie immediately respects you - doesn’t necessarily mean he will be best friends with you - but he respects people who he can see have that kind of rebellious “fuck the patriarchy” attitude - so when he saw you - all pink outfit - pink makeup - pink accessories - pink boots that look like they could kill a man - exactly what you intend with said boots btw - he respected it - especially since you seemed to be taking the stereotypical “girl color” (whatever the fuck that means) and putting a spin on it they wouldn’t like - and girl when he saw you kick some man’s ass - all pretty in pink? - he was like ooh yeah - oh she’s the one - he loves to steal anything and everything pink that he sees - all for you - and he does - this style you have is the definition of him saying “Wear whatever you want, I can fight.” - and in response - you just scoff - “I’ll wear whatever I want, I can fight.” - he loves it - he loves that you’re always ready to stomp someone’s face with your pretty little boots - the amount of time he’s actually had to hold you back is amazing - and he doesn’t hold you back because he thinks you won’t beat the person’s ass - or because he wants you to be the ”better person” or whatever the fuck that is - but because he doesn't want the piggies getting any ideas when it comes to you - he knows you can hold your own - but he can’t help but be a little protective of you - and he just doesn’t trust cops - they’d see you looking all pretty and try something - not on his watch - he’ll take over if there are cops around - but if it’s just a slimy man? - he’ll still be there, ready to step in and kill the guy at any time - but you can handle yourself - so he lets you handle yourself - he loves when you paint his nails for him - he has so many shades of pink nail polish now - and you’ll paint his nails all pink all the time - at first, he was kinda like hmmmmm am i gonna like this? - spoiler - he did - he still paints his nails black all the time but when you ask to put some pink in there he’s all for it - he doesn’t realize his flat is slowly becoming more and more pink as you start to move in - because he doesn’t necessarily care all that much - he really likes the color now - but when Gwen comments on it he’s like… oh yeah - “Hobie? Have you found a new love for the color pink?”   “What?”   “Your place. There’s so much pink in here.”   “Oh… (Y/n) and I are gettin’ serious. She’s been movin’ in. But yeah, I do fancy the color pink, now. What of it?” - he does have a favorite shade of pink that you wear - but he loves when you wear all pink - so he acts like he doesn’t have a favorite - but he’s bad at it - cause the minute you wear a bright obnoxious shade of pink? - he’s gone - he’s simpin - he’s in love - he will compliment you more than he already does - which is a lot - and have his hands all over you - needless to say you’ve incorporated that color into your wardrobe a lot more - he just loves your style - and your attitude - the two of you are the government’s worst enemy honestly - and even though you’re a badass - you don’t need a man or anyone for that matter - you have a soft spot for your anarchic asshole - and sometimes you just like to see him be the badass - cause he sure can be - you’re a “don’t fuck with us” couple - a “fuck around and find out” couple - and the two of you wouldn’t want it any other way <3

───────────────────────────────────

[luveline]

jadeee!! how are you?? I was rereading everything asf universe and I thought, as a belated weasley twin bd treat, perhaps a drabble of r and Fred at Angelina and George’s wedding and Fred realised how much he wants that for him and r?? i wanna see them get hitched soo bad!

that whole universe is sooo special to me, endless thank yous to you and your amazing brain for writing it❤️

I love you!! It’s so special to me too!!!! And I’m so grateful to you for reading!!!!! fem, 1.2k

cw mental health issues

Fred gets you in his lap, but it takes all day, and only after the speeches. 

“You were very brave,” he says. 

“Don’t patronise me.” 

“I’m not,” he says, his arms folded around you, your side to his front so as to keep his gaze on your face. You’ve genuinely never looked so beautiful, not ever. It’s the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever worn, and you’ve smiled all day. He can’t believe it. 

“Was it an okay speech?” 

Fred finds your hand to hold. 

I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend before I met George and Fred, you’d said, staring hard at Molly rather than the crowd, your nerves apparent in every word. I’ve never known someone to love as hard or as generously as he does. I… wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. And so it makes me so happy to see him loved like that in return. I know he’ll be a good husband, because he is a great friend, and I think that’s half the battle, and– and he tries so hard. I wish you both a happy marriage and… a great honeymoon. 

George didn’t beg you to say something, but he’d begged Fred to convince you, and everyone could see how much it meant to him that you’d managed to do it in front of so many people. George had no trouble proclaiming that you were his best friend in the entire world and that he would kill anybody who ever crossed you, including his twin, if it were to come to that. 

It will never come to that. Fred will never break your heart. 

“I didn’t know you were going to say that much,” Fred says. 

“Too much?” you ask, looking down at his chest. 

“No, sweetheart, no. It was lovely. I just knew it was gonna be hard for you.” 

“You talked for half an hour,” you say. 

It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. “I had to embarrass him fully. That’s what getting married is for.” 

You press your cheek to his shoulder. The lights in the hall are low, your seats at the main table shaded from the lights and the music. George and Angelina’s family mingle, dance, and sing quite drunkenly. It’s very normal, but you’ve had a long day. Fred’s not sure you’re up for dancing. He doesn’t mind. 

“It was a lovely speech,” Fred affirms. He’d murmur if he weren’t worried you’d miss it with all the noise. “He knows public speaking isn’t for you, and it was probably a better gift for him than the DFS voucher.” 

“Better than a new sofa?” you ask. “You’re joking.” 

He laughs at your joking and presses a heap of kiss all over the side and top of your face. You melt under his touching, slouching into him, the curl of your smile palpable on his shoulder. He can feel it.  “My mum’s coming. She’s trying to be subtle. Shall I send her away?” 

“I like your mum,” you say. 

She’s in a dress with huge draped sleeves, her hair piled away from her face, her lips a pale pink to suit her red hair. When she talks, Fred can see the happy tear tracks that mark her powder. “Hello, you two.” 

You sit up to a slightly more respectable position, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t seen you and Fred touching. “Hi.” 

“Hi, mum.”

“How are you both? There’s more champagne around the side, dearie, your father can get you another bottle if you like.” She beams at you both. “You look exhausted.” 

“It’s a long day, mum,” Fred says, mildly apologetic. 

“I know. Imagine how much worse it is when it’s your own.” She brushes a strand of hair from Fred’s face. “Well, alright, I’ll go bother someone else.” 

“You’re not bothering us,” you say quickly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” She gives you a motherly shoulder squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I’ll make sure they play a few slow songs for you to dance to. I need good photos for my wall.” 

Fred laughs against the back of your head. “Thanks, mum.” 

She leaves you quickly, attention snatched by Percy where he’s calling for her to come and dance, and leaves Fred in particular with an idea he’s been trying and failing to ignore all day. He knows it’s cliche, but his brother's wedding has made him think of his own, and how it will go and when it will be. If he asked you to marry him, would you say yes? 

“You really do look so pretty,” he says. 

“You’ve told me a couple of times,” you say shyly. 

“I can’t believe it. I’m coming to terms with it.” 

“Do you think we’ll get married?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, startled, and wondering for the thousandth time if you can really read his mind. “I suppose you’ll have to let me ask you first, but of course I do.” 

You nod distractedly. It’s not the reaction he’d hoped for. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. 

Loving you is learning when to manage a crisis. Not that you’re always in crisis, but it’s an essential skill he’s obtained nonetheless. He waits for you to answer his question patiently, his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up gently to his eye level. 

“Do you remember the first Christmas I came to stay with you?” you ask. “Before we were together.” 

“I remember.” 

“I told you that I didn’t think anyone would ever marry me. That I’m not that… sort of person.”

Fred shifts his legs under your weight. You aren’t heavy, the chairs are uncomfortable, and he plans to have you here for hours upon hours if he can swing it. “Yeah.” 

“But you said you’d prove me wrong. We hadn’t even kissed.” 

“And you still didn’t think I had a crush on you,” he teases. 

You gather your arms to wrap behind his head, sitting taller, cwtching his face to your neck. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Ghost, I know everything about you. It makes total sense to me, believe it or not. And I will prove you wrong, I promise. If that’s what you want– it’s what I want, I just haven’t figured out how to ask you yet. Can you give me a little more time?” 

You suck in a strange breath. He’d like to say it was delighted, but it’s better labelled as shocked. “Okay.” 

“Thank you. We’ll have much better music.” 

You turn your heads to the dance floor, where Arthur has unearthed those extra bottles of champagne Molly promised, and the Weasley troupe are dancing like an especially ginger entourage of fools to something abrasive by the Weird Sisters. 

“Should we go dance?” you ask. 

“In a minute. After my dads discovered that champagne isn’t regular champagne, I think.” 

You shed the panic you’d been fostering to kiss his warm cheek. “Idiot, what did you do?” 

“It’s his wedding, Ghost, what did you expect?” 

You kiss his cheek again. A third time and he’s blushing. “Love you, Fred. Do you think George will forgive me for bending the truth?” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“‘Cos I was lying, you know, when I said he’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. That’s you.” 

Ugh, he thinks, dipping you backwards for a kiss. What a girl. 

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (2/5)

part 3 of Wish. Chapter 2: Dream's eldritch baby shower

--

Later on, Lucienne and Matthew put together a baby shower for Dream in the Dreaming. It’s very sweet. Hob invites Death, though by the time he does she seems to already know, he’s not sure how. Death brings Desire, Despair, and Delirium along with her, which Hob is a bit dubious about, but he can’t exactly tell Death what to do. Even Dream’s remade version of the Corinthian shows up, which Hob is even more dubious about.

They all meet in Fiddler’s Green, ostensibly to surprise Dream, though Hob tips him off beforehand because Dream doesn’t actually like being surprised very much. “Just pretend you weren’t expecting it,” Hob tells him. When they arrive, Dream doesn’t do a very good job of pretending, though he does seem touched. Lucienne catches Hob’s eye and gives him a little smile, and he realizes she was probably counting on him to do just that.

They set up on the grass under one of Fiddler’s Green’s large shade trees. For some unfathomable reason, the Corinthian is the one who brings cake. Hob doesn’t know who allowed him to be in charge of that.

Corinthian sets the cake on a picnic blanket. It looks extremely normal, which is only more unnerving.

“That doesn’t have eyes in it, does it?” Matthew asks skeptically from where he’s perched on Hob’s shoulder—presumably positioned there to keep Hob between himself and the Corinthian. Thanks for that, buddy.

“So what if it does?” says Corinthian. “It’s important for the baby to develop proper bloodlust.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Dream takes a slice and starts eating it with a tiny fork. Under the vanilla frosting, the cake is pure red. Hob hopes it’s just red velvet.

He’s too unnerved to eat any of it himself.

Despite the possibly cannibalistic cake, Hob is briefly hopeful that it might be a nice event. No one’s tried to kill each other in the first five minutes, so that’s a plus. Maybe things will actually be normal.

Then Desire sits down in the circle.

“Why are you here,” Dream says with open hostility, and Hob mentally braces himself.

Desire just grins at Dream toothily. “She takes after me,” they declare. “I can tell already. We may be enemies, dear brother, but I hold nothing but fondness for my little nibling. I will be Auntie and you cannot stop me.”

“Auntie?” repeats Dream with derision, but Desire does not seem put off.

“Indeed. I do believe we will be the best of friends.”

“Your influence can only be negative,” says Dream.

Desire waves a hand. “We all need negative influences in our lives. And you speak as if your influence will be any better.”

Dream’s mouth pops open in outrage, but Desire thrusts a gift into his hands. Not only did they bring a gift, Hob reflects, but it’s even wrapped. Babies make people so weird.

Dream looks at them suspiciously, then at the gift with even more suspicion, but carefully unpicks the wrapping.

Inside is a knitted baby blanket in the shape of a large red heart.

Dream stares at it while Desire grins at him. “For sweet dreams,” they say.

Hob thinks it’s meant to be at least somewhat mocking but it’s… kind of sweet, too? In Desire’s twisted way.

“Do not taunt me,” Dream says at last, glaring at Desire, and they roll their eyes.

“Can’t you accept one sincere expression of love?”

“Are you capable of sincerity?”

“Enough,” Death cuts in, and they both quiet. “I didn’t bring you to cause trouble,” she says to Desire.

“I’m not!”

Dream still looks suspicious, but when he looks down at the blanket in his hands again, Hob sees something soft flit briefly across his face. “If you are sincere,” he says, “then I thank you.”

Desire settles back, satisfied. Somehow, Hob actually believes that they genuinely want to be their child’s Auntie. He doesn’t know how that will turn out, though.

Dream sets the blanket in his lap. “Perhaps you should attend your own grandchildren before worrying about mine.”

Desire waves a hand. “Oh, we’re thick as thieves, don’t you worry. I gave Rose dating advice just the other day!”

Dream looks alarmed by that, as does Death, but before either of them can react, Delirium, who’s been bouncing in her seat, jumps forward and hands Dream her gift. “Open it! Open it open it!”

Her gift is not so much wrapped as it is… an immaterial swirling ball of sparkles. Dream takes it, and it hovers in his hands, then explodes in a shower of light.

Inside is a mobile hung with glittery fish, to put above the crib. Only it’s not really a mobile, because the fish aren’t actually attached to any wires. They just hover in the air, swimming around each other in mesmerizing circular patterns. Hob has to admit that even to his adult eyes, it’s… pretty hypnotizing. Almost trance-inducing.

“I made it!” Delirium says.

Unlike with Desire, Dream has no cutting words for Delirium. “Thank you, little sister,” he says solemnly. He sets it before him, and the fish dart up to spiral around his head, then return to their meditative spin. “You must come to visit, and set it above her crib.”

Delirium claps her hands in delight. “Babies have such fun imaginations!” she says. “Even I can feel them.” She throws her arms around Dream in a bear hug. He tolerates it in good humor, but Hob sees his tiny smile over her shoulder.

Everyone else has brought gifts for Dream too. He seems nervous about it, not being used to receiving nice things. Hob urges Lucienne to go next as he knows she’ll have been sensible about it—God only knows what Corinthian’s picked out. Hopefully just the bloody cake.

Lucienne gives Dream a newborn-sized onesie that says future librarian. Dream raises an eyebrow. “Claiming my daughter as your apprentice already?”

She smiles. “More an offer of babysitting.”

Lucienne is one of the few people in Dream’s vicinity that Hob thinks is actually capable of taking care of an infant. Everybody else in the Dreaming… he’s really not so sure.

“I thank you, Lucienne,” Dream says, and clasps her hands with a small, but warm smile.

Then Despair, who’s been keeping to herself so far, passes Dream a small package wrapped in newspaper. Inside is what seems to be a plastic teething toy shaped like her hook-and-ring sigil—though with the sharp hook suitably blunted.

Hob’s immediate first thought is will the baby even have teeth, which is insane and makes him wonder how prepared he actually is for any of this. But before he can ponder it more, Despair says, “When she is hurting, I can ease it.”

Hob’s been a bit leery of letting Despair near the baby to begin with. But from what Dream has said in the past, when she isn’t being pulled into her twin’s schemes Despair can be the kindest of the Endless. Hob is still wary of that form of kindness, especially when it comes to Dream himself. But he thinks perhaps he can see what Dream means.

Matthew gives Dream the book Quantum Physics for Babies, which he seems to have procured from a Waking world bookstore despite there most definitely being a copy in the Dreaming library somewhere. “Listen,” he says, “I gotta give the kid a better start in life than I had. Speaking of which, should we set up a college fund?”

“Hob can afford higher education,” Dream says placidly.

“Great,” Hob complains, “just put all the childcare costs on me, then.”

“S’what you get for knocking up a guy who’s got no money,” Matthew says, then immediately croaks in regret for having said that out loud, hopping several feet away from Dream.

Dream just gives him a look but doesn’t comment. It’s not like Matthew’s wrong, after all.

Fiddler’s Green crafts a flower crown of budding blossoms, and floats it down onto Dream’s head, which makes him smile faintly, touching the soft petals. Corinthian gives him a stuffed toy cat with a baby-sized knife stashed in the belly; apparently, it can be eviscerated endless times and will just repair itself. Hob had been expecting body parts so he can’t complain, really. An indestructible toy might actually come in handy.

Death doesn’t have a physical gift for Dream. Instead she leans in close to his side and whispers something in his ear. When she finishes speaking, Dream is close to tears. And Hob thinks he knows what she’s said.

It’s something he hadn’t even considered. Dream had said the baby wasn’t Endless, but Hob had still been assuming she was like, kind of Endless, some sort of ethereal nonhuman creature. To think he was wrong makes his stomach drop; he nearly grasps onto Dream’s arm for balance before the past few seconds catch up to him and he remembers what Death said. Presumably said. Christ, not even born and the baby’s already giving him a heart attack.

“I thank you, my sister,” Dream says, with more than his usual solemnity, clearly—to Hob’s eyes anyway—blinking those burgeoning tears back. Hob finds his hand and squeezes it, close to tears himself.

“You know I just want you to be happy, Dream,” Death says, cheery despite the heavy topic. Not so heavy for her, though, Hob supposes.

“I do.” Dream almost seems to believe it.

Then, Death hands him a package wrapped in brown paper. Dream reads the label, frowning. Then just stares at it, for at least a full minute.

“Dream?” Hob asks tentatively.

Dream picks open the wrapping on the package and opens the box. He lifts out a child’s art kit, finger paints and crayons and so on. He doesn’t say anything.

Desire looks pale. “Is that from—?”

“Brother!” Delirium squeals, and snatches not the gift itself, but the wrapping from Dream’s hands. She turns it over, lifts it above her head to look at the underside, tilting her head and frowning. “No address.”

“Where did you get this?” Dream demands of Death.

“It was left on the doorstep, so to speak,” Death says, then doesn’t elaborate further.

Hob almost doesn’t want to ask, given their reactions, but he’s dying with curiosity. “Who is it from, then?”

“Our brother,” Dream says. It might as well be a sentence to death for the way he intones it.

Oh. Hob has heard about this. Or at least, he’s heard Dream say there are seven Endless and then only talk about six. He’s heard the space around that name.

“He’s not coming, though,” says Despair, twisting the lank strands of her hair between her fingers.

“I don’t think so,” says Death.

“Why would he do this?” Desire demands. “If you’re gonna stay away then just stay away.”

“But family,” says Delirium. She’s still holding the crumpled gift wrapping in despondent hands.

Desire snorts. “What family?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Death says, defusing the argument. “Whatever they may be, he clearly wants to show he cares. I think we should leave it at that.”

Neither Desire nor Delirium look like they want to ‘leave it at that,’ but Delirium only fidgets nervously and Desire huffs, rolling their eyes, when Death casts them a look, but ultimately stays quiet. Meanwhile Dream has set the art kit down on the grass before him and is studying it, brow pinched. Hob rests a hand on his lower back.

“We will not solve the matter now,” Dream finally says.

The art kit vanishes, whisked away by dream sand to Dream’s chambers, or possibly deposited somewhere in Hob’s flat, it’s hard to be certain. Hob’s unsure whether it will make another appearance. Dream doesn’t seem like he’s quite ready to deal with that yet, and knowing him, their daughter will be as old as Hob before he is.

Gradually, the tension dissipates. Delirium folds the wrapping paper into a flower and tucks it behind her ear. Desire pulls the entire rest of the cake towards themself and starts picking at the frosting with their fingers. Despair joins in soon after.

Lucienne gathers herself and tries to rally them all. “Any other gifts?” she says.

“Hob’s gift! Hob’s gift!” Delirium chants.

Indeed, Hob is the only one left who hasn’t gone. Before he can even speak, Desire smiles slyly. “Hob doesn’t need a gift. He already gave Dream his sperm.”

“Desire!” Dream and Death say simultaneously.

“Wrow,” drawls Corinthian. “Let’s hear more about that.”

“Let’s not.” Lucienne glares at Corinthian. How she survives this on a daily basis, Hob really doesn’t know.

“Let’s not,” he agrees, and Corinthian grins at him with all three of his mouths. Hob shudders, but ignores the nightmare in favor of pulling a gift box from the fabric of the Dreaming.

He’s gotten better at manipulating the Dreaming. He’s pretty sure he even managed to hide his gift from Dream despite it being in the Dreaming the whole time and made of dream stuff.

Indeed, Dream takes the box, eyes widening in surprise as touch reveals its origins. He opens it and takes out a small rectangle, somewhat akin to a mobile phone in appearance. He tilts his head, studying it. Hob taps it, and the screen lights up, showing a camera view of the spare room in Hob’s flat they’d converted into a nursery.

“It’s a baby monitor,” he explains. “Has sound, too.”

Hob knows plenty well that, while he might be able to convince Dream to take some time off after the baby is born, Dream isn’t going to be able to just be with them all the time, even if he wants to. His job is too all-encompassing and too important. And Dream won’t complain about it, because he never does, but he will be sad about it, and he will worry about his baby when he’s not there. Hob just knows it.

Hence, the dream baby monitor that’s connected to the Waking world. Dream can, of course, look in on Hob via dreams if he needs to, or send Matthew to the Waking to be his eyes from afar, but he’s not omniscient, he can’t just know what’s going on in their flat. Except now he can.

“Getting it to connect to the one in my flat was the tricky bit, but I think I’ve managed it,” he says, and Dream turns to look at him.

“You made this?” he says.

Hob scratches the back of his neck. “Well, the Dreaming was inclined to help, I think.”

Lucienne is smiling. Death, too. Dream just keeps staring at him, perplexed, or surprised, Hob’s not sure.

He nudges Dream in the side. “I wanted you to be able to see her.”

“To see her,” Dream echoes. He looks again at the screen of the baby monitor. Touches the dream-glass with a light fingertip. His eyes shine, but he doesn’t cry—he never does in front of his subjects, and rarely does even in front of Hob. Hob rubs his back.

“Thank you,” Dream finally says, quietly, and tucks the baby monitor carefully into the inner infinity of his coat. “You have become quite adept at dreaming, it seems.”

Then he lifts Hob’s hand to his mouth and kisses his palm.

Delirium makes a squealing, cooing sound. So does Corinthian, but mockingly. Hob’s pretty sure he hears Desire gag.

But as usual, he only has eyes for Dream, and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumbing over the corner of his mouth. Dream’s eyes hold promises for later that needn’t be spoken in present company. But above all is the love there, the devotion, the promise that is the two of them. 

“Can we please open the wine now?” Desire begs, and the tension is broken, but Hob catches Dream’s gaze intermittently throughout the rest of the afternoon, and he knows what he sees there, subtle though it is. It’s happiness.

“He loved it,” Hob tells Lucienne later, when the group’s mostly dispersed.

She smiles, quietly pleased. “I know.”

[gamblersdoll]

okay IF YOU WRITE FOR THIS- cause this might be too nasty but i cant get the idea out of my head

i'm currently on my . and and it just made me think

from your picking of choice, which one of the men would go down on reader whilst she's on it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ like who would be that "too nasty" ygmygm

(includensfwofcofc)

nsfw, period sex (oral) not suitable for all readers.

in first place, ryomen sukuna. this man was a cannibal, and is very carnivorous. he truly does not care about blood. makes men a wimp if you cant even pleasure a woman while she’s bleeding.

he actually prefers to have sex with you while on your period, but that’s irrelevant.

hes the type to just get between your legs and say “ive been craving this.” while looking at your pathetic face and ignore the whimpers of embarrassment. “brat.. i can smell you fucking cunt.” and he just takes a deep sniff, eyes dilating and growing feral.

of course, he rips everything up and just goes to town on your crimson red cunt, coming up with just a shade of blush on his lips and hes just so.. satisfied with how you taste.

and matter of fact, he tracks your cycle. even if it’s irregular, uruame can track it still.

in second place.. reiner braun. this man is the armored titan, so its assumed hes eaten people and tasted blood before. even if he doesn’t remember his actions, he still does not care about blood.

and the fact you think he does slightly irritates him. he just looks at your camel toe for however long and lick his lips, getting on his knees slowly and pulling your shorts down.

his duty as a warrior, you know? warriors shouldnt even be squeamish of red, not with the gift of power they were given! so why should he? he should please you, as your warrior.

third place, gyomei. knowing how spiritual he is, he believes period sex is very, very, VERY special and unique. its an interesting concept for him, but its like you both agree to bind your souls together. he does cry a bit, praising and thanking you for this opportunity.

and immediately, he gets to work. thank god for his strength and size, its so much better being lifted and held than having to move even an inch. “taste just the same..” he gruffs, face just full of you and never letting go.

and finally, demon!guts. during his time, no man should even give a rats ass. hes killed a thousand men, has learned the ins and outs of periods, and now that hes a demon primarily at night, he cant control it.

its like he cant control himself, he just gets flashed with a scene of you. just spread out for him and giving yourself to him to eat you.. it makes him hungry. hungry just to taste you.. but was it even him? no, it was that other part of him that he and you only knew about.

it makes him primal to even think of it.

[peachdues]

Where’s My Love?

Or, Sanemi spends his days searching for his missing lover.

Inspired by this song by SYML.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

She goes missing the morning after he tells her he loves her.

The news comes first as a whisper, and then as a declaration. Normally, when a Pillar is killed, their crow is the one to inform the others.

But her crow is missing too, and Sanemi wants to believe that’s a good sign. The crows are trained not to get involved in battle and to only carry news. If there is no news of her, then she cannot be in danger.

Or so he tells himself.

But then an official rescue team is dispatched to her last known location and Sanemi of course is one of the leads, along with Rengoku. He Leads because he thinks he’ll find her, maybe injured a bit, but whole and safe and then he can yell at her for it while he takes care of her, and all will be okay.

He feels slightly annoyed with her. Annoyed because he just poured his heart out to her, shared his body with her, and now she is making him worry. And she promised that she loved him too, and if that was true, why is she making him worry?

Part of him wonders if she has run away. Maybe he hopes she has. Hopes that she could not face her love for him, could not bear to let him into her heart because each day with the Corps may be their last and she said she doesn’t ever want to leave behind any loose ends. No mourners.

A week has gone by, and then another, and another, and the weeks bleed into a month and Sanemi wants her to know that he doesn’t care if she got scared, doesn’t care if she ran away.

He just wants her to come home.

But one month becomes two and the number of slayers available for recovery missions has dwindled, and people do not know how to chase hiding ghosts.

Sanemi loves her though, and so he keeps searching because maybe, just maybe this time, his love will be enough to save her, to save them both.

Another month passes by and Sanemi thinks he should know by now that he never gets to keep the ones he loves.

———————————

Six months, two weeks, and four days later and she is still gone.

It takes both Rengoku and Uzui to pull Sanemi off a Kinoe who dared call her a pile of “cold bones,” when assigned to do yet another recovery mission. The kid’s face is covered in varying shades of black and blue and red, but Sanemi cant bring himself to feel bad, can’t bring himself to feel anything, not even the sharp sting of split skin across his knuckles.

Sanemi only feels the void threatening to swallow him up for good. He only feels the emptiness of the sheets on his futon because she took all the warmth with her when she left that morning, leaving him with nothing but the fading scent of her perfume and an empty promise to return.

Sanemi cannot bring himself to say aloud the fear that runs in his blood.

The fear that the reason she cannot be found is because she was carried up into the clouds above and she cannot get back home; cannot get back to him.

He has heard murmurs that a piece of her haori was found, dirty, torn, and half-buried on some muddy path but Sanemi has not seen it for himself, and so, it does not mean anything to him.

It cannot mean anything to him.

But it does.

Because now it has been ten months since he last felt her hand on his face, last was graced with a smile so sweet that it made him forget all of his sourness, and he begins to think that maybe the Kinoe was right.

But he still wants her to come home, so he keeps searching.

——————————-

She is declared dead 366 days after she goes missing.

That designation calls off the year-long search for her, and some of the other slayers are relieved to return to their usual duties. Chasing demons is far more preferable to chasing ghosts.

Not for Sanemi.

Sanemi wanders through forests and valleys, looking for any trace of her in the wind. He continues to hunt and torture demons for information, but none of them have heard a single whisper of a missing Hashira with a pretty smile and the moon in her eyes.

But Sanemi keeps looking anyways.

Keeps looking because there’s still a chance that she’s under some rock he hasn’t managed to turn, and that she’s scared and needs him to help her. And when he does find her, he will reprimand her and then he will kiss her, and then he will marry her so that she never has to be alone again. And finally, finally, he will get to love and be loved in return.

So Sanemi keeps looking.

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 9

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1.8 K

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), cyber-bullying/mean comments, SMUTSMUTSMUT (P in V, Fem receiving oral/fingering, hickeys, heavy making out, pet names, protection used!!!), you can not convince me that Chris isn’t a whimperer, self doubt, Not Edited

A/N: I’m sososososo sorry it took so long, I wanted it to be as good as possible. If anything doesn’t make sense, just chalk it up to my virginal status lol.

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

After patching things up with Matt, me and Chris decided to hard launch our relationship. It’s been two months since we went public, and the fans just seem to get more upset about it every day. Yesterday was our ten month anniversary, and the comments on our posts were horrific.

@ sturniolo.police

Do y’all think he just stays so she doesn’t kill herself?

@ Chris-Sturn-girlie

@ Sturniolo.police Probably, she treats her body like a kitchen counter… I would be scared too. I bet that’s the only reason why he even asked her out lol.

It was like watching a car accident, I couldn’t stop scrolling. I knew that it was stupid for me to think that dress was a good idea, but Chris picked it out specifically. The dress was a tight long sleeved crème dress. The issue was that it was fairly short, showing a large portion of my upper thighs. It was the first time since eighth grade that I felt comfortable wearing anything shorter than knee length, and less than 24 hours later I was severely regretting my decision.

“”“”“”“”“”

Now I stand in front of our mirror wondering if I should even go out with them tonight. The boys have a really important colab dinner, and I would hate for it to be ruined by people who don’t know how to be kind on the internet.

I look at myself and see someone I hate. The black short sleeve dress accentuates the jagged scars running across my wrists. I always tried to avoid spots that were hard to hide, but in that moment of desperation I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’m so caught up in my thoughts, that I don’t even hear the door open.

“Is everything okay?” I look up to see Chris behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

“I um… I don’t think I’m feeling up to going tonight… sorry.” He rests his head on my shoulder gently as he gives me a questioning glance. “I don’t want to ruin dinner, and everyone is already saying stuff about the scars on my legs… and if people find out I tried t-” I cut myself off before I could say the truth.

Chris turns me around quickly, looking deep into my eyes. “I don't give a shit what anyone else has to say, you are perfect for me… just as you are.” I try to protest, but he stops me before I can even get one word out. “But… if you don’t feel like going out tonight, that’s okay. I can tell my brothers to just go without us.”

I can feel my eyes burning, not from sadness or guilt, but from the realization that the man in front of me doesn’t care about anything but me. “You don’t have to miss it because of me, don’t feel like you have to stay home.”

In less than three seconds he’s putting his phone into his pocket. “Don’t be silly, I already texted the guys.” I hear the guys yell a quick goodbye and feel better from downstairs before the door closes and the car drives off. “Now… do you need any help getting out of that dress?” He gives me a quick kiss before turning me around so he can reach my zipper.

As soon as the zipper stops, my dress falls to a puddle on the floor. When I turn around I notice Chris’s eyes fall to the matching green butterfly set I have on.

When Chris finally meets my eyes again, his cheeks are a shade of red that I’ve never seen on him. “Like what you see, pretty boy?” Chris is a sputtering mess, trying to respond. I cut him off by quickly connecting my lips with his. His hands quickly find their way into my hair as he lifts me up by the backs of my legs, carrying me to our shared bed.

This wasn’t the first time me and Chris had ever made out, but something was different about this time. There was a hunger in each of us, that kissing couldn’t satiate.

Chris tossed me gently onto the bed before positioning himself above me and continuing our make out session. His lips slowly traveled down my neck, stopping for short moments, then continuing their assault until they landed on my collar bone. A moan left my mouth, much louder than I meant to, as my back arched off the bed.

“You like that baby?” Chris groaned into my ear.

“mhm…” My brain went blank as he made his way down to the valley of my breasts. “Please…”

“please what, ma?” He looks up to me with a mischievous grin.

“Touch me… please.” I practically whine out, upset that he stopped kissing me. Chris quickly taps my side, signaling me to lift up as he unclasps my bra in one swift movement. My bra is replaced with Chris’s hands before I even register that he removed it. He continues to leave wine colored marks across my breasts, while his hands squeeze in the most beautiful ways.

After what feels like an eternity, i feel Chris's hot breath moving down towards my waistline. He glances up at me quickly before turning his head toward my inner thigh. I feel him lift my leg up, over his shoulder, before he resumes his mission. "Did you know that your legs are my favorite part of your body?"

“no they aren’t.” I accuse with a small giggle. I never realized how ticklish my legs are. He quickly sucks on a spot, that will surely be a dark shade of red tomorrow morning, causing my brain to malfunction.

When he stops, I look down to see him looking at me with his big, blue, puppy dog eyes. He toys with my waistline, before finally opening his mouth. “Is this okay?”

I've never responded quicker, nodding my head aggressively while mumbling out a quick please and thank you. It takes him no time to get my panties off, and onto the floor. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“yes… just please touch me!” I’m practically begging when he decides to indulge me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, seeing as I’ve never even ‘helped myself’. Whatever I expected, this was much better. The second he latched his lips onto my clit, I was seeing stars. My whole body felt warm and tingly, and I think I’m close. I quickly intertwine my fingers into Chris’s hair, pulling with the rhythm of his tongue. All of the sudden I feel a long thin finger entering, and I can’t stop the sudden sensation that was building inside me. I couldn’t even get out a full sentence without a loud, almost pornographic moan interrupting me. The second I feel a second finger, I loose all control over my body. My back arches off the bed, as my legs slam shut around Chris’s head. Once I manage to calm myself down, Chris slowly removes his fingers from inside of me.

“Having fun?” I see him wiping his hand against his pant leg, his lips still glistening with me. I don’t think I have the strength to speak, so I simply nod. “Was it… was that okay?” I can see the yearning for approval in his eyes. “… Like, was it good for you?”

I don’t really know how to respond to that question, my brain is stiff fuzzy from my orgasm. “It was amazing baby…” I don’t want this moment to end. “I want to… can we do more… If that’s okay?”

I swear Chris has the condom out in less than three seconds. “Are you sure?” He’s looking at me like he truly doesn’t care what’s in it for him. “We can stop… or do other things, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

I do my best to find his eyes in my dazed state. “I’m sure… if it’s anything like what you just did, I’m not sure I ever want you to stop.” He nods quickly before getting up and stripping.

The second his waistband hits mid thigh, his member is hitting his stomach. It looks painful, so red and hard. I don’t know how it’s going to fit, but I trust him. He slides the condom on, quickly climbing back on top of me.

“Are you sure the at you want this?” This again. “We can stop whenever you want to… and you really don’t have to do any-”

I cut him off quickly by grabbing ahold of him and making sure that he knows that my motives are purely selfish at this point in time. He finally gets the hint and lines himself up.

“fu-ck…” Chris practically whimpers as he pushes into me. I unintentionally clench around him, who knew that a man whimpering was so sexy?

“Babe… you gotta stop squeezing me like that, I won’t last.” I mutter a quick apology, before giving him the go ahead to start moving.

It’s an interesting feeling. It’s not necessarily painful or uncomfortable, just different. It doesn’t take long for the feeling to melt into pleasure though.

The house is filled with sounds of whimpering and moaning, as we reach our highs. Chris reaches down and starts rubbing heavenly circles against my already overstimulated clit, causing my orgasm to crash into me without warning. I swear my vision goes out for a minute while Chris chases his own high.

Chris slowly pulls out, making me cry out in pleasure. “I’m sorry, but I have to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

The second he leaves it hits me all at once. What if it wasn’t good for him? What if he realizes that he only wanted me for sex, and decides the rest isn’t worth it? What if he-

“Are you okay?” He pulls me from my doom spiral, as he starts cleaning me up. He crawls into the bed next to me, looking deep into my eyes.

“Sorry… my brain is just trying to convince me that you’re going to leave.” I see his eyes soften, as he realizes what I’m saying. “It’s not necessarily like I believe it, I just worry sometime that all of my flaws outweigh the things keeping you here… like what if you leave, or you only stay because you feel like I’ll kill myself if you don’t?” Chris stares at me, looking like he doesn’t fully grasp the concept. “Does that make sense? I feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”

“Do you really think that I would do that?” The way he asks it makes my heart break.

It’s not like I really think that he would do something like that, but my brain just refuses to let me be happy. “No baby… I just find it so hard to trust anyone who says they care.”

Chris just pulls me into his arms, promising me that he loves me more than words could describe. After a few minutes in his arms we decide to put some clothes on and order some food. After dinner, I drift slowly into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

[lieslab]

Here, always.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: When insecurities loom overhead, you start up a conversation with your boyfriend that leads to reigniting your passion for singing.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Requestee, I hope you're having the best day ever. It was so nice to write some Seungmin fluffy stuff. It's been SO long since I've written some fluff. You didn't say fluff specifically, but the best route for this felt like fluff. I was giggling while writing the ending. Enjoy <3

_ _ _

It was the perfect moment and you wish it could last forever. Seungmin on one end of the couch and you curled up on the other. Your legs lazily hung over one another and you were both sharing an oversized violet blanket. The soft fleece kept both of you warm beneath it. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a moment like this to catch my breath,” he started. “It’s really nice to just be here in this moment.” His hands were wrapped around a warm mug of lightly sweetened green tea.  

Yours was the opposite. Too much sugar, in Seungmin’s opinion. He made sure that he didn’t approve of it when you dumped in one spoonful and then another and then another and then another. Part of him was joking, but another part of him meant it. You sweetened the tea so much, he wasn’t sure if it was even green tea anymore. 

“Your legs are really warm.” 

“Duh, human bodies are usually warm. If you wanted to lay next to a cold body, you gotta kill me first. Good luck, sweetheart. Even if you wanted to kill me, you couldn’t.” 

“Is that a challenge?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Try me. One splash of this steaming tea and you’re going to be screaming and sobbing. A single thump of this porcelain mug to your head and you’d be down for the count.” 

“Harsh,” you mumbled with a frown. 

“Well, if you’re going to try to kill me, I need to defend myself somehow.” He glanced behind his shoulder and looked back at you. “If that doesn’t stop you,” his head jerked back, “that lamp certainly will.” 

Just the thought of the stained glass shade slamming into your skull made you wince. You shook your head and took another sip of your tea. “You can stay alive another day.” 

“I thought so.” 

Your eyes went back over to the lamp behind him. A few weeks ago, the two of you went thrift shopping and it was there that you found the lamp. It was perfect for the living room. It was just the right size to sit on the end table and when it turned on, the warm yellow bulb made the room feel warm and fuzzy. 

The reflecting patterns from the ruby red and indigo glass stamped the ceiling above. The evening you turned it on, it felt like your living room turned into another world. Somewhere peaceful and cozy, the perfect melodic feeling filled you every time you sprawled out on the couch and read a book. 

“So…” you spoke up.

“So?” Seungmin glanced up over the top of the green mug. “So what? What do you want? Ruining my peace and quiet, I see.” 

You threw your head back with a whine. Your fingers clutched the half-empty cup tighter. “Seungmin!” 

“I’m just kidding, geez! What do you want?” 

“I have a question.” 

“The caller you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone an-” He stopped when you shot him a glare. “Fine. What is it?” 

You jerked back up, wiggled to get comfortable, and moved your cup over to the coffee table. “In the very beginning, before you became a member of Stray Kids and before you debuted, did you ever doubt your ability to become a singer?” 

“Did I doubt my ability?” He raised an eyebrow. 

You nodded. A soft pitter-pattering began to fill the air and you glanced over to the glass sliding door. Quick drops of rain came down like sheets as they pelted the grass. 

“Sometimes, I did. How could I not? I didn’t know I was going to become an idol. The survivor show was difficult and there were a lot of people with good voices. I knew my voice was decent, but I didn’t know if it was good enough.” 

“Some days, I still have my moments where I doubt my abilities. I can’t hit a note or I have a cold and it messes up my voice when I’m trying to record for a new album. Sometimes I find myself getting frustrated and I keep asking myself if it’s worth it, but then I think about my favorite moment.”

“What is it?” You subconsciously leaned your body forward to soak up his words. 

“When I’m on the stage and I’m staring into the crowd, I get looked at like I’m the entire world. There’s an awe in people’s eyes and I find that it’s irreplaceable. There’s so much energy you gain from that and it makes everything worth it.” 

“When you have a passion,” he continued, “it’s called a passion for a reason. You don’t start it and then give up. Everyone has frustrations and some days, yes they are awful and it makes you want to stop everything, but then you have those days that you can’t put into words.” A faint smile appeared on his face.

“When your family members look at you with admiration. When the people you’re singing with smile at you because you just achieved hitting a note that you struggled with. When you’re with your voice instructor and they don’t have to remind you to fix your pitch, you naturally do it; those are all the building blocks to achieving your goals.” 

“Think of some of the top musicians in the world. Do you think everyone was born with the power to sing?” He shook his head. “Maybe they were average, but average people have the potential to become better. We all have the power to be unstoppable if we put in the effort.” 

You soaked in every word. You watched the way he speaked, the way his lips quipped up during certain pronunciations. The way his hands gestured and he pointed to himself. 

“Did I doubt my abilities? Always, but you know what? The idea of maybe one day never making it to the stage, never making something of myself, I hated that. To me, that was always impossible, it wasn’t an option, so I kept pushing.” 

“I kept going and going and going because I was so determined. It makes it a hell of a lot easier when you have supporters around you. Every time I heard a compliment, it fueled the fire within me. Every time someone said I couldn’t do it, I refused to take that. I was determined to do whatever it took to prove myself.” 

“Did you ever burn yourself out?” You interrupted softly. 

“Sometimes, yeah. I pushed myself too hard and I was exhausted. It took a while to build myself back up from that. When I got burnt out via singing, I took my attention elsewhere. Singing and music go hand and hand, so I focused on writing lyrics. Even if I’m not singing, there are always ways that I can musically enhance myself.” 

You couldn’t help it, you found yourself tearing up. When Seungmin realized it, he leaned over and placed his mug beside yours on the wooden table. “Why are you crying?” 

“Lately, I find myself getting insecure and being burnt out,” you weakly managed to push out. “I just…I want it so bad and yet I find myself getting stuck.” You shrugged and reached up and brushed your cheeks. “It’s really silly and I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no. Come here, don’t apologize.” He reached forward with his arms and tugged you towards him. He shoved the blanket aside, pulled you into his arms, and wrapped you closer. You pulled the blanket back over the two of you. 

“What are you struggling with? I told you that you could tell me about anything.” 

“It’s really stupid,” you mumbled, trying to get out of telling him. 

“Don’t test me, I’ll keep you here until you tell me.” His arms wrapped tighter around your waist. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“Singing.” 

“Wait, you’re a singer?” His eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why have I never heard you singing? What? Huh? Since when? Oh my god, tell me more!” 

“You’re being dramatic,” you laughed. A sniffle came out and you continued talking. “My voice isn’t anything like yours and I-” 

“Who gives a shit? I would hope your voice doesn’t sound like mine. Do you know how tired I get of hearing my own voice? You gotta sing for me now.” 

“I don’t wanna, I said I was burnt out.” 

“Right, right. Okay, so you take a break for a while and then you can try again. I’ll be here and I’ll hold your hand. You’re really lucky because you have me. You can take vocal lessons from me and everyone will be so jealous.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. That means you have to do extra work and you’re always so busy.” 

“Hey! I can always make time for you! I’m offering you my services, but not for free.” 

“What’s the fee?” 

“Kisses.” 

“Meh,” you shrugged, “seems like a pretty high price.” 

“Hey!” His fingers dug into your sides as he began to tickle you. You squirmed and laughed loudly. When he stopped, he grabbed the bottom of your chin and pulled you closer to his own face. 

Your lips caught his. The sugary sweetness of your lips was overpowering against him. It coated every crevice and caused his heart to gallop in his chest. He could practically feel the sugar rush as he pulled away slightly. 

His forehead rested against your own and his eyes met yours. Your cheeks flushed red, but he didn’t care. “I’m here for you and rooting for you, always.” 

“Always?” You whispered. 

“Always.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

[curi0us-gh0st]

Dad's Princess (Choi San)

pairings: choi san x fem!reader!redvelvet.

word count: 0,6 k

genre: smut.

summary: It was supposed to be a regular movie night.

warnings: mention of irene, daddy kink, riding, sucking, breast play, teasing. [no review]

a/n: I'm obsessed with this man, he's actually my husband.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…”

"Why not? Let’s be quick.” His clothes are quickly discarded on the floor.

“If Irene unnie catches us, she will never leave us alone again, ah!” You let out a little scream when San carries you into her body.

“Don’t worry, princess.”

San kissed her lips gently, he carefully sat down on his soft bed, his room filled with stuffed animals, photos with his group and other objects in shades of pink. God, you were a doll.

Lips sliding down to leave kisses on his bust, as you rubbed yourself against his hard member through his underwear, low sighs and moans were heard, both of you loving the feeling of danger.

It was just another movie Friday, you and San were supposed to watch movies and eat junk food in the living room, but the rest of the girls went out to buy things, leaving you alone.

Sex was something restricted for you, as the youngest member of Red Velvet, Irene made it clear that anything could be done, but at your time and it couldn't be that, only when you were over thirty, she definitely put that rule in place.

You were sweet, adorable in anyone's eyes with those pink bows and cute clothes, but you weren't a saint, people said that your flaw was being stubborn and well, you couldn't say no to anyone, especially if it was San .

He massaged your small breasts with his huge hands, drawing sly moans from your mouth, eagerly waiting for you to ask him for more.

“San, please~” You whimpered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Say it, doll. What do you want?” He kissed his lips again.

“We need to be quick, unnie don’t- San!” It caught his attention when he sucked her skin. "No brand!"

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He laughed provocatively.

He held your waist with one arm and with the other, he pulled your underwear down, making your hard cock loose, your pink glans already drooling with pre-cum.

“Will you be able to take it all?” San teased.

“Of course, you idiot.”

You swallowed hard, gripping San's broad shoulders as he helped you go down on his cock, your walls being stretched by your boyfriend's thick dick, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grunted. When you completely took his cock, you took a deep breath with your head resting on San's shoulder.

“Everything okay there?”

“Yes…” You moaned. "Slowly…"

He slowly lifted his head, San staring into his glassy eyes as he began to move up and down on his cock, their lips joined again, while his hips didn't stop.

San played with your bouncing breasts, while you bit and sucked his neck, freely marking him.

“Damn, you’re so tight, baby!”

“Y-you’re so big, oppa~”

You clung to him like you were his lifeline, your walls clenching around his massive cock, your hips stuttering as San came to his aid, moving smoothly.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, daddy~”

“Cum for me, baby.” San kissed the top of his head, thrusting into you to cum.

His liquids wetting San's pelvis as he chased his own orgasm.

“I’m going to fill you up, you’re going to be full of me, ugh.” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes as San's hot ropes of cum filled his insides, filling you to the brim. Their foreheads pressed together as he caught his breath.

“I told you it would be quick, nothing to worry about, princess.” He kissed her cheek.

“Y/N, we’re here!” Irene's voice was heard outside the room.

“Later, if Irene unnie doesn’t kill you, we’ll know if that’s bad or not.”

“Y/N, where are you? Where’s San?” The voice was getting closer and closer.

"Damn it."

[kingofthering]

After the first race weekend in Misano, Marc finally visits Dovi’s track.

The drive to Faenza takes them about an hour and a half, the exit from Misano partially complicated by the last people leaving from the circuit. 

Marc alternates spending it looking at the scenery outside and looking at Dovi, a beautiful blush slipping on his cheeks every time he gets caught.

Dovi smiles at him and doesn’t comment on it. He does put his hand on Marc’s knee, after the third time, squeezes it once before putting his hand back on the wheel.

“What?” Marc asks, half annoyed, half amused.

“What what?” Dovi shoots back, eyes on the road. He doesn’t need to look to know that Marc is blinking at him, disbelieving.

“You’re making a face.”

“The only one making faces here is you,” Dovi says with a laugh. He glances at Marc, notices the corners of his lips still pulled up despite his faux annoyance. “You’re still high from your win, it’s cute.” And that huff you just let out was cute as well, sorry. “Happy and successful looks good on you, Marc.”

That blush, back a shade darker than before, and Marc looking through the rolled down window again, fighting the urge to widen his smile. Dovi can tell, he learned how to read Marc a long while ago.

It still makes him feel warm, the hot feeling in his body having nothing to do with the sun beating down on him.

“Let me appreciate it when I’m not the one you beat for once.”

The words earn him a laugh from Marc and when they share another look, Marc seems more at peace.

The radio keeps them company for the rest of the way and Dovi just keeps smiling whenever he catches Marc looking again.

The sun is almost ready to start setting when they arrive at the circuit, the sky painting the track hues of yellow and orange.

Marc listens intently when Dovi gives him a quick tour of the property, nodding at the right places and asking Dovi further questions about the construction when he’s not commenting on which turns should be challenging to take and which jumps should be fun to make.

When they reach the garage where all the bikes are stored, Dovi settles with one shoulder against a column, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watches Marc roam around, watches him stop next to a red bike, his index finger tracing the 0 on the front with swooping curves and then the 4, sharper lines.

“You said you enjoyed watching me win when you weren’t on the track but you could have been there,” Marc says idly, his gaze going up to Dovi while his hand settles on one handle of the cross bike.

Dovi smiles, ducking his head down, tucking his chin against his chest. 

Of course he’d heard of the people’s hope of seeing him wildcarding in Misano after he tested with Yamaha. Marc hadn’t said a thing. Dovi hadn’t truly expected him to ask anyway.

“I miss racing you.”

The warmth in Dovi’s chest comes back, moves around, settling around his spine. Marc is still looking at him, thumb rubbing along the line of the throttle.

“You know I wouldn’t have been fighting up front with that Yamaha.”

Marc makes that head movement, going side to side, the one that says “this is not the point but I won’t argue with you.”

Dovi knows. Knows what Marc means, knows where he’s coming from and that it never means any harm.

Dovi being happy with his retirement and all his plans for the track doesn’t mean that those kind of talks don’t stir things in him that he’s still battling around now and then.

“We can ride tomorrow, right?”

It’s a question that sounds more like a statement despite Marc’s best attempt at looking inquisitive there.

Dovi thinks that he’s seen his daughter less enthusiastic on some Christmas mornings.

“I don’t think I have enough fingers to count the number of people that would kill me if you injured yourself 10 days before the next race weekend.”

Marc rolls his eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself,” Marc says. Dovi’s pretty sure there is a “now” hanging silenced in the air. And then, “What about you? Ready?”

Marc’s tone is challenging but laced with genuine worry Dovi can read in the softness of Marc’s first question, the lines that briefly appear on his forehead.

Dovi can also see Marc looking him up and down, studying his posture, searching anything that would betray a weakness Dovi would want to hide.

He doesn’t mention Dovi’s accident earlier this year but he doesn’t need to. 

“I read through your list of injuries, I think it’s longer than what I’ve broken through my entire career,” Marc had said on the phone, worry evident even for the morphine-induced fog in Dovi’s brain.

Dovi had said “That’s because you like to focus on one spot and injure that one a lot, I went for diversity” and the joke hadn’t landed, Marc making a pained noise from the other side of the phone.

“Sorry, I promise I’m fine. We’ll just have to postpone your visit here a little but it gives you more time to practice, yeah?”

And even in his state, Dovi had known that this was the last thing Marc was worrying about but talking about that promise meant not thinking about the pain and focusing on the good things in the future. Marc could get that. He did, smiling a “Sure, I’ll be ready whenever you are” down the line before telling Dovi to take care of himself and hanging up.

And now, a handful of months later, Dovi healthy and Marc still wearing the glow from his win, here they are.

Marc has gotten closer and even if there is no wall he can push Dovi against, Dovi stays solid against his post, lets Marc invade his space with the pad of his fingers feeling cold where they slip under Dovi’s shirt to find his ribs.

Dovi winces when Marc accidentally touches a sore spot and he apologizes with a sorry pressed alongside a kiss to the hinge of Dovi’s jaw. Tender enough to make Dovi’s breath briefly catch in his throat.

Dovi’s palm finds Marc’s cheek, thumb to the corner of his lips. Marc slightly turns his head, enough to kiss Dovi’s finger and nip at it once, just because he can.

“You said I was hot when I was happy, right? Something like that?”

Dovi laughs and the smile on Marc’s face grows bigger, the mischief on his features making him look younger.

“We’re not taking the bikes out tonight.”

A new roll of Marc’s eyes, almost theatrical, and a squeeze of Dovi’s waist, the distance between them someone shrunk even more.

“Can think of a few other ways to make me happy, I can give you some tips if you need them,” Marc says easily, his head still tilted against Dovi’s palm. His hands have moved up under Dovi’s shirt, one thumb finding Dovi’s nipple. “But I don’t think you do.”

The admission sounds softer than it should, factual.

Marc will be the death of him, one day.

Good thing it’s something Dovi has made his peace with a long time ago.

“Let me take you home then, finish that tour properly.”

Dovi’s place is only a couple minutes ride away. Marc spends the entirety of it looking outside with his hand testing high on Dovi’s thigh.

[secretninjadonut]

| Flirt |

Masterlist//Previous//Next

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

You faced your locker with a light tint of pink from making eye contact with Karina but you just brushed it off when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and relaxed when you heard Yunjin say into your shoulder “Hi Y/N-ssi I missed you” and you respond patting the girls head saying “I missed you too orange head” while she says “Yah” at the nickname.

When you turn around to talk to her you see Karina staring daggers at her way while she spoke to you, you quietly whispered to Yunjin “Karina is giving you a death glare what happened?” while Yunjin just shrugged and turned to see her staring at her with a look that could kill. Quickly turning back around Yunjin just said “Why is she on my ass?” while you just laughed and shrugged.

After you talked to Yunjin you had chemistry with her and Chaewon hoping that you sat near eachother, the three of you walked into chemistry early looking for your names to take your seats, luckily you three sat next to eachother but Chaewon and Yunjin were lab partners and yours was Karina. You sighed when you saw the name and saw Chaewon curiously check it and instantly dropped her face laughing slightly when she saw your pout and said “I hope she doesn’t bother you Y/N/N” and you nod and say “me too”.

You stiffen when you see the three girls Winter, Karina and Giselle walk in and see when Karina smirks walking to her seat next to you. She sits down and looks at you pouting at her while she just laughs and says “what’s wrong baby miss me?” while you go to a slight shade of pink and turn away from her while hearing her mutter a “cute”. Soon your doing a practical and start getting everything ready while Karina just sits there and stares at you when you slightly whisper to her “why do you keep staring at me?” while she says “I like to look at pretty things” you blush and carry on setting things up brushing her comment off. Reaching to her side to get a test tube you stumble a bit and land on her lap quickly getting up and apologising with a flustered look on your face while she says “Relax baby I liked it” with a wink making you go red putting your face in your hands.

Eventually she says “ok ok darling you can take your hands off your face now” just making you turn a deeper shade of red and hide your face more while she laughs and says “the tips of your ears turned red now too are you that flustered?” while you nod a bit and makes her laugh even more. You eventually calm down and go back to the project focusing and furrowing your eyebrows when you look up hearing her say “your so cute you know” while you mumble “stop flirting with me I know you have dated like half the people in school anyway” she gasps and puts her hand over her heart in fake offense and says “Listen cutie that has not happened also I flirt but I don’t date I’d only become taken for you” winking at the end and smirking when she sees you go a bit pink. After class ended you started packing up while she points her phone out to you looking at you expectantly with an arched brow and you give her a confused look asking “why are you giving me your phone?” and she says “I want your number baby” and you say to her “why? don’t you have a girlfriend or something” and she just responds with “I don’t and I want to make you mine so just put it in” you reluctantly put your number in and name yourself “Jeon Y/N” and giving her phone back swinging your backpack around your shoulder and going out the classroom to meet Chaewon and Yunjin.

When you get out Chaewon jumps on your back and her and Yunjin start asking you so many questions like “why did Karina stop you” and “why were you blushing so much” only stopping when you say “calm down I’ll answer your questions just stop” and you say “she asked for my number I don’t know why” with a shrug. They both shout and you tell them “calm down shhh everyone is looking” and they don’t listen so you turn around and walk away hearing them shout “YAH Y/N GET BACK HERE” from the bottom of the hallway while you just go into the cafeteria and look for Sakura. You finally found Sakura and hug her while she jumps slightly but relaxes realising it’s just you and she asks “are you ok Y/N/N?” and you nod into her shoulder while she just smiles offering you a piece of tteobokki which you gladly accept and finish.

After nuzzling up to her side you hear a bang of cafeteria doors and it’s the mean girls walking in while their cold stares land on Sakura, Karina’s lingers on you and she gives Sakura a death glare while you say to her “why do they even hate you your so nice to everyone” while she just shrugs and says “Giselle bullied me once and I stuck up for myself” while you gasp saying “and they hate you now that’s so bad” while she just nods and carries on eating.

Karina walks over and says “Sakura what the fuck are you doing holding onto Y/N like that?” while you look up at her in shock and Sakura begins to answer…

Taglist: @love4kahei, @xen248, @aliceiwk

[uh-wriring]

Like a Wild Animal

Prompt: You're in an argument with Miguel regarding the situation with Miles. He doesn't know how to deal with things.

Tags: Miguel & gn reader. Angst, grief, he raises his voice, a bit of physical violence.

Drops of rain fell from the clouds above, painting the sky in shades of gray and blue. The rooftop held a kind of beauty, with the smell of water hitting the concrete, birds flying to their homes much like the people bellow on the street.

You’d appreciate the scenery so much more if you weren’t arguing with O’hara, who just raised his voice at you. Not in the “you fucked up in a mission” way, no, much worse. You just touched an open wound, and like a wild animal, he showed his teeth and claws, clearly telling you to stay away.

He wasn’t disappointed, he was defensive.

Suppose that’s what you get for bringing Gabriella up. Or maybe for disagreeing on the “Miles subject.” Likely both, though.

“You know I’m right, Miguel.” You recover your previous poise, the one you held before you tuned out as he screamed. “You know it.”

“Do not compare my situation to this.” his posture tells all you need to know. He’s ready. Alert. Angry. Who were you to even mention his family, let alone mention them in this context.

In reality, he is still grieving. You had been through something so similar, the pain that reoccurs can break a vein in half, shatter your lungs and take you out for a days, but Miguel insisted on keeping on working and looking at old pictures, and he just… He’s grieving.

And grief is an abyss.

One that threatens to swallow even the highest of hearts. You knew the urge to throw yourself into work, to revisit old memories, to keep moving forward just to keep from sinking. And that’s what he is doing.

“This is different. Miles is different.” You say, mouth now aching and throbbing.

“It isn’t.” he turns to the exit, so high and strong, he almost looks fragile. But you continue, pushing through the pain in your mouth.

“We could help him, imagine what that would mean for the society- he wasn’t even supposed to be spider -man, and, if it’s the Spot that’s killing his father, wouldn’t that make his death the consequence of an anomaly- don’t - Miguel!”

The exit door makes a click when opening.

He fucking walked out on you.

You go after him, walking through the pale corridors of the spider society, almost screaming.

“You know damn well this isn’t the same, O’hara!”

He doesn’t answer, he only walks, always walking, always running, always facing but never feeling. Oh how he would hate you for your next words.

“He isn't doing what you did!”

His steps slowed, his back rigid. The words must’ve hit him like a punch to the gut.

He froze, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. And then, as if the weight of your words had cracked something open within him, he turned back to you.

The tension in the air was thick, charged with unspoken history.

And then it happened.

His fists collide with you, your body crashing to the ground. The pain was sharp, the taste of copper in your mouth strong, warm, coming from above.

“You don’t know shit about my family.” He looms over you, presence almost suffocating. He could kill you if he so wished. And maybe you wanted to make him wish that.

Your head rests against the cold floor, accepting the physical loss.

“You know what makes people like us?” you ask, “We try, Miguel. We always try. Isn’t this worth a try?”

For a second, a maroon, cloud gazed, second, you catch his eyes shifting from anger to something softer. But just like summer rain, it goes away, and he threatens:

“I won’t let him break the universe more than he already has. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And then he left.

The corridor was silent, save for the rain hitting the walls and the sound of your ragged breaths. You gingerly touch your nose, your fingers coming away red.

Your words hung in the air. Hopefully you had planted a seed.

And as the rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm seemed to mirror your heartbeat. You contemplated the path ahead. Perhaps Lyla could help.

[phantom-dc]

Jason is 15 years old.

Well, was 15. Now he’s dead. He’s pretty sure this isn’t Heaven though, not with the swirling green and purple doors everywhere. He’d been flying around for a while, when he heard a mean-sounding voice. As he found the source, he was confused. A robot man with a green flaming mohawk was attacking a kid with white hair and a black suit. He wasn’t sure if he should do something, but when the robot threatened to skin the boy he decided to intervene. He was a Robin, after all! Helping people in need is what he does! When the Robot aims at the kid, Jason kicks him with as much force as he can! He didn’t expect the head to fly off though! The kid thanks him, before pulling out a little angry ghost out of the robots head. He throws it onto the floating island nearby, and tells the ‘Skulker’ that he needs a new hobby. The kid flies up to Jason and introduces himself as Phantom. He compliments Jason on his kick, and asks if he might teach him some moves! It would certainly help with keeping his town safe. Jason was happy to show off his moves, and they became quick friends.

Phantom gives him a nickname: Blue Jay. His suit is no longer red, but has turned a blue shade, making it a fitting name. Blue Jay tries to help out others in the Zone, and teaches Phantom all his moves. Phantom tells him about his ghost hunting parents, so Blue Jay won’t go through the portal. He isn’t scared, but he doesn’t want to upset his new friend. Phantom sometimes brings him gifts from the living world, like sweets. Blue Jay tells him how Batman taught him a lot of things, and so did his big brother Nightwing. He teaches Phantom how to fall like an acrobat, so he doesn’t get hurt as bad when a ghost throws him to the ground. When Phantom learns how to create ice, he shows Blue Jay. Blue Jay tries to do it too, but somehow ends up making a tiny flame instead. Phantom thinks that’s still very cool, so Blue Jay doesn’t mind. This way they could tag team! Phantom shows him Ghostwriter’s library, even though he stays far away from it. Blue Jay doesn’t get why, as long as you’re not rough with the books you’re allowed to read them. Ghostwriter seems really nice? He doesn’t get it, but is still very grateful to Phantom. Blue Jay promises if Phantom ever needs help with anything, Blue Jay will help him no matter what.

One day they are chatting, sitting on a floating rock. Phantom admits he likes spending time with Blue Jay. His friends are great, but they don’t always understand him. Today, Dash was being a bully, so his friend Sam had jokingly suggested he’d borrow her taser. She’d even turned it on for a bit while showing it off. He knows she didn’t mean anything with it, but it had scared him. He died by being electrocuted in the portal, and ever since he hated electricity. He loves his friends, but they don’t understand what it’s like to die.

Blue Jay tells Phantom he died in an explosion. Blue Jay admits that he didn’t listen to Batman. He was supposed to stay behind, but his birthmother was there. He just wanted to see her. But she had betrayed him and they both got killed by the Joker instead. Phantom says he’s sorry that happened. His death was an accident. He can’t imagine what it’s like to be murdered like that. Blue Jay gets a wry smile, saying one good thing will come from it though. After all, he’s going to be the last person that clown killed. His dad will make sure of that.

The next day, Phantom can’t find his Blue Jay. In Gotham, Jason is digging himself out of his grave.

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