#maybe long enough for lil pieces to fall in his eyes

[contradictivs]

I think that ryder letting his hair grow out a lil bit … let it be fluffy …

[freneziwlp]

I hate when you're away

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel fucks the soreness away.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, smut smut smut ahead, unprotrected p-in-v, fingering, mentions of blowjob, cum eating, begging, horny asf Joel, eating out, daddy kink.

A/n: it's my first weekend with some time off, and what else should I be doing instead of trying my first attempt of writing smut hm hm?! Hehehe enjoy :) also, GIF ain't mine.

" Joel, baby! I'm so sore. " You whine softly as your fingers tenderly caress his tousled morning locks while he spreads warm, affectionate kisses all the way down your abdomen, tracing a path to his intended destination.

" Shhh, just relax now princess, let daddy stretch ya needy lil hole just a bit for his cock, will ya? " His thick accent sending shivers down your spine, leading you into closing your eyes, missing the way Joel spits in his fingers before smearing the sticky liquid all over your still puffy clit from last night's event, rubbing tight circles on the bud and dragging moisture up and down your pussy before shoving two dampened fingers inside you, curling his digits against your spongy walls, feeling you squeezing his fingers inside, your head falling back onto the mattress as you moans his name and bucks your hips against his palm.

Joel had spent a few weeks out due to one of his often travels around the state, doing god knows what with his most faithful partner, Tess. You used to be jealous of their proximity once you realized you had more than a crush on him, annoyed at how close she could casually be around him without making things up as an excuse to get his attention. Thankfully, the jealousy quickly went down the toilet once you found out she probably liked women more than himself did when she boldly hit on you while she was drunk, which you might even had enjoyed if you weren't so focused on seducing her partner.

You were reading a book on the living room's couch when you heard the jingle of keys unlocking you and Joel's shared apartment's door, your back sinking in an somehow uncomfortable position in the old cushions. You dropped your book aside, getting up to greet your man as he had spent long enough away from you, making you all needy for his presence and touch. To your dismay, instead of embracing you with his strong arms and whispering sweet nothings against your hair in attempt to show you how bad he had missed you, Joel didn't even look at you on his way in, dropping his seemingly weighty backpack on the floor, loud thud filling the air, before hurriedly barging in to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

You froze next to where he had just gotten in, not knowing how to react to his awfully unsual demeanor. As a matter of fact, you hadn't even had time to look in his eyes, only taking a hint of his beyond smudged clothes as he stormed away from you. Concern fill your chest as you begin to try to piece the puzzle on what had happened for him to act so distressed. Had the work he went to get done gone wrong? Was he pissed at someone who deared to go against him? You even wondered if Tess had gotten fucking killed by some motherfucking clicker. An assumption that soon vanished once you hear her voice on the other side of your door, talking to someone random on the hall.

Maybe he was just sick of you, afterward. Maybe he had gotten back to his strict and fuzzy way of treating you just like he was when you first got in his and his friend's way.

Unbestknown to you, the reason Joel had ignored your presence was due a fucked up wet dream he had had in the middle of the night when camping in the woods a few days earlier, leading him into waking up with a hard and leaking cock against the restrain of his pants, furious at how he wouldn't be able to take care of it when Tess was snoring right next to him and you were miles away. He tried to ease himself the best he could, struggling whenever he'd revivid the dream where he had you all on fours as he pounded you from behind, squirting on his cock as he demanded for you to cum, referring to him as daddy.

Well fuck, the way he missed your cunt the following travelling days should be forbidden.

The second Joel left his shower he went out looking for you, not bothering to wrap himself up in a towel much less get his body dried. You were sitting down, still in the living room, blankly staring at a random wall when he found you, a hint of regret hitting him when he realized that it was probably his fault you were so quiet but the incessant throb of his cock vanished the concern away. He approached you with loud steps, your eyes widening as you take in his naked form, droplets of water tracing paths behind him and all over his shaped body onto the floor below his feet, your eyes following his whole, parking at his pelvis where his cock was standing hard against his wet stomach, tip glistening with precum. Your mouth went dry as waves of shocks found their way up to the pitch of your stomach landing onto your core, it was safe to say the image of him only took mere seconds to affect you. Joel had his glare stuck on your face, his features harsh and eyebrows furrowed, almost as if he was in pain.

Joel knew that if he looked at you the moment he walked home, all sweet and loving with your big sparkly eyes staring at him, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself as he was in a dreadful need of your mouth on him, but he couldn't give in before taking a long shower, there was no way you would even want to fuck with him smelling like shit. So instead, he chose to ignore you, which wasn't the smartest choice considering you probably would have nasty second thoughts on it, but he would make things up with you the sooner he was all clean and smeeling nice. And boy, did he do.

" Hi there, doll. Have you missed me?" you nodded, speechless. " Well then why don't ya kneel for daddy and show me how much ya missed him, huh? "

The following events were all a blur, your body probably working on auto pilot as it only took seconds before Joel had himself shoved deep down your throat, hands tugging tightly around your hair as he bobbed your head against him the harder he could, desperate to fill your throat with his thick ropes of cum in attempt to get rid of the burning feeling of his need. Which obviously, wasn't enough. After making you give him head he fucked you senseless on the floor, making sure to vividly manevour you in all of the positions he had dreamt of while traveling. You and Joel spent the following hours drowning yourselves in each other's desires until there was no hint of energy left for you to keep going.

That was until he woke you up the morning after, in your shared bed, spreading warm kisses all over your face and neck, engulfing himself into the warmth of your body and silently thanking the heavens for letting him return home safe to your embrace. No matter how much of you he had taken the previous night, his cock didn't seem to take any near satisfaction from it.

He keeps fingering you until the previous soreness you'd been feeling turned into a desperate buck of your hips, wishing for him not to stop, your cunt twitching and leaking as you feel yout orgasm approaching.

" Are you ready for me, doll? " Joel towers over your laying trembling body, bending his torso so he could grab your tits, assaulting your erect buds with harsh pinches. You moans, nodding quickly " Yeah? Then beg for it, wanna hear ya say it "

He knew you hated when he made you beg, annoyed at how easily he could work his way onto your brain and manipulate you into becoming nothing but a slutty whore for him. He knew you hated that you were so easy to succumb to him, not willing to stop once you had it started.

" Oh don't ya try to stop yourself from bein' my bitch now, doll. Your pussy's dying for my cock to get it all wretched " You whimper, your core burning for him.

" Please Joel, p-please... please fuck me! Come on, ugh, I need you inside me already "

Your pleads seem to ignite fire on him as he lowers his face next to yours and smirk hungrily, like a predator scolding his prey. Joel presses his lips against yours in a harsh motion, swallowing your moans. He keeps on clutching on your tits, his free hand lowers to grab his member, holding it against your now drenched cunt. He interrupts the kiss and gets back to kneeling in front of you on the bed, he positions his throbbing cock onto your entrance, bumping on it, eliciting a loud moan from you.

" Mhmm, such a naughty lil bitch for me, all whinin' and beggin', gonna fill you up so good hun' " All of his teasing was growing impatience in you, he hell knows how to drive you insane and would never skip the opportunity of seeing you squirming underneath him " Joel, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already? For fuck sakes! "

" So much swearing for sucha pretty lil mouth, I think someone's growing mad at me now, huh " He mocked, causing you to growl in annoyance, but before you could complain any further Joel fully knocked himself inside you with no previous warning, thrusting his hips rapidly, both of his hands wrapped around your hips, pushing you desperately against him as his face contorted in pleasure. Your arms pull him against you making his torso bend over again, face falling onto the crook of your neck as you stick your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching and pulling him closer in a way that probably would draw blood from it, which only seemed to get Joel even more turned on as his cock would fuck you harder at each second.

" Yes, yes, yes, FUCK, fuck don't stop, don't stop baby! " Joel smirks, admiring your perky tits bouncing next to his face.

" Such a good girl begging for me. Fuck, ya pussy feels so tight, squeeze daddy's cock harder baby, c'mon " Joel mutters against your neck, his warm lips popping loud pecks and bites on it, you loved the way his beard would scrape your skin while he was fucking you.

" Mhmmm yes, want you cumming inside me daddy, I know you can't get enough of m-me, oh fuck! "

" Fuck, ya know me so damn well, don't ya? Daddy's gonna cum so hard, doll. Where do ya want me huh? " Joel pounds your pussy harder at each sentence, you know he's close from cumming, his hips muscles burning and twitching from how hard he's thrusting his way inside you, loud wet noises filling the air and sweat dripping down his naked back as you keep on scratching it raw.

" I-inside me daddy, mhmm ughh fuck please please fuck... gonna cum, fuck... I'm c-cumming Joel "

Joel tried his best to delay his release, to make the addicting feeling of your pussy swallowing him last the longer it could, but how could he ever control himself when his girl was begging so beautifully for him? How could he resist the thought of cumming so hard inside you that it would make you see stars and scream his name? Joel is addicted to you in ways he had never been with any other woman and his body would always betray him on it. He wouldn't miss the opportunity of bragging about making you cum when himself had jerked off so many times to the thought of it while he was still a mere friend of yours.

Joel growls, emptying himself inside you, cock twitching abruptly as white ropes of cum paint the tight walls of your cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once you reach your own orgasm, jaw hanging open before eliciting a loud whine.

When you're both finished, Joel's body falls upon yours, panting and sweating, his cock softening within your warmth. He kisses your sternum, resting his eyes and listening to your heartbeat.

He pulls his cock out of your hole and you stops breathing for a moment when you feel his hot seed dripping down your pussy, you didn't know if it was the aftershocks of your climax but you could feel something gathering on your lower belly again. You shove one of your hands in between you and Joel's body, your fingers collecting his dripping cum and smearing it upon your swollen clit, making a mess all over it, dragging a low whimper from your throat, which caught your boyfriend's attention.

" Watcha doin' down there, doll? Seems like I'm not the only one who can't get satisfied, huh? "

" Mhmm, seems like it, yes "

" Here, lemme do the work for my woman "

Joel lowers his body all the way between your legs, nipping on your belly until he finds the spot you needed him so badly. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm but there was something about you being covered in his cum that wouldn't let your nerves cool down, you needed him just one more time.

He holds one of your legs and rest it above his shoulder, licking the insides of your thigh before stopping by your pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, his cock twitching for what it feels like the millionth time since he had gotten back, which almost seemed impossible but honestly, he couldn't care less about possibilities. Joel's jaw drops against your puffy core, his lips caressing your clit in a silent tease, he taste his own juices on you in a delicious mix of musky and sweet.

Lapping up your gathering moist, Joel licks and sucks on your pussy, pressing his tongue right where he knows you would die on the inside, you feel the coil building up again, tousling your fingers in his hair you pull him impossibility closer, bucking your hips on his skillful mouth, he alternates between shoving his tongue inside you and assaulting your clit with circling pressured motions. You feel as if you might explode at any time, wondering when he had learned to give head so fucking well, hints of jealousy hitting you when for a mere 2 seconds you imagine him making other women feel this way, getting interrupted by your orgasm ripping through your body.

If whenever Joel would return from a long trip he would make things up with you by giving you the pleasure of seeing him panting, face covered in your cum and a smirk on his lips after fucking you senseless for a whole night, then maybe it wouldn't be all bad having him away for a lil bit.

[dejwrld]

summary — in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show by infamous artist geto suguru.

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, exhibitionism, oral (suguru receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage/drug consumption (weed), voyeurism, artist!geto suguru, if you squint a lil bit–you may see hints of dom!suguru, takes place in the same verse of my rockstar!choso fic, minors do not interact

sticky note from deja ��� one of my babies that i hold close to my heart. a repost from my old blog—only the girlies who followed my blog 2 years ago remember this gem. completely ahead of its time.

The large window was something you had to get used to. You thought about putting curtains up, but you adored how the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure carrying art supplies. Your curious eyes squint to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.

As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?

One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.

He knew you were watching.

You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.

You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeked through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist’s large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.

Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.

Your lips parted slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroked eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you remove your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistened your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.

You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette on the floor grasped at the rug under her knees, trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripped on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster; you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fell back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripped off the artist’s cock.

The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rose up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness, you could see that the artists had also finished up. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’d just done. You see him staring right back at you when you peek through them to end your night. He had a grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off, most likely to go join the woman he just face-fucked.

You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing, and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to shower. Praying that the shower's steam would push out the thoughts of the artist living rent-free in your mind.

The following morning, you seemed to have dozed off on your living room couch last night. A fluffy blanket tugged on your body, and your television was on. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin remembering the following night's events. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up, going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time, and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.

There stood in the living room, close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night, a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.

And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.

Geto Suguru.

The artist’s name was Geto Suguru.

[slippinninque]

🫣🍑Private Dancer🍑🫣

Or: You discover another half to the secret you thought you were keeping

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, cursing, use of the n-word, mentions of smoking/weed, P-in-V, mentions of insecurity, long fic

Truth was, you were a secret shaker.

A tentative twerker. An apprehensive ass-thrower. Your waist whined when being perceived directly and not in a good way. Not only did you decline to throw ass in public, you will also turn away any offers to catch it.

When you were alone, though...

You learned chorography to your favorite sounds, bounced around your living room as you folded clothes. Recorded dance challenges and deleted them a few hours later. You were your very own Stallion behind closed doors.

It took only a handful of awkward encounters and an asshole ex-boyfriend suggesting you 'stand to the side' for you to be determined to find your rhythm.

Looking up tips online and went to any beginner's classes you could find in the area. Ballroom, salsa, the pole--it all helped you understand your body outside of what it looked like. It was about what you trained it to do, what you wanted it to do.

Investing in a really good floor length mirror was the last puzzle piece you needed to really find your beat. From there on, you and the mirror were lovers.

Only your small circle of friends knew. That was thanks to enough years of trust and tequila, leading to wild nights at house parties with the radio cranked high.

You eventually learned that it was nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like it kept you away from fun or being included in the antics. If you went out with the ladies, you hyped them and kept a cute lil' two step. You held the title of Camerawoman with pride and your background cackles were famous in the group chat.

The booty wouldn't boogie with anyone else around and it's been that way for years.

It was your own little secret. No one had to know everything and you babbled enough as it was. If anyone cared to stare hard enough to a deserted, dark corner of the house--then maybe they could catch a glimpse.

The sway-snap of your hips, falling beautifully with every beat that you heard. How your hair gleamed, the way your smile swelled with the change of the songs.

Your entire body sang a song.

At least, that's what Fontaine thought when he first spotted you.

Of course you never knew he saw you. Even after the reciprocated confessions and hot-n-heavy honeymoon phase, you thought you went unseen.

Fontaine took your secret for his own, delighting in your shadow shows on the rare occasions you came out to play.

Fontaine could wait and if you had to feel alone to feel secure, then so be it. He used his admiration and desire to touch you, to be a proper witness.

Just being near you was more then enough, it would have been ungrateful to be so greedy.

------

You screamed when you saw him standing there.

The earbuds went off into the wilds of the kitchen, one skittering beneath the fridge.

Fontaine's eyes were popped wide but didn't seem remorseful for scaring your soul to the heavens.

"I thought you heard me when I came in." Fontaine hung up his keys before going in search of your earbuds. You watched after him, mortified.

You were just really into organizing the lower pantry. Lost in shaking your ass with one hand braced on the red potatoes and the other searching for the brown potatoes to put them back in their proper spot.

When you turned to grab the few 'taters that eacaped, you saw your man standing a few feet away from you with his arms crossed and head tilted.

How long has he been here?

Oh god, you have never danced for him. You have never danced in front of him--you weren't even serious. There wasn't a problem with you shimmying to the beat in his lap at a function or waving from your hips up while riding in the car to some jams.

This was different.

"Hey, hey--whatcha curling up for? C'mon now, I already know you can move."

"It-- that, um, I-I'm not that good, so, y'know..."

Fontaine pocketed your traumatized earbuds and kissed your hands until you inched them away enough for him to see your worried gaze. He tutted quietly, taking your hands into his and kissing your knuckles.

"What matters to me is what makes you feel good, baby." His voice rolled into a purr as he continued, "Lucky me that you look so fine when you do."

You wriggled as your shyness battled against the excitement of having Fontaine looking at you the way he was.

"So I don't look.... awkward? Do I have enough stuff to make it look good?"

"Wasn't nothing awkward 'bout how you were throwin' that, trust me."

Fontaine's hands went down and grabbed two handfuls of your ass. His palms were warm and wide as he kneaded, bringing you even closer to him as you went to your tiptoes. He hooked his chin over your shoulder with a happy little hum, distracted by you but only for only a moment more.

"Hold up, whatchu mean by 'enough stuff' ?"

You shrugged and decided not to answer. The truth of past insecurities felt redundant and you rather liked the way Fontaine was making you feel at the moment.

Fontaine grunted, giving you another squeeze before pulling back a bit to look into you square in the eyes.

"Look here-- I'm in love with all this right here, so I'm rockin' with you regardless of what you can make it do. Don't matter if you think you ain't got enough, shit, it's enough fo', me. Understand?"

His words worked out the few kinks in your heart, aches you grown used to and ignored when they flared. You nodded more confidently and only then did Fontaine lighten his hold on you, nodding back.

No telling how long Fontaine was standing there and if you never turned around-- you would have been none the wiser. How many times has he been there? Letting you have yourself, taking only a moment for himself as he had that smile on his face.

It was the same smile he had when he took away the shea butter to rub you down himself. Or similar to the smirk on his face when following after you to the bedroom after you talked a bit too much shit.

Your shoulders dropped as you fully relaxed into his hold. The burning embarrassment in your stomach churned into smooth, seamless and leaving you suddenly eager.

"So, tell me what a nigga gotta do to get a private dance from yo' pretty self?"

His hands helped themselves to another handful, this time spreading to touch between your legs. There was promise in his eyes and you knew you only needed to say yes.

You twist away from him enough to pluck your phone from the counter, sliding through a few songs before settling on something with drums and bass. The speakers pulsed and you began backing Fontaine out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He let you push him to sit in the recliner and he made an appreciative sound at the way you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It evolved, going deeper until you pulled away with a protesting noise from Fontaine.

"That's the only touching you gonna get from me right now."

"Oh, word?"

"You're going to distract me enough as it is." You said, stepping away from him and stretching your arms over your head.

"Bold as hell to call me a distraction." Fontaine's brows rose as he leaned back to make himself comfortable, "Lookin' at me with them eyes..."

His eyes hooked onto your hips. You stretched, teasingly bending over and holding onto your ankles as you gave a cute lil' shake, looking over your shoulder coyly .

"What can I use to look if it ain't my eyes?" You asked, "How am I supposed to see you?"

"Don't worry 'bout what you see back here, act like a nigga ain't even here."

"Oh, that's impossible now. You still make me feel so shy..."

Fontaine snorted and your gave a giddy smile in return.

What you wore was actually perfect. Tiny shorts and cami, perfect for when you were bounding around to clean house. Just what you needed for you to do a little Bend n' Snap for your man.

The music changed and you looked over at him in surprise, he held your phone but watched you with a mischief. Reaching for the little, polka dotted stash jar you left on the coffee table to pull out a blunt to wag at you.

"Go on, show me what you got fo' me."

Waiting until he fired up, you sauntered closer and tied up the front of your already teeny tank. Fontaine's eyes honed in to your nipples, distracted as he took a drag. When his fingers crooked, you leaned in enough and pursed your lips.

Fontaine blew a strong stream that you breathed in and held. You held as long as you could before releasing the smoke a final time into the air.

Fontaine's blunts were no-nonsense, where he still rolled with leaves rather than the papers you preferred. It felt like a straight shot to the head, the smoke lifting all the chatter in your mind to leave you swirling in electric eagerness.

Without further ado, you showed him what you could do.

Your hands braced on your knees, clasped above your head, went down to touch your toes. You rolled your stomach and snapped your hips mouthing the words to Fontaine as you fully felt yourself. You extended your arms and tried to be as dramatically sexy as possible. Touching all of Fontaine's favorite places yourself, pushing up your breast and skimming your hand between your legs for him to see.

Fontaine was a chaotic DJ as he flipped through your playlist. He went from instrumentals filled with nothing but baselines and adlibs, to Glorilla to Megan Thee Stallion to Trina. Whistling at every peek of cheek and nip, calling out to see the 'pretty lady' when you coyly fanned your legs at him from the floor.

When you got down on your hands and knees, you felt a smack against your cheeks hard enough to snap your illusion. You leaned onto your forearms, ass up in the air, and broke into laughter as more bills rained down. It was like a confetti canon was let off or someone hit the Golden Button for you.

"That felt personal." You said over your shoulder at where Fontaine sent another fan of bills into the air, "You tryin' to tell me something?"

"Yeah--to bring that ass over here so I can get my hands on you," Fontaine patted his thigh, "Thought this was gonna be a lap dance..."

"Private does not mean lap." You sniffed. Honestly, you weren't sure because you've never been to a strip club but with the way he was throwing bills--the living room was cosplaying as a VIP section at King of Diamonds.

You took your time in coming closer, wondering if you could skip on singles before Fontaine snatched you right up when you were close enough.

"This is too much! When did you even have time to take out all these damn dollars?"

"I been waiting on this, baby. Shit, I woulda threw gold if it ain't' hurt..."

You laughed and looked around at the singles carpeting your floor in disbelief, it's like you had a new rug installed! There were dollars all overt the coffee table and even some fluttered over to coat the entertainment center. Was there a dollar up in the light fixture? Was that a fire hazard?

Fontaine's teeth nipped at your earlobe, turning your next remark into soft moan. His hand ran up to cup your neck, breathing you in with a hungry hum.

His voice was all smoke and honey, "This is all well an' good, but I think I'm feeling a certain type of way..."

"Is it the horny way?"

Your cheekiness got you mean little pinch to your sensitive nipples. Jolting only pushed you closer to his greedy hands. It was his turn to touch. He plucked and twisted your nipples, making you mewl and melt into his touch. You ground down into his lap where you felt he needed you most, making him sigh into your ear.

"Gonna be the death of me, ain't ya?" Fontaine husked, "Here lies 'Taine, bust so hard he went on to glory. He leaves everything to his pretty-booty havin' lady."

"What if I promise to shake somethin' on your grave, would that be better--no biting!"

Fontaine growled something into the mouthful of shoulder he had, shaking his head gently and making you squeal and scrunch up to try and escape.

Still warm from being in the spotlight of Fontaine's attention and the pulsing music, your head swam with delight. It felt like victory. You turned and kissed at the side of his face before your lips met.

Allowing yourself to be admired and seen was like nothing else. Fontaine has always shown nothing but devotion to you but you still felt like he was...just being nice. You were holding yourself back from assumed disappointment but this whole time he's been waiting on you.

Talk about blocking your blessings...

When your grinding became more insistent, Fontaine leaned back with his lip caught between his teeth.

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Show me how you feel."

You looked over you shoulder, holding his hands against your breast as you rode in his lap. Fontaine hissed, one of his hands quickly escaped to clasp around your hips to grind up into you.

Leaning forward enough on your hands, your delicates went directly in his face as you tugged at his pant leg pointedly. Fontaine ignored your impatience and ran a hand over you, from between your shoulders down to the backs of your thighs.

You could hear him popping the button on his jeans and the rattle of his belt.

"How bad you want it, pretty?"

"Bad, real bad."

"'Do anything fo' it' bad?"

" 'Let you do anything to me' bad."

It happened fast after that, Fontaine righted you in his lap enough for him to press into your pussy. The stretch dropped your mouth open and Fontaine groaned at how wet you already were.

LOW started and you bounced to the beat, grinning dopily up at the ceiling at the feel of him hitting all your good spots. Your shorts provided a wonderful friction against your clit from how Fontaine shoved the fabric aside to let himself in.

It felt so naughty. To fuck on Fontaine like you were starved for him to the music rattling your walls. The thrill twisted with desire in your stomach, hurtling you faster and faster to your peek.

Suddenly more bills rained down and paired with Fontaine's laugh, more lust than amusement--it pushed you over the edge.

"That's it, I feel you, g'on and get yo' shit. Can't believe yo' pretty ass was shy..."

Fontaine took over. A bruising grip onto your hips, tipped you back into his chest as he thrust up into you in earnest.

"Puttin' that shit on me heavy, acting like you don't know what you do to me." Fontaine found a few singles that were being crumpled between you and pressed them to your dewy, lower back.

"Shieet, looks better than money. Wish you can see as much as yo' ass feel it, fuck." He gave your ass slap, you called out as you came. It felt like fire shot through you, leaving you reaching for any bit of him to clutch.

Between the music still going and Fontaine handling you so well, the sensations left you gasping. Legs burning and head filled with needy thoughts, you protested when Fontaine stopped your bouncing and maneuvered you until he slid free.

"Oh, show ain't over yet--you feel me?"

You did. Fontaine was heavy and hot where he tapped all over your ass, leaving kisses of wet spots. It filled you with a flash of pride or maybe even possessiveness. Craining your neck, you did you best to get a glimpse but Fontaine hand cupped your neck licked the shell of your ear.

"Yeah, that's you gettin' all over me. Tryna make me messy just how you like it, huh?"

He hissed when you writhed in his lap, ghost riding his dick until he gave you a little push to stand. Your mouth dropped open to whine but Fontaine turned you towards the middle of the room.

"Show me how you want it."

Fontaine held himself tight at the base, his lips lax enough for his gold to wink in the lamp light.

As gracefully as you could--you went down onto your knees before lying back to put your legs in the air. You rolled over in the blanket of dollars, wriggling down your shorts to one ankle until you could flick them away.

Fontaine grinned down at you, kneeling to slot his palm into the arch of your foot, his other hand stroking himself.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, eyes fixed to where his dick bumped against your mound.

"Prettiest thing touchin' soil and you think it ain't enough..."

Fontaine moved your other thigh to the side around his hip, leaving you spread completely. You were still working, still giving him a show, but you couldn't bear to keep your hands off of him.

When you hand ran under his shirt, Fontaine tugged it over his head swiftly and much to your delight. The sight of his broad chest and delicious skin made you all the more impatient.

"Hurry up, Mr. Lapdance--the show ends when the music does."

Fontaine's eyes flashed.

"You lucky we ain't meet like that. D'you wanna know what I would do if you showed out like that on a pole?

The image formed in your mind was electric. Pretending to be a little Stallion and running into a hungry handed, greedy eyed Fontaine in low strobe lights.

Not knowing just what he had in store for you as you led him to the privacy booths--intent on earning his attention.

When you licked your lips, Fontaine groaned softly, you smiled at him.

What's another little secret?

"I did take a few classes, if you ever wanna see ahn--!"

Pressing into your heat, Fontaine grumbled something about Home Depot.

"Shouldn't have told me that, now I gotta put a stage in here somewhere in this bitch..."

Drunk on pleasure, you could only cry out as Fontaine chased his thoughts out loud. The change in position, with him looming above you muttering filthy promises--it was too much for you.

"O-Oh fuck, 'Taine!"

He froze to watch your eyes roll close as you shook apart beneath him with a sob. Fontaine lowered himself to bracket you between his forearms to kiss you, swallowing your moans. His hips snapped, lost rhythm and then he was coming with satisfied growl.

That was it. You were dead. Your very soul leaked onto his thighs and the carpet below.

'Here lies me, twerked too close to the sun...'

Fontaine releases a heavy, satisfied hum into your ear as he finally collapsed onto you. It should have been stifling and your knew your legs would be useless for the next while, but all you could do was grin at the feel of the dollar bill stuck to his shoulder.

What a way to go....

------

When the playlist finally ended, the silence found you both covered in sweat and dollar bills. Fontaine rubbed a loc of your hair between his fingers and you rested your eyes--head on his shoulder. Your hand wandering aimlessly across his chest as you began to doze.

He tugged gently to get your attention, "Want you to do me a favor."

"Mn. If it involves moving, you gotta pay me."

Fontaine snorted and flicked away the bill stuck to the thigh you've strewn across him. You shrugged a shoulder with a lifted brow, you got me there.

He continued, "If you can help it...I'd like for you not to hide from me anymore."

The change in his tone had you searching for his gaze and of course it was already on you. Fontaine took your hand in his, turning yours until he held it in his open palm.

"I...okay. I can do that for you."

You weren't ready to talk about the past and trying to make sense of your complicated feelings of being perceived. Something told you that it wasn't the time, maybe it was you hiding again, but at least Fontaine took your words earnestly.

He kissed your hand once, twice before leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he went back to playing with your locs.

"Good..and no more watchin' Baddies. Watching them girls fucks wit' your disposition," Fontaine reached for a handful of bills to sprinkle all over you, "You wanna be a Stallion? Lemme know and I'll give you a ride."

"Oouf you are terrible." You hid your face into his neck, "But once my legs come back online, you're in trouble."

Fontaine patted your ass, "Can't threaten me with good troubles, baby."

-----------

ending notes: thank you so much for reading! It's a long one but the idea wouldn't leave me alone! Might need some tweaking and editing since it's another Before Work Drop lmao! Please tell me what you think and what other things I should try, don't be shy! Comment and reblog please! 💕🥰💜

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @cardierreh15 @mcondance @thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina

(Added a more after some slight revisions 🫣)

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x Obey Me!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 6

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: PROLOGUE 5

I get really happy every time one of you guys like, reblog, or comment on my chapters, Thanks guys :3

CW: ANYTIME that MC is referred with male address or pronouns it's going to be color blue. There's also a shit-ton of cursing here.

You can feel your blood pressure ascending into the Celestial Realm (faster than a newly deceased good person) as this Azul Asheng-something mf drags you into his oh-so-fancy "Monstro Lounge" while you're just peacefully trying to fuck off from his dorm.

You were unfortunately curious enough to go poke your head into the mirrors leading to the dorms to see what they've got and use it as inspiration, but then this greasy-ass bitch sadly spotted you and literally hounded you to go in.

You would've socked him in the face for a second time but it turns out that he's a pretty important figure in this school.

You don't really wanna get in trouble for doing that.

(You may be able to do it to Crowley but you don't know if this attempted-bangle-thief has influential parents or something.. Crowley meanwhile, acts pretty parent-less for you.)

You are keeping an eye on him though.

If he tries any bullshit then he's getting his ass kicked.

Social hierarchy be damned.

You didn't rein in 10 demons, 3 angels, The greatest sorcerer in all of humanity and The literal fuckin grim reaper, (who're all constantly dragging you onto bullshit as either an accomplice or the baby-sitter) just for some dude in an Emo-friendly-cut-my-life-into-pieces college to best you.

• • • •

Jade did a double-take.

"..."

He blinked.

Azul is sending him SOS signals by blinking morse code at him.

Jade rubbed his eyes for a few seconds.

"..."

Nope, still the same.

Azul: *Blinking for help intensifies*

...Pft–

He bit his lip to stop his laughter from escaping.

Who would've thought that he'll see a day where his precious housewarden is having his face passive-aggresively squished and kneaded by a new student? And also, probably getting himself threatened based on the eerie smile on the students' face.

Azul should be grateful that floyd isn't here, lest he'll have two people on his hands that are more than happy to squish him around. He should be grateful there isn't anyone else around, really.. Lest the reputation he took so long to build crumbles.

Oh he can just imagine it at the top of his head.. The poor octo-mer will probably combust from embarrassment and maybe even go find himself an octo-pot that he can shimmy himself into.. oh how he misses those days...

(Elae: I'm just imagining baby Azul shimmying into a lil pot.. Ugh, so adorable I'm getting cute aggression.)

He does eventually step in to stop the student from treating Azul's face like a squishy piece of dough He took a couple of pictures ofc. he ain't an amateur, but not before almost getting his own face fall victim to the new students' hands.

• • • •

"You try this shit again and see what happens." You smiled at him as you squished his face.

He's still holding onto your wrists but he seems to have given up from escaping your passive-aggresive face massage. Instead, he seems to have settled in blinking so fast he can almost fly with his eyelashes.

This bitch really had the audacity to try and get you to sell your jewelry to him in exchange for a room in his frankly unimpressive dorm. (You have more than a dozen rich and powerful simps. A dorm in a college ain't gonna be enough to impress you anymore.)

"— I know that you must not have any money to pay but maybe we can compromise, it's gonna be hard for you and your friend (Yuu) to keep staying in the infirmary after all.."

"We can manage—"

"And my benevolence will not allow me to let some poor unfortunate souls be without accommodations... So what if, for a week of stay each, you give me your jewelry in retur—"

You got so pissed at the audacity that you almost strangled him but changed your tactic into a hateful squeezing the last second. (You can't be reported for physically violent behavior rn.)

He speaks as if the entirety of this college and its dorms can actually be worth even a single piece of the ring in your left hand.

But seriously? 15,000 madols (that's the price Azul told you) for one night of stay?? If you're gonna be paying that much money for a single room, then that room better solve all your problems, fulfill your greatest ambitions and then suck your imaginary dick afterwards.

Your annoyed musings were cut off when a hand tries to remove your grip from Azul's face.

You absent-mindedly reach your other hand, trying to deliver another kneading to a new victim.

• • • • •

Azul covers his face with his hand, embarrassed of how the situation played out.

It doesn't help that Floyd is cackling like a deranged maniac at him right now.

Thank goodness they're in his office.

"Can you stOp?!"

Poor bbg was so embarrassed his voice cracked :<

Hmph.

Jokes on you, even if he got embarrassed today he still got closer to your jewelry.

And now, he can 100% confirm that those ornaments aren't just for decorations.

The strong magic from your rings that were pressed against his face confirmed it.

Those things are definitely custom-made magical artifacts of the highest caliber.

Now.. How to get them...

• • • • •

You stopped walking, feeling someone's gaze on you.

Looking around discreetly, you didn't see anyone but you can still feel the eyes on your form.

Yeah no.

You continue on, ignoring the feeling of being watched, but not going to dark places or spots where you'll be all alone.

Time to check in on Yuu and their unwilling gang of window cleaners.

See if they're done already.

The sun is starting to go down, after all.

• • • • •

Mc... We're going to come find you.

Don't worry..

Please stay safe..

Please don't forget that we love you more than anything else in existence..

0u® |!gHt įN tH€ d@RkN€§$

← Pr. 5 | Chapter List | Pr. 7 →

EDIT: WTF WHY DID THIS CHAPTER GET POSTED?! I SAVED IT IN THE GODDAMN DRAFTS THIS AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE DONE YET WHAT THE HELL?!

Oh welp, ain't nothing I can do about it now..

Thanks for reading this far, readers☺️

Reblog or I'll bite ya ankles😈

@f0uerleafedcl0ver

@leviathans-tail-scales

@a-traveling-void-human

@xingyunny

@caprinaesprout (should I put you in the permanent tag list for this series?)

Tagging isn't working for some reason so I can't tag some of y'all. The usernames I tagged just fuckin disappearing.

Tumblr is messing with me rn.

You wanna throw hands, Tumblr??

[keisgirl]

I MEANT #4 w taesan my bad 😞😞

hello anonie~ this lil drabble is inspired by this pin here . thanks for requesting!

wrapped in you; boynextdoor taesan

prompt #4 "is that my fav hoodie that is on you right now?" (request)

pairing; bf!taesan x reader

wc; 0.8k

pls reblog and like if you liked the drabble!

looking for moots <3

cheers,, hannah

kpop drabble masterlist | prompt list #1

it had been a long day. the kind of day where all you wanted to do was come home, curl up on the couch, and forget the world outside. you toss your bag onto the floor by the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh of relief. everything just felt so draining lately. you wanted something (anything) to make you feel comforted.

thats when your eyes land on the half-open closet door in the bedroom, and an idea flickers to life. taesan and you had been together long enough that borrowing each other’s clothes wasnt really a big deal. but tonight, the idea of slipping into one of his hoodies sounds like exactly what you need.

without much thought, you make your way over to the closet and rummage through the neatly hung rows of shirts and sweaters. his scent—something warm and familiar, a mix of burst of tangerine zest, fresh and sharp, softened by the subtle sweetness of blooming jasmine and the subtle freshness of laundry detergent—lingers in the air, wrapping around you like an embrace. finally, your fingers brush against the hoodie. the one you’ve seen him wear countless times, the one that always makes him look so effortlessly cozy and handsome.

its a little ridiculous how soft it is when you pull it off the hanger and slip it over your head. the fabric is worn in all the right places, loose and comfortable, falling to mid-thigh on you. you tug at the oversized sleeves, which completely swallow your hands, and take a deep breath. the scent of him fills your senses, immediately making you feel a little lighter. its like wearing a piece of him, and somehow, that makes everything just a little bit better.

you walk into the living room and collapse onto the couch, pulling your knees up and letting yourself sink into the cushions. the blackish hoodie pools around you, and for the first time today, you actually feel… content. safe, even. like nothing could touch you here, wrapped up in his warmth.

just as you're starting to relax, you hear the soft click of the front door unlocking. your heart skips a beat. he’s home.

the door swings open, and you can hear the familiar shuffle of his footsteps as he steps inside, closing the door behind him, soft thud of his bag falling onto the counter. you glance over your shoulder to see him standing in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

he freezes for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you curled up in his hoodie, looking impossibly small and cozy. then, a slow grin starts to spread across his face.

"is that my hoodie you’re wearing?" he asks, amusement clear in his voice.

you try to play it cool, tugging at the sleeves as if it’s no big deal. "maybe…"

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he walks over to you. there’s a gleam in his eyes, something playful yet tender, and you can feel your heart flutter just a little as he sits down beside you on the couch.

"ill give it back later," you mumble, though even as you say it, you’re not entirely sure you mean it. the hoodie feels like a piece of him, and you’ve grown a little too attached to the way it makes you feel.

he smirks, clearly picking up on your reluctance. "you dont have to," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that soft, teasing tone that always makes your heart race. "it looks perfect on you."

you look up at him, meeting his gaze, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, so warm and affectionate, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him right now. it makes your chest ache in the sweetest way.

your cheeks flush, and you’re grateful for the oversized sleeves that let you hide your hands as you bury your face against his shoulder. "you’re too much," you mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric of the hoodie.

he laughs softly, his arm tightening around you as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "i know," he says, his voice a warm whisper against your hair. "but you love me anyway."

you can’t help but smile, the tension of the day melting away in his embrace. "yeah," you admit quietly, letting yourself sink deeper into the warmth of his hoodie and him. "i really do."

he stays silent for a moment, his hand gently tracing your arm through the fabric, before he leans back a little to look at you again. his expression softens, and his smile turns almost shy. “you know… you can keep it. i mean, if it makes you feel better. ill just have to find excuses to hold you more often.”

you laugh, your heart feeling lighter than it has all day. “fine, deal,” you whisper, feeling the warmth of his smile as you lean in, your forehead resting against his. for now, nothing else mattered. just the two of you, wrapped up in the comfort of each other.

thank you anon for this request! i really liked writing this heheh it gave me so much comfort!

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

the attack on titan characters and vaping

modern au

a/n: most of this is according to my fanfic :)

eren jaeger is sooo clutching a cool mint disposable vape. it’s always in his pocket. he’s the accusatory type when he loses it, always claiming someone has it but in reality he’s just sitting on it. swears he’s not addicted but runs to get another one when it dies.

armin arlert is too cool to vape or smoke cigarettes. he does use a dab pen because of the convenience and how it doesn’t leave a smell. he occasionally lectures eren on his use but knows it’s a useless battle.

mikasa ackerman goes through different phases. she’ll vape for a long time, and then quit, and then start again. her flavor of choice is anything cherry flavored. she knows it’s bad for her so she tries to stop but since eren does it, she always falls back into the habit.

connie springer wishes he could vape. he just can’t get into it. it’s too harsh for his throat and it leaves him a coughing mess. if anything, he’ll have a shitty box mod with very low levels of nicotine. he just likes to call himself a vape god when he does very mediocre tricks.

jean kirstein thinks vaping is incredibly stupid. he tried it once and was immediately put off by it. he smokes cigarettes like a ‘real man.’ i wouldn’t call him a smoker smoker, but maybe he smokes one or two a day. he plans to quit.

sasha braus neither vapes nor smokes habitually. she tried to hit eren’s vape once and it burned her throat so bad her eyes watered and she couldn’t stop coughing. however, when she gets really, really drunk, she’ll be found having a drunk cigarette.

marco bodt has never touched a vape or a cigarette. he sees how easily his friends became addicted and honestly, he doesn’t want that for himself. he hates when jean smokes.

reiner braun doesn’t vape. he doesn’t smoke, either. he’s a big gym bro and takes his health pretty seriously. his body is a temple and he treats it as such. he also makes a big deal when someone smokes near him.

bertholdt hoover hits the occasional vape if he’s with his friends but he’s never bought one for himself. he’s not addicted either so he only hits it if he’s offered. he enjoys the head buzz but knows starting a serious habit wouldn’t be good for him.

annie leonhardt smoked cigarettes first and then tried to get into vaping. she decided it wasn’t for her and switched back to cigarettes. she thinks if you’re going to vape, you might as well just smoke. it’s more romantic, she thinks. she’s tried to calm it down since dating armin, though.

hange zoe insists that she vapes but she never has one of her own. she also coughs up a storm when she hits anyone else’s.

levi ackerman wouldn’t be caught dead vaping. he thinks it’s stupid and it’s for kids who are too much of a coward to smoke a real cigarette. he doesn’t smoke cigarettes either but he’s tried them before in the past. he might have one if he’s really, really stressed but he tries not to indulge.

erwin smith doesn’t like smoking. he doesn’t like when it’s done around him, either. he’s kind of uptight about it and no one’s really sure why.

zeke jaeger vapes. he totally would be the type to have a necklace to attach to it so he’d never lose it. he spends an unreasonable amount of time in the vape shop looking at all the flavors. i feel like he’d also have a fancy vape, like something with a weird fancy mouth piece.

ymir’s been sneaking cigs for years. obviously,she’s old enough now and the habit of smoking has stuck. she has a pack on her all the time. she’ll vape here and there if it’s presented but she’s a classic girl and prefers her cigarettes.

historia reiss doesn’t vape. she says she doesn’t smoke either but she partakes in it from time to time. usually when she starts ranting on about something, ymir will hand her a cigarette and hit it without really realizing it. it makes ymir laugh everytime.

porco galliard is a vaper. he loves his lil vape. he ‘accidentally’ got addicted after pieck made him try it. he also swears he doesn’t have a problem but he does!!

pieck finger has a fruity little girl vape. it’s definitely pink lemonade flavored. i feel like she’s always got in her hand and she’s also always offering it to people. she’s like a god damn chimney when she drinks, always puffing it.

my jean fanfic

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 43 : Lil guy woke up

Macaque woke up form his long nap and recieve a lot of cuddles!

Macaque was plunged in a thick darkness. He didn't know how much time he spent there. But sometimes, he would hear distant chirps echoing around him and feel soft fur brush against his body. He felt good. He felt safe. He woke up at the dawn of night. Under the pale light of the full moon. Macaque opened his eye and winced, something was throbbing with pain on his face. He raised a hand and grazed his left eye, it was tightly bandaged. He waited for a few seconds until his sight was clearer. Then he looked around. His babies were cuddled around him. Savage was sprawled on his chest like a starfish. She snored without a care in the world. Rumble was curled around his neck, his lil face pressed under Macaque's chin. He looked quite peaceful. 

Macaque felt a huge weight fall out of his shoulders. He reached for his pups and softly brushed them. He cupped Rumble's face, the cuddle bug immediately leaned in his hand. Macaque caressed the edge of his mask with his thumb. He then petted Savage, she babbled in glee and leaned in his touch. This cute lil babble mouth. Macaque felt his emotions bubble inside of him. He wiped away his tears and brought his babies closer. He was glad nothing happened to them. 

The black-furred monkey looked up when he heard a snore, he was greeted by Wukong's drooling face. The three of them were laying on the sage's heart-shaped patch of fur. Macaque smiled at the sight. It was almost… endearing in a way. The black-furred monkey sighed with rosy cheeks, gods, he ought to control his feelings better. It was a miracle in itself that Wukong noticed nothing at this point. He really wasn't subtle for this sort of matter. 

Macaque nosed his babies, taking in their scent. As much as he wanted to see their eyes blinking open, he didn't want to wake them up. For now, basking in their warmth and presence was enough to fill his heart. 

At the first ray of light, Savage wiggled around. She yawned and slowly opened her lil eyes. She stilled once she noticed Macaque. 

“Hey there, firecracker.” Chuckled Macaque as he booped her nose. Savage blinked several times in stupor before exploding in joyous chirps. She gripped Macaque's face, her tiny hands clutching his fur with all her might, as if she was afraid he would disappear if she let go. Macaque leaned in her touch and nuzzled her. She pawed at him, trying to fill her lil hands with as much of him as she could. Her chirps woke up her brother. 

Rumble groaned, unhappy to be awake this early, but his angry “mrrps” ceased when he noticed Macaque. The pup stilled, very much like his sister, and then reached towards him with his tiny hands. The fingers clenched and unclenched in a desperate attempt to grip any piece of him they could. Macaque took his lil fingers and nosed them. Rumble shook and almost wept in delight. 

“Shh, I'm here now.” Cooed Macaque, maybe unconsciously, his pups avoided touching his bandaged aera. He was glad for that. It still throbbed. He nuzzled his babies, muffling their wet chirps in his fur, wiping away the shine veiling their eyes. He was here. He purred, something he didn't do often, to appease them. The vibration shushed them, they nuzzled closer to him, pressing against his neck, their lil hands unyielding in their clutch, and purred too. 

Sun Wukong was woken up by the sounds of purring. He blinked open and looked down. Very much like the pups, he stilled for a brief instant, before erupting in unadulterated joy. 

“Macaque! You're awake. How are you? Do you need anything? Does it hurt? You-” Macaque cut the sage before he ran out of breath. 

“I'm, huh, mostly okay. A lil bit tired.” Nervously chuckled Macaque. Wukong nodded, hanging at every word passing his lips. He brought a shaking finger towards the lil monkey, Macaque patted the fingers, an attempt at comfort. Wukong smiled, his whole face brightened up, as if blessed by the sun. He scooped up the tiny family and brought them to his face. He pressed them against his cheek and nuzzled them. 

“I'm so, so, so glad… I was afraid you… it’s been half a week.” He mumbled with a strangled voice. Macaque patted Wukong cheek and wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. The pups also put their tiny hands on the golden monkey cheek, their fingers sinking in his fur. Savage tried to reach for his nose but she failed and returned to his cheek. It felt as light as a butterfly caress. Wukong wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. 

When the rest of the pilgrims awakened, they all fretted over Macaque and made sure he was okay. Sanzang asked at least a dozen questions on his wound and if he needed any more healing. Ao Lie fretted over him and the babies, covering them in headpats. Wujing asked if he needed anything and brought tiny blankets and the babies’ toys. Bajie prepared his favorite broth and served him a bigger portion than usual. 

As he was sipping his broth, his cubs still latching to him, Macaque felt like, even if his left eye was blind, he would make it through. He had a lot of people to help him after all. 

“You're staring an awful lot.” Joked Macaque as he turned towards the great sage. Sun Wukong startled, he scratched his neck in embarrassment, the tip of his ears reddening. 

“Well… huh… I wanted to tell you something. But I think I'm gonna wait until tomorrow.”

“Why is that ?” Asked the black-furred monkey with a tilted head. 

Sun Wukong's eyes fell on the pups, still buried in Macaque's neck, and he smiled. “Well, you just woke up, so everyone kinda needs their fill of Macaque. Especially those two lil gremlins. I'll wait tomorrow to steal you away.”

Macaque raised an eyebrow at the vague phrasing. What did he mean by stealing him away? The black-furred monkey averted his eyes, he felt his heart beats a little bit faster. God, he really ought to get this feeble organ under control. Macaque buried his face in his cubs to hide his reddening cheeks.

+ cut scenes

Savage *buried in Macaque's fur* : This is my place now and I will never leave 😠

 

Rumble *buried in Macaque's fur* : the perfect bed, 😌

 

Wukong inner thoughts : Should I confess right now? 🤔

Wukong *seeing the cubs latch on Mac like he's their lifeline* : Aww 🥰, okay maybe tomorrow

 

Savage *pawing Wukong's cheek* : Why is Pa face so big? I can't reach his nose to boop him! 😠

Rumble *pawing Wukong's cheek* : My fingers are sinking in all this fur. Is Pa a floof quicksand? 🤔

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✶ Pendulum ✶

✶ Pairing: model!hyunjin x model!chubby!fem!reader

✶ Genre: fluff, angst, smut

✶ Summary: You visit Hyunjin on the night of his big art exhibit intent on closing this chapter of your life but he's not willing to let go that easily.

✶ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

✶ Warnings: Hyunjin's a lil bit possessive, fingering, nibbling, marking, and that's about it my loves

✶ A/N: This is part two of a Hyunjin/Minho love triangle fic that has come to emotionally wreck me but I love it and fingers crossed you will too! 🖤 part three is here 🖤

It’s been three weeks since Paris Fashion Week. Three weeks since you fell in love with Minho. Three weeks of falling asleep on FaceTime and sneaking little moments in with each other between your busy schedules. There was no way to anticipate that you’d come to mean this much to each other, your feelings deepening as the days go on.

Saying yes to that date with Minho opened the door to a new way of being cherished that only he can offer. But there remains a thread tied to the corner of your heart, tugging you back to your past. If you’re to step through the door that lies before you, you must first shut the one that lies behind...

And that’s what brings you here...

to an upscale art gallery a half hour before Hyunjin’s first exhibit. Crisp autumn leaves dance along the pavement, a ballet of deep reds and vibrant yellows, as you flee the chilly night air for the warmth of the sleek, rustic gallery. Matte black walls combine with polished cherry wood accents to give you the sense that you’re somewhere you can be comfortable. But not too comfortable.

You can already smell his cologne, cedar and spice, coasting through the air to greet you before he appears at the top of the stairs to your left. “You came,” he says, feigning indifference as he takes his time descending the stairs. After he broke your heart you insisted that he no longer held any power over you. The spell had been broken, or so you thought. So you hoped. But no such thing is true.

Hyunjin moves like a gazelle, his limbs long and graceful. He somehow manages to make the simple act of walking feel like a performance art piece. Tonight he’s pulled his hair back into a high ponytail, a few delicate strands left hanging to frame his now smiling face. Standing before you, he extends an arm, his hand patiently at your service. You slip out of your jacket, tossing it over his arm.

“Well, you said you wanted to talk so I’m here.” Hyunjin laughs, finding amusement in the way you’ve turned the tables. Pretending not to care when you both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. “I was going to take your hand—” he starts, his gaze trailing behind you as you journey deeper into the gallery.

You always thought it a shame that people could never seem to get past his physical appearance long enough to see what’s truly special about him. Surrounded by his art, drawings and paintings he’d once only been brave enough to reveal to you, you can’t help but feel proud of him. “Hwang Hyunjin, jack of all trades” you sigh, stopping to get a closer look at a watercolor painting of butterflies whose wings seemingly melt down the canvas.

Hyunjin joins you, ignoring the painting to admire your silk black dress.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but I’m still, I guess, better than a master of one.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. What’s so bad about a master of one? Maybe the master of one just knows where his heart is.”

The back of his hand strokes your arm, sending an electric current through your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he’s moved closer. Close enough for the sensation of his breath on your neck to give you shivers when he asks, “Where’s yours?” “Where’s my what?” Your head snaps toward him, the accusatory tone of his voice triggering your defenses.

“Your heart. Do you know where it is?” 

“You have no right to ask me that. Not when you broke it.” Every fiber of your being is telling you to run away and Hyunjin must sense it because his arms are around you before you can make your grand escape. “Don’t run from me” he pleads, “Just tell me what I can do to fix it.” You’ve never seen Hyunjin cry before but the moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes is a sure sign that you might.

Nothing can erase the pain that he made you feel yet you can’t deny what he’s done since to ease it. Showing up to Paris Fashion Week alone, refusing to arrive with any woman who wasn't you. Admitting where he went wrong when it came to being honest with you. Apologizing in every language he knows and in a few he doesn't. Professing his love for you openly among your social circle without a care for how sensitive they may think he is.

He’s stepped so far outside of his character that occasionally you had to pinch yourself to make sure his efforts weren’t all in your head. To ask more of him feels almost sadistic. “It’s not you” you admit, lifting some of the pressure from his shoulders, “I’m just, I don’t know. Afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Of the piece of my heart that’s still here with you.” You love him still. And you can’t outrun it any more than you could the way your heart ached for Minho when he first touched your hand, comforting you before the red carpet all those nights ago. You hate yourself for it, wishing that you could make these feelings disappear, all the while surrendering to Hyunjin’s kiss.

He sweeps you into it without warning, no longer able to control the need to feel your tongue against his. Kissing him is that first bite of your favorite food after you’ve been deprived of it for far too long. Your senses are aflame, moisture creeping between your thighs as he presses your back to the wall. Hyunjin buries his face between your breasts, his tongue lashing and nibbling as they rise and fall with each bated breath you take.

Your fingers tangle with his hair, the tie that keeps his ponytail secure quickly slipping to the floor. “You have to be mine again,” he says, not asking but telling. Demanding. He raises one of your legs to straddle his hip, pushing a hand between you to knead your pillow soft thighs. “He can’t have you. I won’t let him.” Hyunjin kisses you all over, suckling at your sensitive skin to mark his territory.

Pushing his hips further between your legs, he teases the wetness of your panties, your clit already stiff enough to feel through the thin cotton. “Hyunjin, please—” you beg, not quite knowing what you’re begging for. Less? More? The arch of your back as his fingers dive into your core decides it’s ‘more’. He pulls back, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, “Say my name again.”

His fingers pick up speed, your walls spasming with each unforgiving twist of his wrist. “Hyunjin” you whine, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from crumbling to the ground. He missed seeing you this way. Dressed up all pretty, lipstick smeared across your face, moaning his name. Your juices stream down his wrist, leaving tiny drops of your arousal on his sleeve. He welcomes it. Welcomes anything that’ll leave your scent behind for later. “Mine. Always mine” he repeats, circling your clit with his thumb. 

You should’ve never come here. You should’ve stayed as far away from this man as possible. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The reality is that you didn’t stay away. Hyunjin called and you came now you’re coming around his fingers, allowing yourself to be claimed once more by the lust filled demons of your past. And, oh, what a glorious one he is.

[callmearcturus]

okay the Eye of the Duck for each of the MI films

Mission Impossible:

I promise I really thought about the Vault Scene and I could go on for ages about it and I maybe should since it's the marker of what separates MI from other action franchises.

But my heart lives in this scene as the emotional core of the movie, where Jim comes back from the dead and tries to spin a tale that Ethan is too smart to fall for but is still tempted by. The way Jim says one thing but Ethan's already pieced together what really happened-- and doesn't like the answer, rewrites it in his head to make it fit what he wants.

Ethan's emotions and how much he cares about people is his ultimate weakness and it remains so for the entire franchise, so to see him wrestling with that all the way from the start is crunchy.

Also Ethan soulgazing the camera for that long is very affecting.

Mission Impossible 2:

the point of the EOTD is to find the scene at the movie's center that reflects its core back at you. I think Woo's vision of MI is exemplified by that final fight scene between Ethan and the villain. I remember the first time I watched the movie, this scene made me go "NO" out loud several times.

I mean, mostly because absolutely not that handgun will not fire after being in the sand for that long, there is not enough gun oil in the world.

but since I have wisened up and realized MI2 is not the worst MI movie, I think I get it more. The over-the-top motorcycle jousting, the slow-motion, but especially the cuts to the roiling ocean-- everyone shut the fuck up and let your bodies tell the story, even if the 'story' here is as simple as "I'mma fuck you up." It doesn't have to be original, it just has to be a cohesive vision, and honestly I think people would like MI2 a lot more if they acknowledged Woo accomplished his specific vision here.

I don't love MI2, but I respect it. Way more than, uh.

Mission Impossible 3:

god i hate this fucking movie but the EOTD is really obvious.

The only scene in this movie that works 100% is after the stupid vapid villain is gone and when the movie returns to the two fucking actors who carried this horrible script on their fucking backs.

Ethan has a charge in his head that is about to detonate and kill him. He's asks Julia to kill him and then bring him back to life to defuse it.

I... My hatred of this movie is legendary but I love this scene. I love Ethan staggering around like a drunkard bc he's blinded by pain. I love the way he explains how to shoot a gun to Julia. I love his little "Don't point it at me" and the way he likens the reload of a magazine to the flashlight in their kitchen, something both of them understand. I love the absolute trust here--

Esp bc I think it's clear Ethan could die right now, but he'd rather go out trusting his wife to save his life than to worry about it too much.

And Julia actually fucking saves him, and it's good! It's the only good scene in the movie other than Benji's second scene. And if MI3's goal was to dig into the Emotions of the franchise, then fine, this is the scene that's best at it.

Still the worst movie. Someone stop JJ Abrams from ever writing scripts.

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

holy shit i am stunned someone clipped this bit

I am straight up stealing Brendon Bigley's EOTD scene because he's right.

This moment, right after Ethan and Brandt have escaped the river, there's this incredible lull in the action where Brandt asks "Why would that work?" about Ethan's ridiculous flare trick to misdirect the KGB dudes with the rifles.

Ethan's confused about Brandt's question because... he didn't know it would work, he played a hunch.

Brandt's bitchy lil "'kaaaaay.... so what was your scenario" and the way Ethan actually smiles as Brandt tries analyzing the logic of what just happened and why.

This is the EOTD of GP because it's the film tipping its hat to everything its doing (and everything MI will become moving forward) in microcosm. MI is not about metriculous clockwork plots and spy intrigue, it's about heart and instinct and the fucking motto of the IMF: "I'll make it work." Tacitly, this convo between Brandt and Ethan is Brandt as audience surrogate and Ethan as filmmakers' surrogate.

Why did that work? Don't worry about it, just keep saying yes and we'll get through.

(Also the bit immediately after with the best Tom Cruise Is Short joke in the series, immaculate physical comedy, love it.)

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation:

fuck all y'all I'm going to pick a single joke and obsess over it

FIRST 15 SECONDS

THAT'S IT THAT'S THE EYE OF THE DUCK

I'm not even remotely kidding, but this is related to BTS info about the gag. The script apparently only said "ethan and benji get into the car" but when it came time to film, TC was like "I can't just get into the car, it's the waste of a moment. hang on, i got it" and for the next take just DID that stupid flail across the car. Pegg's stunned look is real because no one knew he would do that.

As a writer, I love this moment because yes, just climbing into the car would have been a waste. It would have been an opportunity to put in a character moment just forgotten.

This is related to that lovely lil moment in Fallout where the team are meeting up with Walker after catching Lane, and there's no dialogue, but as they come up the stairs, Benji spots Walker, and he immediately flattens himself to the wall to get out of Ethan's way and looks back at Ethan for guidance. Ethan gives Benji a nod to say we're good, don't worry and they continue up the stairs.

These are little moments of characterization that are mostly built from actors who are just very comfortable with their characters, and this expediency of storytelling. Cut all the unneeded seconds, and make sure every second that remains in the movie is doing some kind of work.

so yeah that's the EOTD for RN.

Mission Impossible: Fallout

the EOTD for the entire MI franchise is the scene with the Parisian cop.

Ethan stopping everything to try to convince a bystander to leave and keep them from getting hurt. That's the soul of MI, the same emotional damage Ethan's carried since MI1.

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning

"I was hoping it'd be you."

shocker, I'm not picking the moment when Ethan literally Says The Fucking Theme Out Loud, nope. I'm picking the moment Ilsa decides she too will follow the new IMF's batshit "beat the trolley problem by pushing the trolley off the tracks" creed, and gives up everything for a woman she doesn't know who is in over her head.

History repeats, and Dead Reckoning's obsession with closing the loop and creating internal consistency out of a series that has had five directors and seven films works perfectly for me. Venice is a visual recreation of Prague in MI1, with Ethan racing down dimly lit streets to save someone but is just not fast enough.

I also have this personal read on the scene as a refutation of Gabriel and the Entity, who represent an almost Calvinistic philosophy of inevitability and fate. Gabriel tells a lot of fucking lies for a guy fashioning himself to be a prophet, and he taunts Ethan about having to choose between Grace and Ilsa.

But Ethan doesn't chose shit, he's busy getting almost suffocated by Paris in an alleyway. Ilsa is the one who makes a decision, and for a person like Ilsa who literally was the person to ask Ethan to run away with her because all this spy shit is useless and meaningless

Ilsa is the one who picks, and she decides to save Grace. Not Ethan and not the Entity and not Gabriel.

Ilsa died to save an innocent (well mostly) woman, and that's the entire point of MI. There is no such thing as acceptable losses and if you can prevent someone's death, you do it.

AND THEN ETHAN SAYS THAT OUT LOUD TO GRACE BECAUSE "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME" "WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?" AND THAT'S MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

okay i'm done

[iceandironbars]

WinterBones Snippets #2

Sad WinterBones for sad trasheads, short lil ficlets diving deep into the can of worms that is Bucky Barnes' brain ✨

The lingering scent of his apartment hit him like a wall of comfort and familiarity, the well known tingle settling deep in his stomach.

He had officially read it in a newspaper Steve showed him. But he had known before. Of course he had. He had kept tabs on his Командир always, ever since he got out of Hydra.

Being here after all that time felt like entering a world of his memories, a place remaining just the way it had been, regardless of the world collapsing. It felt like the part of him that wasn't allowed anymore.

Walking into the living room he remembered the Commander's gaunt and scarred face, laying in the hospital after the Triskelion collapsed.

He had watched him sleep for a long time, more than just one day. He had watched him waking back up and trying to move his battered body, failing miserably for weeks. He had watched him in a wheelchair and after that learning to walk on a cane.

All he could think back then was that he had failed his mission. Not Hydra, not the Triskelion, not eliminating the targets.

He had failed protecting his handler.

The wooden floorboards squeaked under his boots when he walked further into the apartment. Dust had accumulated on most surfaces by now, the apartment long empty.

His throat was closing up.

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and the familiar nausea that came with the guilt and the loss.

He continued walking.

The bathroom.

He knew what he was looking for.

On the shelves above the sink he found his Commander's aftershave and his cologne. He couldn't allow himself to smell it, not here, not now, or he would not be able to leave again. He slipped them into his backpack.

Walking back over through the living room, he aimed for the bedroom. Dark grey sheets, old clothes on a chair next to it.

A familiar looking, old hoodie.

Another old friend.

He lifted the piece of clothing up to his face, not being able to stifle the urge of inhaling the other man's scent. Maybe some of it was still lingering, even though it had been weeks since the incident in Lagos.

The Soldier didn't know if it was really there or if it was his memories coming to life when his lungs filled with the scent of his Commander. Every cell in his body ached and when he exhaled it formed into a quiet sob, a few tears sliding down his cheeks and seeping into the fabric.

He bit his lip violently, trying to stay focused, to ground himself, as he was helplessly floating deeper into despair.

As he slid the hoodie into his backpack, his tear filled gaze landed on the bedside table.

His Commander would hit him for rummaging through his personal belongings, he was certain. But the little glint of metal peeking out of the half open drawer peaked his interest enough to remind himself...

He wouldn't be able to.

He wouldn't be punished for it.

There was no one to punish him anymore for his fuck ups.

He walked over to the nightstand, a pathetic rest of whiskey sitting in a glass on top of it, next to a freshly opened bottle.

He slid the drawer open fully and his heart stopped.

It was the collar. A piece he remembered well.

Wanna be good for me, huh? Yeah, I know. C'mere, on your knees. I'll make sure you are... Хороший мальчик-

- running his fingers over its edge, he spotted some of his own blood, dried in some of the seams and crevices of the black leather, the attached steel chain glimmering in the low lighting.

He still couldn't breathe.

He stumbled back and sat down on the bed, letting his tears fall for just a minute, not making a single sound.

Grabbing his Commander's pillow, he buried his face in it, holding onto it desperately as he tried to center himself, to remind himself he had to leave again, he couldn't stay. Coming here was risky enough as it was.

When he wanted to put the pillow back, he stopped in a heartbeat, spotting a set of dog tags where the pillow had been before.

A shiver wrecked his body as he reached out and traced the outlines, reading the engraving on the old, stained metal.

They... He had kept them. He had them.

He kept them safe.

Like he did his Soldier.

He dropped the pillow, grabbed the collar and chain from the nightstand, shoving them hastily into his backpack and he all but ran out of the apartment.

The dog tags of James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th now hanging and clanking around his neck for the first time since the 40s.

★ Tag list ★

If you wanna be added to the tag list for future writings, leave a comment 🖤

@winternightsstar

@sukaibg

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

for funsies and because the Writing Motivation gripped me, here's a snippet of a modern human au scene. no-context edition. it's unedited and also its 1 am, so if it's a lil wonky take pity on me <3 im just a lil guy <3

~

“It’s addressed to one, uh, Wally Darlin' -”

“That’s me.”

“Oh, is it? Great! I was hopin’ I wouldn’t have to return it. Good thing I carried it with me, huh? Y’know, funny thing - your last name kinda reminds me of mine.”

Wally takes the offered letter. “It does?” 

“Yessir! It’s not often you meet a Darling, let alone a Dear-”

“Eddie Dear!” Wally says, his eyes widening and his smile growing. 

Eddie blinks. He checks his shirt to see if a nametag manifested. There isn’t one. “How’d you know my name? Is - is this a prank? Am I being filmed?”

“Ha, no, silly. I knew you looked familiar. It was bothering me,” Wally says, looking completely unbothered. “We went to high school together.”

“High… school?” Eddie frowns, wracking his brain. “But I don’t… oh. Oh! You’re the funny lil’ fella who hung with the weird kids!”

Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words spill out of his mouth, blanching. He stares at Wally in horror, waiting for the smile to sour. Why did he have to go and open his big, stupid-

“Ha ha ha, ha ha” Wally enunciates, his smile turning into a grin. He points at himself, eyes narrowed with mirth. “That’s me. I’m happy you remembered! I was starting to think you didn’t.”

“I almost didn’t,” Eddie says. He slowly drops his hand, relieved beyond words that Wally didn’t take his words as a slight. They weren’t. “You seemed familiar as well, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Luckily, now we both have. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been… well enough, I suppose.” Eddie carefully swallows the word vomit rising in his throat. 

He doesn’t have time to catch up with Wally, as much as he’d like to sit down and chat. Or maybe he wants to hightail it out of here… the mortification is blending so strangely with this awkward reunion and Eddie’s own past issues rekindling. Eddie’s tempted to just sit down and hold his head in his hands until his mind stops spinning. 

Wally hums. “Would you like to come back later to tell me more? It’s been a very long time, Eddie.”

“It has, and I’d like that very much, but… I’m not sure. I’ve got a packed schedule, Mr. Darling.”

“Call me Wally,” Wally says immediately. A strange sharpness underlies his tone.

“Wally,” Eddie corrects. “But it was awfully wonderful to see you again.”

“I agree. Maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

Only the endearing uptick to the sentence tips Eddie off to it being a question. He adjusts his hat. “I can’t say for sure. I got a late start today, but my job doesn’t really offer a reliable timetable. It all depends on what I got to deliver, you know?”

“No,” Wally says. “But I can imagine.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I hope we do run into each other again! I’m just real busy.”

Wally nods. “I understand.”

Eddie nods back. They stand in awkward silence for a beat too long, though Wally seems perfectly comfortable with the quiet. And the prolonged eye-contact. 

“Well.” Eddie clears his throat and takes a step back, preparing to say goodbye. 

Naturally, his foot misses the step and he falls backwards. Wally’s eyes widen and he lunges forward, but Eddie twists and manages to turn the fall into a jarring stumble. He staggers halfway down the path before losing momentum.

“Hoo, that was a close one!” Eddie readjusts his hat and huffs, putting his hands on his hips. “That would’ve been a nasty fall, let me tell ya.”

“Please watch where you’re going,” Wally says, standing halfway down the steps. His cat is still where it was told to sit. The brief glimpse of surprise Eddie caught has been replaced by that sleepy, neutral expression. Eddie wonders if he even saw it. 

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty talented at survivin’ tough tumbles,” Eddie laughs. “I’ll get to my truck in one piece - it was nice seein’ you again, Mr. Darli- Wally.”

Wally holds up his letter. “We’ll see you around.”

He says it like a promise. Or a threat?

Eddie smiles and tips his hat before leaving, struggling to keep his pace casual. He nearly throws himself into the truck and slumps into his seat with no small amount of relief. He grips the steering wheel and rests his forehead against it.

[joyfullyacat]

Putting it Together

its another "good job for being a good noodle in school" reward for @cacaocheri aka the only reason i write fluff /j CW: none, pure fluff (maybe angst if u squint and tilt ur head enough) word count: just a lil over 1k, a nice fluffy rest for y'all -

The sewing machine hums beneath your touch as you carefully feed the striped britches through, letting the quiet music of the nearby radio bleed into the birdsong that falls from your open window send you into a sort of lull.

It’s a pleasant spring morning, chilled in just the right way from the showers of last night. If things dry up enough, maybe you’ll garden. Things need weeding and there’s those bramble patches that need to be taken care of.

You find yet another hole in Sun’s pants towards the ankle and puff in playful exasperation.

Maybe not today… 

Muffled and distant, you can just make out the usual bustle of Sun as he goes about the little home that you inhabit with him. Hopefully he’s not making breakfast - not that he’s bad at cooking but you’re just not hungry yet…

…Have you even eaten yet on that note? How long have you been up?

“Might as well see.” You mutter to yourself with a convenient yawn as your attention teeters off.

Joints pop while you unfurl yourself from the hunch over your working table, maneuvering around the stool to actually face the clock that hangs on a wall just behind you.

He specifically put it there just for you, despite your wishes, just so you’d actually move when it seemed to be about that time.

Usually, it was always just about that time when you checked.

This time was no different, it’s been… Hours since you woke up. You don’t even really recall the surrounding lighting changing with the time. Just after dawn to the afternoon was quite the jump.

“...He’ll get me when he’s ready.” You note thoughtfully, the animatronic typically would get you as he knows your forgetful habits and chastises you for them every time with that same warm smile.

Endearingly kind as he always was.

Though the fact he hadn’t yet meant there was likely a surprise in store for you - so who were you to ruin his fun? 

You spin yourself right back around and continue to fix up the worn out pants.

He was always quite adamant about having stripes on his apparel and was quite averse to stars or other imagery. Why? You didn’t quite know but he’d tell you when he was ready to. 

It was a long long project of patching him up from how he used to be. Riddled with scorch marks, missing pieces and parts of himself you don’t think he’d ever get back. You learned quite a bit about mechanical engineering from him.

He also became somewhat of your walking canvas, the paint you had never lasted long on surfaces that wouldn’t stain like metal - so you gave him new palettes and colors with relative frequency. You think he used to be yellow, maybe golden.

Now he lives freely as your live-in assistant. At least as free as any autonomous robot could.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know?” You offer one evening, looking up from your book so you could see his response.

His hands move deftly. 

“Where would I go? Back to a scrap heap?” He gestures to himself, his rays fluttering from side to side in that way you took as laughter before continuing, hands moving with a held-back speed so you could better read him. “I am happy. Safe here with you.” 

Learning sign language from him had been fun - really, you learned a lot from him that was more than just taking care of yourself, your little house on the outskirts of highrise cities, or the garden that you got much of your food from.

Some days he did have a voice, or at least his voice box fell in a way that would enable it to function, you concluded. It was staticky and muffled as if something was swaddling the device in there and those days weren’t always his best. But it was never something he wanted you to fuss with, no matter how many times you offered.

“Sunray, I put lights back into your eyes and touched more wires in your head than I’ve got fingers - is something wrong down there that I can help with?” You look at him with furrowed brows of worry as he works on his own torso, a mirror in front of him and a pile of your late father’s tools at his side.

He looks up at you with a deer in the headlights look, obviously his hands are occupied so he can’t quite communicate with you but you can see in the way his eyes maneuver and his rays shrink in that he’s confused.

“...What’s that face for? Oh - do you not like Sunray?”

He shakes his head no, his rays unexpectedly popping outwards before doing a spin and he seems bashful of the reaction that happened on reflex.

“Hey, if you like it! I should have asked regardless… But do you need help? Seriously.”

Another shake of the head in refusal and he motions with his chin for you to go about your business. 

“Alright, alright. I’m one heavy foot stomp away though, okay?”

He rolls his eyes in mock, lighthearted annoyance, you can practically hear the “okay mom.”

It’s not long until the pants are complete. A few separate patches had to be done in that you matched to your best abilities but it was done. Your to-do list for the day suddenly shrank by a fair amount.

Maybe you could work on the ribbons? 

Sun held an absolute affinity for ribbons, endlessly he admires those you’ve tied to your plants as colorful notes for what was what. He always got touchy along his wrists when handling them on the few occasions they’ve had to be changed out or replaced due to thieving birds.

So, you were working on a collection for him, one with meaning. Ones for all sorts of occasions. Days he wanted to be to himself, days he needed to be cared for, the whole run of the mill.

So you get up, folding the newly repaired garment in your arms to rest at the corner of your work table before going to your stashed box of work-in-progress ideas, removing the clear segmented box with labeled tags.

Of course, many would just be worn because he wants to - he can give meaning to those as he pleases if he so wished.

The familiar lull kicks back into place as you hem each strip of cloth into a fine ribbon along your machine, the easy trance drawing you in and blocking out the world around you.

You don’t even recognize when the door to your workspace is opened up, even if Sun is someone who is a far cry from being stealthy in any capacity. You don’t notice how he stands there in shock as he looks over what you’ve done…

Sun spies the pants he wore before - the first pair, the only pair he ever really had before knowing you and your sewing machine. Now they brand new as if the fire had never happened to begin with. It was a miracle they survived at all but to see them restored now from the shreds they once were...

He now understood why you spent many sleepless nights in here and fussed over dyes and materials for a good month before settling down.

Currently… What were you working on? Were those ribbons?

He stares at the red strip of cloth feed through your sewing machine, now given a golden threaded edge. 

They look much like his original set, the ones you never got to see. You would have liked them, he thinks.

But he also thinks he’ll love these ribbons even more than his old ones.

The animatronic approaches you carefully, setting the plate full of your lunch down in an unoccupied space on your work table before his arms wrap around your middle…

You’re thoroughly brought out from your reverie at the unexpected contact, just registering the noises of something hitting the surface you were working on before feeling a stone-hard chest press into your back.

Or would it be a metal-hard chest?

“Sunray? What’s this about?” It’s not that he’s never hugged you before but there’s something distinct about this particular one that has you worried.

There's much being poured into this action, feelings and intent that you can't hope to pick apart right now. His arms only wrap tighter around your waist at your question and you feel him softly bonk his faceplate into the back of your head, moving it side to side subtlety.

…Was he nuzzling you?

“I suppose the cat is out of the bag now, isn’t it - this was all gonna be a surprise for you. We’re coming up on a year of existing with one another, isn’t that fun? You’ve come such a long way.” You explain, moving the container of made ribbons over to the edge of the table on your other side not occupied by pants or food so he could inspect them.

Sun stays holding onto you however, just leaning off to the left enough to view your offering.

Something clicks and there’s a little buzz in the air now that you recognize comes from him, it’s the sound of his voice box. Has he got it working?

“I was… Going to surprise you too.” It’s not quite clear, there’s stutters and the audio crackles when he’s done speaking but it’s unmistakably Sun’s voice there. Speaking more than just one word at that.

“Look at you, Sunny!” Excitedly, you pat along one of his hands while awkwardly contorting an arm to hug him the best you can in your given position. A careful caress along his face offered. “It’s the best you’ve sounded yet and you’ll only get better, won’t you?”

Your heart soars as Sun tilts his head into the touch before speaking.

“I… Hope so.” With a final, little pop like an old recording, the buzz shuts off and he pulls away, moving to your side and keeping an arm about your waist while freeing up a hand to look at the ribbons.

It’s not until he has to sign his next request to you that he removes his hold on you entirely.

“...You want me to add bells?” You ask, a brow raising. “I… Think I have some actually, yeah we can do that - hold on…” You get up just to circle the table, pulling at drawers of the stout cabinet that hides beneath your main table. Boxes of various findings get removed before you find your package of silver bells. “Will these do?”

They’re not very large by any means but the way his eyes widen with hope and excitement is all you need. They’d do for now until you get some more suitable for his size.

“Sorry they aren’t gold, that tends to be your preferred color isn’t it?”

Queue the frantic, apologetic and placating signing. You catch onto a handful of words before you reach across the table to still his hands before you’re driving the package of shining, tinkling bells into his palms.

Their sounds, even when in a confined conglomerate of plastic and cheap metal, come out pleasantly.

“It’s alright. Really.” Is all you say before pulling away with a final pat of reassurance.

You spend your afternoon enjoying your sandwich and sliced fruits while watching Sun thread ribbons, bell after bell. 

You can’t think of a better time.

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Little Ribbon Dancer

Howdy folks! Here is a lil oneshot to get me back in the swing of things. :)

This is just a thing for @crustysoapbubbles, you requested this a while ago, sorry it took so long, I’ve been all over the place. Hope you like it! Some groovy Gangle G/t angst :D

tw ~ falling, fear, unintentional fearplay, minor self depreciation, Kinger shenaniganary Word count ~ 1k

When Gangle woke up in the morning, the last thing she expected was her bed to be like a vast expanse of fabric around her. In fact, her whole room was gigantic to her… 

What kind of nightmare…

Gangle suddenly gasped. This was too real to be a nightmare, and it seemed like it wasn’t her room that grew.. she shrunk.

The ribbon character started to panic, breath quick and uneven as she looked around. The constantly worried eyes of her mask seemed appropriate for this situation.

What would she do? There wasn’t much she could do at the moment… maybe find Caine?

With trembling ribbon limbs, Gangle stood and looked over the edge of her bed. She saw the drop to the floor was long… and even though she knew cartoon physics wouldn’t let her get seriously hurt, she still felt terrified of the drop. 

However.. she noticed how on the floor next to the bed there was a pillow, one of the five that she didn’t use much that had probably fallen off the bed in the night.

This would be scary… but there wasn’t another option, so Gangle walked to the very edge and prepared to jump…

Only to attempt to chicken out at the last moment. But the momentum of the running start caused her to fall anyway with a startled yelp. 

Fortunately, she landed on the pillow anyway and was only mildly disoriented. 

Looking around, she saw that the door had a crack under it big enough for her ribbon body to fit under.

By the time Gangle made it down the hallway of bedrooms, she was completely out of breath and tripping over her own feet. Finally, she took a moment to catch her breath, and that’s when she noticed the familiar form of a royal-looking chess piece. 

Kinger seemed to be staring, dissociating most likely, and not paying attention… he would be a good help in finding Caine…

Gangle ran over to him, yelling out his name but soon realizing that he couldn’t hear her, whether from the dissociation or her size change, she didn’t know.

Regardless, she still tried waving her arms around to gain his attention… and she almost regretted it when she did because immediately his eyes were blank and looking at her in a way she thought was much more intimidating while she was the size of a hand.

Kinger gasped loudly and suddenly, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“Part of an insect collection…”

He muttered under his breath, one of his disconnected hands reaching out to grab Gangle. She let out a squeal of fear and covered her eyes with ends of her ribbon hands. She was grabbed by the giant hand and lifted up high into the air, only to a normal sized person it was only a few feet off the ground. 

The grip wasn’t tight though, not to her flattened digital body of ribbon, and once the hand stopped at kingers eye level, it opened, leaving Gangle sitting in his open palm as he inspected her.

“K.. Kinger! It’s me!”

She spoke up with very little confidence, her arms practically tied together with how much she nervously fidgeted with them. 

There was a pause, of Kinger being frozen and silent… Gangle knew what was coming.

A sudden scream came from the chess piece character as the hand she was on flailed at a high speed, she was wrapped around his thumb for dear life… 

She squealed in fear as she was flung around while Kinger continued to scream.

“Stop! Stop- wait!”

As her tiny voice yelled, Kinger paused and brought his hand up to his face in surprise, his constantly wide eyes staring at her in curiosity and confusion.

“Oh, Gangle. You startled me…”

He sounded exasperated from the screaming. She was still shaken up from the unexpected flailing… though Gangle supposed she should have suspected that considering startling Kinger was never a good idea.

“Uh.. sorry, Kinger.. I-I don’t know what happened to me”

She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Without her comedy mask, that’s how she always felt. Small. Sad.

Only now that was literal.

“Hm… well, maybe it was your mental perception of yourself losing your mask, causing you to feel mentally small, turning you physically small.”

He spoke with a surprising amount of sense. Gangle stared at him for a moment.

“You mean… my digital form matched my mind…?”

“…. Your what?”

Immediately Kinger went back to his own strange mental state, forgetting everything he had just said. Gangle sighed and decided not to bring it back up, instead wanting to focus on her original plan.

“Just… can you take me to Caine?… I-I don’t.. like this.”

“Right, yes, of course!”

He made his way around the circus tent, searching, while also keeping his palms cupped against his royal cape. They continued like that until eventually they spotted the AI ringmaster dusting the ceiling of the tent upside down. After calling his name once he was levitating in front of them, his boisterous voice boomed.

“Well, hello Kinger! Any particular reason for disrupting my cleaning duties?”

The chess piece held up his hands. Gangle stared up at Caine with an apprehensive look before muttering.

“H-hi… can you fix this..?”

“Well, let’s see…”

Caine inspected the tiny figure, a hand where his chin would be if he had one.

“A glitch! Simple fix, Gangle! There!”

He snapped, and suddenly Gangle was normal sized again, causing Kinger to scream again and drop her. She dusted herself off and looked down at herself. She didn’t expect it to be that easy….

“Hey… Caine… could you also… f-fix my comedy mask..?”

She asked hopefully, wanting her other face fixed if Caine had already helped her once so simply.

“Hm… No! But… An adventure will cheer you up!”

Gangle gave a saddened whine as a collection of groans sounded throughout the tent, signaling that the others had heard the unfortunate words of adventure.

Maybe next time.

——————

thanks for reading! Any more prompts for one shots are welcome! I may do a list of fandoms I’ll write for soon :)

Tag list: @da3dm @i-am-beckyu @lunar-but-little @phoenix-on-the-run

[nocoffeeforoldmen]

Just a lil tidbit

I know I already have something in progress, but in classic ADHD fashion, I couldn't help but start writing a wicked long one-two shot with lil snippets of their more canon romance.

And not for nothing but y'all keep posting the most wonderful oneshots with your Tavs and Gale (specifically Keldae, I cannot stop thinking about Devi what a fucking queen, and janemeteoric, whose fic Incandescence I literally cannot get out of my brain, on AO3).

At the far end of camp, Shadowheart and Halsin had their hands full with healing a horrifically battered Astarion and a relatively worse for wear Karlach. This left him at the cliffside Orla had set her tent up at, his injured hand in hers. “Te curo,” she mumbled, holding her palm over his. He could feel the tickle of the healing magic taking effect, though not enough to close the wound. “Hells.” She frowned but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m going to have to stitch you up.”

The air between them had been light, perhaps even a little giddy, since the night of the celebration. She had made her interest clear with the image of their embrace. Of their kiss. He had thought of that very image every night since, wanting nothing more than to fall into her arms and let her have her way with him before quelling the orb in whatever way he could manage. There had been jokes and laughter shared as well as real genuine conversation. Back and forth that gave him more to chew on than any singular person had in many years. He pressed forward every now and again. A hand lightly touching her back as he followed through a doorway. Brushing dirt off her face after a hard fought battle. Moving her hair out of her eyes as she assisted Astarion in another lockpicking fiasco. It all felt so startlingly right that he couldn’t help himself.

But she had barely even looked at him since Elminster had stabilized the orb. Now that he didn’t feel as though his entire being would spontaneously combust when she came near, she wouldn’t even meet his eyes. “This is going to pinch,” she informed him as she readied a needle at the top of his still open wound. It pierced his skin, and perhaps it was because it was his palm or perhaps she had really pressed that hard with the needle but he sucked in a breath, wincing in pain. “I’m sorry.”

When their eyes finally met, the cold in hers still glittered in the light of the full moon, but there was something more in them than usual. A certain longing and dread he wasn't accustomed to. “Think nothing of it,” he hissed as she once again went in and out of his skin with the needle. “My pain tolerance, or lack thereof, is no fault of yours. If anything, I’m grateful for your willingness to help mend my recklessly acquired wound.”

It was silly when all was said and done. Maybe she would have turned around in time to grasp the Githyanki guard’s wrist and stop the blade from entering her back. Perhaps she had a spell of shield ready to go at a moment’s notice. When he saw the glint of the blade in the light from the brazier, he moved before he could think. He muttered something quick and mindless under his breath. An incantation that would send the guard repelling backwards, which did end up working. However, not before the blade slashed across the palm of the hand that he had thrust between them, leaving blood gushing onto the stone floor of the creche. Orla would not only end up leaving the finishing blow on the guard, but she also wrapped up his hand on the cleanest piece of cloth she could find to manage the flow of blood. 

The stitching she did on his hand was delicate and skillful. The work of someone who was already very adept at sewing. He watched in awe in spite of the pain, watching fingers tenderly handle his skin. Taking the very best care of him that she could. “My mother was a cleric,” she divulged to him quietly. It wasn’t often that much of anyone was privy to her sharing any information that wasn’t imperative to give. “But she died when I was very young.” He felt himself leaning towards her warmth despite himself. This was no way to do things. There was limited time left for him, and though he had learned she was just a few years older than he was, she deserved better than regret with the time she had left. “My father was a tailor, and he passed only but a few years ago. I suppose I’m better with a needle than I am with a healing spell due to the amount of time I spent learning alone.”

She released his hand, which had a roughly closed wound now. Within a day or so, the magic would catch up, the stitches would be removed, and they would move on like they always did. He stared down at her careful work with awe. She handled him as carefully as she could. There was no vengeance in her movements with the needle, only sadness, which was also present in the gaze she was still holding to his. “You aren’t really going to go through with it, are you?” she whispered. They were impossibly close. Closer than the orb would have allowed.

There was just a breath between them now as her eyes scanned over his face, desperately seeking out the answer she wanted from him. “I don’t see what other option I have, Orla,” he responded just above the whisper she had addressed him with. Mystra’s charge was clear: he was to sacrifice himself by way of the orb to destroy the Absolute. There was no fine print. There was no alternate ending. There was no third door. This was it. “Her will is–”

“There is always an option, Gale,” Orla urged, leaning forward on the ball of her hand. “There is always a choice. What do you want?” What a strange question to be asked on the precipice of such a monumental point of his life. “Not what your goddess wants. I frankly could not possibly give less of a damn what she wants. You, what do you want?”

Of course, given the option, he wanted to live. He wanted to be rid of the orb and take this beautiful strong half-elf in front of him into his arms and hold her all day and all night for as long as she would let him. He wanted to kiss her senseless and learn her entire history. He wanted to see what would happen to their merry band of misfits. What would come of Shadowheart’s longing to become a dark justiciar. How the reunion with Astarion’s vampire master would go. If Dammon would be able to fix Karlach’s engine and give her freedom over the land. What the rescue mission to save Wyll’s father would entail. How Lae’zel’s revenge mission would play out. If Orla would truly drag them through the shadow cursed lands and bring them to Baldur’s Gate. But it all seemed unlikely for him to see. The fact that he had made it this far was a miracle in and of itself.

“Because, if it has any weight at all, I would rather you didn’t blow yourself to smithereens,” she told him. “I would–not that my wants matter even a fraction in this situation–would be thrilled to hear about the misadventures of the notorious Gale of Waterdeep without the looming threat of the end of the world.” Trying to picture the two of them chatting over a relaxed dinner with mostly consumed bottles of wine was far easier than he had anticipated. Easy smiles and genuine laughter. Full bellies and fuller hearts. He imagined kissing her ring clad knuckles, smiling at the sight of her bejeweled fingers. “You deserve more than to be a tool to destroy an enemy we could all overpower together.”

He couldn’t recall the last time his thoughts had been taken into account the way she wanted them to be. The best he could think of was with Tara, but even so, there was so much suggestion of what he needed to do, leading to the everpresent implication of what he was doing wrong. “I…” words began to spill out of her mouth, but she clamped her plush lips shut. “I adore your company, and think the world could use a bit more Gale in it.”

With those words, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. The relative calm in his chest was enough to push him forward. The knowledge that Mystra had sent someone as trusted as Elminster to stabilize the orb was enough to propel him to Orla. Their lips met in a whisper. A prayer. A plea. Soft and barely there at first. He couldn’t even be entirely certain if she still had any interest in such an act after all that she had learned. All she had seen. All he had said. 

Even with all that had happened, she stayed. She pressed closer to him. His uninjured hand lifted to rest against her cheek. It was a bliss unknown to him, kissing her in the privacy her cliffside provided. Her needle and thread had been discarded as she pushed herself into him. Both hands landed on either side of his face. The move was clinging to something he couldn’t name. Her moves were eager and quick and filled with angst. Every inch in his direction was desperate as she scrambled into his lap.

[jtl07]

aw it’s all good jt! i figured there’d be the possibility that you weren’t familiar with hunger games, and that’s completely fine! nevertheless, thank you for such a thoughtful answer (creating bea lil angst you menace!) and the fact that you took the time to research the weapons. i’ve only watched season 1 of jujutsu kaisen a long time ago, so I can’t recall gyomei or if he fought in that season... but i searched up some clips and wow his weapon is extremely cool, i see your vision!

ok here’s a prompt: school. with 2 pieces of dialogue bcos i couldn’t decide 😂

“You still gonna have that stupid grin on your face when I get the highest mark?”

- and -

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Beating you, duh”

(yes i’m alluding to a certain trope 🤭)

okay gonna start with some stream of conscious (i almost wrote "scream of conscious" which is fitting too lol) because the thing is when i think of like enemies to lovers sort of trope, i always think of Ava and/or Bea with Lilith so you know what, why not go with all three - and you know what, i was giggling over some of note's hehehes just now so let's go that route and make them young - well, maybe like idk 9 or 10 or so? 

and maybe they're doing some kind of special event - oh! maybe like something at a summer camp?? yeah, and i've still got weapons on the brain so maybe let's go with archery lolol of course Ava's the one talking shit but is likely the least coordinated and the biggest safety hazard ("Ava please point that downrange - no, this goes there, that goes here - oh dear god") 

Ava, finally holding the bow and arrow correctly and with what she hopes is a menacing look on her face (meanwhile Beatrice is one heartbeat away from a heart attack standing behind her) as she turns to Lilith: "You still gonna have that stupid grin on your face when I get the highest mark?"

to which Lilith just quirks an eyebrow and, with the barest of glances at the target, shoots a bullseye. she walks away all calm and cool while Ava is losing her shit "BEA DID YOU SEE THAT HOLY SHIT" "Ava, language. also, i can do that too"

cut to a few minutes later, one of their camp counselors - Mary? lol if it's her she'd take one look at the trio and just turn back around "i'm not getting paid enough for this shit" because now we've got Ava helping Beatrice tie a blindfold over her eyes and Lilith has come back, both eyebrows raised now: "What are you doing?"

Beatrice lifts her chin and her bow, nocks the arrow and draws it back (with Ava vibrating behind her): "Isn't it obvious? Beating you, of course."

and lets the arrow fly - straight and true and in the middle of Lilith's arrow ala Robin Hood. Beatrice takes off the blindfold, barely holding back her proud grin as Ava quite nearly expires behind them - "that was so fucking cool" - while Lilith glares and dramatically grinds her teeth.

(cue the inevitable "get along" sequence where Lilith and Beatrice are forced to do some kind of activity together but end up just taking some kind of revenge on Ava, but it turns into something sweet like sneaking out of their cabins so they can teach Ava all the constellations and/or Ava sneaking them some snacks that they all end up eating and maybe they all fall asleep in a pile together, warm, and safe)