#my old bitch music taste strikes again

[tench]

How many Depeche Mode songs can I put into my Stolitz playlist? The answer is yes.

(Listen, not only I finally have a pairing of the right demographic, but it works so well! Halo for example. I am living my best life right now)

[clownleys]

I'd like 13, 20 and 21 ✨

thank you, dearie!! ♥︎

13. The song with the most peculiar sound (to you) okay so there's this 💰cash register💰 sound that goes of right after raise peters sings "If I had a pound for every hole // I saw punched in a wall // I'd be a rich girl" in boy and it's been stuck in my mind for MONTHS-

20. Happiest song

def bubblegum bitch by MARINA! it is so upbeat and beaming with self confidence, all about reclaiming the colour pink and good old sillyness. i also had someone put it on a playlist the made for me, so you know. the sentiment...

21. The song you think will be in next years top songs again

this might be a bit surprising, 'cause this one wasn't that close to the top5, but... there's just something about lucy's voice and the way she sings it that really really strikes a cord with me

GET MORE OF MY SILLY LITTLE MUSIC TASTE HERE!

[astrohnova]

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ransom hugh drysdale thrombey x latina!camgirl!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 2.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 Ransom and you have a complicated relationship. But his fucking makes it simple.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 +18 ONLY. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, i’ll kick your ass and also block u. insults, explicit language, smut (sex toy use, filmed sex, filmed masturbation, dumbification, breeding kink, squirting mention, spit play, blowjob, rough sex (all consented tho) creampie, daddy kink, "bitch", "whore", "cumslut", "slut"), use of spanish phrases without translation. WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T READ. THAT’S IT.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

I’m new at writing so if I should add more tags let me know. Also, english is not my first language so it might be a little weirdly worded so just let me know and i’ll change whatever’s wrong. I’m sorry

If you reblog and leave me some feedback I’ll kiss your mouth. With tongue.

The new lingerie set you’d bought made you feel savage. You knew it was something that your followers would enjoy. You decided to appear soft and delicate today, a good girl. So you turned your camera on, and while you were waiting for your payers to come in, you were sucking a lollipop endearingly, to gradually rile up the people watching you.

The candles you had lit along with the perfume you had spread in the room, with the soft music sounding in the background set the ambient, and your hand was gloved sending goosebumps through every part of skin you caressed. You were just fueling every sense, aislating yourself from the real world. You put the lollipop down and laided your back onto the headboard of your bed, with the computer at your feet, your clothed pussy in the first plane for your followers to admire and the clothed hand making it’s way there.

You’ve bought this glove recently, it was a sex toy. Made of black latex and a different head on each of your fingers, along with different textures that would let you see the stars. You even put a vibrator inside the middle one, just touching the point of your middle finger. Every head was different and enticing. And the vibrations between your thighs, so close to you sensible cunt left you gasping. Your lips and eyes stand out from the mask that you had on your face, sensual and with the same color as your underwear.

You looked straight to the camera when you grazed the vibrator contained by the latex over your pussy, while you gasped and then moaned, laying your head back. You could hear the sound of subscriptions coming in, and you suggestively moaned before pulling your panties to the side with your uncovered hand and brushing the vibrator on your clit, whining lightly. Then you put one of your fingers inside of you, and moaned directly to the camera, while you rubbed soft circles on your clit with your thumb, your belly contracting gently, your nipples hardening.

You took your finger off and brought it to your lips. And before you kept the show going, you said “Thank you for the gift, I’m enjoying myself so much. I hope you get off too”. You inserted two fingers in your pussy and moaned out loud.

📷

He was watching you going down the street, completely mesmerized. Just like the other men and women seeing you. He was smoking, but the smoke got into his eyes, for not being careful; his whole attention was on you. He threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.

“Que hermosa, mamita.” A cute man complimented you, and you smiled and winked.

“Gracias mi amor. So pretty yourself.” You complemented and left him with his mouth open. But compliments were responded to, and he was a beautiful man.

You were walking with so much confidence and all eyes were naturally attracted to your presence, in that dress that hugged you perfectly, in those heels that took you some time to accustom to but now you walked like on a runway. And those striking stockings that you were wearing. You really were feeling yourself, that’s what a good night of orgasms and money gets you, really. You had earned so much, just had a few video requests that you had to fulfill and this month's cuota would be filled. And with this new job you had landed, things were starting to get off for you and your family

He was about to kill all the tigers that were stomping in your way, looking at you the way he did. Thinking the same things that he did, incited by that fucking dress, that gracefullness of your soul, and the barm coat that flew with the wind as you ate the wole street up. He was meeting you on this old cozy bar, after seeing that video of you yesterday he was riled up and just needed to be inside your warm pussy this cold afternoon, maybe with the coffee that you were gonna drink while you argued still stained on your mouth, that he was going to pry from your willing mouth as you gasped against him, with your mixed spit going down your chin from the sloppy kisses that he loves, and your breathy whines that had him rubbing his crotch against your stomach. And he couldn’t wait to see if you were wearing the lingerie that he had bought you, with that color that highlighted your skin undertone and got his dick leaking precum. Last night you were glorious, and today you were a walking goddess.

“Hola, imbécil.”

“Now that’s not very nice, especially after all the money I gave you last night.”

“Mhhm. Others gave me more, papito.”

“That so?”

“It is.”

“I got something more that they can’t give you. And you’re driving me feral, walking like that towards me, flirting with other guys. I thought I made it clear that you were mine.”

“And I thought I made it clear that I was my own. Especially after last night, did you see me get myself off that hard? And after the video endend I got so fucking happy, so fucking horny with all the comments, the views, the pictures that I got that I went to sleep humping my pillow.”

“Pictures?”

“Oh yes, I got so many pictures of so many pretty cocks daddy”

“You were thinking of other cocks, slut?” He questioned, grabbing you by your arm and putting you against a wall as you laughed.

“Not only thinking, papi, I found this hot guy that was just drooling for me, and he made me drool for him so much. The sheets were so messy that I had to change them after he left.” He gripped your throat harder, just growling furiously.

“Fucking bitch, I’m gonna stuff my cock so deep than your throat to make you regret everything you just said.”

“But daddy, I haven’t told you the best part yet!” You bite your lip, seeing his predatory eyes that wanted to devour you entirely. And you kept going without remorse. “The mattress was so wet too. You never reached that, did you? You want me to think that I’m yours but I got others treating me better.” You pouted, all that you were saying was true and seeing this look in his eyes was such a sight. You almost whined from his look alone.

He grabbed you by the arm and took you to his car, getting on it just right before you on the driver’s side. Wildly driving back to his place to get you fucking stuffed

“You’re driving me insane, bitch. Did you fucking curse me?”

“I did, every dick that enters this sweet pussy, plastic or meat, gets obsessed.”

“Don’t talk like that, making me more horny.”

“I’m sure your hand can help you, guapo.”

“My hand? Are you kidding me? You put that dress on, that looks more like a fucking t-shirt, to come see me and then you leave me with my hand? No, fucking whore You’re giving me your mouth. I have to wipe that smug smile and that boy’s taste off your lips. So suck, vicious little bitch.” So you did, with the loudest and a porn-like moan you quickly undid his briefs pulling his cock out, sucking the tip first.

“Daddy, the lollipop yesterday got me thinking so much about your cock. I couldn’t wait to taste you like this again.” He grabbed you by the hair at the red light, roughly pulling you up to met his face, yours pleasure filled, with drool over your chin, the same that had dirtied his pants.

“You fucking slut, were you just drilling me up to make me get rough on you?”

“No daddy, I did fuck the boy. That was yesterday morning, and then yesterday night I found a little time to think about you.”

“Yeah? Now all you're gonna have in your head and your mouth is me.” He shoved his cock deep into you, and when you gagged he pushed himself further and kept you there. “”Breathe, make this nice for me. I know you can do it.” You could, you enjoyed this so much, your paties were drenched. And what would he do when he notices you weren't wearing the pair he bought for you. Hopefully, break you. You started moving your hips, moving some friction in your pussy, and tastefully wiggling your ass for Ransom to admire.

“That’s right, cumslut. I'll make your ass fire up later too.”

📷

You screamed sensually when he hit your ass. You were on all fours, head down ass up, exposed to Ransom. He was filming your glistening pussy and your delicious ass that bounced on his torso asking for more pain. Delicious pain.

“I’m gonna break you with my cock baby. But after you ask nicely. Your followers want to know what a whore you are.”

“Such a whore! I want your dick papi, you fuck me so good. I want you to leave me braindead, drooling, filled. Please, please, please papi. Cogeme, fuck me. Te tengo muchas ganas.” You whined so hard, so annoyingly empty and desperate.

“What a good girl, making daddy so happy. Here you go, cunt.” He put one hand on your ass and thrusted into you aggressively. He positioned the camera to capture your joy filled face and his hips slamming in you. He didn’t stop nor slowed down, and started rubbing your clit to make you man loader, and you started to move back against him.

“You’re such a greedy little girl, you want all of me. ‘Cmon, give it to me now.”

“Ah!” You opened your mouth in a silent scream when you came, wetting him with your fluids.

And he quickly turned you around, on your back with your legs spread to search for his own high. But you were so sensible you started to close your legs and tried to squirm away from him. But he grabbed your face and spit on your cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare pushe me away. You take it. Open your fucking legs. Open them wide.” You did, and he used you like a doll, with your mind swimming in pleasure, in his gorans in your ears and his hair caressing your face. He came, pushing himself against you and spilling into the condom. He moved away from you and grabbed the camera, turning it off. Then you were gonna edit the video a little bit, cropping some parts to upload to twitter and the full part you were gonna send it to your special subscribers. You gathered yourself, going to the bathroom to wash yourself a little bit, and coming with a cigarette in your mouth, already lit. You threw yourself on the bed.

“We… We have to stop doing this.” Ransom turned himself to you, taking the cigarette out of your hand and smoking it.

“Baby, you say that everytime. And then you do shit like today.”

“I know. But it’s different now, Hugh.”

“What the fuck you calling me that for?”

“‘Cause I got a new job. Lisa’s personal assistant. And I don’t intend to be higher than all the employees you ask to call you that and then go ahead and disrespect them.”

“You don’t have to work for shit, baby. I’ll pay everything for you. You just keep making those videos and the rest is on me”

“What? Like a sugar daddy? No jodás.” You grabbed another cigarette for yourself, so this dipshit wouldn’t take it away from you

“I mean it baby, I can give you the world, just let me”

“I already have the world papito, and I got it all on my own.” He hummed, and his eyes lit up when you called him ‘daddy’ in spanish, in this intimacy. With your body still displayed for him, through which he roamed his eyes in.

“Papito?” He repeated with an accent. “Maybe I can make a mama out of you....” He burned the cigarette out and took yours off too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You complained in a moan when he turned you around, on your belly with your hands by your head and his entire muscular, heavy and warm body sprayed out on you. He then pushed deep into you.

“Get off me, Ransom.” You complained in a gasp.

“But I’m so deep ‘side you... I just have to get this shit off me to fill you up.“ He still had his condom on, but he hurriedly got it off and dived inside you again.

“What?! Don’t you dare. Get. The hell. Off.”

“Don’t lie to me princess, you want me to fill this pussy. You’ll be a fucking queen, in my arms, being spoiled with my money. I’ll take care of you and all the kids you’re gonna give me.”

“Ransom…” Your accent was spilling, and your resistance was getting away from you, his words and promises stained in your brain. “Fucking dick.”

“Nobody takes me like you, gripping me like that. You’re just a whore for me, ain’t you? Want all of me.”

“Ah, Ransom, you’re so deep.” You whined, your belly contracting.

“What do you want, honey? I wanna hear you beg for it”

“I-- Please Ransom. Please, please, please llename. Por favor, papi!” You moaned when he started pushing into you again. Last round had been intense and you had little break, so naturally you didn’t last long. You came screaming Ransom’s name, free to do so without a camera in front of you. And he was so close too, his mind winded up with getting you pregnant, with images of your belly full, your tasty breasts with all the milk he was gonna drink. He was goraning so much, your pussy grabbing him so hard, pushing him farther inside of you.

“Are you gonna be a good mama for me?”

“The best, daddy! Just please, please fill me.” And he did, with the loudest groan. To then turn you around and start admiring your tits, your body, getting inside your head with compliments of the mommy you were gonna be. And all the videos you were gonna make with your horniness, with your huge titis and that round belly. How he wanted to cover you in cum and get it on camera to show that you were his, cause getting you pregnant just wasn’t enough. And after that, he went down to eat his leaking cum out of you and prepared you for the next round.

[extrem2360]

Feel free to ignore this.

I'm in need for some Thaluke content. So what are your Thaluke headcanons? It doesn't matter in what universe😌

Sorry for taking so long to get to this!

-They have a similar taste in music, so from time to time they have nights when they listen to music and sing at the top of their lungs until their throats hurt or the neighbours start complaining, sometimes that only makes them sing louder tho.

-They both enjoy watching those movies that have that old-timey feeling to them, but they still like newer movies.

-Lukes teaches Thalia how to pick a lock in like, the first three weeks after they met.

-That one textpost meme about "I learned how to pick locks to impress girls but the girl that saw me doing already knows I'm a mess"

-Thalia mentioning Once that if they had the resources she would like dye her hair, and Luke inmediately stole what they needed and tried his best to dye her hair.

-Touching Thalia always gives you at least a small sensation of static, Luke never bothers to tell her this to avoid admitting he finds it relaxing when they cuddle.

-The first few weeks of running away together were SUPER akward until they got used to each other. Then they realized they had feelings for each other and it turned akward again until they confessed.

-Luke is the first one to confess, but he doesn't remember anything about it. He was half asleep and also injured, so he was a tiny bit delirious.

-In the first month after adopting Annabeth they jokingly discussed about who was the mother and father figure, spoiler, it's both.

-Turns out Luke having skillful hands to pickpocket somehow also translates to massages.

-Little Annabeth wanted them to start a band at some point because she thought "they were really good at music."

-They go to Pride Parades together.

-They also beat up cops together.

-Them, watching the other slaughter a monster: "Boy, I sure do hope this doesn't awaken anything in me."

-Who needs therapy when you can rant endlessly about your shitty parents while your significant other listens to you and encourages you.

-They stop ranting as much about their parents when they adopt Annabeth, cause they know that kind of negativity probably isn't good for kids (they ignore that they practically are kids themselves though.)

- Annabeth: You guys could get a home at New Rome and live a normal life.

Thalia: I get to be closer to my brother?

Luke: I get to be further away from the greek gods?

-Luke, upon remembering roman and greek gods are basically the same most of the time: FUCK-

-Also Luke the first time he gets to Camp Jupiter: Would you look at that, this place has a protection against monster and not a single inoccent person had to sacrifice herself and be turned into a tree for the protection to exist.

-Luke is salty, we all know this as a fact.

-They both are able to calm each other very quickly and easily, it surprises everyone except Annabeth the first few times they witness this happening.

-Luke has a lot of trouble sleeping after Kronos, and his nightmares are no longer prophetic like the other's, but they are somehow worse now.

-Annabeth recommends him a calming tea to drink before sleeping yes this is me proyecting.

-Thalia doesn't like thunderstorms, at all, for obvious reasons. Luke tries to cheer her up by mentioning how he stole the Lightning so they can distract themselves by mocking Zeus.

-They like to test the line of how much they can mock Zeus randomly before lightning strikes near them. When they are feeling particularly bold they are like "You won't smite us, you couldn't even let her die, we know we are safe, bitch." Annabeth is really concerned, even if she does find it amusing.

-Thaluke having a trip across the country.

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between  Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

[veryhardymemes]

Ashnikko Lyrical Starters 2

Album: Hi, It’s Me! Content warning for strong language and suggestive themes

Hi, It’s Me

My stupid brain thinks that I need you

It's like I need a babysitter

The littlest things impress me

Uh, I did it again

I did what I said that I wouldn't

Why am I a sucker for a fuckboy's freckles?

Hi, it's me

Here to remind you that he's not worth it

Take his old t-shirt off and burn it

Repeat after me, "I'm over it"

I'm weaker than before

My stupid brain thinks that I need you

I’m eager to hurt more

My best friend thinks that I'm a dumbass

My dumb ass should be a little more cautious

I make myself nauseous

Someone hold me back

I'll run a fucking marathon

Where the hell has my mascara gone?

It's all about me and what I want

I'm single now let me drunk dance on the tabletop

Special

You’re not special

It’s not cute

Only one strike, then you get the boot

There was potential in you

You should get "Fuckboy" tattooed

I don't give a fuck

Eat my pussy like it's lunch

Tell me why I need you over the next

The only thing you seem to give me is sex

You look dumb now that I've come to my senses

Your love is not impressive

You can give me some goodbye head

You look dumb now that I've come to my senses

Your love is not impressive

You wish I missed you

Back the fuck up, I dismiss you

You better stock up on tissues

You don't seem to see what a cliché you are

I see better dick up ahead

But I like how you look when you really beg

Eat it up

STUPID

I’m shy

Stupid boy think I need him

I go ghost for no damn reason

I know you think about me in the shower

Think about me with your hand down your trousers

I know you salivating over me

Wanna do me?

I don't want you and I don't want your homie

I don't really need a man but sometimes I want one, though

Nothing about you is attractive to me now

I don't need the dick, I need magic, I need money

Working Bitch

I’m working, bitch!

Ain't got no time for dick

You wish you could sway my attention

Sure as fuck can't sway my attention

Too tired to entertain little boys

I'm the boss of my business I should invoice

Swear my blue vibrator brings me more joy

I do well for myself

Nothing you do is extraordinary

I love my day job

What's the point?

It's all deja vu

They don't give me what I want

Now he look stressed

Manners

How the fucking hell did I get here?

I’m a weird bitch

Got me drippin’ like a runny nose

I want all of that and one of those

That dick tastes like Yankee Candle

I don’t mind my manners

I'm fucking with his psyche

I'm a teddy bear with lots of spikes

I never let a deadbeat bounce on my buttcheeks

It's high time to collect like a prize fight

Fuck the timeline I'm in the future

I listen to my own music in the Uber

I'm the best thing

I'm drunk in the corner screaming out "Ah, that's hot"

Keep my sugar babies' bills all paid

I’m so shy

[starrygalaxy04]

Songs That Remind Them of You (MLQC Headcannons)

Victor

Don't Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John)- Victor is a sucker for romantic-style music, and this song is no exception. He can't help but imagine dueting this song with you whenever it plays softly in the background while he's making your favorite caramel pudding.

Adore You (Harry Styles)- He would never admit it, but this man just wants to shower you in affection. His favorite moments are when he gets to hold you in his arms and he can just gaze at you with the insane amount of joy, admiration, love, and unfiltered affection that only you get to see. He's been searching for you for a very long time, and he's going to cherish every second of being with you.

Still the One (One Direction)- He would never admit he ever listens to this song because like hell is anyone going to find out that he listens to boy bands, but this song's lyrics strike all the right chords with him. He loves the message it sends because its the very message he will always reiterate to you when you feel like you're not enough or he could do better. Its you, its always been you.

Lucien

Dark Side (Kelly Clarkson)- This man has a hard time knowing that you love him and are blissfully unaware of the monster that lurks just below the surface. He often finds himself wondering if you would still love him if he were just Ares, or if you would leave after you found out all of the things he had done for the sake of progress. But every time you wrap your arms around him or smile at him, all those worries melt away because he feels true emotion when he looks at you.

Its Gonna Be Me (NSYNC)- He knows that anyone in this world can have you, and it would kill him if you chose anyone else besides him. So he wants to make absolutely sure that he will never even have to think about letting his beautiful butterfly go. He is forever yours, and you will be forever his, even if it takes an eternity for that to happen.

Line Without A Hook (Ricky Montgomery)- This song mainly applies after Lucien no longer remembers MC, because I feel like it accurately describes how he feels. He knows MC doesn't trust him and is purposefully being distant, but at the same time the feelings that the other him felt are slowly trickling in and before long he's wishing that he could fix whatever it was that was tearing MC up so bad inside. And he knows that as he is, he's no good for you. But that doesn't mean that he isn't going to ignore the voice of reason in his head like the other him did and try his hardest to be what he once was for you.

Kiro

Fight For This Love (Cheryl)- Kiro knows that with him being a huge pop idol that sometimes the pressure gets to you. And he wants you to know he is always there and will be there next to you to fight through the thick and thin. He always wants to be with his favorite person ever, and will do whatever it takes to make sure that you're okay and he can be there to experience everything life has to offer with you, and to assure you that you are worth it.

100% Pure Love (Crystal Waters)- True to the name of the song, everything that Kiro feels (well almost everything, if you get what I mean) comes from the purest parts of him. He always wants you to be the happiest you can, always making sure that you have a bright smile on your face. And he knows what you two have is something people could only dream of, and having you in his arms is the best thing that ever happened since he met you again at that convenience store.

Price Tag (Jessie J)- He knows that when you two are together, nothing else matters. He knows you're not with him just because he's Kiro the superstar, but because he's Kiro. The bubbly 22 year-old who has an affinity for sweets and puppies with an adventurous streak. And he knows that if you two are next to each other, you wouldn't need anything else to have a good time.

Gavin

Treasure (Bruno Mars)- Honey, you are the center of this man's universe. He had treasured you since the first day he laid eyes on you, and wanted nothing more than to be by your side. And now that he is, he is over the moon. He may not be able to shower you in lavish gifts like some of the others, but every single moment you two spend together more than makes up from it, whether its a picnic under the stars or a midnight flight.

What A Man Gotta Do (The Jonas Brothers)- This brings back some of his older memories, back from the high school days. He was so shy when it came to you, and he never even knew how to approach you the majority of the time. So he always watched from the distance, wondering what he could do to get you to notice him. The song allows him to reflect on those cringey memories with a smile, and let him enjoy the fact that you were his, even after all that had happened.

Loving You Tonight (Andrew Allen)- This man can't wait to come home and just lay in your arms, or have you lay in his arms. His favorite moments are the ones of pure domesticity, things he never saw between his mother and father when he was younger. It feels so pure and freeing, and just so right. He loves every moment of it, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Helios

Popular Monster (Falling in Reverse)- While Helios is indeed a person, Helios is somewhat of a character that Kiro is playing. Its the side of him that he can't show to the world. He has killed people to protect others, to protect you, and in that way, he's exactly as the title reads, a popular monster.

Therefore I Am (Billie Eilish)- As Helios, he knows that everything relies on technique and execution, so he has completely shut out emotional functions for the most part, except when he's around you. But because Kiro is such a good actor, its very hard to tell. He knows that he's that bitch, and is not afraid to prove it, being blunt about literally everything. But he also knows that you have the perseverance of a God, to the point that its stupid, but as you build the confidence that comes with the identity of your Evol, he sees you growing in a way that he could have never taught you as Kiro.

Cigarette Duet (Princess Chelsea)- Helios knows that he can't associate with you as much as when he was Kiro because Black Swan is a bitch, but one thing he always wants to make sure is that you haven't fallen down and devolved into bad habits. The one thing that didn't leave Helios was his ability to care specifically about you, and even thinking that you would get into a habit that would harm yourself makes his blood boil. So he always makes sure you've remained drug-free and that you see him just enough that it won't get him in trouble and can give you comfort.

Shaw

No Roots (Alice Merton)- Shaw's idea of you is something much like how Victor saw you in the beginning. Someone who thrust themselves into something way over their head and now had to deal with the consequences of it. The only reason he believed you was because he knew of things (the man has his ways) and decided to help you because he found you just interesting enough that he thought it might be fun. But he found himself envying the fact that you didn't have a past in this world, and that you were free to do whatever you pleased without a reputation preceding you. He didn't like the fact that it caused you pain, but thanks to his asshole of a father the idea sounded a little too good to him.

Sad Girl (Lana Del Rey)- Shaw often found you moping around at first, mourning the fact that you had lost everything. But in the end, he was the one who helped you get over it, getting you back to your normal self. He still catches glimpses of that depressed look in your eyes, and always makes sure to lighten up on the teasing when he does see it. He never got the chance to be a kid and grow up properly, so he couldn't fathom exactly how hard it was for you. But he still tried.

White Tee (CORPSE)- We all know Shaw would be more into the punk style, and his music taste is no exception. He likes listening to mostly emo style music, and dabbles into a little bit of everything when he feels like it. However, this song mixes together his anger at the world for giving him such a shit childhood and the fact that with you he feels like he can start fresh. Because even though everyone else falls into the same category with him, you were different, and he wanted to explore that kind of different.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“Compromise”

Spike x Summers! Reader

Warnings: language, make out scene, implied sex, nothing more than PG-13

Description: You hate bullies. Always have. You and Spike get into it when he continues joking about murdering your friends.

“Don’t go.”

You’re tangled up on the crypt’s couch after a long day of you studying and Spike trying to distract you from studying, but now your homework’s finished and it’s time for you to meet the gang at the Bronze.

“You could come with me,” you say, pushing him off of you lightly and standing up. Your notes and textbooks are littered across the floor from some unconventional study methods that took place earlier in the day, and you kneel to scoop them into your backpack.

Spike spreads out on the couch in the space you’ve left behind. “No thanks, love. I can barely keep myself from biting them now, even with the bloody chip. If Buffy and Riley make eyes at each other one more time in my presence, I might have to go for the jugular.”

It’s a small comment, no worse than some of the other things he’s said about them, but it rubs you the wrong way. It’s not so much that you thought he would stop hating your friends once you got together as you thought he would respect you enough to not hate them so loudly.

Your textbook thumps to the floor as you straighten, scowling. “Listen, I know you don’t like the Scoobies, but they’re my friends. You don’t have to come with me, but you can’t talk about them like that.”

Spike blinks at you. Then a slow grin slithers across his face. His fingers wrap around your wrist, drawing you toward his lap. “Hey, don’t be jealous. You know that if I got to bite anyone, you’d be my first—”

You yank out of his grip and pull on the straps of your backpack. “It’s not funny. Everyone else I’ve dated has gotten along fine with my friends. I mean, sure, they’ve noticed that Buffy gets into a lot of fights and Willow is into some darker stuff, but they would never try to isolate me from them. They’d make an effort, because they knew it was important to me.”

“Well, I’m not like everyone else you’ve dated, am I?” He gestures to the crypt, to his incisors. “The Slayer and I are natural enemies, in case you’ve forgotten. And by extension, her friends are my enemies, too.”

“And by extension,” you mimic, drawing your vowels out too much in a clumsy attempt at his accent. “So am I.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Your hands are planted on your hips now. You still have to change clothes and drop your backpack off at the house, so you’re definitely going to be late, but this conversation has been building up for awhile. You’re glad, in a sort of angry spiteful way, that it’s finally out in the open. “Because Buffy, Dawn, and I are blood. You can’t separate us. And you wanting to, that’s not love. That’s possession.”

He sits up at that, and you backpedal, taking two steps toward the door. You’re not afraid of him, but you are afraid of what he’s going to say. Of how you’ll respond. Blood is rushing to your head, making you rash. Despite the cold of the mausoleum, you’re red hot.

“So now you don’t think I love you?”

The words hang between you, thickening the air with heat and tension. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms and you can see his veins pop slightly when his fist clenches. He’s trying to keep calm, but it’s a struggle for him. It reminds you of just how quickly the tables could turn if he ever gets the chip out.

“You treat me like a man,” he says, after a beat too long of silence. “And I’m not talking about the little bit. I’m talking about them.” He spits the word out like it’s poisonous, like he needs to get the taste it leaves out of his mouth.

“Maybe they’d be more likely to treat you like a man if you stopped being such a—”

No. You can’t go there. You won’t come back from it.

You suck in a deep breath, square your shoulders.

“I don’t want to fight,” you say, even though you really, really do. Both of you have been itching for it. Things have been almost domestic lately, which would be nice if you hadn’t spent the past few years always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You don’t know what to do with comfortable. Neither does he. “I’m going to go meet the others at the Bronze. I’ll see you later.”

“Fine.” He picks the remote off the coffee table and flicks the TV on, drowns out your footsteps with a crime show that opens with gunshots, makes you flinch.

Outside the crypt, you pull a stake from your bag and begin your walk home. You’re not worried about anything attacking you. You’re angry enough to hold your own. But you’re also not stupid, and it would suck if your night out was interrupted by another kidnapping. After you stop by the house to slip into something less comfortable, you go straight for the club.

The building is crowded with sweaty teenagers. The band on stage tonight is a good one and the music is so loud that you can hear it thrumming in your chest, taste it in your mouth. You dance your way through the throng to your friends’ table. Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara, and Dawn are squished around a formica top, laughing and drinking and having such a good time that your bad mood dissipates. You pull up a stool and Xander wraps an arm over your shoulder.

“We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” Xander says. He’s got a fruity cocktail in front of him that makes you smile.

“I got a little held up. I’m going to get a drink. Does anyone else want anything?”

“I’ll take a margarita,” Dawn says hopefully, and you narrow your eyes until she revises. “A coke would be good.”

“Uh huh.”

You drape your jacket over your stool and stand back up. On your way to the bar, you spot Buffy and Riley on the dance floor. They look a little stiff, but you’re proud of them for making an effort. Things between them have been tense ever since Faith slept with him.

Thinking of Faith makes your need for a drink extra strong. You throw back a shot at the bar and then get another to go, almost forgetting to grab Dawn’s soda. The bartender is flirty tonight. He’s cute, clean-cut. You’ve seen him around before, always hard at work, making people laugh with his jokes and getting them to open up. If you didn’t have Spike, you’d take the number he slides your way. As it is, you shake your head and smile.

“Sorry,” you say, and he seems to understand, going back to mixing drinks and chatting up customers. It’s nice, to have someone take your no at face-value for once.

When you get back to the table, you’re surprised to see Spike in your spot. Even though his discomforted expression verges on constipated, he’s carrying on a conversation with Xander. Well, they’re bickering, but you know for a fact that Spike could be a lot more cutting if he wanted to.

You slide Dawn’s coke across to her and flick Xander’s ear when he insults your boyfriend.

“Hey!” He clasps his hand to the reddened cartilage and Anya rubs his shoulder soothingly, although the corners of her lips twitch.

The aren’t any chairs left and the table isn’t all that big anyway, so you stay standing, watching Spike’s face intently when your sister launches into a story about a friend of a friend at school who swears the girls’ bathroom is haunted. He’s nodding in all the right places, interjecting with “bullshit!” and “bloody hell!” to egg her on. He’s laying it on a bit thick, really, but it warms you better than the alcohol.

Dawn’s eating it up, though. She’s not often the center of attention for anything mundane. It’s always about her being the key, never about her as a person. Xander’s rolling his eyes at Spike’s sudden rapt attention, but you think it’s sweet.

When Tara makes a joke that no one else gets, Spike booms with laughter. When Willow goes off on a tangent about her computer class, he almost nods his head off. Finally, the group dissolves as Xander and Anya sneak off to have sex and Willow and Tara twirl on the dance floor.

You stay with Dawn, unwilling to leave her on her own with Glory around. Spike keeps the conversation flowing, but his questions about school are clumsy and his small talk is bumbling. It’s endearing for awhile, how little he understands today’s education system, but you turn the topic to generalities when Dawn kicks you under the table. She respects Spike, in her own strange way, and she’ll be embarrassed if he knows how poorly she’s doing.

Then it’s all favorite movies and gossip and dirty jokes, keeping the conversation light even as you have to shout to be heard over the music. You don’t even tell him off when he details one of his old world murders to Dawn, figuring that she’ll hear—and see—worse in her lifetime.

When Buffy and Riley come back to the table for a breather, the awkwardness creeps back in. After Spike flounders for the fourth time while trying to find a safe ground to land on, with Buffy and Riley both giving him the stink eye, you drag him off to a more secluded spot under the stairs.

“I promise I wasn’t trying to offend Sargeant Square,” Spike says, holding up his hands. “I thought everyone liked to bitch about work. I didn’t know he had been demoted.”

Instead of answering, you rise up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his mouth. His hands cup your cheeks automatically, but before he can pull you into something more heated, you lean back.

“I want to say thank you, before I forget,” you say. You wrap your arms around his waist, slip a hand into his back pocket teasingly. “And I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t do it for them.” His fingers trail down your neck, tangle briefly in your hair, squeeze your curves. Everyone’s too drunk to notice or care what you’re doing, so you allow it. “I still don’t like them.”

“That’s okay. We’ll work our way up to that.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s not in a bad mood, so you push your luck with a cheeky smile. “I can’t be your only friend.”

He scoffs. “I have lots of friends. You’ve just— you’ve never met them, because they’re dangerous.”

This strikes you as funny and you kiss him again, longer this time. Being here under the stairs, buzzed, wearing an outfit that’s maybe slightly too revealing, finding a slice of peace in the middle of a war, it’s all so good. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you’re so happy. You need to tell him something, but you don’t know if you have the words to convey exactly what you want. You try anyway.

“The bartender hit on me earlier.”

Spike grins unexpectedly. His teeth seem very sharp. You’re worried he might have eaten the man somehow when you weren’t looking when he says, “I saw.”

“I want you to know I didn’t—” You’re not drunk, certainly not drunk from only two drinks even though they were Bronze strength, but it takes you a minute. “Guys like that used to be my type. But I didn’t even think about it. I only want you.”

“That’s the only reason why I didn’t kill him. That and the chip.”

“That’s not funny,” you say, but he’s holding you in his arms and smiling down at you like he’s going to swallow you whole and it is, a little, because for the first time you’re sure he doesn’t mean it. He trusts you. And you trust him.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t protest when he leaves to go buy you another drink.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Kinktober Day 1: Monster Fucking

I’m so sorry y’all

She had always been told not to be afraid. There was no moving shadow in her closet and there was no monster under her bed. Monsters weren’t real. She was safe. Nothing was going to get her.

But Helen knew they were wrong. 

She wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore. When she was very young, the sight of him or his shadow would make her heart race with anxiety and fear. But he never hurt her. On one occasion, she had tried to jump from her bed to run and had fallen and scraped her knee. The boogeyman had picked her back up and placed her in the bed and tucked her in.

When she was nine, she learned to stop talking about him. She had brought him up at dinner one time too many and her parents decided she was too old to still see monsters under the bed and in her closet. They sent her to a shrink who told her that the boogeyman was just a manifestation of her fears.

Helen didn’t like the psychiatrist. He was very sure of himself and very certain there were no such things as monsters.

But she knew better. 

She went home and went to bed, and sure enough, the boogeyman was there, standing in the doorway to her closet.

“Goodnight.” She told him softly.

The boogeyman was real. And, for whatever reason, he was stalking her.

And it didn’t matter where she went. She would spend the night with her grandparents and the boogeyman would follow, standing in the corner behind the door.

When she went away to summer camp, he would watch over her as she slept.

When she was thirteen and her parents divorced, he would follow her from house to house.

He became a more permanent fixture in her life than either of her parents.

Friends would come and go but the boogeyman was there to stay.

…

Things were fine, Helen thought. The boogeyman was real and he followed her but he was harmless. Like a benign tumor. Maybe he wasn’t the most pleasant thing in the world but she didn’t mind his presence.

Until she was sixteen.

Steven Richter had driven her home from school.

No one was home and she had invited him inside. One thing had led to another and studying had turned into Steven kissing her on her bed.

He was handsy and his tongue didn’t seem to know what it was doing but it was her first kiss and so she didn’t mind.

And then, in an instant, Steven was ripped off of her and thrown across the room.

He couldn’t see the dark shadow that stood in front of her, hands clenched in anger and fuming.

Steven had run.

She didn’t blame him.

“What are you doing?” She had screamed at the dark figure when they were alone, “We were just kissing!”

She hadn’t expected a reply and she was not met with one but, for the first time, she thought she could hear breathing coming from her boogeyman.

And Helen didn’t bring home a boy again.

…

She hadn’t known what to expect when she had gone away to college. She had asked him, late one night, just days before she was set to fly out to New York.

“Are you going to follow me all the way across the country?”

The boogeyman hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even moved from his spot, standing vigil over her room. 

The first day of orientation was a blur and she didn’t know what to expect. The entire day, it felt as if her heart was still in her chest, waiting and anticipating what would happen when she retired

And when she reached her room that night, she almost sighed in relief to see the boogeyman standing next to her new bed.

She smiled at him but said nothing. Her new roommate didn’t need to know that she saw things no one else did.

Helen climbed into bed and fell asleep knowing that she was safe.

…

His name was James and he was a junior. A pre-med student who read Dumas and Hugo. Yes, he was a bit pretentious, but he was nice enough. He asked her to come back to his apartment to listen to his vinyl collection and she had accepted.

She was an adult now and had only kissed one boy. Barely. It hadn’t taken long for the boogeyman to throw him from her.

But this wasn’t her apartment.

It wasn’t even James’ bedroom. It was a common room and his roommates were out as the vinyl played softly and they spoke of literature.

And Helen felt a hand on her shoulder. Strange, since she could see one of James’ hands in his lap, the other draped over the couch.

But sure enough, there was a weight trailing across her shoulder and gently caressing her neck.

He was there.

The boogeyman was in the room with them.

His hand curled around her throat, not hard enough to hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt her. But it was a warning.

If that boy touches you, I’ll kill him.

And Helen excused herself, feigning a headache and mourning the fact that her body ached to be touched. By someone. Anyone. Even a pretentious med student with atrocious taste in music.

She went home and locked the door, curling up on her bed.

Her roommate wasn’t home and so she spoke, “You can’t just hurt any boy who touches me.” 

And, of course, he doesn’t reply. It pisses her off. How dare he? How dare he interfere with her love life when he doesn’t even bother to speak to her. To communicate with her other than the odd comforting touch every few months or years.

A tear slips from her cheek and she feels a weight pressing against her back, wrapping itself around her. The tear is wiped away and Helen leans back into the boogeyman.

“You can’t just keep me forever.” She whispers and the arms around her tighten.

Helen swallows.

Of course, that’s what he intends.

…

Helen throws herself into her studies. She isn't sure what else to do because relationships are off the table so long as the boogeyman is watching her.

Even friends are kind of hard because the boogeyman is such a big part of her life and she can't even mention him.

In her senior year, her roommate had friends over and Helen found herself dragged into a game of never have I ever.

And, of course, it was came up. She thought about lying but after half a dozen rounds, Helen still had all her fingers up.

"What, are you a virgin?"

And what could she say?

Sorry, I'm in a long term relationship with thr monster under my bed? He's super possessive and has no problem hurting guys I'm interested in?

Its not like she can just explain to others why she doesn't even go on dates.

So she admits to it and puts up with the teasing and, when she goes to bed, tears in her eyes, he is there. She feels the bed dip and he strokes her hair until she falls asleep.

…

She gets a small apartment after college. It has one bedroom and it smells a bit like mildew but its cheap and its hers and she doesn't have to worry about anyone hearing her talk to the monster that follows her around 

He likes the space, she thinks. And she sets a chair up for him next to the bed and idly wonders if she's losing her mind. Is this encouraging him?

But she leaves it and when she wakes up at 2am, thr boogeyman is sitting and watching her.

In the morning, her coffee is prepared in a to go mug that she most certainly hadn't set out.

And just like that, something has changed. The boogeyman is her… friend.

…

Seasons change but the boogeyman doesn't. He still looks the same as he always has. Like a dark shadow that comes and goes corporeally. Sometimes there's a face and sometimes there's a shadowy blur. She decides that she likes his face.

It has high cheekbones and a dark beard. Its lips look soft and, sometimes, she its eyes look kind.

Deprived of touch and attention, she closes her eyes and imagines that face while she showers.

Its… nice but lacking.

At work, a nice man asks her to dinner and she declines, only to go home and have dinner on thr couch with the boogeyman next to her.

Helen tries not to think how much power she has given to her personal monster.

…

She turns twenty-six and something in her breaks. Twenty-six years old and she remains a virgin. Twenty-six and she has only had one sloppy kiss.

And it strikes her that it has been ten years since anyone has kissed her.

And it isn't fair.

She doesn't go home after work. She goes to a bar and drinks until the pain in her heart has dulled.

When a stranger propositions her, she doesn't have the mental capacity to remember what her monster is capable of and she takes him home.

The door to her apartment closes and he pushes her into it and presses his thin lips to hers.

She opens her mouth to deepen the kiss but he is ripped away. Helen opens her eyes in time to see red flash in her monsters eyes as the stranger slides across the floor and into the wall.

"Are you serious?" She screams at the monster. 

The stranger staggers to his feet, looking where she does but seeing nothing.

"You're fucking crazy bitch!"

And she shouldn't have said that because her monster flashes with anger yet again and charges at the stranger. He is lifted off the ground by the throat and held up to the wall.

The stranger grips at his throat but he cannot seem to breach thr touch of her monster.

"Put him down!" She shouts at him. "Fuck! Just let him go!"

The boogeyman looks back at her, making eye contact before releasing the stranger to crumple on her floor.

"Run." She tells him and he wastes no time, staggering to thr door and slamming it behind him. 

When the door has closed she looks back at the boogeyman. "Fuck you! I don't belong to you!"

And, of course, he says nothing. Which only adds to her anger.

"Im twenty-six years old and I am tired of never having been really kissed or fucked by anything other than my own hand! So if I go out to get fucked, that is my goddamned right!"

She doesn't seem him move so much as she sees a blur of darkness and she feels her back hit the wall.

A hand is around her throat but this is not like what she has just seen. He is not hurting her, just pinning her in place.

The darkness seems to fade and she sees the outline of his face. Sharp and dark and angry.

"No one touches what's mine." He growls and the voice is deep and gravelly and it makes every hair stand on end.

Her mouth opens in shock and a tongue forces its way in. It is strong  and thick and she nearly chokes as he claims her mouth 

Large hands grope at her flesh, grabbing at her hips, her waist. There is no mercy in his grip or in his touch.

She is lifted against the wall, opposite from where the stranger had hung minutes before. Helen gasps and the boogeyman steps into her space. Her arms wrap around him, as if she’s afraid he’ll drop her.

His dark lips form a smile and his head tilts to the side in curious wonder.

“You want to be fucked, Helen?”

Her breath stutters and a hand pushes her skirt up her thigh.

She looks between them and, sure enough, her monster looks more human than usual.  He is still half-shadow, but his anatomy resembles a human even if his skin feels… different. Thicker and a little leathery but soft.

Her skirt is around her hips and he rips the underwear off her body. Her arms tighten around him involuntarily at the shock.

There’s a sound from her monster, almost like a laugh, and his mouth descends on her neck. His teeth are sharp and they graze her skin so rough that she wonders if she’ll bleed.

But it doesn’t feel bad.

She looks at him and his eyes flash from black to red and back again. His hand moves and she looks down between them. A long, thick cock hangs between his thighs and… fuck, are they supposed to be that big?

But thoughts disappear from her head as his palm rests on her clit and his thick fingers tease her opening.

Helen gasps at the contact and John seizes the opportunity to push a finger fully inside her.

She cries out. It’s only a finger but it feels so good. It curls inside her and she leans into the wall, arching her back, as if she can get more of him into her.

“More!” She begs and tries to bounce on his finger.

The bogeyman growls and another finger breaches her core, stretching her. Helen keens at the contact. It’s a tight fit with both his thick fingers but she grinds down onto him while his thumb runs circles around her clit.

And fuck, she feels herself growing wetter, she feels herself getting hotter, and Jesus Christ. Has this been an option all this time? To have the boogeyman rocking up against her, inside her? 

Why the fuck hadn’t he?

Bastard.

Her arms rescind from around him and she grabs his face, bringing it to hers and she kisses him again. Fuck.

Why does a monster taste so damn good?

How is the boogeyman the best kisser she has ever had?

Probably because he wouldn’t let anyone else touch her.

But fuck…

Maybe she didn’t want anyone else to touch her if her monster kept rubbing her clit like that.

She licks his mouth, sucks on that thick tongue. She wonders what it would feel like between her thighs. Later.

If her monster had proven anything, it was that he wasn’t going anywhere.

She reaches down between them and wraps her hand around his cock, without looking away from his face. His eyes flash red again as she touches the appendage and she licks her lips. Her hand runs his length and back down.

He is hot in her hand and it almost seems to pulse.

The boogeyman bares his teeth at her and, fuck, that’s hot.

Helen feels her toes curl and, god, he speeds up his fingers. They thrust inside her quickly, making her moan. Her hand tightens around his length and her monster makes a sound like a purr.

She wants him.

Helen angles his cock up and the boogeyman moves his fingers, watching her carefully.

She slides the tip up her slit, coating him in the juices, before positioning him at her entrance.

Her monster leans forward and fuck. Fuck. 

His thick cock slowly slides into her, inch by inch. And it hurts and it’s glorious and she has never felt so full in all her life. A sound escapes her throat and she’s not even sure what it is but she knows that the boogeyman feels incredible.

Helen’s arms slip back around him as he gently thrusts into her. 

“Fuck!” She moans and the boogeyman quickens his pace, growling again as he pushes himself deep inside of his woman. His. She has been his for years, even if she hasn’t admitted it.

He chose her.

He stayed with her.

No one got to touch her.

No one but him.

The boogeyman keeps his hips moving, fucking his sweet girl. Listening to the moans and the keens that stem from those sweet, plump lips.

Helen squeezes around him and he pushes her harder into the wall. Her soft, little body is rocked between it and him. 

Helen swears again, pressing her head into the crook of his neck as he continues to abuse her little body. 

He thrusts so hard she wonders if she might break, still she begs him for more.

"Harder! Fuck!"

The sounds her monster makes are not human but she can't bring herself to care as he fucks her harder and faster and pleasure builds within her until she can barely breathe.

Helen screams as her orgasm rushes her, hitting her like a freight train. And still, the boogeyman keeps going. Still pumping inside her.

He grabs her hair, suddenly, and yanks her head to the side exposing her neck.

She whimpers in pleasure before it turns to a scream as he bites into her neck.

The world fades after that.

…

He doesn't sleep but, after that night, he spends every night in her bed. She sleeps curled up to him and he holds her through the night. 

Her life slips into an easy routine. She wakes up and her monster makes her coffee. Then she goes to work and counts down the hours until she can go home. 

She eats dinner and then spends her nights alternating between Snuggling with the boogeyman on the couch and letting him fuck her into the mattress until she passes out.

When strangers ask her out, she tells them she is sorry, but she's taken.

It slips out one day, when she's being pressured at work but a man who doesn't believe her when she says she had a boyfriend.

"Well what's his name?"

"John."

Its the first thing she thinks and, when she tells him about it, he doesn't seem to mind. He especially doesn't mind when she cries out his new name while writhing under him.

People come and go.

But her boogeyman is there to stay.

He is no longer the monster under her bed; but in it.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

heartbeats and tangled sheets

Summary: It’s your birthday, and three men you’ve been seeing provide various gifts.

a/n: This is a birthday fic (belated as fuck) for @illneverrecover​ because I LOVE YOU BITCH I AIN’T NEVER GONNA STOP LOVING YOU BITCH

Warnings: not as much smut as one would think, oral (both m. and f. receiving), some exhibitionism and video sex, public sex, it got soft I’m SORRY JACKIE

Word Count: 2770

12:16AM, December 16th

It's late and you're in bed scrolling through your phone, hoping from a text from a certain someone that you shouldn't be waiting for. 

You shouldn't be waiting for anyone, you think, and you lock your phone with a heavy sigh and throw it down on the bed before hearing a ding and scrambling to pick it up again.

You up?

You roll your eyes but you're grinning ear to ear like an idiot. You are an idiot, but only for Kim Taehyung.

Before you can answer, his contact picture pops up on your screen, a picture you'd taken of him making a peace sign, which was basically every picture, the dork.

Your heart speeds up and you huff out a breath, irritated by how much just him calling affects you.

I shouldn't answer right away, you think, but you're already sliding to answer.

"What if I was sleeping?" You snark in greeting.

"Then I would have woken you up," he drawls, and his voice sounds gravelly, like he's tired or maybe been drinking.

It makes your heart flutter again.

"Jerk," you say, but there's no bite to it.

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs, and your heart, surely there's a physical problem. It shouldn't skip so many beats.

“Thanks, but you’re a little late, it’s after midnight.”

“Shit.” He chuckles low in his throat. “Guess I’ll have to make up for it.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Your skin is already tingling. He is able to affect you so quickly and it stresses you out.

“Hmm.” 

You wait for a long moment but then hear the beep of the phone hanging up and your mouth drops open. Did he just fucking hang up on you?

There’s five minutes of you being shocked and wondering if the call dropped and you should call back and then your phone starts buzzing again, a video call instead. It takes you a moment to answer, fumbling with your phone and grateful you hadn’t yet removed your makeup.

It’s dark at first, and you squint a little, until you see his arm, reaching over to turn on the desk light.

Taehyung smiles, big and boxy and open and there goes your heart flipping around again.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” you quip, and he laughs and then shifts, and the camera takes a moment to catch up but then you can see he’s in bed, under a white sheet. You can see the broadness of his chest, his collarbones, the line of his neck. He must have the phone propped up on a nightstand or something, because you have the most delicious view of his whole body, his face turned towards you as he lies flat on the bed.

“I didn’t exactly get you a present,” he continues, and the sheet shifts down to reveal the softness of his belly, the dusting of hair below his belly button, and then down further to reveal his cock, thick and heavy, slowly starting to plump.

Your mouth goes dry and you tilt the phone sideways to see better, shifting down in your bed. You’re wearing just a thin tanktop and panties to bed, and your nipples are already starting to harden.

You’ve been seeing a few guys in the past six months, and Taehyung is off and on, given his recent breakup. His sweet brown eyes were so soulful when he kissed your knuckles, told you that he wished he could give you more than stolen kisses and late night knocks on your door, and it isn’t as if you hadn’t heard that line before: I’m just not ready.

But Taehyung had looked so earnest, and you want to believe that when he is ready, you’ll be the first to know. For now, you’re content to keep things casual, since the sex is amazing and you enjoy his company.

“Are you really suggesting that your dick is a gift?” 

“Isn’t it?” He drawls, stroking the gift in question with two long fingers and his thumb, slow, showing off.

The words come out of your mouth before you can think differently.

"Fuck. You got me there."

Taehyung gives you that slow smirk, flicks his gaze down to your breasts and raises an eyebrow. 

"Hmm, my birthday but you want a show. Typical." You grin as you tug down your top, revealing your breasts and tugging at your nipples, excitement and pleasure pooling in your lower belly.

"Mmm," he agrees, never one to argue with you, unlike some other guys you've been seeing. You can think of one in particular.

It's always easy with Taehyung, always fun, and if your heart might long for more on occasion, it isn't too much. Not yet, anyway.

“My birthday is soon too, you know. What are you gonna get me?” He teases.

“My tits are a gift,” you murmur, bouncing them at the camera, and he doesn’t crack a smile, just watches them, tongue flicking out to wet his full lips, before his dark eyes flick back up to your face.

“Damn right, they are,” he says, agreeable as always, and groans low in his throat, bucking into his hand.

“Fuck,” you repeat. “Wish you were here.” You tilt backwards on the bed, your fingers itching to slip beneath your panties but you wait, watching his face. You love how he looks like this, eyes dark and half lidded, mouth parted, hair in his face, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones as he closes them only to open them again, pausing his strokes and panting.

He pouts a little. “Wish I was too.” His gaze moves downward to your waistband, where you’ve lit one of your hands, thumb under the elastic. “Show me.”

Your breath catches, that’s what you’d been waiting for, some kind of permission. 

You smile at the screen, holding your phone up and wishing you’d known to do this on your laptop. “Gonna be hard to see in the dark.”

“Turn on the lights,” he commands, just this edge of pleading to it, and God, that’s what you love about him. Well, one of the things.

You do as he says, turning on your desk lamp and moving the phone down to slide the crotch of them aside, his responding moan making your fingers itch to touch yourself, but like always, you wait until he tells you to, asks you to, in that low tone of his that’s commanding yet somehow still agreeable.

A contradiction, your lover, one of your favorites.

After that it’s all a blur of pleasure, his words and deep moans, the slide of your fingers, not long enough to be his, not quite enough but it gets you there, his name on your lips as he tells you how beautiful you look, how much he wishes he could taste you.

You think about if he were there he’d slip your fingers into his mouth, suck while looking into your eyes until you’re panting and wanting him again and you whimper as you finally bring the phone back up to your face.

The way he looks makes you shudder with an aftershock of your orgasm, his mouth parted and panting, come painting his belly.

“When are you back in town?” You gasp.

He smiles. “I’ll call you.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling back. He talks to you into the wee hours of the morning, sweet and soft after, face close to the camera.

Sometimes he calls, sometimes he doesn’t, but you’ll be waiting either way.

10:02PM, Dec 15th

Going out for your birthday is a tradition among you and your friends, and given how hard you’d all worked this past year, it’s a given that you’re all going all out.

There’s preparation in terms of travel, knowing few of you will be sober enough to drive, mini bottles of liquor to pregame on the way there, condoms thrown into purses and your phone chargers in case of overnights.

As a result of those mini bottles and the high energy of your friends, you’re tipsy and loose when you arrive at the club, and the flashing lights and hype music only serve to make you smile more, dirty dancing with your friends and making eyes at all the cute guys at the club.

You're taking a break from dancing, surely sweating off your makeup and sitting at the bar to order a water when you hear a familiar voice.

"Heard it was your birthday."

You don't turn but you feel the corner of your mouth turn up. "That it is."

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Out with the girls. No boys allowed.”

You hear him step closer behind you. “It’s your birthday. You can do whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally.

"How old are you now, noona?"

You swear you can hear the smirk in his voice, how he's moved closer behind you. You can smell his cologne, the leather polish he uses on his shoes.

"Shut up, Seonghwa," you mutter, and that does nothing to dissuade him, he puts his hands on your waist, rests his chin on your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

"Wanna sit on my face to shut me up, noona?"

It doesn't come to that, because you're in a club and you somehow hardly ever make it to a bed with Seonghwa, always too riled up, his hands all over you at a bar, a club, the backseat of an Uber.

He's young and eager and mouthy and above all else, hot, so you can't say you complain.

You hate/love the way your name sounds on his lips, the way he always always adds noona in the sweetest croon.

It's infuriating how the sound of it makes you wet, his breath hot on your neck.

"You're so hot, noona, always so wet for me."

"Who says it's for you?" You snark.

He lifts his head, perfectly styled hair falling into his face from the humidity of the club, your ass against the bathroom stall door, his hands under your thighs, near constant smirk on his face.

"It is tonight," he murmurs, and you bite his lip bloody, striking like a snake, wriggling your hips under him.

He laughs into your mouth before he slides down to his knees, hooks your knees around his shoulders and buries his face beneath your skirt.

You were surprised, the first time, surprised because he was handsome and knew it, and usually guys like that weren’t great in bed, used their looks to get laid instead.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, prided himself in being good in bed, the best, he says, making you roll your eyes.

Sometimes he’s even sweet after, kissing along the side of your neck, along your collarbone, but usually it’s just snarky words, hard kisses, his long fingers hooked in your panties or that pretty dick of his in your mouth.

You hadn't even let him inside you yet, after two weeks of hooking up in clubs. It's more fun this way, you think. You love the way he looks when you're on your knees, his sharp jaw as his head tilts back, the way his hips twitch when you drag your manicured nails down his thighs.

He laps at your clit until your thighs are shaking around his head, his hands under your ass, kneading the flesh.

You cry out curses that are mostly drowned out by the music before he lowers you to the ground, licking his lips, that ever present smirk at the corners of that perfect mouth.

He’s got his hands on his belt and his mouth on your throat when you push against his chest, tottering only a little on your heels.

Seonghwa cocks his head, and you can’t help but giggle a little at his expression. Not many women tell him no, you’d imagine, not with that face.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this,” he pouts, gesturing down to the tent in his slacks.

“It’s my birthday,” you parrot. “I can do whatever I want.”

You feel him watching you when you head out of the bathroom and back into the club.

6:32AM, Dec 16th

There’s a banging on your door and sunlight is streaming through your window and you know if you roommates wake up there will be hell to pay so you grumble and roll out of bed.

You’d slept in your makeup from the night before so you wipe at your eyes before you jerk open the door.

When you see who it is you hiss out his name and jerk him inside.

“I swear to God if you’re drunk at my door at 6am ON MY BIRTHDAY-”

“It’s not your birthday,” he pants, seeming out of breath. “And I’m not drunk, I’m just tired, I flew the redeye but I had a layover and-”

You stare at him while he explains the whole ordeal and finally take his hand and lead him to your room so that your roommates won't wake up yelling.

He’s still babbling when you close your bedroom door.

It isn’t as if he doesn’t always talk a lot of shit, but usually it isn’t all sweet and apologetic like this, it’s usually sharp words from the both of you and sometimes dramatic arguments outside of clubs because to be honest, you drive each other crazy.

To be honest, neither of you seem to want to stop driving each other crazy.

You’ve been seeing Baekhyun off and on for a year now, ever since you’d moved for work, and even with both of you having crazy schedules you manage to see each other more than you see anyone else that you’ve gone out with.

You can’t deny that you’d looked out for him to call or at least text the day before.

“And my phone died and there weren’t any outlets-”

“Baek,” you say softly, and he finally closes his mouth. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He sits down on the bed in a slump and you bounce.

“No, what, you think I was waiting for you to call?” You nudge his shoulder with yours.

“Yes,” he says, nudging you back, and you scoff.

“I went out with the girls. We had fun.”

“I wanted to spend your birthday with you,” he whines, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

He’s said things, sometimes, when you were arguing or sometimes pillow talk, panting against your skin, kissing a line down your spine, that made your heart skip, but never like this, never sober and in daylight and without so much as a hungry kiss.

It makes your heart skip, and when you’re sober and in daylight and without so much as a hungry kiss, it makes you a bit scared.

Baekhyun shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, not even a drop,” he mumbles. “Didn’t sleep though, except a little on the plane.”

“You didn’t even bring me anything?” You ask incredulously. “You flew what, 13 hours just to come and be a sap?”

He lifts his head and you turn to look at him.

He does look tired, his clothes rumpled, bags under his eyes, but he looks earnest, too, and your heart does a little flip in your chest.

“Yeah, I did. You know how I-” he stops, closes his mouth, flops down faceup on your bed.

“How you what?” You ask curiously, straddling his lap and looking down at him.

Baekhyun shakes his head, his mouth in this little pout. 

“It’s my birthday,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss that pout. “You have to tell me.”

He huffs out a breath, puts his hands on your hips, skating them up your body. He lands on your waist, flips you over and kisses you hard, like you’re used to, like you expect from him.

You mewl into his mouth but he pulls away, presses his forehead to yours.

“You know how I feel,” he says softly, and oh, your heart.

You’ll think about that later, though, think about why your heart speeds up not just when he tugs your breasts out of your tanktop or when his fingers slide beneath your panties, but when he brushes his nose along your neck, tells you how sorry he is that he missed your birthday. 

You’ll think about it later, for now you’ll enjoy your belated birthday present, which is how warm your chest feels after you’re both spent and he’s spooning behind you, kissing the back of your neck, how hard you laugh at this story he tells you about the airport and how he’d slid down the escalator.

You’ll think about it later, when you have time to be scared you might be in love.

[haileygarciasunshine]

About Last Night

Pairing: Adam Driver x Reader

Word Count: 1,602

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking

Requested: Yes🥰

“We need to talk about what happened last night.”

“Y/N! Wake Up!”

Jessica banged on your bedroom door, rudely waking you up.

“I’m up, I’m up!” Your voice laced with annoyance.

You and Jessica had been friends for the past two years. She was a great friend, but she always had this habit of making the worst decisions, that would leave you to become the problem solver in the friendship.  

Groaning, you were not a morning person. Looking over at your alarm clock it read 7:00am. Thankfully you had the next few days off. Just like clock work, you could hear two voices arguing over the Vampire Diaries. Staring at the ceiling, you were wondering why you had given your two best friends keys to your apartment, since they were constantly over every day. They were over so much, a majority of their belongings, were at your apartment, rather than theirs.

“Dude! There is absolutely Elena should’ve ended up with Stefan!” Jessica huffed out in annoyance. 

“Dude!” Adam’s tone mocking Jessica’s, “Why should she end up with Damon! Stefan is better for her.”

The day had only just begun, and you were already getting a head ache. Pinching the bridge of your nose, sighing in frustration before you interjected, “Guys! Can we not do this today? The last time you two argued about the Vampire Diaries, neither of you spoke to each other for three weeks!”

Both of their heads snapping towards you.

“It wasn’t my fault!” they both replied in unison.

“I don’t care whose fault it is, I’m ending it.” You replied sassily, making your way over to the coffee pot, before Jessica said, “Someone’s crabby this morning.”

“Gee. I wonder why that is. One of my best friends banged on my door to wake up rather than waking me up like a civil human being, while the other,” you turned to glare at Adam, before continuing, “decided to strike up the age old Vampire Diaries argument.”

“You’re not wrong.” “Yeah, sorry.” They both apologized at the same time. 

“Now, please tell me why, both of you are here on my weekend off.”

“That’s why were here, to pppaaarrrttyyyyyyy!” Jessica said in her best Kristen Wiig voice. 

“You’ve seen Bridesmaids way too much.”

“It’s a life style. Don’t judge.” 

Putting your hands up in surrender, she busted with laughter. 

“Alright, peace out Bitches.”

Both you and Adam looked at each other in confusion.

“Some of us,” she started, as she made her way to collect her purse, “have to work on Fridays. Y/N, I’ll see you tonight for Girls Night. Bye, Adam.” With that Jessica, left your apartment.

“So....” you say awkwardly, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“So...” Adam said awkwardly.

Realizing you were still in your pajamas you said, “I’m gonna go, get dressed. It’s your pick today.”

“YES!” Adam maneuvered his way to the couch and made himself confortable.

Chuckling you left the kitchen. Adam was your best friend, but you also had feelings for him. He was practically your dream guy but made into reality.

Adam was an excellent actor. He was the most humble Hollywood actor you’ve ever met regardless, of him being the only actor you’ve ever met and became friends with. His successes made you over the moon. Jessica was always trying to tell you that Adam shared your feelings, but you always rejected her opinion the subject. She was your best friend and she didn’t want you to get hurt.

While you were changing, you suddenly thought of how weird Adam was being lately. Normally, he had coffee every day in a to go cup from the small mom and pop coffee shop that was down the street. The last few weeks, he’s been having coffee at your apartment or not at all.

Shoving the thought from your mind, you made your way to sit on the couch next to Adam.

“Hey.” He said a smile.

“Hey, yourself.” You replied softly.

Adam decided on Bobs Burgers, knowing that it was a favorite of yours. It didn’t take long, before you noticed his actions. He had begun leaning towards, which caused him to fulling lean on you, with his shoulder touching yours. Not wanting him to move, you didn’t say anything while smiling to yourself.

About two hours later, and a plethora of different positions on the couch, you finally settled with bunch your legs up leaning against Adams thigh. His right arm, was lazily draping over your legs. Neither of you said anything in fear of the other moving.

You weren’t sure when, but hours later you and Adam had cuddled up on the couch. He was laying behind you fast asleep, spooning you from behind with his face nuzzling your ear. Your heads resting on your extended arms, opening your eyes you saw your fingers intertwined with each other.

Suddenly, Jessica bursted through the door startling you. Adam, was still sound asleep.

“Y/N!” She whisper yelled, “he does like you!”

“Jessica!” You hissed in annoyance, “now is not the time!”

Eventually, Adam woke up and decided he should leave. Jessica kept pestering you, about how he didn’t want to leave.

After you both got ready for your ‘Girls Night’, Jessica was overwhelmed with excitement. She had been trying to get you to go out with her for week. Apparently, there was a new up and coming bar she wanted you to try out.

It was well into the night, and you were beyond Tipsy. Suddenly, Adam showed up at the bar.

“Adam!” You squealed over the music, leaping at him. Thankfully he caught you, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He was chuckling that you were drunk and beyond thrilled to see him, “Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What about Jessica?”

“I’ll have the bartender make sure she gets a cab.”

“Okay.” You replied placing a kiss on his cheek before he put you down.

Adam was able to get you up the stairs, with minimal stumbling on your part. He considered this to be a small victory.

Leading you to your bedroom, he asked, “Do you think you can change by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m an adult!”

Laughing at your humor even though you were drunk, he left the room so you could change. After a few minutes went by, he knocked on the door before entering. You were already, crawling into bed.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh,” he started awkwardly, “that’s my shirt.”

“Oh,” you left out softly looking down at it, “Sorry, I, Uh, could take it off if you wa-“

Before you knew it, he had your head in his hands, moving you to look up at him, while you were still on your knees. He rested his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing with one another. Your hands traveling up to grip his wrists desperate for his touch. Ever so slowly, he inched his face closer to yours, lips barely touching yours. They felt like velvet, with warmth radiating off of them. Kissing him, felt like everything you’ve ever imagined.

Pulling away from the soft kiss, you moved so you were under the blankets, pulling Adam with you.

“I’ve waited so long for his,” he said while cupping your cheek in his hand, “I thought you didn’t want me.” He finally said while, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ve only wanted you Adam,” you murmured softly, “it’s always been you. I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too, Y/N. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Adam began kissing you again, it wasn’t until his tongue was exploring your mouth that he tasted the alcohol, remembering that he had picked you up from the bar only hours ago.

Pulling back slightly from the kiss, earning a whine from you, he began, “If you remember this tomorrow, and that’s a big if, we can talk about this..” sadness was evident in his voice.

The next morning, you woke up to a cold bed. Moving your arm next to you, to search for Adam, you were met with nothing but an empty space.

Groaning, you sat up in bed and looked over to the previously occupied spot. It was barely warm, which meant he hadn’t been up much longer before you. Suddenly, the smell of coffee brewing filled the air. You moved the blankets, to retreat from bed.

Adam was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching a nature documentary before you entered.

“Hey, you’re aw-mph”

You cut him off placing your lips over his, knowing he had widened eyes, you placed yourself in his lap wrapping and arm around his shoulder, while your other hand was tangeling itself into his long dark hair. Biting his bottom lip, he moaned at the sudden sensation, bringing his hands to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. Opening his mouth, he allowed your tongue to search his mouth. Your senses were overtaken by his sent, with each inhale you could smell his soap, his shampoo, his shaving cream. It was the most delicious smell. His tongue, was gentle yet demanding. The longer we kissed, the more the world fell away, leaving just the two of us entangled in each other.

Pulling the appendage from his throat, you both were out of breath.

“We need to talk about last night,” you panted out.

“Yes,” he planted in agreement, “We do.. Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

“I’m not busy tonight,” you replied

“Great. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

[shyvioletcat]

23. “Just pretend to be my date.” elorcan light the sparks

I’m getting really excited about this au, just FYI...

Masterlist

~~~~~

“All I’m saying, Lorcan,” Fenrys said around a mouthful of his sandwich, “Is that you should have some fun.”

“I don’t need your opinion, Moonbeam,” Lorcan bit back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When was the last time you went on a date? Or even just, you know,” Fenrys asked after swallowing his sandwich then waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What if I don’t want to date?” Lorcan countered.

Now Vaughan lent forward, brows high. “Is that true? Don’t lie to us.”

Great now they were ganging up in him. Lorcan stayed silent, but that was answer enough for them it seemed.

“Come out with us tonight then,” Fenrys said. “See what we can find.”

Lorcan just rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to see what he could find, he knew what he wanted. He just didnt know how to get it.

“We’ll all go!” Vaughan suggested eagerly.

Rowan scoffed from where he sat. “No thank you.”

“Wedding planning, is it?” Fenrys said.

“As a matter of fact yes,” Rowan admitted, but didn’t seem disappointed by the fact.

“Already on a tight leash then. Such a good dog,” Lorcan muttered.

“There’s no leash,” Fenrys chimed in. “The lucky bastard is just in love.”

Rowan grinned. “Exactly.”

“Rowan’s out, but everyone else is in, no buts,” Fenrys declared fixing Lorcan with a stare that told him he would not give up until he agreed to come.

“Fine,” Lorcan growled.

~~~~~

They had ended up in a bar on the nicer side of town. The place was brighter, smelled cleaner, than some of the other places they frequented. Drinks were a little more expensive but they tasted better too.

The night was turning out as miserable as Lorcan felt, the skies were letting out a downpour. So much so the steady stream of rain could just be heard over the music and the voices. Well, from where Lorcan was sitting at by bar. By the door. It wasn’t even late yet but lorcan as considering leaving, they’d come here as soon as their shift had finished and they’d been here for a while. Fenrys, Connall and Vaughan had all gone chasing after one drink, and that was when Gavriel had excused himself, claiming he was too old for such pursuits. He was probably right.

So that left Lorcan to mope at the bar by himself, pointedly ignoring anyone who looked his way. He’d been nursing the same drink the whole time, no desire to lose himself in alcohol tonight. 10 more minutes and then he’d go, Lorcan decided.

There was a burst of noise from the door as it opened. The rain must be pelting down outside. The emergence of a soaking wet figure confirmed his suspicions. It was a woman, most likely ducking in here to escape the weather. It took him a second to recognise the small figure and dark hair, but when she turned Lorcan looked away quickly.

It was Elide.

He didn’t know what to do, whether or not he should call her over. He took a glance around the bar, all his friends were occupied. But then his eyes connected with someone else, someone who was vaguely familiar. She was pretty with red hair, and she smiled at him when she caught him looking. She was one of the girls from that night they’d gone out for Vaughan’s birthday. One of the girls Aelin had lied to. She was part of the reason he hadn’t dated in a while, the redhead and her friend seemed to know everyone and spread the false information around.

But the way she was looking at him, the way she smiled as she began to stalk over to him, she either forgotten or didn’t care. Lorcan looked away, hoping that she would take the hint. He chanced another glance at Elide and it seemed she had spotted him too, because she gave him a smile and flicked her wet hair over her shoulder and started walking towards him as well.

And here he was. Caught in the middle. What cruel twist of fate was this?

He hoped Elide would reach him first, leaving the redhead to take the hint and leave. But given her behaviour with Rowan the last time, he wasn’t too hopeful in that regard. He’d been all too eager to chase her that night, but once was enough when it came to dealing with her vapid personality.

Elide did reach him first, soaked to the bone but still smiling. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said as she occupied the empty stool beside him.

Lorcan glanced over his shoulder and Elide followed his gaze. As he had suspected the redhead hadn’t given up her pursuit. Elide didn’t baulk though, she just asked, “Not a friend, I assume?”

Lorcan shook his head, “No.”

Elide gave him a smile he couldn’t read, then she put her hand palm up on the bar counter and wriggled her fingers. Then she whispered, “Just pretend to be my date.”

~~~~~

Elide thought she had sent Lorcan into shock from the look on his face. It took him only half a moment to comply though, and more gently than she expected he took her hand. She gave him a smile that she had seen Aelin give Rowan a hundred times, and he returned it with what could only be described as a grimace. That had Elide had laughing, louder and more obnoxiously that she would normally but the non-friend redhead had reached them and it was time for a show.

“Hey, handsome,” she said, ignoring Elide completely.

Elide moved their entwined hands to draw her attention to them and she saw the redhead’s eyes narrow.

“This new? I don’t remember you being attached last time we met,” she said with a disarmingly pretty smile and a tilt of her head.

“Very new,” Lorcan said, as he gave Elide a sideways glance. No doubt meant to be endearing, but he just looked awkward.

Elide held in her sigh, she needed to get this over with before Lorcan blew their cover with his tactlessness.

“If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of something,” Elide lent her chin on Lorcan’s bicep. Good gods, he was solid muscle.

The redhead’s eyes flashed with a flicker of anger, she’d lost and she wasn’t happy about it.

“Just some advice,” she said, a look of triumph on her face replacing the anger. “You might want to make sure he gets checked before take it all the way.” Then she gave a pointed look at Lorcan’s crotch and his face went a deep shade shade of red.

Elide watched her walk away, brows high and a slightly incredulous look on her face as she sorted through exactly what the slighted woman had implied. Lorcan dropped her hand as the redhead disappeared from sight. That made Elide look at him.

“What —“

“Nothing,” Lorcan said and took a sip of his drink.

“As your girlfriend a think I’m entitled to know,” Elide said, failing to stop her amused smile.

“It’s not true,” Lorcan said.

Elide elbow on the bar. “What, pray tell exactly, isn’t true?”

Lorcan turned towards her, not returning her smile which only made Elide smile more.

“We were out for Vaughan’s birthday a few months ago. Her and her friend joined us. They were pretty keen on Rowan and when Aelin came to pick him up she got angry. I called her a bitch, she told them I had herpes.”

Elide tipped her head back and cackled. Then asked through her laughter, “What?”

“She told them I was her ex and that I’d given them to her. I swear it’s not true,” Lorcan said so earnestly Elide almost felt sorry for him.

“Well,” Elide said but started laughing again. Lorcan’s lips twitched up in a ghost of a smile, then he turned to her.

“What has you stumbling in here soaking wet?”

Elide had been so distracted by the recent events she had almost forgotten about her sodden state. “I was heading for the bus top to get home and the rain came out of no where, this was the first place I could find that was open. Did you know there are practically no awnings along this entire street?”

“I did not,” Lorcan added. Then there were a few beats of awkward silence before he said. “Do you want a ride home?”

The offer came as a surprise and Elide sat up a little straighter.

“I don’t want to ruin your night by ending it early, I can just wait the rain out,” Elide said, now feeling a little awkward herself.

“I was about to leave anyway,” then when he saw her questioning look he added, “truly.”

Elide thought for a moment, the rain was coming down pretty heavily and the streets were getting slick. She really didn’t live that far.

“Yeah, okay. That would be great.”

~~~~~

You’ll find the incident Lorcan is referring to in the Drabbles section of the Striking Matches masterlist under drunk Rowan says the wrong thing. 

Tags:

@fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @average-girl-at-best // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @ladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @lovemollywho // @someonemagical // @ella-enchanted27 // @littlehoneyybee // @artic-rowan // @acer6437 // @ariadneswake // @exersize-me-i-dare-u // @clockworkgraystairs // @chemicha // @wifeofchrishemsworth // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd

[hyucksong]

to all the boys i’ve loved before; mark lee

Dear Mark,

     You know what Mark Lee? Fuck you. You’re a piece of shit and I should’ve known that you were a lying bitch when I saw you stare at that waitress for too long. I should’ve known that there was something you weren’t telling me because she looked at you like an old friend. But you insisted that you didn’t know her.

     Fuck you.

     I hope you can sleep with yourself at night knowing that you wasted my Senior year with fake love. I can’t believe I gave you my first kiss. I can’t believe we made out after prom. I can’t believe I snuck out of the house for someone like you. I can’t believe that you were the first person I actually dated. I can’t believe I told you I love you. 

     I hope the waitress-ex-girlfriend hybrid kisses better than her pancakes. I hope breaking my heart was worth it, Mark Lee. 

     Because it definitely doesn’t feel worth it on my part. I regret everything, Mark Lee. I hope your story ends with your kingdom falling apart. 

Dear Mark,

     Looking back, my anger was a little hypocritical. I knew better than anyone how love and denial made you do stupid things -- made you do things you regret or regret things you didn’t do. I get it.

     At the same time, it hurt. Maybe if I was a rebound that lasted only a few weeks, it’d hurt less. But you lied to me for a whole year. From August to May. You told me you loved me. You lied. 

     To be fair, I lied too. I told myself that Chenle was a thing of the past all throughout Junior year and that nothing was going to get in the way of my grades. Forget Chenle and Jisung, Haechan, Jaemin, or Jeno. That was supposed to last until graduation. Then in step you. The boy next door. Love of my Senior Year.

     But let’s be real. Forgetting someone and the love you held for them after five-plus years is impossible, we both know that. I may have been your rebound, but God knows you were probably just the same to me. I just never admitted it to myself. But kissing your ex at my graduation party wasn’t cool. Not at all. Even though we may have just been rebounds, I like to think we still meant a lot to each other. I mean, we kissed and stared into each other’s eyes. We held hands and sat in comfortable silence. We laughed at stupid things together -- hell, you met my parents. That’s got to mean something, right? 

     I hope it did. Because you’re an amazing guy; your giggly and timid persona, your quirky habits, your willingness to listen to me rant for hours on end, your insecurities and the way you shared them with me -- I hope none of that was fake. And remembering the way you couldn’t even lie to me for my surprise birthday party, I don’t doubt that at least those parts were real. Maybe if you weren’t so great, I’d actually hate you for cheating. But...there’s something about you that I just... can’t.

     Regardless of what I said in my last letter, I’ve never regretted dating you. Our fairytale was great while it lasted. I almost didn’t hear the clock strike twelve. But it struck.

     I hope you got your fairytale, though. I hope you found the girl that fits into your glass slipper. You’re an amazing guy, even with your flaws and mistakes. Just hope you didn’t lose a Cinderella for an evil step-sister on accident. 

Love, Y/n.

///a scene from the heart///

     Was this what you were missing out all those years of chasing boys who didn’t love you back? Were you missing the wind in your hair and the loud 90′s music blasting from a beat-down convertible? Because if so, you wished that Mark Lee would’ve appeared in your life earlier. 

     He was driving on the interstate, his hand on your thigh and your bags in the back of his trunk as you both rode your way to the beach for spring break. You had turned eighteen and he told you that “he wanted to make it the most memorable spring break of your life,” word for word. You’d rolled your eyes when he first said them, but with his cute laugh resounding around your ears, you knew he wasn’t lying.

    “Mark,” you rested your chin on the center console, where his right elbow was resting. He took his eyes from the empty road and look at you, his gaze pointing to your lips before trailing up to your eyes. “Yes, baby?” The car slowed down a little as his attention was placed on you, dropping back down to the speed limit. You licked your lips and thought about your words before biting your bottom lip and hiding your smile. Strawberry lip balm filled your taste buds, but you weren’t paying attention to that. His attention made your ears turn red. No one ever treated you the way he treated you.

     “I love you, Mark.” 

     Even the music seemed shocked at your words, the background vocals gasping as the boy’s eyes widened. His hands seemed to loose from the steering wheel before the car began to drift to the side. A curse fell from Mark’s pretty lips and he put both hands on the wheel to correct the position -- but after the chaos toned down and your statement went un-responded to, you felt tears well in the corner of your eyes.

     “S-Sorry,” You laughed, beginning to sit up. “What -- n-no! No! I-I, uh,” Mark stumbled through his words but placed his hand back on your bare thigh. “Y/n, baby,” He tore his eyes from the road, again, “I love you, too. A lot, actually.”

     He seemed to notice the insecurity drifting in your eyes because then he placed his soft lips on yours. Even though it was probably against the law, his lips molded with yours for a solid second as you both tore through the intestate roads at 90 mph. He looked away the second he pulled from you, his red cheeks facing the road again. 

     You laughed, biting your cheek as your intertwined your fingers with his for the rest of the trip. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d make this spring break the most memorable one of your life. 

///a scene from a broken heart///

     The scene in front of your eyes was surreal. It was entrancing. The way the moonlight lit the background with a beautiful silver shimmer and the trees swayed like lovers in a dance. The way his arms held her face like she was the Hope Diamond, and he the thief. How she pulled him in so close that you could feel his heartbeat drum in tune with hers. 

     It would be even more entrancing if he weren’t Mark Lee and she wasn’t the waitress that served you cold pancakes at IHOP yesterday. You didn’t know what to feel. His lips were smeared with an annoying red as his hand moved from her face to her waist. You almost forgot it was your graduation party with the show going on in front of you. 

     I mean, if you were going to cheat, couldn’t you at least not do it in front of the chocolate fountain? 

     Chenle walked up to you with a smile on his face, his arms spread for a hug when he noticed your grip crushing the red solo cup you held. His gaze followed yours and his heart stopped. Oh. 

     “Screw Mark Lee.” You seethed, tears slipped furiously past your waterline, down your chin. “Screw Mark Lee.” You said a little louder. Chenle’s hand came to rest on your forearm before trailing down to your hand, trying to calm you down. “I knew he wasn’t good for you,” He muttered, giving the side-eye to the cheating boy. You paid no attention to the venom laced in his tone because your body shook too fervently with emotions you couldn’t recognize. Guilt? Sadness? Regret? Hatred? Relief?

     Understanding? 

     “Y/n, come on, let’s go. I’ll call Jisung and we can all spend the night at my house like the old times. Don’t pay attention to that asshole. I don’t know what happened between you and Jisung, but I’m sure that he won’t ignore you when you’re like this --”

     “I don’t want to.” Chenle’s grip fell, and his throat dried. “W-What, why?” His question was met with an eerie silence and more tears. 

     “Screw Mark Lee.” He sighed, shaking his head, “Y/n, please--” He pulled you in, but the warmth from his arm did nothing but make you angrier. 

     “FUCK YOU, MARK LEE!” You shouted, throwing your drink down and ignoring the cold splash against your bare leg. Mark’s eyes snapped open and towards the noise, freezing when he saw you. It was like seeing a deer in headlights. The waitress he was kissing looked at you too, apologetically, before leaning over to whisper something in the frozen boy’s ear and walking down your driveway to the familiar beat down convertible. 

     You let the staring contest continue with Mark before you started sobbing, snot and tears falling from your face as Chenle dragged you away and towards his car. People were staring and whispering, and you passed familiar faces like Jeno and Haechan (that you didn’t remember inviting) as you kicked and screamed, yelling about how you regretted spending the last year of your life with a cheating prick. 

     Mark didn’t move an inch from his spot as Chenle drove you away, a concerned hand rubbing your knee. Your sobs didn’t stop either. Your heart didn’t stop hurting until weeks later, but in a strange way, you were relieved. In a strange way, you understood. In a strange way, you were the same. Because the way your heart drummed as Chenle held you that night in a means to comfort you told you how things weren’t going to last with your Senior love.

     Everything came crashing down. All your walls, all your barriers. Every wall you built up with Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno, Jisung, and Chenle crumbled around you as Chenle whispered words in your ear and you cried into your pillow. As much as it hurt, and would hurt for a while, that last heartbreak cleared your slate. All the tears you’d been holding for years came and went. 

     It was a new beginning as the sun dawned on your fallen kingdom. It was time to start anew. 

///

masterlist

[headoverhiddles]

All Work, No Play - Jack Torrance x Reader

Synopsis: You investigate the Overlook alone one night, unsure of what you’ll find. 

Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN YA SPOOKY BITCHES!!!!!! 

It's Halloween night, and this probably wasn't a good idea.

The Overlook Hotel had withered and shrunk in on itself over the last decade of being empty. One too many murders, and the previous owners had given up-- the bad press had grown tiring, and a repeat offense couldn't simply be explained away as cabin fever this time.

There was something about the old Overlook, and as with any place attached to a grisly history, it had its divided theorists. Some say there's bad energy there-- that's what made him do it. Others say the ghosts roam freely, whispering to whoever stays there or enters the front doors. Most people just go with the rational excuse; it was a coincidence of mass psychosis.

You let the words ghost and psychosis rattle around in your brain as the chilly fall air sweeps you inside. You probably should've brought someone-- anyone. You hadn't even told a soul where you were... this was a very, very bad idea.

As you turn to leave though, the door shuts on its own. Doesn't slam; just closes softly. You swallow. I guess that's decided for me.

You take a few cautious steps inside the large hotel. It's dark, but there are candles, half melted down, that you can make out in the dark. Taking the matches out of your purse, you walk around, lighting each sconce.

Your nerves are overtaken by awe as the place lights up. It's absolutely beautiful. Fallen from grace, sure, but the cobwebs add to the antique novelty of the place. How more people don't go ghost hunting here on TV, or just for fun, astounds you. Maybe the rumors really are true, and madness prevents visitors from staying a whole night through.

"Hello?" you call, your heart rate spiking. There's a ballroom to your left, empty and thick with dust. Your heart gradually starts thumping against your chest with each step you take further, and you wipe your palms on your jacket. "Anybody here?"

The autumn wind answers you again, howling outside and rattling the windows. The place is huge. Thinking of the scope of it makes your head spin... there are hundreds of rooms, and each could be filled with hundreds of things.

A breeze blows behind you, but you're already on the stairs. Trailing your hand up the banister of the grand staircase, you start to smile. This is so spooky. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all--

You pause, eyes widening. What's that noise?

Tip. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tip tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

It sounds like a... typewriter?

"Hello?" you repeat. The echo of the old typewriter keys is all that remains of the disembodied noise.

Coming up to the second floor of the Overlook, you again marvel at the view out the window. The snow-capped mountains behind the place tower over the hotel, and it looks strangely serene, out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to look at it but you.

"I'm all alone," you remind yourself. Your voice sounds so out of place.

You walk down the hall, and head down to the room that the Grady murders supposedly happened in. You inspect the walls, hoping for just a little leftover blood, but they did a good job of cleaning up-- it just looks like a regular old room, with the aging 70s style decor.

Taking a peek in the bathroom, you hold your breath. The shower curtain is drawn, and by the ghost stories floating around about this place, there's supposed to be an old lady who haunts the bathtub. As you inch toward it, you swallow, remembering that if there is something horrifying behind this curtain, you've got a long way to run from it to the front door.

It's fine. It's fine. She supposedly appears as a regular lady until her skin starts to decompose, according to the legend. Still... seeing someone hiding in here wouldn't be the most comfortable thing, no matter what she looked like. You notice something dark moving behind the curtain, and your hands start to tremble.

"Oh god. I-I don't mean to disturb you," you toss out timidly, hoping that you'll at least warn the spirit (if there is one). Please don't let there be one... please, please...

You peel the shower curtain back, looking between your fingers... to find a missing tile, a swarm of cockroaches crawling around the hole in the wall. You make a face, rubbing your hands on your pants just in case, and back away. Well, no old lady. Just an old, infamous hotel room lost to the hands of time.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You whip around, to find nobody there. Another jump, as you hear the striking of a piano chord beneath the floor, just downstairs. Your brain instantly reaches for anything to make sense of it-- you left your phone downstairs by accident, and it started playing your classical playlist. No. There's a radio downstairs that... turns on by itself? No. There's an ice cream truck???

You frown at yourself for that last idea. Anyone would have to be crazy to drive all this way out to serve ice cream to some supposed ghosts. You're crazy for even attempting it yourself, especially at night. Then what about that hand, too?

You have to go see what made the sound.

As you walk slowly down the carpeted hall, you hear the music drift up. It's some sort of ballroom music. Descending the stairs, you bite your lip, chewing obsessively. Oh god, oh god. You really hadn't thought this through.

"Is there someone here?!" you call, "This place is... closed. I don't... work here, or anything." Then what are you doing here?

Having a happy Halloween, you argue with yourself. Right. If you survive the night.

You nearly stop breathing as you see what's going on. The ballroom that had previously been empty was now fully lit, golden, and open for business. Soft waltz music drifts out, and you put a hand on the entryway.

Ghosts.

You walk inside, looking around. There are no ghosts that you can see, but what else could have done this?

"Mr. Grady?" you ask, looking up at the ceiling, at everything you can take in. "Mr... Torrance?"

You sit down at the bar, and are amazed to find that it's fully stocked. You grin a little bit, feeling more excited now than scared to be experiencing all this, and walk around to the other side.

"Would you like a drink, Miss (y/l/n)?" you ask yourself in a posh accent, straightening your back.

"Don't mind if I do," you answer, pouring one.

"Make that two, would ya honey?"

You scream, and drop the bottle, hearing it smash at your feet. You turn around, to find a man sitting at the bar where you had just been.

"Who are you?" you breathe, white knuckling the shelf.

"Don'tcha know my name?" He gives a splitting grin, eyes ghostly shadowed, "You just called for me five minutes ago."

"Mr. Grady?" you ask cautiously, looking around to see if he had any weapons on him.

"The other happy haunt," the man continues to grin unnervingly, You don't dare blink or look away from him.

"Jack Torrance," you whisper. He laughs loudly, the booming sound filling the ballroom.

"That's me, honey. That's me. Stuck in this fucking place after an... unfortunate unfolding of events. Now, uh... if you don't mind honey, since you're on the other side of the bar already... would you swipe me a bourbon and make it neat?"

Shakily, you pour him his drink. You don't stop to question how you're talking to, and pouring a drink for, the ghost of an axe murderer.

"That's more like it," he nods, licking his lips. His eyes descend a little, and he hums. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" You blush a little bit. You had noticed he was pretty good looking as well, much more attractive than the legends paint him, but you're not about to admit that.

"I..." you mumble.

"What're you doing here tonight, Miss... what did you say your name was? Miss (y/l/n)?"

"(y/n)," you tell him.

"(y/n)," he muses. "Come sit. Can't tell why you'd wanna spend the night in a... run down old place like this hotel." His fists ball up. "These walls can drive a man mad. And, they did!" That laughter returns, before his face gets dead serious. "You know who I am, don't you?"

You swallow. "You murdered your family with an axe... just like the caretaker before you." He shakes his head adamantly, slamming his glass down and making you jump.

"I didn't kill them. I was told to... and I tried. God knows, I fucking tried," he grits his teeth, and takes another long drink of bourbon, "But sometimes, things are just out of your hands." He looks at you sideways. "You never answered my question. Why did you come here? Hm? To see little old me? Come see if the ghost stories are true?" He makes a 'wooo' sound, wiggling his fingers playfully. You shrug, unable to hide your nerves.

"Basically, yes. That's why I came."

"You're interested in ghost stories, are you?"

"Yes," you say.

"Fine, that's just fine. Interesting. My wife never liked them. She used to get squeamish, you see, whenever I would talk about anything that scared her. Everything scared her. Ghosts, spiders... me."

You walk around to the other side of the bar. "And why would she be scared of you?"

"Because I'm a scary person, (y/n)," Jack smiles. "Can't you tell?" He puts a hand on your knee, and your whole body goes frigid. You don't remove his hand, though. For a second, confusion flashes over Jack's face. He can't tell why you're not running, screaming. Now that you had adjusted to finding the very thing you came here to find, you weren't afraid anymore. He places the glass in front of you.

"Your turn. I think we have cause to celebrate."

You agree, and pour some of Jack's bourbon that would be very (very) nicely aged at this point. Lifting it to your lips, you appreciate the taste. It's probably the best bourbon you've ever had.

"Are you gonna keep me here?" you ask. Jack moves his hand up your leg slightly, looking down at it.

"That depends, sweetheart. I could keep you here for the night... just you and me, celebrate Halloween the old fashioned way, y'know..." He raises an eyebrow. "You know it has been a very long time for me."

"Aren't there other ghosts you can... pass the time with?" You start to worry. What if he wants permanent companionship? He could kill you!

"Let me put it this way honey. Ghosts making love to ghosts is like waving a hot dog around in the air," Jack mutters sarcastically, downing the last of his bourbon. You frown at that mental image, and decide then that killing you wouldn't be in his best interest, it seemed. He goes on. "No. I've missed feeling this. And you walk in here tonight, ready as can be to find some ghosts. Well, lucky me. You found one." He gives a big, playful smile, and you stand up.

"I came to look for ghosts," you say, voice low as you back up against the wall, "Not fuck them."

"Life is full of surprises, isn't it?" his grin grows, as he walks closer to you from the bar, "Or death is, I guess."

"Mr. Torrance," you say softly, "No matter what, I'll just have to leave in the morning."

"Then stay awhile," he grins, reaching his hand out. You look at it, listen to the ghostly noises echoing around you, and remember that you're standing in a hotel haunted by killers. Not bad looking ones, if Jack was anything to go by. Dammit, no!

"I guess I don't have to leave just yet," you cave, and take his hand. Just as you're about to close your fingers around his though, you start to feel a little dizzy. "Mmm," you moan, putting a hand on your chest. You start to cough, and your eyes close. You can see in your mind's eye, as clear as if you were looking at it, the elevator doors in the hallway opening, and a river of blood pouring out.

"Help, help, help," someone says, and you realize it's you. You start to cough, and see the same shade of red that came out of the elevators, in your palms.

"Drank the bourbon did you?" Jack asks, sighing. "Well. You know what they say. Always read the label!" You turn back, and see the ballroom has completely darkened, everything dusty with cobwebs and silent as a mausoleum. The bottle sitting on the bar is rat poison.

"No," you cough, and try to crawl toward the door.

"At least it wasn't an axe," Jack reminds you, and his laugh echoes as you run out the front door. Two steps, three, and you fall to your feet, pawing at the ground. Coming to terms with the fact that you're not going to get any further, you roll over onto your back, and look up at the Overlook looming over you. Jack approaches the door, and holds it open for you.

"All work no play makes Jack a dull boy. So, (y/n)... ready to play, angel mine?"

[larougie]

caffeine stains and library books

genre: college/coffee shop au

pairing(s): bang chan

word count: 3.2k

description: With college kicking your ass, what exactly are you meant to do, when you spill that fifth cup of coffee over that very. Very. Expensive textbook. Apparently he didn’t have any good ideas either.

Finals were going to be the death of you.

You were seriously considering the option of dropping out and just working in a supermarket for the rest of your life, and it had gotten to the point where breaking into the office for the test answers wasn't seeming like such a bad idea. You'd been renting a tiny studio apartment for the last two years, but the limited floor space was currently overtaken by piles and piles of notebooks and loose sheets of paper with rushed notes scribbled over them. Your old textbooks with folder corners and bashed ends were all stacked against the wall in a corner beside your bed, and you only took one out from the pile at a time. Those books were worth more than your life at this point, and you swore to yourself that you’d never lose them. But currently, the one book you were poring over wasn’t even yours. 

Eventually, you knew that the rent payments and college fees would catch up with you - especially considering your current lack of employment - but you had hoped that your bank account would hold out until after the final exams and until you could go job hunting in the summer break. As fate would have it, it was a little bitch, and you had no such luck. You had a few options before you had to start selling kidneys, but none of them seemed appealing and you simply just did not possess enough hours in the day. Of course, there was always one major expense on your debit card every month, but you weren't sure if you were ready to give that one up.

Turns out, you were perfectly content to use textbooks borrowed from the library and return them after the exams, as long as it meant that you didn’t have to stop going to the little cute coffee shop a few minutes off campus. You spent most days frequenting that cafe, sitting in the corner with your old laptop and the borrowed books, sipping on a coffee way too hot for your taste buds. Now, when you had called your best friend, asking for advice on what to do because you were about to lose your apartment, he had, of course offered the logical solution of - Stop spending so much money on coffee. 

But you had a dilemma. 

See, you told Minho that you studied in the corner of the cafe because the atmosphere was calm, it helped you focus, and to not buy a coffee would be incredibly rude, but he knows you very well. Too well, actually, it's quite terrifying sometimes. You definitely weren't going to the coffee shop to stare at the cute barista who had been working there for the past few months, that was definitely not why you were spending extra, unnecessary money on coffee. Or, that's what you tried to convince Minho of at least.

It wasn't a one sided infatuation though, and that was your saving grace in this situation. You'd been dropping into this specific cafe for about a year now, after trying all around the campus to find a decent cup of coffee that wasn't overloaded with sugar. Even before the barista boy had added himself into the mix, you knew that this was going to become a regular addiction, and his addition to the staff only cemented that fact. You really wish you had the guts to ask his name, because he already knows yours. However the universe worked, he always seemed to be working when you came in at random hours of the day, and he always seemed happy to take your order at the register. Give it a few weeks, and as soon as you entered the cafe through the small door, he was ringing up your coffee on the machines behind him. You were his “regular”, as the other staff members liked to tease him. 

Sometimes, when the cafe quiets down in the later hours of the evening, he’ll still be working and you’ll still be typing up that essay that was due in a few hours. He’ll put on some music from his phone, and put it into a small glass to amplify the sound so you could hear it. The first time he’d done it, he’d been constantly checking back at you to see if the volume was annoying you or if you were looking at him. To be honest, at first the music did distract you a little bit, but you were too enamoured with the way the boy danced quietly to the music as he cleaned down the tables to ask him to turn it off. 

Soon enough, most of the songs he played you had made their way onto your study playlist. You put your earbuds in and listened to the music as you studied in the cafe, and when the barista turned on his own playlist - only then would you remove them. He’d always catch you staring at him as the cafe began to empty, the unspoken question of “are you going to put your music on soon?”

You’d always turn bright red when he caught you staring, and look away so fast it should have given you whiplash. You figured that he never approached you about it because it was too awkward of a topic and you had made him feel too uncomfortable. The truth was, he did want to talk to you, but he had neither a reason nor the confidence to stroll up and strike a conversation. He had noticed that one of the textbooks you often dragged with you to the corner looked oddly familiar, but he guessed it was because he had taken that class as a junior last year, and shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

You were five or six cups of pure caffeine into the study session, and before you looked up you already could tell it was getting too dark for three pm. As you lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you for the first time in a while, and rolled your head back onto your shoulders, your wandering eyes caught sight of the time displayed on your laptop. Oh. Oh. The cafe is closed now. Had been for about twenty minutes. You turned your head quickly around the shop, looking for people and found no one. You wondered why no member of staff had come up to you yet asking you to kindly leave the building, but they all seemed to be preoccupied behind the kitchen doors. Seeing an ideal time for an unnoticed escape, you packed up all your things in record time, shoving them haphazardly into your bag and bolted out that door. The chime might have alerted the staff to someone leaving, but by the time anyone had made it to the front counter to see the door - you were long gone.

Pulling an all nighter was never a fun proposition, but you undertook the task more often than you’d like to admit. See, your reasoning behind that was Procrastination was key to a passing grade, and, yes, so far that certain theory hasn't failed you, but it was definitely taking a toll on your mental health. But, you dug your own grave, time to lie in it.

You take it back, you hate this. It's four am. What's the treble clef. Tchaikovsky is that you. All the notes are one big long line. Minho send assistance. 

Its official, university is going to kill you and tonight is the night you finally keel over. Rubbing your eyes you roll back the chair you've been curled up in and lift your arms to stretch over your head- 

Your hand hit something. Probably a pencil. Or that water bottle. You lifted one eyelid slowly, peering at the offending object. Oh the coffee mug, yeah that makes sense you don't drink water. The coffee mug that was now slowly pouring the cold brown liquid over the textbook that was open at the top of your desk. The textbook that you couldn’t afford to buy yourself because you were a broke college student and rent and living expenses took priority. 

It took a moment to register.

Oh no. oh christ, you had to return this back to the library in a few days - you couldn’t pay another late fee! The lady at the library desk really didn't like you, and always seemed to go out of her way to make you pay the full fee, despite you showing her your student ID multiple times. It was probably because you never returned books on time, but that was beside the point, isn't she meant to be understanding? You were a uni student for crying out loud, the stress. 

The point was, you had now completely destroyed a very, very expensive textbook that you didn’t have the money to replace - the words were bleeding into each other and slowly becoming illegible right before your eyes. The librarian was going to hang your head from the archway. You re-iterate, college was going to kill you. Just maybe, not in the way you expected.

Picking up the phone, you frantically press on the first contact you see.

“Minho?”

“Sup dumbass.”

“I’d bitch at you, but it's fitting for the situation, help me. Please.”

“... Who’s dead.”

“NO ONE’S DEAD I JUST- murdered a very expensive textbook that I don’t have the money to replace, and the librarian is signing my death warrant.”

Minho sucked in a breath from the other end of the phone. “Eesh y/n, you sure it wasn’t one of those loan-on-loan books from the last shelf?”

You press the phone between your shoulder and your ear, snagging the paper between your fingers and pulling the hard-bound book towards yourself. You pushed the pens and pencils out of your way and sent them scattering onto the floor in your haste, and flipped to the back of the cover to see the words On Student Loan.

“About that,” you mumbled, crumpling your head into your hands as the phone clattered to the desk beside you. You could hear Minho laughing on the other end, and you huffed to yourself. “I called you to give me advice, you horrible person, not to lauGH at my misery.”

“Okay okay I,” Minho tried to catch his breath, coughing slightly, “It's not the end of the world, is it? It's a Library book. Explain it to the lady at the desk, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Sure, Min. Thanks.”

“No problem, babes.”

“Ew no.”

“Whatever babes.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh, and let your head hit the desk again, before yelping as the wood left a red mark on your skin. It couldn’t have been just a normal library book? The universe has to hate you right now? No, instead it had to be one of those stupid textbooks that seniors lent to the library from past courses for the younger years to borrow. It was someone else’s book. That they had bought and studied from, and were expecting to get back from the library once the year was over. In the top corner of the stamp, the senior’s name who gave it to the library was printed - Bang Chan.

That was familiar, wasn’t it? You had heard that name being called out around somewhere, by a group of boys. You rattled your brain around, trying to think where you had heard that name before - you knew it sounded like you’d heard it before. In your lectures, on the roll? No, he was a senior and he wouldn’t be in any of your classes. Around on campus wouldn’t make any sense, you walked around with music on all the time, you couldn’t hear when people called your own name out, let alone anyone else’s. 

In the? Cafe? Possible. Very possible. Well, it's worth a shot, he could be a friend of someone who works there. 

What you planned to do once you had found this Bang Chan is beyond you, but you had a general idea of apologizing profusely, attempting to stutter out an explanation between that and tossing in a promise to repay him for destroying it but just not right then because you didn’t have money, hence why you can’t just buy your own textbook and not borrow ones from the library. Hopefully, he’d be a nice enough guy and won’t take your destruction of his music book to heart. Hopefully. 

So, come the next morning, you took one last long look at the destroyed pile of papers held together on your table - still waiting to wake up from this nightmare - and left your apartment with your bag swung over your shoulder. You locked the door behind you, and began the short walk into your first hour of lectures. 

You knew you couldn’t get to the cafe before two pm, but that didn’t stop you from checking the clock every few minutes to see if there was a chance you could dag out of the hall. Five past one turned into ten past two, and by the time your lecturer was finishing up her last slide you were already turning off your laptop and putting it away into your bag. 

Your heart was in your mouth as you walked slowly up to the cafe. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous, but you guessed it was just because of a guilty conscience. Pushing open the door slowly, you looked up from your shoes and instantly made eye contact with the one, the only. Barista boy. 

Great, this is going to be embarrassing. 

Swallowing your pride, and your slight disappointment that your first real conversation with the guy is going to be about looking to find another boy, you began to move up towards the counter where he was standing.

“Your usual?” He asked, with a small smile.

“I, uh. No actually, I was wondering. Do you know if - of, sorry, of. Do you know of a Bang Chan, by any chance? I think he studies music in my university.” Your hands were fumbling with each other in front of your hoodie.

The boy in front of you furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head, stating “Present?”

Oh cool, you destroyed a cute barista boy’s textbook who is actually Chan, the guy you’ve been looking for is the guy you’ve been thirsting over. Great stuff. That's the end of you. Rip in pieces.

After that, you started blabbering out everything. Word vomit, and no stomach medication was stopping this. 

“Christ okay, this is gonna sound absolutely horrible, but did you lend one of your music theory textbooks to the library by any chance? Well, heh, of course you did, I have it and I was using it for a while - like for study not for anything else that would be weird - I’m a music major you see, and I - the textbooks are really expensive this year? And I just couldn't afford them with my rent as well but you obviously don’t care about that bit-”

He put up a hand to stop you, and you took a deep breath. Softly, he said, “Yeah, I remember I left some of my older textbooks in the library because I didn’t need them for notes anymore. Is there a problem with one of them?”

You stop. 

“Well, yes? Technically? But it's totally my fault - you see, a few night ago i kinda, totally on accident destroyed the book when I spilt coffee over it, and I’m so sorry, i really am and I promise I’ll find the money to repay you for the book, I just don’t have that kind of cash on me right now, I’m so sorry.”

Chan pursed his lips, looking at you with his head lifted up slightly. He chuckled softly. Oh boy he’s so mad, there went your chance at dating the cute barista boy, because newsflash he’s going to hate you for the rest of your life and, you looked again at his face. He was smiling now. The small lips had broken into a beaming smile that spread across his face like sunshine on a stupidly adorable field of flowers. 

“You know i've been waiting for a reason to talk to you for the last few weeks.”

His voice broke the rushing of your thoughts around your head, and you flipped your eyes up to meet his in shock.

“So now it kinda seems like you owe me a favour right?”

Words. Come on words.

“Uh, yeah i guess? I'll have the money for you as soon as possible. I promise I'm so sorry-” you stammered out, clearly confused by the situation but still extremely grateful that he was taking the news of his mutilated music book so well.

“It's okay! Seriously, I never used that thing anyway. But instead of paying me back for the book, how about we say you just - owe me a favour?”

Your bank account screamed at you to say yes, so you did.

“Uh, sure?”

When you said you'd owe him a favor, this isn’t what you had meant. 

“CHAN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

He only laughs at your threats, running around the back of the sofa and tossing a pillow at your face to block your view. You bat it away in frustration, rejoining the chase, and your socks skid on the wooden flooring as you slide around the furniture in pursuit of your assailant. Chan runs into the bedroom and closes the door, you hot on his heels and you reach the door seconds after it clicks shut. As you slam open the door, and skid into the room, you stop in your tracks. You survey your surroundings, looking for any indication of where the menace could be hiding. The curtains twitch from the wind coming through the open window, and you shift your stance to face the billowing fabric. When your guard is down, he takes his chance. 

With a strangled battle cry, Chan leaps out from behind the door and tackles you down in one swift movement. You fall with an ungraceful yelp onto your bedsheets, banging your knee on the foot of the bed as you tumble into a heap. You land on your back, the breath knocked out of you as Chan sits triumphantly atop your legs, pinning them down. He smiles down at you like the angel that he is. 

Staring amusedly back up at him, you jerk your uninjured knee, flipping the two of you over so you were on top and he was staring up at you. You tilt your head, and smile at him like he had smiled at you, and the two of you break out into laughter.

“You made me hurt my knee.”

“I didn't make you do anything.”

“Wow, such care. Such emotion. Much love. Not even an offer to kiss it better.”

“I think i have a better idea.”

 Yeah, maybe this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but by god, was it a million times better.

You still had that library book by the way. It was sitting underneath your desk, caffeine stains and all.

[yascaret]

really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

(I edited/removed some of the questions to make this more FFXIV-friendly)

RULES.  Repost,  don’t  reblog  ! Tag  10  !  Good  luck!

TAGGED BY.  No one, I just wanted to do it lol

TAGGING. @gvnbreaker @wood-warder @necrologos @finishing-touch @glory-bound @vysaldhe @violet-warder @whisperingdawn and anyone else who wants to do it!

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :   Lofn Yascaret

NICKNAME :  None (yet??)

AGE :  Appears around 30 by hyur standards 

BIRTHDAY :   Midwinter 

ETHNIC  GROUP : Viera (Rava)

NATIONALITY :  Ivalician (?)

LANGUAGE / S : Common

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  Homosexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Homoromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  In a relationship with Aja Hyskaris & Pjel Qoet

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  Yascaret, Golmore

CURRENT  HOME :  A small, cluttered house in Shirogane

PROFESSION : Disaster lesbian, whiner

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : White with faint violet undertones. Thick, heavy bangs that partially obscure her eyes. Her hair is very dense and wavy, and it reaches her waist when loose.

EYES :   Violet, but the left is considerably paler than the right

FACE :   Pretty, if melancholy. Pronounced cheeks, prominent nose, striking profile. 

LIPS :  Small, but full. Usually painted a dark brown.

COMPLEXION : A dark, barely warm brown. Mottled with white “freckles” in places (nose, cheeks, shoulders, breasts, lower back)

BLEMISHES : None of note

SCARS :  A few old, faded scars here and there from a life long left behind her

TATTOOS :  None

HEIGHT :   Nearly seven fulms

WEIGHT :   Average

BUILD :   Slim, but more bottom-heavy. Her upper arms are the only indication of muscle left from the Wood.

FEATURES :   Feminine, pleasant (by viera standards, at least). Has a very defined nose and a striking profile. Heavy-lidded eyes that naturally lend to melancholy expressions.

ALLERGIES :   None of note

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  High, messy ponytail. Dense, thick bangs that almost completely obscure her eyes

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Melancholy, aloof, heavy-lidded eyes and faint, pensive frowns

USUAL  CLOTHING :   Loose, comfortable blouses, leather trousers, tall heeled boots. Browns, whites, silver, violet

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Abandonment, loss of loved ones, loss of her senses

ASPIRATION / S :  To find some amount of meaning in her life outside the Wood, to find her calling

POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Resourceful, passionate, resilient

NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Aloof, anxious, self-destructive

MBTI :  ISFP-T (Adventurer)

ZODIAC :  Menphina (Aquarius in real world)

TEMPERAMENT :  Melancholic

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Artisan (I have no idea what this means??? I googled it and took a buzzfeed quiz for her lol)

ANIMALS :   Rabbit

VICE HABIT / S :   Pining, infatuation, brooding, oversleeping, stress eating

FAITH :  Belief, sure--faith, not really

GHOSTS ? :  Why not?

AFTERLIFE ? :  Why not?

REINCARNATION ? :  Why not? But probably more likely than afterlife.

ALIENS ? :   Probably

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Zero concept of politics outside the wood and she intends to keep it that way, being a selfish bitch

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Average education level of the average rava viera

FAMILY.

FATHER :   lmao

MOTHERS :  Dead to her, all four of them 

SIBLINGS :   One older sister (that she knows of)--their relationship was not great

EXTENDED  FAMILY :  Countless cousins and half-sisters, none of which she knows anything about

NAME MEANING / S :  Lofn, from the village Yascaret

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : It matters not

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  She’s the type of freak who reads instruction manuals and spellbooks for fun, so probably one of those

DEITY :  She tries not to think about them

HOLIDAY :  Moonfire Faire (does that count as a holiday?)

MONTH :  The warm ones

SEASON :  Summer

PLACE :  Her bedroom, or the Azim Steppe

WEATHER :  Thunderstorms, though she is growing more fond of snow

SOUND / S:  Rain on the roof, thunder in the distance, the sound of wind through flowers or trees

SCENT / S :  Honeysuckle, cedarwood, leather, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

TASTE / S :  Honeysuckle, orchid, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

FEEL / S :  Soft moss, clean sheets, sheepskin, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ANIMAL / S :  Cats

NUMBER :  3

COLORS :  Violet, brown

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Picking up new things (especially technical things),  singing (though she doesn’t sing anymore, ever), 

BAD  AT :  Getting her shit together and keeping her shit together

TURN  ONS :  Shitty smirks, sweet smiles, pet names, fleeting touches, romanticism

TURN  OFFS : Men

HOBBIES : Drawing, writing, gardening, tinkering

TROPES :  Lipstick Lesbian, Insecure Love Interest, Marry Them All, One True Threesome, I Have No Son!, Traumatic Superpower Awakening, Mad Whisper, Country Mouse, Affluent Ascetic, Lady and Knight, Eye Colour Change, Sky Pirate, Combat Stilettos, Dark-Skinned Blond, Statuesque Stunner, Wrench Wench, You Can't Go Home Again, The Gift (I have to stop or I will be on TV Tropes all day)

QUOTES : "Oh no”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  It would probably just be Mulholland Drive but everyone has rabbit ears

Q2 :   What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  Dreamy and melanchol, like The Duke of Burgundy’s OST if it sounded less sinister

Q3 :   Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 :   Because when viera came out I knew exactly what I wanted my viera to be--a physically strong, emotionally stable badass warrior lady who doesn’t afraid of anything--so naturally she became the exact opposite of that because at all times my subconscious is trying to sabotage me 

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :   My grubby little gay hands wrapping around Final Fantasy Tactics Advance in 2003 and seeing a viera for the first time. Also, my grubby little 1999 gay brain struggling to comprehend why I thought Ultimecia was so hot

Q5 :   Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :   Sometimes writing her is stressful because I channel my own past experiences with depression and anxiety a little too hard I think. Also her overarching themes I want to eventually bring out via RP storylines are so ambitious and complicated that I feel entirely too stupid to write it well so I’m always at least a little bit stressed about that

Q6 :   What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :   Crippling depression lmao

Q7 :   How does  your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :   She’d probably not even acknowledge my existence because I’m a human and what good is that

Q8 :   What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :   I feel like Pjel and Aja are the obvious choice so I feel a little shitty saying Pjel and Aja, but...I really love playing Lofn off both of them, I feel like they perfectly compliment different parts of her personality that I really enjoy writing (mainly her pettiness and her gayness) and I feel like Lofn also prods at both of their insecurities just by being her terrible self, and it’s fun for me to watch them squirm lol

Q9 :   What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

A9 :    Um, premenstrual syndrome?? Lmao but for real if I’m struggling I’ll just go watch some Gentleman Jack (Lofn is literally Ann Walker, sorry) or listen to some FF8/FF9 music, or dick around in FF12 for a bit. Basically I identify a handful of loose inspirational touchstones for a character and fuck around with all of them until inspiration strikes

Q10 :  How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 :  About a week, off and on...