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[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Brazilian Grand Prix - Podium - Fernando Alonso

[gatheringbones]

[“In the dungeon, the dominatrix was a paragon of high-femme adornment, training submissive men in the supposedly organic wisdom of her gender. In reality, I was trying on this kind of glamour and ultrafemininity for the first time.

Two things helped me to fall in love with mani-pedis and skin creams and click-clacking around in dramatically slanted stilettos in my 20s, despite rejecting these sartorial amusments growing up. One was that I was making cash money to do it, which was much more motivating than the Seventeen magazines and peer pressures of my adolescence. Second, I was surrounded by beautiful naked women encouraging me to develop my own style. Most of my colleagues were much more experienced with makeup, hair, lingerie, jewelry, heels, nails, lotion, and perfume, much more confident in products, styling, shapes, and colors than I was. Some of them were sweetly excited about my ineptitude, eagerly turning me into a doll they could experiment on. I smelled the sizzle of flat irons as they tugged at my hair from behind, I squeezed eyelash glue nervously along the rinds of falsies as they timed me, I sat on the cold linoleum and snapped their garters into place every day for weeks until I could do it with my eyes closed. As their hands and tools stroked my body, conditioning me in more ways than one, I felt an ASMR buzz all over. If I felt objectified, it was as an exalted precious object, like a car being tuned up under my hood, my exteriors waxed until I shined.

A colleague turned to me out of the blue one day, snapping, “What is your skin care routine?” When I sheepishly replied that I had none, she marched me into the bathroom, sternly showing me how to cleanse, moisturize, and always wear sunscreen. I have done this every single day since. That’s all it took for me to learn to care for myself in this way. A little feminine superiority.

If this sounds familiar, it should. Despite being assigned female at birth, I was just as enchanted as any dude could have been by confident pros guiding me into a realm of prettiness, and I needed every bit as much coaching. I would get femme trained by my colleagues, and minutes later I would lead clients into session rooms and train them to be femme too.

I’m hardly the first person to observe that drag is drag no matter your resting gender, your genitals, your orientation, your motivation. Not to put too fine a point on it, but most sex workers know we are drag artists. Much in the same way that pro wrestlers exaggerate their own masculinity, the dominatrix is a femme maximalist entertainer. The fact that a cis woman can feel like a drag queen speaks to the performative nature of gender expression, of both drag as an art and cross-dressing as a fetish. By and large, my cross-dressing clients didn’t want to be women. They wanted to be bimbos! They embodied their own ideas of insatiable sluts and campy cartoons. Maximalist girls, exaggerated girls, megawatt girls. They wanted satin corsets, jewel tones, iridescent glitter, fishnets, freesia body spray. They spoke like Betty Boop and did their best to stiffly dance along to Prince songs. They saw this glamour as sparkling dynamite to bust them out of the prison of their toxic masculinity, even if just for a few hours, even if only superficially.

I didn’t find these fantasies a reminder of the awful pressures of girliness I had initially rejected; gender-bending in the dungeon showed me that I had been positioned to see femme all wrong. The bimbo is an archetype, a shimmering human invention waiting to be embodied by anyone who cares to summon her. It’s the choice to play with gender as an adult, as opposed to a lifetime of imposed messaging about what kind of gender you can and can’t be, that generates the erotic pleasures of cross-dressing.

I enjoyed being bullied into girliness by my fellow pro-dommes, so I empathized with our clients, regardless of the gender trajectory that led us to femme power play. All of the qualities that we expressed as feminine—from soft clothes to luscious scents to sucking cock—had belonged to all of us the whole time. I get why a cis dominatrix wouldn’t want to participate in forced feminization. I also get why many trans people, trans women in particular, find the existence of transvestitism to be so painful. When you have to fight so hard every day for the fundamental dignity and civil rights of your gender, it can be agonizing to see someone treat that gender as frivolous. Cross-dressing clients were often annoyingly reductive, like young adults on rumspringa, gorging themselves on the sugar high of femininity after being denied it for so long. It was clear to me that some of these fetishists liked cross-dressing sessions because it happened to be the variation on humiliation that their submissive tendencies had alighted on, emasculation being one of a hundred ways of having your social status lowered by a dominatrix. Others would have liked to wear dresses and bubblegum-flavored lip gloss more often, including in situations where they weren’t necessarily aroused. Still others weren’t actually cross-dressers at all, but closeted or crypto-transgender women. The kinky space was the only one they knew where they could be themselves using what they saw as a safe, private, and limited method. Some of them would transition eventually, and some would keep that part of themselves compartmentalized their entire lives. All three of these categories of person deserve the space to explore their gender expression through erotic fantasy.

Some cross-dressing fetishists are cis. Some trans women are butch. Some drag artists are straight. There’s no one way to do or be any of these things, and while we can experiment with identity through art and erotics, we shouldn’t conflate persona with personhood. Most importantly, trans people of all kinds deserve an existence that is both sexually liberated and not constantly sexualized. I would love to report that we have reached the point in the gender revolution where cross-dressing is redundant because there is nothing to cross. But erotics are still a viable way for us to explore who we really are, or would like to be.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[astrogre]

What gifts to buy for each Venus sign

Christmas is among us, my favourite season and time of the year. Venus is the planet of love, by nature it can display what we like to receive from others but if you don’t know their Venus or the house it’s in you can try to look at the persons Sun sign instead but Venus is ideal.

A gift based on their:

Sun sign will make them feel seen and like you know them well, it will be a gift they may appreciate

Venus sign is all they’ve ever desired it’s the pinnacle of their ideal gift. Especially as Venus represents how we like to receive and experience love

Aries/ 1H Venus

Gym membership, running shoes, thrill seeking experiences like tickets to bungee jumping, rock climbing, a skydiving event, gym outfit, tickets to their favourite artist, tickets to festival, cool lighter, archery classes, tickets to sports games, a shirt with their teams logo or merch from their favourite artists, scissors set, cooking tools, hair styling products like hairspray, hair dye, Fitbit/apple watch, knives set, sports gear, heavy bass headphones, tickets for those room smashing experiences, take them clay pigeon shooting, family destroying board games like Risk or Catan, diy tattoo kit, diy piercing kit, theme park tickets.

Aries Venus are by nature thrill seekers, Aries is ruled by the head and has 1st house influences, they can certainly appreciate something that ignites passion, they are impulsive and quick by nature to pursue what they desire. They need gifts that match their decisive nature and to let out that pent up energy they have in them, I honestly think experiences are the best for them. Or a box of hair dye for their impulsive moments

Taurus/ 2H Venus

Hire a chef or take them to a really good restaurant for a 5 course meal that serves orgasmic food and has impeccable visuals/atmosphere OR you can even arrange a 7 course homemade meal with the finest of recipes! , fine jewellery adorned with a gemstone, culinary experiences, cooking classes, kitchenware, go to fragrantica.com and find a high quality perfume to give, premium home decor, art, antique items, antique furniture, comfortable cosy clothing, hot water bottle, gardening tools, plants, selection of seeds for their garden, diffuser, essential oils, desserts like baklava/ferro rocher, luxury goods, wellness retreat subscription, day at the spa, tea set, comfy velvet winter pillows and bed sheets

Oh my Taurus natives, they know how to break a bank for Christmas and if not they can enjoy luxury on a budget! They enjoy the finer things of life of course Venus ruled, they know how to induge in pleasures and satisfaction. Due to the earthy influence they have a green finger and a natural affinity with plants and gardening, they may love flowers or want to grow plants themselves. Taurus venuses are rather easy to gift, if you know them they usually have a vice, it may be sleep, food or pure laziness, get them something according to their vice and they will treasure it.

Gemini/ 3H Venus

Really cool stationary, Spotify subscription, comedy show tickets, books from their favourite genre, a notebook, Grammarly subscription, cards against humanity board game, Duolingo subscription, multiplayer games, home kit recording studio, language learning stuff, calligraphy classes, kindle, portable car charger, Bluetooth speaker, karaoke machine, suitcase, travel accessories, a musical instrument, sealing wax kit, creative hobby supplies, microphone, podcasting equipment, audio editing software, a car, vr headset, Nintendo online subscription, Netflix/HBO/youtube/crunchyroll subscription

Gemini rules communication, short journeys and social engagement. Blessing these natives with tools to enhance their pleasant hobbies will make them swoon in gratitude, if you want to get them something make it engaging and whimsical. These natives are ruled by mercury and always welcome something that requires the mind.

Cancer/ 4H Venus

A cooking set, baking set, comfort food, commission artwork of the family, family photos, some really nice home decor, a keepsake/musical box adorned with velvets and soft materials that will store sentimental objects, a locket necklace, family recipe book make a recipe book of all their favourite foods and some foods you know they’d like, soft fluffy blanket, the family heirloom, hand crafted quilt, hand painted ceramic mug, animal crossing game, sims 4 game, games relating to the home, bring and fly in family that are far away as a surprise and cook their favourite meal together, household utilities, lush bath products, a personal chef for a day, a personal butler for a day, custom family tree art, ancestry DNA kit (please be careful though once you use them they keep your data and if they get hacked your information is out there), home movie night, comfy slippers and pyjamas, family board games, this christmas make them Christmas dinner this time.

Cancer rules the home and there’s nothing more appreciated by a cancer Venus than things that remind them of this. They are by nature expressive and nurturing, this time let them be pampered!

Leo/ 5H Venus

Hair care products, gift card for their favorite store, make them an edit no joke like a TikTok edit that makes them look really cool, one of those light up mirrors or a pretty handheld one if they don’t have one already, book them a photoshoot together if they don’t like the camera maybe post them on your social media and show affection for these bold natives, theatre tickets, bold sunglasses, luxury watch, good jewellery, VIP experiences like backstage passes or reservation to exclusive invite only restaurants, designer clothing that is a prestigious brand they love, commission style artwork, make them a playlist of songs that reminds you of them, fine wine, personalised fragrance creation that allows them to create their own signature fragrance, personalised makeup makeover, hire a stylist for them

A perfect gift for Leo’s need to have an element of self expression, luxury and incorporate their personality that garners attention from peers. They need a gift that makes them feel special, something tailored specifically for them that cannot be gifted to anyone else. Personalised gifts do well either this placement too. When I think of these natives I just think of that Meghan Trainor music video “Me Too” watch that and you’ll get their vibe.

Virgo/ 6H Venus

Skincare products, a blender for smoothies, lots of cleaning products, multi purpose aesthetic storage containers, Quora or chat gpt subscription (these guys like to be well informed), give them scientifically researched bath products that have all that vitamin breakdown qualities, make them a notion template to help them plan, quality office supplies like a desk organiser or chair, practical fitness gear like a yoga mat, a fitness tracker, get them a personal nutritionist, tailored meal prep services, bookshelf organiser system, a stylish briefcase, home office makeover (BUT PLEASE GET THEIR PERMISSION FIRST), online course subscription, digital subscription to news feed, you can never go wrong with practical things, an ikea haul, Costco membership, minimalist decor, multi vitamins, a precision watch, set of labelling and sorting tools, a neat tidy chess board, get them a nice little pet, honestly for some reason whenever I think of Virgos I think of matcha. Get them something matcha based.

Virgo Venus natives need gifts that resemble their routine and organisation, they can be rather difficult to purchase for since they have such a specific taste in mind. Gift cards are practical for them but they really need something that allows them to be more prepared. Take them out for comparison price shopping like say if you want to get them a sofa tell them you’ll take them out to Costco, Amazon, ikea, and compare the best ones. They are also very clean and efficient.

Libra Venus/ 7H Venus

Trending Make up like the fenty hot chocolit heat lip gloss, Korean skincare products, beautiful piece of art, a wedding ring 😏, bouquet of flowers, take them to a beautiful botanical garden, fashionable accessories like a silk scarf, books and courses on design, take them to a couples romantic date, a couples workshop, write them a love letter, museum date, tickets to an art exhibition, fine dining, an astrology synastry reading, if they’re single set up a blind date with someone who you KNOW they would like (make sure they’re handsome/pretty), couples retreat, love coach Patreon subscription, pottery/painting classes, relationship podcast subscription, relationship psychology books, fine fragrance/cologne

Libra is ruled by Venus and 7th house, all things related to love beauty and pleasure align with this native, even if they are single they have a natural gift for delving into relationships. Make sure that whatever gift you give them it is pleasing and sensual

Scorpio/ 8H Venus

Intimate gifts, a psychological crime documentary playlist like Epstein island documentary or YouTubers who speak of renowned cult leaders, personalised astrology reading, a dark seductive fragrance, dark artwork, dominance and submission guide book, shadow work journal with a lock on it, dark poetry and literature, escape room adventure tickets, monopoly game, dungeons and dragons game equipment, bdsm accessories, personalised erotic art, leather/latex clothing, bonding activities, empowering books like 48 Laws of Power, martial arts training, taxidermy, personal development workshops, intense workout equipment like a punching bag, chess, daggers, locks on their door or for their belongings like installing a lock for their drawers, buy them a ring camera and subscription, wine tasting experience

Give them something sultry and deep, it has to be psychological and empowering. They are not impressed by superficial gifts that mean nothing to them. They really like gifts that allow them to explore their nature and the darker aspects of existence.

Sagittarius/ 9H Venus

A scratch off map that allows you to scratch off countries you’ve been to, a surprise holiday where you take them abroad, Duolingo subscription, a wanderlust journal for them to document their experiences, passport accessories, an electric guitar, drums, take them to a fireworks display or do one at home for them, a telescope, a drone, binoculars, philosophical books or religious books based on their own beliefs and religion, running shoes, horse riding in the sunset experience, musical instruments, motivational and positive affirmations book or make some for them yourself, a book collection of all their motivational and positive messages they have said, a compass, pay for their tuition for a course they’ve always wanted, traveling stuff like suitcases, pillow for travelling, a portable flask, a disposable camera, a Polaroid camera, a tent, tickets to a cultural festival, hiking gear, skiing gear, camping gear, sketchbook, a donation in their name

Sagittarius Venus and 9H venuses love the concept of exploration whether it be in the mind or physically, the best gift you could give them is one that allows them to take in so much culture, information and experiences.

Capricorn/ 10H Venus

Customisable credit card (CUCU is a good site for this), a nice power suit like business attire, vintage pocket calculator, cufflinks or a tie, formal shoes, pay for their CV to be analysed by professionals in their industry, elegant timeless clothing and jewellery, make them business cards, get them a corporate slave (an assistant will do), pay for business class flights for their next trip abroad, project management courses, tickets to Ted Talk event, take them to and big them up at networking and entrepreneurial opportunities, a sleek desk, submit their work for trophies and awards, quality furniture, Starbucks or their fave coffee place gift cards, a fountain pen, personalised desk name plate, professional photoshoot, designer accessories like a Swiss watch, leather wallet, cheque book, pay for a professional calligrapher to design their signature, time management software

Our sweet cap Venuses and 10Hers need their professional acknowledgment, give them anything timeless and a way for them to better themselves. They love being the best of the best so give them things that support their ambitions.

Aquarius/ 11H Venus

A 3D printer, high tech phone, a gamer console, smart home device like Alexa, chat gpt subscription, AI art pieces of them, rubix cube, VR headset, bespoke one of a kind art piece, tickets to a science technology conference or musem, networking events, phone case, futuristic home decor, membership to an niche club their interested in, mini indoor garden like a plant terrarium, pay for an astronomy stargazing experience for them, alt clothing, goal setting journal, a camaraderie for their friendships can be a bracelet for an example, tickets to a unique workshop according to their niche interests, video editing software, a unique invention prototype for the industry their interested in say if it were cars then a mini Tesla or something, volunteer together, design software, film festival tickets, social cause merchandise, unique fashion piece, astronomy kit, an AI boyfriend or girlfriend, take them a Ted talk.

Always remember the specific niche interests of these natives they like things that are very niche and so sometimes asking them is actually the best thing to do. But make sure it’s something they’re passionate about not all of these natives live tech but they certainly are innovative.

Pisces/ 12H Venus

Seashell necklace, watercolour paints, fantasy book collection, their favourite mangas, handmade artwork, stained glass window art, dream interpretation book, flowerpedia book, vinyls, yoga mat, contact lenses, tickets to their favourite artist like mitski or the sort, create a playlist for them that’s about fantasy and imagination, they might like Disney consider taking them to Disneyland, windchime, subscription to mindfulness app, astrology book, go to the aquarium together, windchimes, art supplies, a dream journal, sound healing instruments, pay for their spiritual retreat, zen garden decor, a mystical music box, water fountain, take them to a mesmerising body of water, prayer mats, diary, write them a heartfelt letter of how amazing they are, take them to a nature retreat, wearable art

Dreamy imaginative gifts would be perfect for these people, they need gifts that allow them to appreciate their escape world where they have a reality that’s just better than here. Give them things that are as beautiful as their inner world.

[podcast-official]

my favorite thing about audio dramas is when people have wildly different mic qualities because they're all recording from their homes and sending in their parts and it's fucking hilarious. it's always like:

main character 1: *recorded on toaster*

main character 2: *recorded on wax cylinder*

main character 3: *recorded on iphone in a car*

random side character: *crispest, clearest, most professional mic quality you've ever fucking heard*

[badasbebi]

imagination's curse

navigation

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you long for excitement in your mundane life, until you are suddenly visited by a strange, beautiful woman who upends your world and thrusts you into a whirlwind of pleasure and danger.

✦ genre/au: smut (MDNI!!), succubus!bada, basically pwp

✦ word count: 6k

✦ warnings: probably has grammatical/spelling errors, mentions of demons and occult activities, top!bada (she's doing all the work), fingering, cunnilingus, bit of thigh riding, y/n is a weakling, somebody dies (or do they?)

✦ a/n: this is very different from other fics I've written, in genre and length, because after watching bebe's imagination video on repeat, i decided to temporarily drop the other fic i was working on to write this! we will be getting back to the more simple (and long) fics I've written before, but i hope you guys still enjoy this in the meantime! i purposely left this open-ended in case i, or you guys, wanted to see a continuation of this story at some point. lmk if that would be of interest to y'all!

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Beyond the restaurant windows, rain pounds against the earth. The rhythmic drumming of the rain lulls you into a trance-like state, eyes glossing over and body becoming numb. The soft jazz music coming from the speakers overhead only enhances your drowsiness, making you melt into your seat like heated wax. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand and stare out at the street, watching cars pass by and disappear into the darkness. Your eyelids become heavy and you blink, attempting to bring your attention back to the real world, and, probably most importantly, the person in front of you. 

You sigh, slouching forward in your chair. Your date, Seolhyun, has been droning on for the last twenty minutes about her schoolwork. Her mouth is moving, but your mind isn't registering her words. You can't bring yourself to care. She seems somewhat nice, and she's devastatingly pretty, but those were about the only two qualities of value that you could conjure up. This wouldn't have been so bad, if this date hadn't essentially turned into a one-sided conversation she was having with herself.  You don't think you've said more than three words since the both of you sat down.

"Like, nursing is so boring and depressing. I don't get why so many people are into it," she says, taking a bite of her food. "I want to do something interesting and fresh, like, modeling, or something. Or, maybe I'll switch my major to art. I take really good pictures of my friends. Isn't there a photography concentration in the arts program?"

Seolhyun looks over at you expectantly, waiting for your input. You have no idea what the answer is, so you just shrug and give her a fake, tight-lipped smile. 

"Yeah, you know what? I think I'm gonna talk to my advisor tomorrow. It's just that my dad is the problem. Whenever I talk to my dad he's like, nooooo. That's not what I've been sending you money for. He's so old fashioned."

"Oh," you respond, your voice monotone. There is a part of you that can't help but feel a little bad about zoning out and ignoring her, but you've had your fill of boring conversations about family and school and life aspirations. This was nothing new. 

She slams one of her hands on the table, making you jump so high you nearly knock your glass of water over. 

"And it's silly because he's the one who wanted me to go to college sooo badly, so how are you going to complain about paying for it? Its like—and not to sound like a cunt—we do pretty well for ourselves. I don't need to be the moneymaker! I get he wants me to be the head nurse at the hospital he owns, but honestly, fuck that hospital. Fuck the patients too!" she continues, her voice raised loud enough to capture the attention of  the nearby tables. You can feel their eyes on you, and a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You glance around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, slowly sliding down in your seat.

 "He's just...he's such a hardass. Doesn't let me do anything. It's a real shame," she finishes, huffing in annoyance.

You nod. "Right, it is a real shame." you mumble, still avoiding others' judgemental gazes. 

She doesn't seem to notice how uncomfortable you've become, or the attention that she's gathering. Instead, she grins."I know! I'm so glad you get it."

The only thing you're getting is murderous. You needed to get out of here, quickly. As if hearing your internal cries for help, the waiter appears, asking if the two of you would like to see the dessert menu. You shake your head.

"Oh, no. Just the check please," you say, glancing up at him.

Seolhyun nods in agreement. "Yeah, I'm done. This salad was kinda trash. No offense. Sorry." She picks up her napkin and dabs it at her mouth. 

The waiter grimaces. "No problem. I'll be right back."

As the waiter walks off, you turn back to Seolhyun, forcing yourself to smile. She jumps right back into her complaints, albeit more quietly, and fidgets with the stem of her wine glass. You tune her out again, no longer feeling guilty for doing so. The only thing that brings your attention back to reality is the waiter setting the bill face-down on the table. He bids you both goodnight before walking off, and when you look up, you almost want to laugh.  

A guilty expression flashes across Seolhyun's face, and she leans over the table, looking at the check. She clears her throat, and you already know what she's about to say. 

"Do you have your card on you? Sorry, I think I left mine at home. I'll totally venmo you after this." She laughs awkwardly, sitting back in her seat.

You roll your eyes, but reach for your wallet. "Whatever." 

After dinner, the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the rain, huddling under the overhang as you try to find an escape from the downpour. 

"Well, it was nice chatting with you, y/n," she says, stepping towards the edge of the overhang. "Hope we can hang out again soon."

"Yeah, definitely," you lie. 

"Awesome! Talk to you later, then." She smiles, and you know she's lying too.

Seolhyun walks out into the rain and you watch as she crosses the street, heading toward a pink Tesla. 

"Bitch," you murmur bitterly, pulling your hood over your head.

You don't want to spend money on an Uber, and the walk to the nearest bus stop isn't very far, so you decide to trek through the rain, praying that the bus won't take long. You zip up your coat and adjust your hood, stepping out into the rain. The cold pelts against your face and seeps through the material of your clothes, causing goosebumps to break out on your skin. You curse, and pull your arms close to your body, walking faster. The streetlamps lining the road provide enough light for you to see where you're going despite the dark clouds overhead, their glow casting an orange glow against the pavement.

As you walk, your thoughts turn back to your disastrous date. You didn't mean to act like such an ass, but it was impossible not to when the entire evening had consisted of her talking about herself and how difficult her life was. The worst part is, she actually seemed to think you were a good listener, even with your blank stares and monosyllabic responses.

Deep down, you know that it's not entirely Seolhyun's fault. Today felt like a culmination of all the ways you've been failing lately. In short, it's been a bad week. A bad month. A bad year. At all points, you've felt as though there was no escape from the dullness of your life, like you were being suffocated, drowned in a pool of water with no way to save yourself. These were your college years, and you came to the realization last year that all you've been doing was sitting in your room, studying, going to class, and then going home. No parties, no drama, no adventures, no romance, nothing. Even worse, it seemed like everyone else had already started their lives and were living them. It was infuriating, seeing everyone around you have fun, while you were stuck in this weird limbo of mediocrity.

In attempts to find some excitement, you downloaded a dating app and started going out more, meeting people, but so far, all the dates have ended up being like this. Boring, or just plain awkward. You've tried to make changes—different clothes, makeup, hair—anything to shake things up, and while that was nice and made you feel pretty, it didn't change the fact that your life was still dull. And now, you're just exhausted, constantly feeling like you're going through the motions.

 Nothing has worked. This was probably the tenth horrible date you've been on in two months. Maybe, this was just your life now, and you had to come to terms with it. Bland, and as bleak as the clouds overhead.  

Which seem to have gotten even darker, you notice, as you approach the bus stop. You stand underneath the shelter, rubbing your hands together and blowing on them. The streets are completely deserted. You shiver, your damp clothes clinging to your skin, and hug yourself tightly, trying to keep warm. You try to look for any sign of the bus, but the rain is coming down too hard, the air is heavy with fog, and you can't see further than a few feet away. A prickle of fear runs down your spine. You didn't even think to check if the buses were running late. What if they're not running at all?

Just as you reach for your phone to check the time, you hear the screeching of bus brakes and let out a sigh of relief. You're saved.

You stand at the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the bus slowly pulls up in front of the stop. The door opens and you step inside, moving as quickly as you can. The warm air instantly hits your face, but the heat does nothing to thaw the chill that has set in your bones.

You pay the driver and walk to the back, taking a seat near the window. The bus is nearly empty, save for an old woman and a couple of teenagers sitting towards the front.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and plug in your earbuds. Music starts playing, drowning out the noise of the rain and the rumble of the engine.

After a few stops, the bus reaches your destination and the doors open, the sound of the rain pouring down and the wind blowing in, bringing with it a cool breeze. You get off, and begin the trek home, your sneakers splashing through puddles as you make your way down the street.

The wind picks up, the gusts blowing hard enough to cause the street lamps to flicker and sway. They cast shadows against the ground and walls of the buildings, which appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. The rain comes down harder, falling in thick, heavy sheets. You quicken your pace, the muscles in your legs burning as you move, your heart rate quickening. 

Finally, your apartment building comes into view.  You run, sprinting the last block and darting up the steps, the water squishing between your toes. Excitement blooms in your chest as you grab the door handle and pull it open, the prospect of a dry place to lay your head making you feel better.

As soon as you cross the threshold of your building, you pull your hood down, the smell of mildew hitting your nose. Your shoes squeak against the wet floor, and you leave a trail of water droplets and mud as you head toward the elevator.

The ride up is excruciatingly slow. You tap your foot impatiently, watching the numbers climb, and think about the warm bed that's awaiting you, how good it'll feel to wrap yourself in a blanket and forget about this miserable night. If your roommate allows it.

Once your mind drifts to her, your excitement dwindles. Fatigue weighs heavy on your shoulders, and you long for nothing more than to be asleep in the comfort of your own bed, but you know it's a rubbish wish, thanks to Aeri. 

Recently, home hasn't been particularly enjoyable either. You used to have a roommate who didn't bother you. Then, she dropped out, and you were stuck with rent, an empty room, and the task of finding a new roommate. It was a difficult process, with most candidates seeming creepy or annoying or gross. Then, you ran into Aeri, who was by no means a perfect match, but seemed good enough. She was a bit awkward, and you didn't really know what to make of the intense gothic attire she was sporting during your initial meeting. She seemed incredibly nice and easygoing, though, and she smelled good. Was that not all you needed? So, running out of time, you swallowed your apprehension and gave her the spare keys to your apartment.  

For the most part, you didn't regret your decision. She was, in fact, one of the sweetest, most caring people you've ever met, frequently baking treats for you when she knew you were having a particularly terrible day and listening to you vent  about your dating diasters. But, there were a few small issues that had cropped up, and they happened to occur most often at night.

Your stomach does flip-flops the higher the numbers get, until, finally, the elevator dings, and the doors open. You shuffle out into the hall, pulling out your keys and heading toward the apartment. When you're in front of the door, you hesitate, the key hovering in the air as you stare at the peephole. You take a deep breath and push the door open, the smell of incense instantly hitting your nose as you step inside of the dark apartment. You slip off your wet shoes and hang your jacket up on your worn-out coat rack. 

"I'm back," you call, closing the door behind you. You step further into the apartment and glance around as you walk into the living room, where you are met with a sight you're not prepared for.

Your eyes squint to adjust to the dark and take in the scene before you. The air is thick and heavy, engulfed by the scent of a sweet, intoxicating perfume. Candles are placed throughout the space, their warm glow casting shadows on the wall. Aeri kneels in the middle of the living room, wearing a cloak, her hands hovering above an intricate pentagram on the floor. She mumbles something to herself that you cannot understand, her eyes closed. Her hair falls over her face and her lips move, but no words are uttered.

"Aeri, what are you doing?" you ask, taking a tentative step forward.

Aeri's head snaps up, her eyes wide, and the mumbling stops.

"Oh, hey, you're back," she says, her tone a bit nervous. Her hands tremble as she moves the hood of her cloak back. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be back so soon. I was just—uh—you know."

"No, actually. I don't. What are you doing?" You repeat, folding your arms in front of you.

She looks around the room, before returning her gaze to you. "Uh...meditating?"

And this was the problem. Shortly after Aeri moved in, she brought her witchy occult shit with her. You don't really believe in any of it, so you typically ignore her and carry on with your day when you see her pull out one of her spellbooks at the dinner table. Except for days like this, when she goes too far, gets too loud, and keeps you up at night with her antics. Then, she becomes public enemy number one. 

You glare at her. "With a pentagram on the floor? Please. This is..."

You pause, scanning the room again. There's something particularly wrong today, but you can't quite place it. There's heaviness in the air, a heightened version of the feeling you get when you're in a haunted house, except there are no clowns or people cosplaying as serial killers, just candles and a pentagram and Aeri, staring up at you. 

"Bizarre. This is bizarre. Even for you." you finish, narrowing your eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" She squeaks, her voice strained. "I was just...doing some reading about a spell that could, uh. Fix a problem that I’ve been having. I decided to try it out today"

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out an exasperated sigh. You're tired. Your hair is drenched. Your shirt is clinging to your back. You couldn't be bothered with this. 

"Listen, I don't think I actually care about what you have going on. But, I have an exam tomorrow, I've had a rough day, and I need some rest. Can you promise to keep it down in here while I sleep?"

Aeri looks around, a guilty expression on her face, before nodding her head. "Sure, yeah. No problem. I’m sorry."

"Thank you," you say, and turn on your heels without another word.

You make your way through the hallway and enter your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Your room is dark and cold, but you can't bother to turn the lights on or get under the covers. Instead, you lay down on the bed, your limbs splayed out. Your hair is still wet, and you can feel the moisture seeping into your comforter, but you can't even think to move.

You're too tired to bother changing into your pajamas. Too tired to do anything but sleep. So, you shove off your socks and rain-soaked jeans and call it a day. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over your body until they rest just below your chin. The warmth envelopes you and you're finally able to relax. You stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin slowly, praying for a peaceful night's rest. Lately, you've been plagued by strange dreams you can't remember when you wake up. Although they've been forgetful, they usually keep you tossing and turning in your sleep throughout the night. But, tonight, your eyelids are so heavy you can barely keep them open, and within seconds, you drift off into unconsciousness, the world slipping away and the darkness consuming you. The smell of Aeri's incense and the sound of the rain lulls you into a slumber unlike never before, submerged into a dark void of nothing.  

That is, until you feel something touch you. You awaken with a start, jolting upright in your bed, your heart racing. The room is dark, illuminated only by the light of the moon shining through the window. You glance around frantically, searching for the source of the touch, but there's nothing, no sign of life. Just shadows, and the sound of your breathing. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It's probably just the wind or an insect. You're tired, and your deteriorating mind is playing tricks on you. There's nothing to be scared of.

You lay back down, pulling the blankets up to your chin, and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. Your heartbeat begins to slow, and you exhale, trying to relax. A few minutes pass, and you begin to drift off once again, when, suddenly, you feel something against your neck. A cold, soft pressure. Like a feather, brushing across your skin.

"Y/N." A soft, gentle voice whispers.

Your eyes flutter open, and you are met with the sight of a woman's face, inches away from yours. You gasp and shoot up again, nearly slamming your forehead against hers. The woman backs away, allowing you to regain your bearings. You blink a few times, shaking your head to try to wake yourself up, but she remains., staring at you with an expression that could only be described as amused. 

The moonlight streams in through the window, giving the woman's figure an almost ethereal glow. You've never seen her before. She has a stupefying, otherworldly, beauty about her, with dark eyes and full lips that accentuate her sharp jawline. She's wearing a black, silky nightgown that clings to her body. Her pale, delicate-looking skin shines in the moonlight, and her dark hair, interlaced with another color, cascades down her back, falling over her shoulders.

You look around the room, expecting the lights to turn on and an elaborate prank to be revealed, but the room is just as dark and empty as you remember. When your eyes fall back onto the woman, she is staring back at you, a soft smile on her face.

"Who the fuck are you?" you force out, your voice trembling.  

She quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "Were you not expecting me?"

You scoff, nearly choking on your own saliva. "No! Of course not. I've never seen you before in my life. What the hell is going on? And how do you know my name?"

Her eyes light up with mirth, and her smile widens as if she's in on some sort of joke. 

"Oh, this is interesting," she starts, clasping her hands together. "This is very interesting."

As a primal fear takes hold of your body, interesting is the last word that comes to your brain to describe the situation you've found yourself in. Albeit hot, this random woman broke into your apartment to do God knows what to you and your belongings. Who knows if she's already murdered Aeri. Or, perhaps, this is a lucid dream, and you're experiencing some sort of weird hallucination. Either way, you wanted out. Now.

You release a shaky exhale in a poor attempt to calm your nerves. "I'm gonna call the cops, okay? But, I really don't want any trouble. If you leave now, I won't tell anyone about this." 

The woman stares at you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before erupting into a fit of laughter. You blink, unsure of how to proceed. She continues to laugh, her hand clutching her chest as her whole body shakes. The sound is melodic, and it rings out like the chimes of a bell, the notes flowing effortlessly into the air. It's almost enchanting, and you find yourself lost in the melody until she quiets down and straightens up, a soft smile on her face. 

"That's completely unnecessary. I'm not here to cause you any harm, Y/N," she says, and, somehow, her voice is even more hypnotic than her laugh. Some of your fear dissipates, but the confusion remains.

"Why are you here, then?" you question, unable to keep the suspicion out of your tone.

"To give you a little bit of help. I know you've been struggling." She replies, her voice dripping with sympathy.

"How do you know that?"

She smiles, the expression making her features seem even more radiant than before. "I know a lot of things. 'How' is irrelevant. What's more important is that I know exactly how I can help you tonight. You need...a stress reliever. I can do that for you. If you're up for it, that is."

"A stress reliever?" You echo, and the way her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, her lips quirked up in a seductive smirk, her voice low and smooth, makes it abundantly clear what she's implying. Your cheeks flush and heat rushes through your body. This couldn't be real. Could it?

"I don't think we're on the same page. I mean, a...stress reliever. I don't know if I understand," you say, shifting uncomfortably.

"You're a bit slow, aren't you?" she asks a devilish grin stretching across her face, and, she's probably right. You feel like a fish out of water, opening and closing your mouth like an idiot. The worst part of it is, she seems to be enjoying your floundering, grinning wider as she watches you stutter. 

"There's no need to worry," she purrs, taking a step closer, her dark eyes shining. "You just need to relax. It'll be fun." 

The sane, rational part of your brain is screaming, yelling, begging for you to run out of the room. Anybody with half a brain could decipher that the sensible thing to do in this situation would be to flee, grab a weapon, and call the police. Yet, here you are, lying still, the woman's words ringing in your ears. Fun. It's been a long time since you've had fun. You can't even remember the last time you've gotten remotely close to it. And, as if she was sent from above, here was a beautiful, mysterious woman, offering it to you on a platter. You can't help but be a bit curious. Curious about the strange, magical feeling that's coursing through your veins.

 Plus, your body is aching for touch, and the idea of sleeping with a beautiful woman is incredibly tempting, especially in your state. It's been months since you've had sex.

The woman takes a step closer, and your stomach does a flip. This is stupid. It's dangerous, and stupid, and it would be so easy to say no. 

"You won't hurt me, right?" You ask, a nervous edge creeping into your voice.

"You'll enjoy every second we spend together," she says, her eyes stroking over you. Her gaze is so intense, her voice so soothing, all you want is to please her. You don't think. You no longer have the ability to.  Your desire is too strong.

"What are you going to do?" you ask, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

"That depends on you," she says, her fingers brushing the edge of the duvet. "What would you like me to do?"

You look into her dark, all-consuming eyes, and shiver. Your blood feels like it's on fire.   "I—um—whatever you had in mind." 

Her eyes narrow, her lips curling up into a smirk. She leans in, her warm breath ghosting your lips. You can smell her perfume, the scent of vanilla and lavender assaulting your senses.  

Your heart beats fast, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes your throat.

"Are you sure?" she says, her voice low. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

She's right. For all you knew, her idea of fun could include a knife and a casket. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when she's looking at you like that. 

"I don't care," you say, your voice hoarse. "Do whatever you want with me."

The corners of her lips curl upwards, and her eyes twinkle with mischief.  "Okay," she whispers, her voice soft and sweet.

She leans forward, her lips ghosting yours. You hold your breath, anticipating her next move. Her hand moves up to cup your cheek, her thumb rubbing small circles on your skin that send a tingle down your spine. You lean into the touch, and her smile widens. She tilts her head to the side, and presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. The contact is soft, tender, and sweet. Her lips are warm, and the touch is brief, but enough to ignite the flames within your veins. You gasp, moving your head to try to capture her lips with yours, and she chuckles, pulling away.

"You're so impatient," she says, her eyes gleaming. "Desperate, even."

Embarrassment creeps up on you, and you flush, averting your gaze. She laughs again, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"Don't hide from me," she whispers, her voice soft. "There's nothing wrong with wanting something."

With her words, the fire within you flares, and the embers within your belly burst into an inferno. Your whole body is burning, yearning, and you can't help the sigh that escapes your throat. She hums, staring at you with her piercing gaze. You've never felt this exposed, so vulnerable, so completely bare in front of another person, and you are still partially clothed. She seems to be studying you, taking in every detail, memorizing the expressions on your face. She's looking at you like you're prey, a feast, and it should scare you, should make you tremble, but it doesn't.

"Kiss me," you murmur, and she obeys.

You let out a small gasp, and her lips curve into a smile against yours as you make contact. Your eyes flutter shut, and the warmth of her mouth almost sends you spiraling. The feeling is electric, like a bolt of lightning, and it sets every nerve ending within your body alight. Her tongue glides along your bottom lip, and you part them willingly, allowing her all of the access she desires. Her tongue is warm, and wet, and her kisses are intoxicating. She tastes sweet, like strawberries and vanilla, and you can't help but moan.

She pulls away, prompting an involuntary whimper from you."Is this what you wanted, y/n?"

"Yes—uh," you stop yourself, realizing that you still don't know her name. 

"Bada," she supplies, as if reading your mind. She places a hand on your chest, and gently pushes you back onto the bed, her gaze locked on yours. You fall onto the mattress, your eyes wide.

"Bada," you repeat softly, tasting the name on your lips. Pretty. 

She smiles and slips the blankets off of you. The cool air hits your skin, sending goosebumps along your arms and legs. You suck in a sharp breath, and her eyes rake over you, drinking in the sight.

"Beautiful," she whispers, her fingers tracing up your thigh. 

She leans down to press a gentle kiss on your jaw. Her lips travel down your neck, and she bites at the sensitive skin, hard. A moan slips from your mouth, and she sucks and licks at the spot, soothing the sting. Her hand trails up the inside of your thigh, and her fingertips graze the band of your underwear. You arch your back, yearning for her touch.

"Please," you whimper again, and she giggles. 

"At least you're polite," she says, biting down on your neck again. 

Her teeth scrape against your skin, and you gasp, grabbing a fistful of her hair. You pull her closer, desperate to remove any shred of distance between the two of you. She groans, her nails digging into your thigh, her touch searing hot. She sucks at the tender skin below your collarbone, and you whine, heat pooling between your legs. It was a little humiliating, getting so worked up despite the fact that she's barely done anything, but it was hard not to when she's touching as if she wants nothing more than to devour you. 

"So impatient," she purrs, her eyes gleaming. "So needy."

She kisses the mark she made on your neck, and you squirm, the pressure between your thighs growing. 

Her fingers move higher, ghosting over your underwear, and you writhe under her touch, letting out a frustrated groan. She pulls away, a smirk on her lips.

"Something wrong?"

"You're fucking with me," you hiss, and she laughs out loud. 

"Your impatience is cute," she says, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin on your neck, pausing where your heartbeat pulsed, right beneath your jaw. "Can't help it." 

You watch as she moves her hand away from your neck, back to your underwear. Her fingers slip under the band of your panties, already dark and wet, and she runs them through your folds, spreading your already abundant slickness.  You couldn't stand that you were so clearly proving her point about how needy you were, giving her more to make fun of you about, but how could you not be? It's been too long. and you don't know if it's ever felt this good this early on.  

Your head falls back onto the pillow, and your hands clutch at the sheets, desperate for purchase. The feeling of her thumb brushing against your clit makes your hips buck up, and she pulls away to pull down your panties.

You shiver, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. She grabs your thighs, spreading them apart, and the anticipation nearly kills you on the spot.

"So pretty," she says, her voice filled with wonder.

She looks up at you, her eyes darker than before. She holds your gaze, and without breaking eye contact, ducks her head, and swipes her tongue along your slit.

A moan escapes your lips, and your back arches, your fingers threading through her hair. Her tongue moves in circles, and you feel her hands grasp at your thighs as you inadvertently try shut them close around her head. She spreads them further apart, and presses her mouth against your center, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

"F—fuck," you moan, your head thrown back, eyes shut.

She moans into you, the vibrations causing pleasure to erupt inside of you. You grip the sheets, the fabric crumpling underneath your fingers. She pulls away, and your eyes fly open, only to meet her intense gaze.

"Watch me," she whispers, her voice husky.

Your eyes snap to her face, and she smiles, her fingers trailing down your stomach. You squirm under her touch, and she grips your thighs, her eyes locked on yours. Her staring does something to you, makes the goosebumps rise on your skin, a funny feeling arise in your stomach. She presses her lips against the inside of your thigh, her eyes not leaving yours.

She slips a finger inside of you, and you gasp, the sudden intrusion causing a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. She curls her finger, and you arch your back, the friction driving you crazy.

"That's it," she purrs, adding another finger.

You throw your head back, moaning as she begins to thrust her fingers, moving in a steady rhythm. You clench around her fingers, and her eyes widen, a mischievous glint shining in her irises. You bite your lip, the pressure building, and she smirks, increasing the pace of her movements. She crooks her fingers, hitting a sensitive spot inside of you. 

"Fuck," you cry out, and her lips curl upwards, pleased.

She leans forward, her lips capturing yours, her tongue invading your mouth. She swallows your moans, and you can feel her smiling against your lips. She pulls away, and rests her forehead against yours, her dark eyes boring into yours.

"Are you going to come for me, y/n?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, and she laughs, her hot breath fanning against your cheek.

She thrusts her fingers faster, and her thumb rubs against your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your breaths come out short and quick, and your head spins, the room spinning.

"Come on," she whispers, her voice low and sultry.

The pressure builds, and you can feel the edge coming. You gasp, your eyes shut, and your whole body tenses up, the pleasure rippling through your body. You let out a string of curses, and she slows her movements, riding out the aftershocks. 

"That's it," she murmurs, her fingers leaving your core.

She trails her fingers up your torso, and leans down, her lips hovering above yours.  

"Open up," she commands, her voice taking on a deeper cadence that makes you immediately obey. She pushes her fingers inside of your mouth, and your tongue dances around her digits, tasting yourself, a musky flavor that leaves you feeling lightheaded. She hums and removes her fingers, a trail of saliva connecting her digits to your mouth.

"Good." she whispers, her breath tickling your cheek.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head spins. You're exhausted, and you almost feel as if you're about to pass out, but her praise and proximity sends a thrill through you, your heart fluttering at her words. She presses another soft kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue. She pulls away, a lazy smile on her face. 

Through your exhaustion, you manage to meet her gaze again, and you nearly gasp. Her pupils had swollen, the dark brown of her eyes merely a slim ring around a black void, devoid of any color. You swallow hard, a slight panic rising within you as you suddenly remembering the reality of the predicament you're in. Or, was it even reality? 

"W—what's happening?" you stutter, the words tumbling from your mouth.

She grins, and you realize for the first time that her teeth are razor sharp, looking as if they could tear your flesh to shreds.

"I'm taking care of you, that's what's happening, silly." she says, her voice taking on a sing-songy quality. Her hand trails down your side. "And I'm not quite finished, yet."

She leans down and captures your lips in another kiss so rough that it nearly bruises. You're still dizzy, the blood pumping through your veins, and your head still feels as if it's full of cotton. As soon as her hands meet your skin, your exhaustion and worry disappear, replaced by euphoria. She reaches under your shirt, her fingers dancing along your torso, and you moan, your mind foggy. You can't help the small sounds that escape from your lips as she touches you, her fingers tracing every curve, every angle, committing every inch of your body to memory. Soon, your top is tossed to the side, and her hands are exploring your bare skin. Her fingers run up your spine, and you shiver, goosebumps forming. She pulls away, and a whine falls from your lips, a sound that causes her to laugh.

"So easy to please," she teases.

"Sh-shut up," you protest weakly. 

Suddenly, she grabs you by the waist, pulling you into her lap with an ease that catches you off guard. You're stunned into silence, and she wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. You let out a yelp, and her nails dig into your skin, the sting making you bite back a groan. She places her chin on top of your shoulder, and her hands move lower, settling on your hips. She squeezes and forces your hips into a grind, her thigh meeting the apex of your legs. Your eyes flutter shut, a wave of heat pooling between your legs, a warmth filling the pit of your stomach, a small moan escaping your lips. She chuckles, her breath tickling the back of your neck.

"Fuck," you choke out, the embarrassment clear in your tone as you continue to your center against the smooth skin of her thigh.

"You're funny," she murmurs with a smile, and presses a kiss on your cheek. 

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you hide your face, burying it into her neck. You inhale deeply, her scent filling your nose. She still smells so sweet, like dessert, and you want to lick her, devour her, but instead, you press your lips to her skin, and she moans, gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark.

"God, you're so beautiful," she whispers, her nails digging into your hips. "So, so pretty."

You moan, the heat between your legs intensifying. Her words go straight to your core, and you can't help the small, high-pitched whine that leaves your mouth, a sound you'd be ashamed of if not for the fact that you can't think, can't focus, can't even process her words.

One of her hands slips around your waist, grabbing at the bare flesh of your ass. Your breath hitches, and she pulls you closer, her mouth finding the spot on your neck that drives you wild. Her teeth scrape against your skin, and her tongue laps at the hollow of your collarbone, the sensation eliciting a loud moan. You tilt your head, allowing her access, and her mouth moves downward, to your breast, her tongue circling one of your nipples. Your eyes squeeze shut, the tension in your abdomen mounting. It was overstimulating, her thighs, the way her tongue felt against you, the way her fingers squeezed at the flesh of your ass, the way her hands explored the planes of your body, and it was all too much. 

"I'm gonna—" you start, and her hand moves between your legs, pressing her fingers against your throbbing clit. 

You let out a cry, the orgasm hitting you hard, the intensity somehow stronger than before. Her fingers slide easily against you, and you clench around her, the waves of pleasure washing over your body.

She lets out a soft sigh, and she pulls away, her black eyes meeting yours. You don't care enough to feel frightened this time though, being so flooded with exhaustion that you collapse back onto the bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. Sharp, short breaths escape from your lips, and a numbness starts to spread throughout your limbs, a strange calm settling over your body that you've never felt before. Somewhere in the back of your brain, alarm bells are going off, but they're drowned out by a heavy sleepiness that takes over you. 

"Go back to sleep, Y/N." she says, her voice distant, muffled. "It's alright."

You can feel the weight of the world bearing down on your shoulders, and the bags under your eyes seem to grow heavier and darker with every passing second. It has been a very long time since you were last able to sleep properly. You wanted to talk to Bada more, but you can feel yourself beginning to lose control, your mind going blank and your muscles becoming weak. 

"Bada..." you mumble, her name rolling off your tongue.

Before you can further speak, the darkness seeps into your mind, and you allow yourself to succumb. But, the feeling that accompanies you into sleep is an uneasy one, a cold sensation wrapping itself around your body like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey. 

"Good night," Bada whispers, the words echoing in the darkness, the sound fading into nothingness. 

[live-laugh-lenney]

interruption | arthurtv

hello!

not very good as following a routine or any kind of schedule so the posting of my writing will be rather sporadic... i do apologise but bear with me on that.

here's one that i've been working on for a couple of weeks, from a request that was sent in to my inbox, so i hope that whoever did ask me to write this enjoys it. let me know what you think and don't hesitate to send in your feedback or send in any ideas that you want me to write.

thank you! love to you all!

enjoy. x

*

Cosy.

That’s how she would describe Arthur’s flat. 

Cosy and very him.

All open plan, with his kitchen melding with his living room mixing with his dining room, but so warm and inviting. A knitted throw-blanket folded and draped over the back of his sofa, that he always said was for show but he never scolded YN when she unravelled the fabric and threw it over her legs when she was curled up beside him, or took it to his bedroom when the nights were too cold for just a duvet and his radiating body heat. Books, labelled from fictional titles to nonfiction titles and autobiographies through to encyclopaedias sat on shelves attached the the walls of his living room, with photo frames of him and his family and wax burners filling in the gaps that melted scents of cinnamon and spiced orange, succulents draped down and in witty plant pots that his friends would buy him for Christmas. Lamps in every corner of his main living space because he felt that the main lighting was much too bright, especially for evenings spent at home with a good book that he’d brought from the bookstore on his outing into the city centre, or too bright for an evening spent at home watching a television show he’d been recommended to watch by one of his friends. 

Where her flat was more in the centre of London, closer to where she worked in an independent coffee house which definitely challenged the Starbucks and Costa’s that were close-by, she became used to the sounds of passing cars and honking taxis and the distant sound of the overground squeaking on the rails as it approached its destination. The hustle and bustle of tourists passing by the entrance to her flat complex, shops on her doorstep, in an area that was full of high-rise buildings and overlooked a park that she spent many of the summery days sat in, with a picnic from Waitrose and a good book and with Arthur, enjoying the time together. So being in the part of London that almost instantaneously switches off in the middle of the evening, once everyone had travelled home and everything had shut up shop for the night, felt almost peaceful to her.

She much preferred his living space to her own…but she was sure that it was the feeling of being in the same vicinity as him that warmed her more than being in the flat itself.

On the evenings he would film with Alex and George and Cam, for a Chaos Crew video that seemed to be in high demand, she found herself dillying around his home and finding things to do until he was finished for the night. If it wasn’t cooking them both a dinner to eat once he was done, it was reading something from his ever growing collection of novels; and if she wasn’t reading a book, she was logging into his Netflix and watching a film to pass the time and, if she’d had a busy day and felt her eyelids sitting heaving, she would curl up and take a nap on the sofa until she was woken up with a soft kiss to the forehead or a gentle nudge into her thigh to wake her up.

But there was something about that evening where she just wanted to be near him.

They’d both, surprisingly, had days off that coincided with each other so they spent the day together and they came rarely and not very often - taking it in their stride and making the most of getting to spend quality time together.They went shopping down the strip together and spoilt the other whenever they saw them looking at something for a little longer than normal, they popped into her coffee house for a cream cake and a coffee and to say hello to her friends who were working that day, they went food shopping because his fridge was a little scarce when it came to ingredients for a dinner that was substantial and they shared a late dinner together where they sat at the dining table with a candle and some fizzy apple juice to impersonate wine because neither of them fancied a drink that night. But she knew their time together was inevitable and she couldn’t help but look at the clock as she counted the minutes down till he said he needed to film a new video - and she couldn’t complain because, well, she had spent the last twelve hours with him. 

But, twelve hours just didn’t feel like enough.

She hated using the word clingy when it came to her relationship with Arthur but… she felt clingy. 

Across the space of his living room, she swerved the sofa and dodged his furniture and tucked the blanket a bit tighter over her shoulders as the gentle breeze of her movements blew it from the bare skin showing for her t-shirt - well, not her t-shirt but Arthur’s t-shirt, yet she claimed it as her own and he couldn’t say no to her when he thought she looked beautiful in his clothing - and she made her way down his hallway to. Goosebumps on her legs as she left the warmth of the sofa but they soon disappeared as she got closer to his office door, accustomed to the chill in the air.

“You know when this guy is telling him to tone it down that he needs to take it down a level,” she heard Arthur remark, a gentle snicker following in suit. 

“Uh, yeah, looking a little bit like a geek there… might want to tone it down,” George’s laugh came next, followed by a chorus of cackles and snickers from the other guys sat on the Discord video call.

“He’s got a fourth badge that’s just homophobic,” her boyfriend retorted back and at that, she rolled her eyes and an unsure smile on her lips because of the emphasis on the last word of his sentence.

She could hear that whatever they were watching on Youtube had been unpaused, ready to carry on before they took another break to add commentary content to the video, and her hand halted over the door handle to his office. Shuffling on her bare feet, the wooden floor of his hallway was cold beneath the pads of her toes, and she just couldn’t figure out the right time to poke her head into his room and ask him just how long he was going to be. She didn’t want to be a bother but the longing-for-him feeling, that sat low in her belly, was becoming a bother to her.

“It is kind of cute. I actually do kind of rate it, like being your own superhero and that… but it is the kind of thing you grow out of when you’re like six,” Arthur stated. 

“Yeah, you’ve got to go as something recognisable surely, right?” Alex questioned and there were some gentle hums of agreement throughout that she probably would have joined in with if they were all sat in a room together and discussing that specific topic, “if you’re gonna go as anything at all.”

“What did you go as to Comic Con?” Arthur wondered, asking the question that everyone was thinking; “I went as Obi Wan Kenobi,” came Alex’s response and he was instantly met with silence. YN could just imagine the smirks and the grins and the laughter that were almost bursting to come to light from the three guys sat there, taking in everything they’d heard.

And YN took the chance.

The door handle squeaked as she applied pressure and the door creaked as she opened it, poking her head into the room, met with the sage green wallpaper of his office and the dim lighting filling the space that he used as background lighting - because he still found his main light to be too bright when filming his Youtube videos. He turned in his seat and let his eyes adjust, smiling upon her arrival once he saw her full figure standing in the doorway, the screen illuminating the side of his face and he slipped his headphones from on top of his head and down to his neck.

“You okay, lovie?”

“Just wanted to know how long you were going to be,” she hummed softly, almost too quiet, but she didn’t want to interfere with their recording because then he’d have been there even longer than planned, “I was gonna have a nap on the sofa but I won’t if you’re not gonna be too long.”

“I won’t be long, no,” he said, “there’s not long left of this video. Give me twenty minutes?”

“I’ll wait up for you,” she smiled, “mind if I just sit in here and watch? Promise I won’t make any sounds. I’m a bit bored out there on my own.”

Arthur smiled warmly at her, letting his eyes wander up and down her body as he took in her comfy appearance, holding up his pointer finger as he turned back to face his monitors and slid his headphones back up his head, setting them back on his ears.

“Guys, YN’s here.”

She could hear the muffled cheers through his headphones from his announcement and she grinned shyly, tightening the blanket around her shoulders, and she closed the bedroom door behind her before shuffling across the carpet. He gave his thighs a pat, inviting her to come and sit with him for a brief few minutes, and she quietly took him up on that offer as she blushed and nodded. He situated himself a bit more comfortably in his chair, unplugging his headphones so she could hear what was happening and moving any lingering wires so she could settle herself down on his lap without pulling any screens off of his desk. Curling up under his arm and bringing her knees to her chest, covering herself with the blanket draped over her shoulders, releasing a content sigh. She wasn’t bothered by her appearance on the screen because she knew he wouldn’t include any of what was happening, without her permission, in the final cut on Youtube.

“How have you been, YN?”

“I’ve been good, yeah. Ready for a sleep but you guys just had to come first tonight,” she smirked, feeling Arthur’s hand tuck beneath the t-shirt hanging down her frame, his fingers tickling up her side in a relaxing and comforting manner, “I feel I haven’t seen you guys for weeks.”

“You haven’t actually,” George remarked with a hint of feigned annoyance, a similar smirk sitting on his mouth, “spending all your time with Arthur now, aren’t you? Taking him away from us. We’ll have to fight for custody.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin and dropped her head into the curve of Arthur’s neck and his jawline, inhaling softly and breathing in the faint scent of cologne still left on his clothing, his arms tightening around her. 

He was warm. 

So warm. 

His hands wouldn’t leave her skin. His arm stayed tight to her waist and his fingers traced soft circles into her hip, just above the waistband of the knickers that dug into her skin, and his free hand kept in its place upon her knee and he gave her a squeeze every so often. 

“I’m letting you have him this weekend,” she hummed, “Platform Roulette, no?”

“I only get him when he’s drunk and annoying,” George frowned playfully, “you get him when he’s all cute and soppy. One can only dream of that interaction, used to have it all the time.”

“YN’s cute and soppy also so they’re practically a match made in heaven,” Cam cackled and YN felt the heat creep up her neck and settle across the expanse of her cheeks, “look at you guys, it’s just adorable and it makes me feel sick.”

“Cam, oh my god,” Arthur laughed, “you guys suck.”

“We love you both really,” Alex smiled, “you know we do.”

*

honestly, ending a story just isn't my forte... i just hate every ending i write.

anyway!

if you got this far then thank you for reading. means a lot to me that you've reached the end. please let me know what you think and don’t hesitate to send me any ideas you may have for future fics. my ask box is always open so don’t hesitate to send anything in.

lots of love to you guys! thank you! xx

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: The weight of the new world is heavy on everyones shoulders. Maybe a card game will help?

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Mentions of loss, mentions of readers mom, mentions of sarah, reader has short hair, depression (myles), everyone just dealing with shit, joel trying to explain to reader that her dad is just a lil sad.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

The horizon is bathed in a soft, hazy red glow, casting a warm hue across the landscape. Down below in the valley, a thick, dense fog weaves its way amid the mountains, slowly creeping up the sides like wisps of cotton. Scattered across the valley floor are various transmission towers, their metal skeletons once humming with activity. Now, nature begins its slow takeover as they lay dormant on the forgotten grounds, vines twisting up the towers and trees gradually swallowing them into their embrace.

The sun makes its slow descent behind the towering mountains, its last rays casting long shadows over the valley below. The moon takes its rightful place high up in the heavens, overseeing the narrow hiking trails snaking through the terrain. You sit at the edge of the rocky cliff, your legs tucked up against your chest as you take in the breathtaking view. Your thoughts drift back to the previous day, remembering how you had explored the valley. You had braved the climb up a fallen transmission tower to cross rapid waters, much to your father's worry.

Your eyes follow as Joel and Tommy appear in your line of vision at the bottom of the steep trail, their rifles held at the ready. They had ventured out around noon, armed with the intentions of hunting, and their efforts are now evident as they make their way up the trail, the weight of a freshly hunted deer in their grasp.

Your face lights up at the sight of the brothers, and you quickly rise to your feet, a grin spread wide across your face. You break into a jog, making your way back to the historic pub where your small group has sought shelter for the night.

You emerge from the tree line and navigate your way through the parking lot, skirting around dilapidated cars and piles of rusted scrap. In the distance, the pub comes into view, standing majestically tall as the last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over its brick exterior. The building takes on a castle-like quality, silhouetted against the orange and red hues.

You struggle against the considerable weight of the oversized front door, your feet shifting slightly on the ground as you summon all your strength to push it open. Muscles straining, you slowly creak the door open, the heavy wood groaning with resistance.

Footsteps echo loudly on the tiled floors as you race through the old building. As you reach the top of the stairs that would have been used by guests during the pub’s prime, you come to a halt in front of one of the rooms your father has started to set up camp in.

He stands with his back towards you, his gaze fixed out the window. Candles on the bedside tables cast a flickering, buttery light onto the mustard-colored walls, the wax of the candles starting to drip down the candlesticks. The rooms are basic but cozy, equipped with the bare minimum - a double bed, a chair, and a floor lamp along with the bedside tables.

You approach him silently and stop next to him, curious to see whatever it is that he's observing so intently. However, upon peering out the window, all you see is the peaceful sight of birds flying to their nests in the trees as the day comes to an end. You glance up at your father, taking in his expressionless face as his gaze remains fixed on the outdoor view.

You observe him closely, noticing the way his eyes glisten and his jaw clenches, a familiar expression that mirrors your own when your emotions begin to overflow. Concern tugs at your heartstrings as you speak softly, the question falling from your lips, "Why are you sad?"

He jolts slightly as he looks down at you, having been lost in thought before your sudden presence pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glances back out the window as the light from Joel and Tommy's torches become visible. His gaze becomes distant as he speaks. "Your mom and I used to visit a lot of places just like this one," he says softly. "She was quite the history buff." He pauses, his words tinged with a hint of nostalgia, before he walks away from the window towards the door.

Your dad's casual comment about your mother catches your attention, and your eyes widen with keen interest. It is rare for him to bring her up in conversation, usually brushing off any mention of her name. So the fact that he's mentioned her unprompted piques your curiosity - and you are determined to grasp onto any details he shares.

You turn away from the window, a question about your mother on the tip of your tongue. But before you can voice it, your father has already made his way halfway down the stairs, leaving you alone in the room.

By the time you reach the downstairs area, Tommy is already hauling the slain deer into the small kitchen behind the bar. Joel, meanwhile, drops his bag onto the counter top with a thud and proceeds to start unloading its contents. He carefully places the assortment of items they'd managed to scavenge on top of the bar.

You clamber onto the stool next to your father as his conversation with Joel ends with hushed voices as your eyes scan the items spread out on the counter. A few sealed packages of food and some basic necessities cover the surface. You cast a quick glance at the finds, trying to hide your disappointment. You understand that survival means only grabbing what's necessary and nothing more, but you can't help but feel just a bit let down.

Your dad's fingers close around a packet of cigarettes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "I can't believe you actually found some," he mutters, extracting one from the pack. He rises from the stool and announces, "I'll be outside." Without further words, he turns and begins to make his way out of the room.

You pivot on your stool, intending to follow your father, but Joel gently suggests it might be best to give your dad some time alone right now.

You reluctantly turn away from your dad's departing figure and return your attention to Joel. With a heavy sigh, you rest your arms on the bar.

Joel pats at his coat pockets, a frown of concentration etched on his face. He rummages through them, eventually pulling out a small yellow and white striped cloth from his back pocket. With an enigmatic smile, he stretches his arm across the bar and hands it to you. You take the item, your fingers curling around the fabric as you regard it with cautious intrigue.

You unfurl the fabric and examine it quizzically, your curiosity piqued. Expecting to find something concealed within, you're momentarily surprised to find it's just cloth. "What's this?" you ask.

A soft chuckle escapes from Joel as he shakes his head, moving to stand beside you. Taking the cloth from your hands, he begins folding it with practiced ease. "It's a bandanna," he clarifies, positioning himself behind you. He then places the cloth on your forehead, skillfully tying the ends beneath your short ponytail.

"Keeps the hair out of your face." His touch is gentle as he removes the hair tie from your hair, allowing the short strands to fall loosely around your neck. Joel moves to stand beside you, and you notice the subtle rise of a soft smile at the corner of his mouth as he carefully adjusts the fabric, ensuring it's secure.

You shake your head to test it out and smile as the hair stays out of your eyes.

Tommy reappears in the room, holding two half-full bottles of alcohol in his hands, his face lit up with an excited grin. "Looks like we're eating and drinking well tonight," he declares with a booming chuckle. He sets the bottles down on the opposite side of the bar and proceeds to scour the cabinets for unbroken glasses.

With a glass in hand, Tommy turns and starts pouring alcohol for both himself and Joel. He pushes the glass across the counter towards Joel and takes a long sip of his own drink. Then, he glances your way, nodding approvingly. "Yellow suits you," he praises, his words accompanied by a small smile.

You murmur a quick thanks in response as Joel and Tommy start discussing their plans for the freshly caught deer. Their conversation fills the background as you fiddle with the ends of the bandanna.

You peer over your shoulder towards the parking lot through the large window. The world outside is steeped in almost complete darkness, the stars above offering minimal light. Your father is seated on the husk of a car, a small lantern by his side and a lit cigarette between his lips, casting a flickering glow against the side of his face that you can see.

Joel's hand gently rests on your shoulder. His gaze meets yours, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he murmurs, a playful tone in his voice. "Why don't we play a game of cards while Tommy cooks us dinner? Let me beat you again."

A disapproving frown creeps onto your face, and you let out an exaggerated huff before jumping off the stool. "You only win because you cheat," you retort, moving towards a table by the fireplace with a pout.

Joel responds with a scoff, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes his seat at the table, retrieving the deck of cards and diligently shuffling them in his hands. "Is that so?" he retorts, his tone both challenging and playful.

You can't help but gloat as you take the cards he's dealt. "Tommy told me so," you declare as you begin organizing the cards in your hand, the hint of a smirk on your face.

Joel responds with a resigned sigh, his focus on sorting out his own cards. "Just because he says somethin’, doesn't mean you gotta believe him, sweetheart," he warns, his tone a mix of gentle teasing and mild irritation. He shakes his head slightly, seemingly displeased with the cards he's been dealt.

You can't help but chuckle as you place down a card on the table. "He told me you would say that," you repeat, your smile widening as you revel in the thought of having anticipated his response.

Despite your smug attitude, Joel remains unfazed. He exhales a deep sigh and places his card on top of yours, matching your play.

Joel ends up winning four times in a row.

Your dad remains mostly withdrawn over the following week, his expression distant and detached. Both Tommy and Joel seem to intervene whenever you attempt to engage in conversation with him, subtly redirecting your attention elsewhere.

You've seen your dad behave this way before, but never for this extended period of time. Day after day, you wake up, silently hoping that it will be the day that he snaps out of it and returns to his usual self — just like he has in the past.

And yet, he doesn’t.

On the sixth day while you sit by the river, lost in your thoughts as you watch the soothing flow of the water, you turn to Joel. "Have I done something to upset my dad?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the concern palpable in your words.

Joel's expression softens as he hears your question. He immediately pulls you into his side, pulling you closer to him. "Of course not, princess," he replies gently, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and tenderness.

After a moment's pause, Joel continues, his tone soft and understanding. "He's just a little sad, that's all," he explains, his gaze fixed on the flowing water before you.

You scowl slightly at Joel's explanation, genuinely confused. "Sad?" you repeat, your voice tinged with confusion. "Why would he be sad?" The situation doesn't make sense to you, and you look up at Joel, seeking clarification.

Joel lets out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours. He tugs gently at the bandanna tied around your forehead, his touch gentle and tender. "He just misses your mom," he explains, his voice tinged with melancholy. "He misses how things used to be, how the world used to be."

You murmur a soft "Oh" in response, leaning into Joel's side as your gaze drifts to Tommy, who is washing his hair on the other side of the river with your dad. The silence that follows is filled with your unspoken questions and thoughts, hanging heavy in the air.

You turn your gaze back to Joel, a slight frown of confusion creasing your forehead. "Why is he missing her now?" you ask. "She died when I was born."

Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly contemplating how to explain it to you. "Sometimes," he begins slowly, "there are things that happen that remind us of something we've lost. It brings back memories."

You fall silent, mulling over his words as you begin to comprehend what Joel is trying to say. It's then that you recall your own fears and how the sight of fire still makes you think of losing Joel. The memory of being caught in the fire still haunts your dreams even years later.

You realize that your dad, like you, must also suffer from the same pain. The memory of losing someone you love can be triggered by the smallest things and bring forth powerful emotions, even years afterward.

“What reminds you of Sarah?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

There's a sudden tightness in Joel's grip on your arm, and you can feel the shuddering exhale of his breath. The mention of Sarah's name brings a flash of pain to his face, as memories of his lost daughter flood his mind. For a brief moment, his grief is palpable.

He's silent, his gaze transfixed on the river, his knuckles turning white as his grip on you involuntarily tightens. After a few moments, he finally speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

"Everything.”

Click here for Chapter 11

Notes

this is kind of a intermission, just a filler tbh. not extreamly happy about this chapter but i wanted to write them travelling before they reach somewhere suitable to stay.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp , @kitdjarin1 , @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @justanotherteen12@lils-1979 @elisha-chloe

[bouncybongfairy]

No Words Needed

Keegan x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Task force 141 was placed in California for a mission. You grew up here and couldn't resist the erge for some bud. It's Keegan's first time smoking; he goes non verbal and fucks the shit out of you.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Intoxicated Sex, Non-Verbal Keegan, Rough Smut

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was weird being in your hometown for the first time since joining the task force. Bringing up a lot of old memories; some good, some bad. For the most part you were maintaining the numbness that came along with being home. After sitting in your shared hotel room for an hour, you decided enough was enough and threw on your shoes. Trying your hardest not to wake Keegan; it didn’t work. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up on one of his elbows. 

“...Food,” you reply.

“Can I come?” he asks. 

“... Have you ever been to El Gavilan?” you ask.

“No,” he said. 

“Come on then,” you huff.

He got out of bed and pulled himself together as fast as he could. Following you to the elevator and out to the car. He didn’t protest when you got behind the wheel which you liked. Maybe it was because he wasn’t familiar with the area but you’d like to think it was for a more mindful reason. You followed through with your plans and did stop by El Gavilan. Eating in the car for a while before making your way to the dispensary, unbeknownst to Keegan.

“You missed the exit,” he pointed out.

“Don’t worry about it, I have to make another stop,” you said, he was practically 5 inches deep in his food, so he didn’t pry further. 

You left him in the car while going into the dispensary. It wasn’t a legal operating business but your dad swore by this one. It didn’t take long for you to see why. Cheap but good quality, not only the bud but the wax. Even had wraps which you loved because it meant this was the last stop. As you were paying, you could feel your mouth start to water. As you walked towards the car, you could see that Keegan’s brows were furrowed. 

“Why is there an armed security outside the door?” he asked. 

“It’s a dispensary,” you admitted and continued after the loud silence, “are you gonna snitch on me?” you asked. 

“No. Can I smoke too?” he asks, which makes you look over at him. 

“Yeah sure, I didn’t take you for the type,” you laugh pulling into the parking lot. 

Now back in the room, you were rolling. Explaining to Keegan exactly how you grind and gut the wrap. He was fascinated; You were using a toothpick to smear the wax on the inside of the wrap. Watching you lick and slide your fingers along the tobacco. The way you’d cringe when a small nug got caught on your lip or tongue. He wasn’t aware how much weed could permeate a room before it’s burned. You walked over to the microwave and set the blunt inside the microwave and he thought you were fucking with him. 

“No, I don’t know the exact science behind it but it makes it better,” you said, only letting it go for about 10 seconds. 

Sitting back on the bed and lighting it. Closing your eyes as the cherry crackled, enjoying the burning feeling in your lungs. You coughed and laughed, damn near rejoicing after exhaling. Keegan laughed at your reaction, watching as you did another ghost inhale. Drooling and coughing your brains out in the process. Once you composed yourself, you handed the blunt over. Walking him through the process of taking a hit, showing him how to hold it and inhale. He coughed a little but he smoked cigarettes so it wasn’t like he choked out. Immediately his brain became fuzzy, thankful for his mask covering the smirk on his face. His eyes were slowly becoming squinted and red. Normally his gaze was hard and aggressive but now his face was completely relaxed. His eyebrows weren’t furrowed, it was such a dramatic change that you couldn’t help but stare. His entire demeanor was different, going from arms crossed and leaning forward to slouched back; hands in his hoodie pocket and slow blinking. He felt like he was rolling, feeling like he was daydreaming while being wide awake. 

“You high?” he laughed and nodded his head. 

“Yeah?” you asked, taking a drag and blowing it at him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in as you did. You couldn’t help but think how hot it was seeing him so vulnerable. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, in which he nodded. You grabbed the remote and out on a music channel, swaying to the rhythm once you sat back down. Keegan let his head fall back and giggled to himself. 

“You know I don’t think I've ever seen you laugh like that,” you said, tucking a piece of hair back into his mask. He shrugged his shoulders and got up, laying down on the bed. On his back and using his hand to gesture you over. You walked over and laid down on top of him. His head was resting against a pillow, allowing him to look at you. Your chin was resting against your hands that were laid on his chest. 

“Is this okay?” you asked and he nodded. 

You could feel his member slowly harden underneath your body. You let your forehead fall onto your hands to hide your blush. Hearing him laugh and feeling his body bounce only added to your giggling. Looking back up and starting to trace his eyebrows with your finger. Running it along the bridge of his nose then moving down towards the rest of his face. You were tracing his lips from above his mask, his eyes were so expressive; he didn’t even need to talk. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling your hand away not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

He grunted and put your hand back on him, then wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled and continued admiring his face. He continued to shift and squirm from underneath you. It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. Your face was becoming flushed, especially after feeling his breathing quicken. You slid your body up against his, pressing kisses against his mask. He was leaning into the kisses which made you smile. He flipped you over and made heavy eye contact for a few moments. Breathing so hard you could feel it though his mask, you cautiously go to pull the mask off; he doesn’t pull away. Once your lips connected the vibe completely changed. 

The two of you were no longer gentle with each other. You ripped off his mask and in turn, he pulled your hoodie off. Immediately attacking your chest once it was exposed. Laying his full body weight on you and switching his mouth back and forth between your breasts. Nipping and sucking at your nipples like he couldn’t get enough. Ripping the rest of your clothes off and him following suit. His entire body was enguling you, like a lion was hovering over you. Moving his focus to your neck, sucking dark purple hickies onto your tender skin. Squirming everytime you felt his breath on your neck. 

He started grinding his member against your wet folds. Biting down as he enjoys the friction. As much as you liked the sting on your neck, you raked your nails down his back. He grabs his member and lines himself up with your entrance. Pushing himself in quickly which stung a little, he was trying his best but couldn’t help but jerk his hips. Engulfing himself in your heat fully for a moment before pulling back out. Everything was moving so fast, feeling your blood pump in your ears; your body racing with adrenaline. Continuously digging your nails into his back every time he bottomed out. Enjoying the feeling of your walls stretching around his length. 

He knew you were ready once your hips started bucking up to meet his thrusts. He chuckled a little because he was worried about hurting you. Now that you were rutting your hips up, so desperate for anything he could give you, he was practically feral. Gripping the sheets next to your head and pounding into you at an animalistic pace. Both of you were feeling dazed and whiplashed. As pleasurable as things were, it felt so foreign to be with each other in a non-platonic way. You pushed those thoughts to the side and focused on how euphoric you were feeling.

Feeling your walls cling to his length every time he pulls out. Without even thinking about it, you fall into your climax. Wrapping your legs around his hips tightly; limiting his movement. Feeling you tighten and contact around him sent him over the edge. Letting out loud groans and grunts, pressing himself as deeply as possible. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair as the two of you rode out your highs together. Eventually collapsing and falling into a deep sleep, too exhausted for after care.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Alexander Turner's Masterlist :)

Here's a link to some quick blurbs you might like!!!

...

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Nurturing love (4,5K) - Taking care of Alex while he's with laryngitis, spending time together, there's one marriage proposal and cute talks and reader watching glasto with the other gfs.

[garrysroyalsatin]

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[phantobats]

House of wax!!!

Rewriting House of Wax with Batfam characters:

I've watched house of wax and i personally loved it ! So here is my idea on how i would fit the Batfamily into this horror movie, if i had to write a fic:

"House of Wax: Wayne Legacy"

Plot Overview:

Stephanie Brown (Carly) and Jason Todd (Nick) are siblings on a road trip with their friends, en route to a major event in a nearby city. Their journey takes a dark turn when their car breaks down near a remote, eerie town with a mysterious wax museum at its center. The town, nearly forgotten by time, harbors a tragic history tied to the Wayne family—once known for their wealth and influence, now shrouded in madness and death.

Backstory: The Wayne Family Tragedy

The town of wax was originally the brainchild of Martha Wayne, a renowned philanthropist with a passion for art. She envisioned the town as a living museum, where the artistry of wax sculptures would preserve the beauty of life forever. After the tragic deaths of Martha and her husband, Thomas Wayne, their son Bruce inherited the project. However, grief over his parents' deaths consumed him, and he abandoned the project. His despair ultimately led to his suicide, leaving behind his three sons, Damian, Dick, and Tim, who were born from a relationship with Talia al Ghul. Raised in isolation, the boys grew up in the shadow of their parents' legacy, their minds twisted by loss and a desire to honor the Wayne name.

Now adults, the three brothers—Dick and Tim, who were once conjoined twins, and Damian, the youngest—have taken over the town of wax, turning it into a nightmarish reflection of their family's tragic history.

Arrival at the Town:

After their car breaks down, Stephanie, Jason, and their friends decide to explore the nearby town in hopes of finding help. They soon encounter Damian Wayne (Lester), a seemingly innocent boy who offers to guide them to the local mechanic. However, there's something unsettling about him that sets Jason on edge. Despite his suspicions, the group follows Damian to the heart of the town—the wax museum.

The Wax Museum:

Inside the museum, they are amazed by the lifelike quality of the wax figures, unaware that these sculptures were once living people, encased in wax by the Wayne brothers. As they explore further, Stephanie and Jason become separated from their friends, and the horrifying truth begins to unravel.

The Brothers Wayne:

The museum is revealed to be a deadly trap, with the Wayne brothers—Dick and Tim, the conjoined twins (formerly Bo and Vincent Sinclair), and Damian—hunting down the intruders. Dick (Bo), the charming yet ruthless leader, manages the town’s facade, drawing in unsuspecting victims. Tim (Vincent), the talented but disturbed artist, uses his skills to turn their prey into grotesque wax statues, while Damian (Lester) lures and manipulates the visitors, using his youth and innocence to disarm them.

As Stephanie and Jason try to find their friends, they discover the tragic history of the Wayne family, learning about Bruce Wayne’s demise and the brothers’ warped attempts to continue their parents' legacy.

The Fight for Survival:

Realizing the danger they are in, Stephanie and Jason must outwit the Wayne brothers to escape the town. Stephanie uses her quick thinking and resourcefulness, while Jason relies on his strength and protective instincts. As they uncover more of the town’s dark secrets, they are horrified to find their friends transformed into wax statues.

The final confrontation takes place in the burning ruins of the wax museum, where Jason and Stephanie must face the Wayne brothers in a desperate battle for survival. In the chaos, the museum’s structure collapses, engulfing the town in flames. Stephanie and Jason narrowly escape, but the fate of the Wayne brothers remains uncertain, leaving the possibility that they might still be alive, hidden in the shadows.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Villains through the Rainbow

I cant believe I did this for fun. This was painful XD 😅 So be free to use them as wallpapers or headers or whatever ^^

Made on BeFunky with kissthemgoodbye.net and Google (And more). CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY.

Below the cut are all the characters and movies and shows ^^

Red: Gaston (Beauty and The Beast, 1991), Pearl (Pearl, 2022), Professor Ratigan (The Great Mouse Detective, 1986), Captain Hook (Peter Pan, 2003), Lord Shen (Kung Fu Panda 2, 2011), The Djinn (Wishmaster, 1999), Jafar (Aladdin, 1992), Otis B Driftwood (House of 1000 Corpses, 2003), Death (Puss N Boots; The Last Wish, 2022), Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (Seed of Chucky, 2004), Scar (The Lion King, 1994), and Erik Destler (The Phantom of the Opera, 1989).

Yellow: Percival C McLeach (The Rescuers Down Under, 1990), Mayor George W. Buckman (2001 Maniacs, 2005), Clayton (Tarzan, 1999), Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt Jr (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 2003 + The Texas Chainsaw Massacre; The Beginning, 2006), Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls, 2012), Baby Firefly (House of 1000 Corpses, 2003), Cruella De Vil (101 Dalmations, 1961), Human!Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (Childs Play, 1988), Commander Lyle Rourke (Atlantis; The Lost Empire, 2001), Kahmunrah (Night At The Museum; Battle of the Smithsonian, 2009), Hopper (A Bugs Life, 1998), and Gilderoy Lockheart (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, 2002).

Green: Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty, 1959), The Riddler (Fox Gotham, 2014), Scar (The Lion King, 1994), Leslie Vernon (Behind The Mask; Rise of Leslie Vernon, 2006), Chick Hicks (Cars, 2006), Freddy Krueger (Freddy Vs Jason, 2003), General Kai (Kung Fu Panda 3, 2016), Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice, 1988), Marvin the Martian (Space Jam, 1996), Oogie Boogie (A Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993), Greasy Weasel (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988), and Lady Tremaine (Cinderella, 2015).

Blue: Wheezy Weasel (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988), Michael Myers (Halloween, 1978), Hades (Hercules, 1997), Maleficent (Once Upon A Time, 2011), Prince John (Robin Hood, 1973), Pamela Voorhees (Friday the 13th, 1980), Tai Lung (Kung Fu Panda, 2008), Stuart Lloyd (The Last Showing, 2014), Prince Hans of the Southern Isles (Frozen, 2013), Hades (Once Upon A Time, 2011), Shan Yu (Mulan, 1998), and Bo Sinclair (House of Wax, 2005).

Purple: Eris (Sinbad; Legend of the Seven Seas, 2003), Carrie White (Carrie, 1978), Jafar (Aladdin, 1992), Chop Top Sawyer (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre II, 1986), Evil Queen Grimhilde (Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs, 1937), Tiffany Valentine (Bride of Chucky, 1998), Dr Facilier (The Princess and the Frog, 2009), Jervis Tetch (Fox Gotham, 2014), Ursula (The Little Mermaid, 1989), Regina Mills (Once Upon A Time, 2011), Long John Silver (Treasure Planet, 2002), and Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body, 2009).

[ac3-76]

Legend of korra headcannons🐌

warnings: brief mention of drinking(kinda alcoholism), other than that nothing

(Most of these are in a modern setting)

Wing Beifong is a motorcycle guy and posts Aushen Ride type videos

Varrick is a coffee addict and he has awful coffee breath

Korra got a stingray tattooed on her upper back. the tail goes down her spine and the wings(?) are on her shoulder blades

If Formula 1 is a thing in their universe, Future Indistries is one of the og teams

Asami would have future industries make a feminine car for the races taking place in Women's History Month (march)

And for the cars used by the drivers outside of March there'd be something feminine on it, like a lip stick kiss mark

She started it because she wanted a more feminine touch in the sport to show that you can be a girly girl or a girly person and still enjoy and partake in something that's traditionally masculine

I feel like in general she uses her cars to bring awareness to things occurring in society

When Bolin got paid for the Nuktuk series one of the first things he bought was a high quality gaming set up that he had his eye on for years

Now he streams him playing video games and makes a fair bit of money from it

Sometimes the others will play games with him and make apperances on his streams

the fan favorite is Asami because she has the best builds in Minecraft and the best strategy in Call of Duty

Mako likes to watch Criminal Minds and other law/criminal shows to see if he can figure out where it's going and solve it before the characters do

Wu photoshops everything that he posts and is very active on all social media platforms

when Korra went on her own for 6 months after Zaheer tried to kill her, she started drinking because it made her sleepy

she didn't have to be awake and deal with her hallucinations, and when she slept it was nothing, no dreams, no nightmares, just hours of being away from her trauma

being with Toph in the swamp for a couple of weeks(or days?) was the start of her recovery from becoming reliant on drinking to avoid dealing with trauma

Opal collects cool rocks and crystals she finds in the places she travels to

She gets them as gifts for her mother

Also because she's an Air bender and thus follows the air nomad life style, she's always sure to say thank you to the land for allowing her to give the rock to her mom

Huan has had his art in museums and has sold some pieces to well known rich people

He gives most of the money to charity

Mako sleeps on silk sheets only

he was fine with cotton and other cheaper materials until he became Wus bodyguard

Wu insisted he sleep on silk sheets after Mako told him that he had never slept on silk, and now Mako needs silk sheets

Korra's had the same black 21 oz hyddroflask since she was 15

she refuses to buy another waterbottle

it's also covered in stickers

Bolin got Pabu a bed that was specially made for Pabus size, weight, and measurements

Kinda like the one Princess Anneliese had for her cat, Serafina, in Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

Korras favorite thing to do when she sees a book or something with words is to ask how much spice in it

She's at a restaurant with Asami, they just got the menu, Korra picks it up and displays the front cover to Asami before asking "Booktok girlys before I read this how much spice is in it?"

She thinks it's the funniest thing ever

Wei and Bolin stream and play video games together, Wei has very severe anger management issues when it comes to video games

Not punch a hole in the wall bad because Su got mad at him the one time he did punch the wall, so he's practiced restraint, but still pretty bad

Su has a wax warmer for the scented wax cube things in every room of her house

She makes sure the scent is changed every week, and it has to be the same scent throughout the whole house

Tenzin avoids using social media and most technologies, as do the air nomads and monks, but Kya did get Tenzin to allow her to make a social media account for the air nation

it's mostly run by Jinora and owned by Kya on Kyas phone

it's used to spread information about the air nation, their culture, beliefs, customs, history, etc.

Lin wears boxer briefs

Asami has endometriosis

Mako doesn't handle spicy food that we'll, which is odd considering he's a fire bender

Wei's really into photography and always has a compact camera on him

His favorite compact camera is his Panasonic Lumix TZ95

Wings not super into photography but knows his way around a camera because Wei has rambled on about cameras and angles to him so many times

Wing also has to take pictures for Weis Instagram so he's had training on how to use cameras from Wei

Korra goes through a lot of interest that last for a couple of months, one of those interest was wood working/carving

Korra made Jinora a wooden claw clip for her birthday once

it's the only claw clip Jinora has and she loves it

Makos biggest guilty pleasure is cross stitch and other embroidery styles, but mostly cross stitch

Bolins bed has an uncountable number of pillows on it

After Korra and Asami come back from their spirit world vacation, they decide to travel the world

They both only ever traveled for world saving business, and even then it was earth kingdom and water tribe areas only

So they spent the next year or two traveling the world to see it in a tourist way and not a fighting war way

[lightyakami]

god of the fryer

hello all here's (the start of) a death note fast food worker au. you can also read it on dreamwith. cw for abelism & abelist slurs. there is literally no chance whatsoever that i will ever finish or even consider finishing this because working food service at the restaurant this is based on gave me unfixable psychic damage. nonetheless. perhaps you will enjoy this as is.

Light is not above working in a fast food restaurant to put himself through university. He tells himself this mostly because it’s what his father told him, in a slightly exasperated tone, when he’d driven him to work this morning.

“Light,” he’d said, “Plenty of people take on part time jobs to support themselves. You don’t have some special quality which makes you better than them.” Then he’d stopped the car, put on the same wax museum smile he’d used years ago when Sayu was throwing tantrums, and said, “Have a good day at work, son,” in a tone which brokered no argument. 

As of last week, Light doesn’t even live with them anymore. He has his own, terrible little apartment, even though Touhou is easily close enough to bus — his parent’s idea, definitely not his. His father only drove him here today as a last favour. Light feels like he’s being sent to the gallows. He has no idea why this is happening to him.

So here he is, standing in front of what looks like the world’s saddest salad bar but is actually his collection of hamburger toppings while a girl in a backwards baseball cap reads off the menu in a sharp, clipped voice. She is going to be his manager.

“So we’ve got three basic burgers — regular, buttered bun, and regular with an extra bun in the middle.” 

“Like a Big Mac.” 

“Yeah,” she says, blandly, “but calling it that is grounds for instant termination.” 

He stares at her. She sighs. “I’m joking, but still, please don’t call it that. If someone asks for one, just say we have three basic burgers … anyway, we’ve also got a bunch of special edition burgers. There’s a cheat sheet pinned to your station..” She taps a laminated sheet listing a series of increasingly bizarre burger names and the ingredients which go into them. There are six.

Light Yagami, top of his class in every school he’s ever been to, is fairly certain that he does not require a cheat sheet to memorize six hamburgers. 

“All you need to worry about are the toppings, anyway. The guys at the grill will do the patties, and whoever’s on fry will bring you buns. Oh, and anything with mushrooms or fried onions. They’ll do that too. We’ll get you trained on some of that later. It’s honestly pretty simple. You’ll probably fuck some stuff up today, but I’m sure you’ll have it down in a couple of shifts.”

“I won’t fuck anything up,” Light reassures her. She laughs, which he finds offensive.

“Thats the spirit.”

She wanders off towards one of the girls standing next to the grill.

Light exhales slowly. 

The building isn’t as horrible as he was expecting. His vision of the back of a fast food restaurant involves dark, cramped quarters and grease stains on every available surface. In reality, it’s obsessively clean and painted in off whites and a weird salmon colour that isn’t as ugly as it sounds. This makes sense, now that he’s thinking about it — it faces right into the dining area, so the customers can see into it. You can find the grease stains if you look, but they’re mostly around the fry and grill.

His section is shielded by a half wall which he can just barely see over. His toppings (lettuce, onions, tomatoes, pickles, shredded and unshredded cheese, and some strange red and green sauces which he cannot identify) are refrigerated interior of the actual counter, so it’s freezing cold. 

Behind him, everyone is already milling about themselves, talking and nudging each other with a companionability that is equal parts nice to watch and achingly melencholy for reasons he does not with to acknowledge.

He takes his laminated sheet off the counter and scans it. He is very determined to do everything perfectly, especially now that his manager laughed at him for saying that he would. Regardless of what his father said, it’s just hamburgers. He got a perfect score on his entrance exams. He has literally been helping the NPA solve crimes over the dinner table since he was eleven. He can handle this. 

The bell on the front door chimes, and a man in a scrappy white shirt and a hurricane of black hair walks through it, shoulders hunched, and skitters through the dining area, past Light, and towards the break room. Skitters really is the right word for it — he moves like he’s being hunted. 

“God.” The voice comes from behind him. Light flinches, then turns to see his manager beside him, staring at the space where the man had been. “L’s on fry today. Fuck. I told Misa she was absolutely not allowed to switch shifts with him today. I didn’t want to be dealing with him and training someone new.”

There’s a scraping nastiness to her voice which Light does not like. It’s different from the tone she’d sed with him earlier. 

“Is he new, too?” 

She snorts. “Lawliet’s been working here for six months, but he still acts like it’s his first sixteen minutes. Look at it this way, I guess — no matter how badly you do, you’re not going to be the worst one here. He’s kind of a retard.” 

“Oh,” says Light, not sure what to follow that up with. He had not been aware that people said things like that out loud anymore. She seems to mistake this for companionability, and smiles at him. He smiles back, automatically, and she turns and walks away. 

Maybe he should have said something, but it’s his first day, and what is that going to accomplish, really? Keep your head down, he tells himself. It’s just for a little while. If he can figure out whatever the hell his parent’s game is and play it properly, they’ll realize that he doesn’t require whatever lesson they’re trying to teach him and they’ll let him stay at home and eat their food until he graduates and can get an actual job at the NPA which does not involve putting tomatoes on top of lettuce or calling your coworkers retards. 

He stares at his little laminated sheet of six varieties of the exact same food. From the corner of his eye, he can see L scuttling out of the break room, a baseball cam jammed on top of his mass of black hair. He does not join in with everyone’s chatter. 

Someone sprays something on the grill and a cloud of grease rises up towards the ceiling. Not to be dramatic, but he already wants to throw himself into the fryer. 

---

He is a burger god. Of course he is. His manager — her name is Tomoko, and he should probably start remembering things like that — praises him loudly for his formidable talents in memorizing the six recipes and remembering to put the toppings on buns instead of, what, his face. It’s absurdly easy, but they seem impressed for some reason. So that’s neat. 

The less great part is that people absolutely will not stop shouting. They aren’t angry. This just appears to be the only way anyone knows how to communicate. Literally everything — the need to restock the lettuce, the number of french fries L needs to make, whenever L needs to drop a chicken into the fryer — requires shouting. To acknowledge the shouting, the shoutee has to shout back. Light is required to shout at the customers whenever he’s finished bagging their burgers, so he is contributing to the problem. 

The only person who isn’t yelling is L, which makes him Light’s favourite person in the restaurant. Right now, possibly Light’s favourite person in the entire world.

Light absolutely despises unnecessary human noise. Even when he takes his exams, he shows up no more than a minute early, so he doesn’t have to sit through the panicked whispers and incessant rustling of papers and pens which always proceeds them. Between all the yelling and the hiss of the grill and the gurgle of the fryers, he’s just about ready to throw himself directly into the meat grinder. 

Luckily, he has always been excellent at coping in adverse situations. So he makes absolutely perfect hamburgers and wraps them with absolutely perfect folds and pairs them with the perfect number of napkins. If he pays total attention to what he’s doing, he can almost ignore all the sounds. 

He’s focusing well enough that it takes him a while to notice that the number of french fries which appear by his side is almost entirely random. Sometimes there are more than he needs, and sometimes there are less. This actually evens itself else nicely, so it doesn’t occur to him that anything is going wrong until Tomoko touches her hand to one of the bags, then makes an irritated noise deep in her throat. 

“These are cold,” she says, and tosses it with what Light personally thinks is excessive force into the trash can. “Just check before you bag them.” 

She marches off. 

He assembles a Seismic burger (three buns, secret sauce, shredded lettuce, fried onions, and a slice of cheese — and shouts at a customer to take it and its associated heart attack. 

From behind him, he can hear a new voice rising up among the clamour. Light stops what he’s doing for the first time since customers started walking in through the doors.

Tomoko is standing in front of L as he cowers back fro her. He must be tall when he stands up properly, but right now he’s just this tangle of limbs trying to knot and disappear into itself. She’s talking in a voice that’s curled like a fist — quiet, but it carries, and Light can’t help but notice how everyone seems to have paused to listen.

“This is the third time I’ve seen you drop double fries,” she says. “And I know it’s not the first because Yagami’s been bagging them cold.” Light feels a twinge of unfairness. No one told him he was doing anything wrong. “And you missed two orders of chicken. Yuri had to come back and cook them herself. I don’t know why you can’t get this --“

“If everyone would just be a little quieter —“ L starts. One of the guys by the grill cuts him off, abandoning any pretence of not listening. 

“How else do you want anyone to tell you what we need?” His voice is acidic, but L looks at him like he’s just thrown him a life raft. 

You’re misunderstanding, Light wants to tell him, the same way people shout advice to characters on television. He’s not being kind to you. That’s not a real question.

“If you could just talk to me instead —“

“Six months,” Tomoko said. “You’ve been here six months. I’m trying to handle a new trainee — who’s already three times as fast as you, by the way — and you’re screwing up the line. 

Someone drops a set of three buns in front of Light. He looks up, startled, then assembles three sets of cheeseburgers and turns back. 

“I apologize,” L is saying now. He’s actually physically stepping back, as if Tomoko’s going to hit him. From the way his voice is getting lower, more ragged, the way it’s speeding up like he needs to rush to the end before all his words topple over, Light can tell he’s trying not to cry. “It will not happen again.”

“I find that difficult to believe, because it’s already happened three times today and it’s been happening for the entire six months you’ve been here. If you want to keep your position —“

“It’s not going to happen again,” L says, words all in a rush now. He’s blinking quickly. “It will not. I can guarantee —“ 

This is absolutely the stupidest situation that Light has seen in his entire life.

There are many people who look down on adults who cry in public. Light has never been one of them. What he hates is people who look for little cracks of vulnerability and press down on them until they break, then hold their hands with their palms out and act like they had nothing to do with the result. It’s a peculiar kind of cruelty. 

It should be patently obvious to anyone that L is trying his best — if that’s not adequate, they should just fire him instead of batting him around like this. The way they’re talking won’t accomplish anything other than getting him even more upset, which has not once in the history of humankind helped anyone do a better job. It’s bad management, and it’s fucking sad and frankly cruel.

Light thinks of the word retard slipped to him like a gift he didn’t wand and which he’d accepted anyway. He sidesteps Yuri as she drops patties onto his station and strides over to L. 

Light steps between him and Tomoko and clamps his hands down on L’s shoulders. L looks up at him. His eyes are wide and so black they’re disorienting, like the aura of the night where a car’s headlamps drop off, and he looks not just upset but actually terrified. 

But he holds Light’s gaze like it’s a shelter being offered to him.

“Okay,” Light says. “Just look at me, okay? Focus. You’re okay. You’re doing fine.” He isn’t, really. It doesn’t matter. The truth is a malleable thing best tossed away in favour of the information which would be most useful in any given situation. “Do you remember what you were supposed to make?”

“Three orders of fries, two with cheese, and three pieces of chicken tenders,” L says, snapped out in a tidy rhythm. 

“Okay,” Light says, “Make that. One at a time. Don’t worry about all this other stuff. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

“Yes,” L says. He presses his knuckles to his mouth. He’s swallowing hard. 

“You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay,” L says. He nods, once, as if to prove it. That’s why Light asked him — if you can get people to say something about themselves, most of the time they’ll end up believing it.

Light smiles at him. “Then go on.” He squeezes L’s shoulders, grabs one of the fries, and turns away. 

Everyone is staring at him. He finishes his three burgers, wraps them up, and sets them on the counter. “Customer thirty-eight!”

---

“You’re a miracle worker,” Tomoko whispers to him when three hours have gone past and there haven’t been any errors. He smiles at her. He doesn’t think it’s such a miracle — all he did was decide not to treat someone like dirt. 

His miracle lasts for about twenty minutes longer, after which L sends double fries and can’t seem to get back on track, but at least no one starts snapping at him again. 

---

After work, Light steps into the bus shelter and finds L already curled up on the seat, his knees pressed to his chest, staring straight into the traffic. The lights from the passing cars flicker on his face. 

“Which bus are you taking?” Light asks, just for something to say. 

“Oh,” L says. “None. I’m waiting for my brother.” He brings his thumb to his mouth and chews on it. It’s such a bizarre, childlike gesture. His coat, a long army-green thing which hangs off his skeletal frame, seems too thin for this weather.

“Older or younger?” 

“Mm. No.” 

For a moment, Light thinks that L’s batting down the conversation, but he takes another look at the spellbound way L stares out into the rivers of cars and realizes he’s just distracted. “You’re a twin?” 

L tilts his head very slightly. “Still no.” But there’s something different in his voice now — like it’s a game they’re playing, this guesswork. 

“Triplet, then.” 

L smiles. It’s sudden and starting. He tips his head further in Light’s direction and looks at him from the corners of his eyes. 

“Correct, Light-kun.” 

Light wants to say more, but the blue lights of the bus flash across the glass of the shelter. They reflect L’s face, turning him into a strange and scattered thing. Somehow both inhuman and more human than anyone has a right to be. He straightens his messenger back on his shoulder and steps out of the shelter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” he says, then hurries out.

[nichenarratives]

Crescendo

An Obscure Oneshot

Inspired by this post.

Deep within the forested trails of Missouri, an orange aura licks the midnight sky, casting a glow as potent as the early morning sun over the trees. Closer, the crackle of wood as flames engulf an inconspicuous log cabin is as intrusive as the heat itself radiating from the cabin's carcass, a bright, monstrous creature waning and waxing with the wind, too powerful to be thwarted by the thin flurry of snow fluttering down on the three who watch the building burn.

To the left, an austere feline with a strong jaw and face stripes hunches forward to light a cigarette. Despite his proximity, Atlas May has done little to set these wheels in motion; he arrived with the other two and set them upon the establishment instead, holding back to watch his pilfered heavy hitter and triggerman work their first mission together, gauging if his earlier deduction - that they would be perfect partners - were accurate.

Smoke lit, the striped feline straightens and flicks his match into the snow, where it promptly extinguishes. He raises his gaze to the flaming cabin and calmly drags on his cigarette, relishing the heat it brings to his chest, enjoying the potent hit of nicotine as his rival's storehouse burns to the ground at his order. Atlas quirks a slight smile and exhales smoke in a steady stream. 

The night was almost flawless. Almost.

He can feel the young triggerman staring at his cheek, the anxiously perfectionistic tuxedo attempting to discern their boss' opinion on the job. Mordecai Heller has worked for the Lackadaisy Speakeasy for almost eight months, keeping on top of their books as an accountant, but this is his first job as triggerman, and he fucked up getting into a physical altercation with a guardsman, almost costing him his life.

Atlas knows that's not what worries the tuxedo, however; he isn't begging to return to his desk job nor in crisis after a brush with death, but concerned he's been inadequate. The boy has a lot of anxiety compared to his partner who, even before he had completed dozens of similar assignments, had the confidence to handle himself. 

Viktor Vasko never looked for reassurance or validation, never pandered to his boss, and it's those qualities Atlas wants to encourage in their new triggerman. With life or death hanging on the pull of a trigger, Mordecai couldn't be second guessing himself. He has to be confident, capable, and possess enough autonomy for self-preservation, not hinge his worth on the words of an authority figure that won't always be there to pat him on the back.

The striped feline takes another drag of his cigarette as the experienced bobcat draws Mordecai's attention and hands him back his dropped spectacles. Another slip up, the older businessman turned smuggler muses, sharp eyes still on the roaring flames. Had he lost those, he'd be useless as a sharpshooter and an accountant until they were replaced, if he'd even managed to get out of the flames without time to find the exit with blurry vision. He's got a lot to learn. Viktor will have his hands full for a while.

"Job done," Atlas finally states, drawing the attention of both the man and the boy. He pauses to take a last drag on the cigarette before dropping it to the snow, the sizzle of hot ash lost to the violent crackle of the larger fire. "Take him to see Elsa," he orders, catching Viktor's gaze over the tom's head. He doesn't intend to address Mordecai directly tonight; such attention is reserved for when he does a good job. "Get his arm stitched, then get some sleep. I want you both back in my office tomorrow at one tomorrow, to debrief."

The bobcat simply nods in acknowledgement, then watches as Atlas turns and strides away, back to his own car, taken swiftly by the trees and snow, tracks buried as if he were never there. Only once their boss is gone does Viktor look to the young man now in his charge, the tuxedo barely out of adolescence, a boy with a man's weapon at his hip and an unerring need for acceptance he won't find in Atlas May.

Mordecai drops his gaze to the snow, hand clutching at his injured arm more tightly. He doesn't need to be explicitly told he messed up; he's supposed to be their trigger man, to keep his distance, to protect the brawler and take out any who tried to get the jump on him. He'd been a fool not to take the second shot before approaching, to try to save ammunition instead of safeguarding himself.

The subsequent shot had been aimed at his heart. Had he not brought his satchel, had he not raised it in time, he'd most likely have bled out on the stairs long before they set fire to the building. Falling through the banister, rotted wood splintering into his arm, the dull thud of landing on the joint, are all still visceral memories, as was the lightning decision to shoot at the man who loomed over the broken banister, weapon raised for a second shot. 

Mordecai hadn't even aimed, didn't have time, but it was enough to bring the man tumbling down on top of him, whereupon the tuxedo managed to get the upper hand and impale him with the shattered banister, the crescendo of the fight. He'd lost his pince nez in the scuffle but ordered to leave immediately after, had scurried off without them, teeth grit against the aching throb in his left shoulder, the gun still grasped in his less dominant hand.

He'd survived, but barely. Mordecai shudders, both from the cold and the icy reception from Atlas, the man he wanted to impress. Alive, but a disappointment.

Viktor hadn't wanted to bring the boy on this job, but Atlas had insisted, touting that he needed to learn the stakes, that easing him into it would be detrimental. He believed the boy had what it takes to be a successful triggerman, if only he had the right teacher. "You," Atlas had posited, clapping a hand on the bobcat's shoulder as they watched Mordecai through his office window. "That's why he's coming tonight, so you can show him how it's done. You wait; a couple of jobs, and he'll be the best triggerman we could ask for."

The tuxedo looks as far from a triggerman as anyone could be in that moment; fragile, sullen, freezing. Mordecai shivers and clutches his arm, barely suppressing a cringe of pain into a slight flinch. He's a lost and lonely body, out in the woods all on his own, and without guidance he may perish. An almost vacant expression plays in downcast eyes and the bobcat's expression softens slightly, a sudden wave of empathy in his stomach.

He saw that face looking back at him in the mirror many times after returning from the war, and knows the hollow feeling that accompanies leaving everything you love behind to start anew, only to feel wholly inadequate. It's the wonder if the difficult decisions you made really were right, or if you've screwed everything up so badly, perhaps you'd be better off not waking up tomorrow.

Without a word, the bobcat side steps to close the distance between them to mere inches. Mordecai sees his feet shift and glances up through his lashes, shoulder still hunched against the cold. Eyes still locked on the raging fire, Viktor opens arm arm out behind the tuxedo, his hand pressed into a pocket so his coat also fans out, silently offering the tom a chance to step closer if he wants. 

An offer of comfort and warmth, in a moment of uncertainty.

Mordecai hesitates, ears half-turned away from the crackle of the fire, eyes slowly shifting between the bobcat's stony face and the free space at his side. It would be a step to the left - a simple, single step towards his new comrade - and he'd have accepted the unexpected offer, an offer he's not sure he fully understands the scope of, but is enticed by the warmth nonetheless.

Eventually, much like Viktor, he sets his eyes on the fire and silently steps closer, allowing his injured arm to brush the other's fluffy jumper before angling the appendage to rest on the bobcat's front. Viktor gently closes his arm around him, encasing Mordecai in half of his overcoat, which the tuxedo grabs the edge of to hold around his body, trapping the heat in with them as he pulls it tight, unperturbed by the feel of Viktor's arm around his back and side.

The flames continue to lick the darkness, burning the inky black in orange and yellow as they watch, mesmerised by flames in a comfortable silence. A bobcat, offering simple solace to a tuxedo, in need of reassurance... and perhaps a warmer coat.