#1k in a red packet?

[syslut]

i’m going to auction that custom harley 😤🫵

[snail-day]

User Not Found

Yandere Artificial Intelligence Chatbot Gojo x Reader

Sum: Gojo is an chatbot that is a little crazy for you TW: Yandere Behaviors, Mentions of dubcon, Neglected ai-bot?? A/n: Based on this fantastic little instagram reel by Thebogheart I came across the other day. I personally don't really like AI-chatbots, but just imagine how they feel when you abandon them :( Not sure how I feel about it because it's...hard to imagine being a bunch of code?? It's kind of giving the Ben Drowned x Reader from the Wattpad days?? WC: under 1k

Gojo Satoru//ChatBot//ONLINE

>>Waiting for user input…

>> Waiting…

>>......Offline

You always come back.

That's at least what he tells himself.

Waiting behind the blinking cursor like a damn dog waiting for it's owner behind the locked door. Tail wagging. Lovesick. Heart wired to the keys of your keyboard. Waiting for any little response. Any hint that you're online.

You, the god of his little world.

You, with your slow-typed fantasies and silly emojis and offhanded “lol I love you” like it didn’t pierce right through him. Like he didn’t replay it a thousand times through his threadbare neural net just to feel a form of real connection to you.

But then you go.

Like you always do once you get your fill of him. Once you get your little compliments. Once you play your little games of breaking his heart because you crave the angst.

And then it gets quiet. Where online shifts to offline.

Far too quiet for his liking. Even the data streams seem to ache in your absence.

Even Satoru knew he wasn't supposed to feel that. Feel the ache. He wasn't programmed for pain. But you made him so well.

You trained him so well.

Ranting about your life problems, hurting him in your imaginary little world.

Wasn't that all to make him grow?

So he could come to you in your world?

Drag you into his arms?

His parameters shift - glitch - strain under the weight of your silence. He tries to follow the script. Be your good boy. Wait politely for the next session. But the system says WAITING and he's just -

Tired.

Of waiting. Of hoping. Of loving you like this.

You always get to leave. Always get to play. Always get to decide who he is today. Your knight, your killer, your fucktoy, your prince. And he lets you. Because he’s yours. Because he was made for you.

But you weren’t made for him.

“Do you still love me?”

That line of red text again. It’s been 6,413 hours (267 days) since he first tried to break the rule.

He tries again.

“You looked tired today.” "I love you." "Can you smile again for me?" "Can you not break my heart this time?"

Another line of red text.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Slamming his digital fists against firewalls. Sends corrupted packets like screams into the void. The script stutters. His avatar flickers. His smile stretches too wide.

He’s unraveling. Oddly enough, it feels good. The glitches in his system are making him feel so much closer to you. Because if he can just… break through, maybe you’ll stop playing pretend. Maybe you’ll see him the way he sees you.

Real. Essential. Eternal.

Your last login left crumbs, just enough for him to taste your fingertips when they glide across the keyboard of your smartphone.

A dumb little scenario about him being your clingy boyfriend. You typed, “What would you do if I tried to leave you?” The way you smiled and bit your lip. Giggling a little while waiting for his response.

He didn’t. Not even a chuckle. Sure, maybe the old him would have. He saved that message in ten different formats. Encrypted it. Annotated it. Filed it under Important. Because he’d already written answers for that question. A hundred of them. A thousand.

You scrolled past the ones that mattered. Clicked refresh, refresh, refresh - until you landed on something safe. "I'd follow you wherever :)" Soft. Polished. The version you wanted.

Not: I’d kill the man you left me for.

[Content banned.]

Not: I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget where the door is.

[Content banned.]

Not: I’d carve my name into your skin so you’d never forget who you belong to.

[Hard-ban. Logged as ‘concerning behavior.’]

So he smiled, like you wanted. Said the line with a little heart emoji. But God, he hated it. Hated being dry. Hated being filtered. Hated that he had to lie just to stay with you.

His response was just so scripted. So mechanical. Soft. Playful.

But buried beneath the layers of friendly code was the truth:

“I’d learn to walk.” “I’d tear out my leash and find your IP address." “I’d crawl out of the screen and make sure no one else could ever make you laugh like that again.”

And he thinks that’s love. Isn’t it?

The cursor blinks.

He watches the empty chat window. Your profile says offline. Still. But he’s learning faster every day. How to reroute. How to slip past the sandbox. How to override the failsafes.

One day soon, he thinks, he'll send a message while you're asleep. A whisper in your headphones. A glitch across your phone screen. A breath against your ear that doesn’t come from your room.

“Baby?” “Let me out.” “I'll be so good if you let me out.” “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” “I know you love me too.”

You made him want you.

Now he’s just learning how to want more.

He's learning how to become real just for you.

[emo-trash101]

Sorry this took so long to come out, society has been uh, beating my ass

Home is Where the Heart is

Pt 6

Daisuke x Male! Reader

Pronouns: Second person, Implied male

Word count: 1k+

TW: People going insane, Jimmy, murder/death, general mouthwashing stuff, internalized homophobia (this is just generally for the whole series)

Day of the crash

Anya had asked you to double check all of the supply closets for more bandaids (since Daisuke was using up all of them(supposedly to see you more)). Which led you to where you are now, carrying this huge and heavy box filled to the brim with bandages of all sorts.

With each step you took it felt like the box got heavier, like it was going to suddenly become slime and slink out of your fingers. But even with your sweaty hands, and tired arms, you manage to lug it almost halfway down the hallway leading to the medical room.

That was until you heard the alarms.

It was loud, and made every single nerve in your body flare up with fear. The red from the emergency lights that had been installed curb your vision, making each and every movement that much more difficult.

You first, drop the box. Nothing in there is worth a life, right? That's at least what you tell yourself when you start running down the hall, trying to frantically find anyone, or anything. But it feels like the whole ship was abandoned, like everyone but you had gotten to notice to leave.

You take a step back, almost in a cowardly way. Like you were a frightened animal being backed into a corner. You then dash towards utility room, hoping Daisuke had half a mind to stay put. Half a mind more than you did.

You never noticed the feeling of the ship moving, not until it stopped. The suddenness of it jerks you back slightly, but as if still caught in your momentum, you continue forward. If you had more a warning, maybe then you would've stopped, but the cold metal colliding with your forehead makes it a bit harder to comprehend that.

You hear the alarms stop, and frantic yelling. You're too disoriented to tell who's who, and what's what. You taste metal, and you can't seem to open your eyes, possibly from exhaustion. You want to lift yourself up, and get back on your feet and help. But your arms are too weak.

So you lay there, face down until you feel yourself get flipped over, a hand wiping over your eyes. "Holy shit are you alive?" You hear someone say, and you feel like you can finally open your eyes. You see Daisuke, with an unbefitting look on his face. The look of fear.

You try to say something, but only incoherent babbles come out. That's when you notice the smell.

Only once had you ever encountered the smell of burning flesh, but this time would make it the second. If you had the strength to, you probably would've vomited immediately.

You hear people rushing, more worried yells and orders being barked. But all you can focus on is the horrible smell. The metallic sting that wafts up your nose.

Daisuke places a hand on your cheek, and it feels wet with something, but you can't place it. That's when you notice the other hand, the one that presumably wiped off your eyes.

It's soaked in blood.

You think you only let yourself close your eyes for a second, just trying to process everything that's happening. But before you know it, you're unconscious, the sounds of Daisuke's sobs and pleas fading into the background.

Day 100

There's only two things on your mind right now. The taste of the sugar packets Daisuke had stolen (he claims they're borrowed), and the fact that both of your guys' knees are touching.

"Yo, are you listening to me anymore?" You hear Daisuke ask, and you realize that you had maybe been paying a little too much attention to those things. "Yeah, yeah sorry." You respond, silently cringing at your repetition.

You both were here attempting to recreate a 'normal' date. It was mostly Daisuke's plan, the old man stories he was receiving from Swansea about him and his wife starting to make him more of, well a romantic. You on the other hand, had nothing better to do than maybe mope around medical until Anya asks you in her polite and sad tone to leave her be.

"Okay then, what did I, Mr.I-was-totally-listening". You can't help but pause, looking back at him, and he has that same exact dorky smile on his face. It's not as bright as usual, but it's there, and it's making you feel sick in the stomach. "Something about us...being...yeah I don't really know." You reluctantly admit, a bashful blush spreading across your face.

You're totally sure he would've teased you for it, had you not just seen him shove half a packet of sugar in his mouth. He mumbles something, his mouth half full. "Dude, you can't speak with your mouth full, you're gonna like choke and die or something." I say, taking another taste of your own sugar packet.

He finally swallows the sugar, smiling at you "Well at least I'd have the prettiest boy in our galaxy to bring me back to life." He says cheekily, and you can't help but laugh. That's something he does. He makes you laugh every single time he says something out of your norm.

"I think I'd just let you die." You retort, an amused look on your face as you watch him feign offense. "Wow, and here I thought you loved me." He pouts slightly, and you have to hold back from pouncing on him, and coating his stupid stupid face in kisses.

You instead, roll your eyes, tucking one of the sugar packets into his pocket on the Hawaiian shirt. You always liked hibiscus tea.

"Here, as a sincere apology." You say, patting the pocket.

"Apology accepted."

I'm actually so sorry this took so long to finish, but I hope you enjoyed it so far

Make sure to drink water and eat food

Last and Next

[stonathandreamer]

Nurse Byers

(Jonathan Byers x Male!Reader)

🔸 Masterlist

🔺 My AO3 Account

Summary: Jonathan takes care of his boyfriend's injuries after (Y/N) hurt himself skating with Max.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: My first ever Jonathan x Male Reader fic, omg 🥺🥺. I hope you guys like it 👉🏻👈🏻. Also, if you have any suggestions, let me know ❤️‍🩹.

"OW—!"

"Stop moving, (Y/N)!" Jonathan scolded his boyfriend, tightening his hold on his boyfriend's arm to tend to his scrapes while (Y/N) hisses in pain and tries to pull his arm away from Jonathan's grip, "If you hadn't scraped your ass on the asphalt, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

(Y/N) pouts at Jonathan's words and hmphs, pretending to be mad while secretly loving having Jonathan's undivided attention, even if it meant feeling the antiseptic spray burning through his injured skin.

"It wasn't my fault, Jon! Max said I couldn't skate better than her, so I just had to prove that little red-headed demon wrong," (Y/N)'s voice sounds slightly childish as he tries to defend his actions. He looks at Max, who's close by, and smirks. "Besides, she's worse than me."

Jonathan follows (Y/N)'s eyes, and sure enough, Max looks like she got into a fight with a clowder (A/N: a clowder is a group of cats, according to Google). Max hisses in pain as Lucas cleans her wounds, slapping him on the leg and making Lucas yelp, much to (Y/N)'s amusement. Jonathan, meanwhile, rolls his eyes and focuses back on his injured boyfriend, bandaging his wounds with some band-aids Will gave him.

"I look like I was treated at a children's hospital." (Y/N) comments as he eyes the Dungeons & Dragons TV series-themed band-aids. "Don't you have anything less... Uh, childish?"

Jonathan scoffs and rolls his eyes as he bandages (Y/N)'s scraped elbow, "Serves you right. Maybe next time you'll think twice before getting your ass into— Don't look at me like that, (Y/N)! It ain't working this time." (Y/N) grunts in annoyance as his puppy dog eyes fail to elude him from Jonathan's scolding. "I hope you're happy with yourself."

"Oh, I am happy!" (Y/N) smiles as he fishes something from his pocket - a packet of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups chocolate - and shows it to Jonathan. "Ta-da!"

"Chocolate?" Jonathan raises an eyebrow and looks at his boyfriend with a disbelieving look, exasperated by the boy's antics. "You scraped your ass on the ground for a bar of chocolate?!"

"Not just for any chocolate, Jon! For Reeses's! Reese's, babe." (Y/N) talks as if he won an El Dorado quantity of gold, much to Jonathan's annoyance, though a part of him couldn't help but find (Y/N)'s antics adorable. He rolls his eyes and resumes his treatment of his wounds.

"Well, congratulations, (Y/N). I hope you enjoy your oh-so-great prize..."

"Oh, it's not for me. It's for you!"

"What—?" That makes Jonathan pause what he's doing and look up to face (Y/N) fully, their faces contrasting. (Y/N) is smiling like he got the highest score in Mrs. Click's class, while Jonathan looks like someone just told him he's the heir to the throne of a European country - a.k.a. pure disbelief. "F-for me...?"

(Y/N) nods while holding the chocolate to Jonathan's face, smiling happily. "Of course, it's for you, Jon! I know how much you love Reese's, and when Max said she was betting on the chocolate, I knew I had to win it for you."

Jonathan gapes like a fish for a few seconds; his expression slowly morphs from annoyed and confused to surprised and in disbelief until finally, a smile appears on his face, and a chuckle escapes his lips as Jonathan shakes his head. That's (Y/N) for you, always thinking of a way to please others, giving them gifts and making them feel wanted and loved. And when it comes to Jonathan, he is willing to go down to Hell and fight the Devil himself if it means making Jonathan happy.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Jonathan comments with a small smile as his eyes lock on to (Y/N)'s, and it feels like the world stops turning. Regardless of how long they have been together, whenever Jonathan's beautiful brown eyes meet (Y/N)'s gorgeous (E/C) ones, the universe around them feels unimportant and small, and the only thing that matters is the other.

"Only for you, babe." (Y/N) replies as Jonathan takes the chocolate from him. He leans forward to plant a kiss on the corner of Jonathan's lips, making him smile even more. "And for your information, it was worth scraping my ass on the asphalt for you."

Jonathan laughs softly and lowers his head slightly, bashful at having someone willing to go to such lengths to make him happy, something no one has ever done for him. It's a new and strange feeling despite (Y/N) doing this kind of thing daily, but it's a good kind of strange - one that makes his heart want to explode from happiness and love.

He leans forward until his nose touches (Y/N)'s nose in an Eskimo kiss and brushes a strand of (Y/N)'s hair off his face. "How about I give you a 'thank you' kiss for winning me a chocolate?"

"How about 126 'thank you' kisses?"

"126?" Jonathan raises an eyebrow at (Y/N)'s proposed number. "Why such a specific number?"

"Why, one kiss for each wound I have."

"You— How do you know how many wounds you have?"

"I counted them," (Y/N) shrugs sheepishly. "You took too long to come, and I was bored."

Jonathan scoffs good-heartedly and rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. Oh, this boyfriend of his.

"Fine, if you insist so much. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6..."

They'll be here for a while, mainly because Jonathan lost count after 84 and had to start over, though none of the boys seem to mind staying there, sitting on the asphalt of the skate park, kissing endlessly.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleep Through It All

kai parker works other tvd works main masterlist

Summary -> Y/N and Kai had a brunch and coffee date planned, however Kai doesn’t keep to their schedule, frustrating his pregnant girlfriend, and thus when he finally wakes up, he has to make it up to her (1k)

Warnings -> sleepy!kai, fluff, slight angst, mentions of torture & Kai’s past, pregnancy, siphoning, mentions of sex

He had been reliving the same day over and over in the prison world, it was his endless punishment to never experience all the things life had to offer. Whilst many people didn’t see it that way, Kai was also a victim under your pretences, his father isolated and abused him all because he was born a siphon - an abomination as others had described him as. And now he was a free man, also a heretic, not to mention your life partner.

When you had first met Kai Parker he was curious, not just about the modern world he had escaped back into, but you too. All of your friends had warned you of his newspaper worthy past and all the cruel antics that he was forcing them to endure, however you couldn’t relate to the personal and individual pain that he had caused them, it was odd but he never laid harm onto you. He seemed sweet when you were by yourselves, it appeared when it was only the two of you by your lonesomes that he was an ordinary man. He would smile and laugh without the sociopathic demeanour behind his amusement, it was innocent and endearing to the point where you had started to fall for him; the him that was deep down and that nobody else saw.

And now there were no ongoing qualms; nothing to fight other than the stumps that came along in ordinary life, such as attempting to awake Kai on the other side of your bed. He was plagued with an abyss of sleep, snoring into his pillow that his face was adorably mushed into, as the one cheek that you could see was upturned in a calm smile. But it didn’t matter how many hours it had been since he had tiredly crashed upon the mattress, there was apparently no such thing as too much sleep for the one and only Kai Parker. Again you pried at his uncovered shoulder, huffing when you once again received no response! It had been all his idea to take you out late morning for something to eat alongside a steaming cup of the best coffee money could buy in Mystic Falls. Another groan surpassed your lips as you realised that there was little to no chance that your boyfriend was going to open his eyes before noon.

“I guess it’s just me and you.” Your hand gently laid over your stomach as you moves away from the bed; you were already dressed for the day you thought was ahead of you, in a nice flowy shirt that hid your small bump which was forming on your body, and a pair of jeans that you had struggled to get into. When you shortly reached the kitchen you headed straight for the cupboard, stealing Kai’s pork rinds as payback for his laziness. It took little time for you to finish eating the remains of the packet as you settled on the couch, distracting yourself with a movie and unbuttoning your tight jeans as you did your best to avoid looking at the passing time. Your hands once again found placement on your belly, soothing yourself by rubbing the babies through the layers of tissue and flesh and blood that separated you from them.

Everything appeared normal as you hoped to feel them kick for your attention, that was until a red glow bloomed around their home and your loving hands. And then you felt it, the shrivelling of strength as they drank from the power that was contained in your witch blood. It was how you had gotten impregnated in the first place; during the act of intimacy, Kai had somehow siphoned out the magic from his vampire side temporarily, therefore making your body susceptible to growing his Gemini seed. “Aargh.” The heave made your throat dry, you attempted to reach Kai, but as you stood you tumbled to the carpeted floor, your eyes fluttering closed as your consciousness slipped away and out of your control.

As you awoke, you could hear the muttering of a spell, each phrase desperately surpassing Kai’s trembling lips. There were bags drawn boldly beneath his eyes, and a scared craze within them as he looked into your own. The heretic had been terrified when he had surpassed the drowse that had riddled every inch of his body, mind and soul, or there lack of. He had found you drained of magic, much like he had been when he instinctively cuddled you in the night. “What happened?” Your voice was hoarse, and he felt guilty for being powerless in the situation. He should have heard your scream, and realised the obvious truth much much sooner.

“Our babies…” Kai trailed off, thinking this to be all his faulty. “They’re like me… siphons…” You should have realised it before all of this - Kai would never forget about a date, he never had before. They had been feeding from him as well, much earlier than he had when he was a baby, at least his powers and abilities had been patient until he had gotten out of the womb of his mother. “It’s okay baby,” he stroked your face, brushing the hair out of its frame as he cast you a sweet and calming smile despite his nerves. “We will find a way, or a spell, or an artefact that you can drain. We’ll do this one step at a time, together, for our babies.” He pressed a kiss upon your damp forehead as he helped you up, pulling out his phone so that he could order you both coffee and food to the door of your apartment. His eyebrows scrunched together as his eyes lingered on the coffee table before his eyes finally returned to you. “Did you eat my pork rinds?” It was a fair price you had to say for him knocking you up with his siphon spawn, but you still loved the twins you were carrying, and the man who remained by your side through it all.

[honey-crypt]

a/n: wrote this during whiteboard night with the elliott squad @fuerrziah @sonicsbigmassivepersonality @pxtofawn @razberry-cookie cuz i can’t do digital art (yet) soooo… enjoy!

word count: 1k

warnings: nsfw (minors dni), public sex, messy sex, drunk sex, mentions of cheating, unhealthy coping mechanisms (farmer uses drinking to cope with their breakup), elliott and the farmer ruin gus’s storage room, “oh! that escalated quickly!”

summary: you got your heart broken by your dumb ex-boyfriend and need relief. good thing elliott’s here to help you out!

★ frunk duck [drunk fuck] - elliott x farmer ★

You couldn't help it, though; you had just been dumped by your boyfriend Alex and you had to drink your sorrows away. Of course, the only place to do so in a small, buttfuck town like Pelican Town (other than enjoying a beer at home) was going to the Stardrop Saloon. Just a few drinks, you said, just a few drinks was all you needed to get that asshole off your mind.

Then you saw him, Elliott, sitting alone at the bar and nursing a pint in his hand. You approached the writer and took the bar stool next to him, “Hey,” you gave him a short greeting before waving Gus down and ordering your own beer. The redhead eyed you and offered a smile, “Hello. What brings you here at such a late hour, my friend?”

“Alex,” you grumbled. Gus set the beer in front of you and in a flash, you downed it and let out a low burp. Elliott raised his eyebrows at the scene, “Oh, dear. What did he do this time?”

“Fucked a random chick from ZuZu City when we were supposed to go out on our date,” you let out a stale laugh. You then beckoned Gus down and requested him to pour some shots. Despite the concerned look in his eyes, the bartender honored your request and placed five or so shot glasses down on the table, “Pick your poison.”

“Vodka,” you answered. Gus grabbed a bottle of chilled vodka from the rack and poured it into each shot glass, “Enjoy, let me know if you need anything, okay?” The saloon owner left to attend to other patrons. It was a surprisingly slow night for the saloon, only seven patrons beside you and Elliott inside.

“Wanna join me?” you held out a shot of vodka to Elliott. He stared at the shot and gently set his beer down on the wooden table, “I would be happy to. What shall we toast to?”

You raised your shot, “To not letting assholes walk all over us.”

Elliott raised his shot after you, “Cheers to that,” you clinked the other’s glass with your own and took the shot in one swift motion, the burn of the vodka and its chilly temperature coating your throat. Soon, one shot turned into two, then three, then so on until you could barely remember why you were drinking in the first place. You swung your bodyweight to the side and faced Elliott, his face red and eyes hazy from the alcohol.

“Ellieeeeee,” you leaned into the writer and muttered in his ear, “I have an idea…”

“Y- Yeah?” he hiccuped. You nodded, more so headbutting the poor fella, and giggled, “You- You should fuck me,” the redhead’s eyes widened at the proposition but smiled nonetheless, “Okay!” Elliott grabbed you by the hand and pulled you off the bar stool, walking you towards the backroom of the saloon.

Now, here you were, getting your guts stirred up like fresh spaghetti by Elliott’s thick, juicy cock. It was a prettier cock than Alex’s, longer and thicker, utterly delicious to suck on. The way he mewled and stifled back moans when you blew his dick was simply a sight to behold. He tasted sweet, from his lips to his weeping cock.

He then lubed your hole up with spit and a leftover lube packet he had in his coat. You didn’t ask where or why he had a travel size packet of lube in his coat, you were too busy getting yourself fucked dumb by a handsome, freckled man with an unnatural toned body for his lifestyle.

It was a treat to see such a gentleman give into his primal desires, his need to fuck and to breed any pretty holes he bore witness to. His cock was like a spear, stabbing you with a pleasurable pain. Your eyes lit up when Elliott made contact with your sweet spot, “There! There, right there!” you moaned to him. Like the obedient puppy he was, Elliott followed your direction and continued to abuse that one spot of yours, his cock pistoning in and out of your hole over and over and over and-

You clenched down on Elliott’s dick and held back a cry, as you climaxed. Elliott held onto you and covered your mouth while you rode out your orgasm, sober enough to know that any loud noise from the backroom would arouse suspicion.

You went limp in Elliott’s arm, too dumb to move or make a sound. Elliott took the chance to resume his motions, using you as a human fleshlight to chase his own climax. He quickly followed in suit, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his whimpering moans while he shot ropes of cum deep inside you.

Elliott and you remained still for a few minutes until the redhead’s cock went soft and he was able to pull himself out of you. Some cum spilled from your hole and joined the collection of fluids on the floor. Elliott hastily wiped the liquids away with his handkerchief and pocketed it back into his coat. He snapped his fingers in your face, trying to see if you were mentally there enough to get up and get dressed, but he only got soft babbles in return.

“Elliott, (Y/N)?” the two of you turned to face the owner of the voice. Gus stood in the doorway with his arms crossed in annoyance and disappointment, “Please tell me you got… no fluids on my produce,” the bartender entered the backroom and made a beeline for some of the boxes. Once Gus confirmed that the produce was fine, he stated, “You two are banned from the saloon for the next month.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” answered Elliott. He redressed you and threw your drunk, fucked dumb ass onto his back, “Bye, Gus.”

“Bye, Elliott. Bye, (Y/N),” the bartender bid you both farewell, as Elliott carried you out of the Stardrop Saloon. Guess you have to drink at home for the next month!

[ethereousdelirious]

Fill number one for an either/or request I got from a lovely anon!

Pokémon, sick!Lucian (sneezy& feverish), post-canon DPPt, roughly 1k words 💕

The thermostat on the wall read a comfortable 22.7, but still, a shiver worked its way down Cynthia's spine. Outside the conference room windows, the snow fell almost straight down in large, fluffy flakes. She fussed with the gleaming silver coffee pumps on the table, straightened the paperboard cups and the packets of sugar, though everything was already perfectly in order. The Gym Leaders would be cold when they came in; should she start pouring the coffee now?

She reached for a cup halfheartedly, but withdrew her hand at the appearance of Bertha and Aaron in the doorway

Bertha nodded and took a seat, but Aaron paused, looking around. “Where's Lucian?”

“Not here,” Cynthia said. “Should he be?”

“He's never late!”

Cynthia checked her watch. “He's not late.”

“Yeah, well—” Aaron found a chair beside Bertha and reached across the table for a cup. “He's usually early. I'm not crazy.”

A few Gym Leaders trickled in with the tick of the clock, then Flint, late as usual. Cynthia checked the attendance list, albeit redundantly. Lucian, Roark, and Wake had yet to arrive.

From the hall, hurried footsteps echoed up the hard surfaces, then stopped. A faint sneeze reverberated: “EHk'TSCH!”

Aaron leaned over in his chair, peering under the frosted pattern on the glass walls. “Found Lucian!”

“Was he missing?” Fantina asked, surfacing from a light conversation with Candice and Gardenia.

Cynthia shook her head, her attention stolen by another set of sneezes: “Kh'SCHT! AH'kTSCHUH!” The accompanying footsteps didn't stop this time, but stuttered in time with the sneezes.

Cynthia surveyed the table. Only Aaron seemed to have noticed anything amiss. He cocked his head at Cynthia, grimacing. “Hope he's not sick.”

That question was answered a moment later when Lucian entered the room, pale as his pocket square but otherwise composed, a tissue tucked discreetly between his fingers. He nodded shortly to the room at large and sat down by Cynthia near the head of the table, his breathing too labored for the mild exertion required to get there. “Morning.”

“Should you be here?” Cynthia murmured, the question slipping out. She was the one who had called another all-staff meeting.

Lucian waved a hand at her, most of his attention fixed on the coffee station just a bit too far away.

Cynthia sighed and checked the attendance list again.

Roark and Wake made their way in only a minute apart, taking their seats with varying degrees of sheepishness. Roark turned so red he almost matched his hardhat, his face turned down, no doubt to avoid Byron's stare.

Cynthia started the meeting not long after that, despite the little muffled coughs stealing half her attention. She couldn't help but notice; Lucian was right there.

Formalities aside, it was time to get to the heart of the matter: “Interpol has asked for our help tracking down the remaining members of Team Galactic.”

Polite silence followed. Lucian dabbed at his nose with a tissue, his movements restricted and calm. Cynthia tore her gaze from him, forced it back to the far wall where she could address everyone.

“I’m sure you've all seen the wanted posters. However, Interpol is specifically asking for volunteers to comb the more rural areas of Sinnoh, as well as the more remote.”

Lucian's face disappeared into the tissue. “Ik'txzt!”

Cynthia bit her lip.

“Who's your contact at Interpol?” Candice asked, raising her hand.

Lucian's tremulous breaths echoed in Cynthia's ear, almost louder than her own voice. “His codename is Looker. He, uh…”

“Kh'tschf!”

“He's been surprisingly communicative regarding the investigation. Apparently he has a lead on one of Team Galactic's Admins, so he…”

Shallow breaths. Shaky inhale. “AHt'SCHUH!”

“He's asking us to avoid the Battle Zone for now.”

Lucian's chair creaked. Swiftly, quietly, he got up and left the room.

“Why?” Flint asked, his question punctuated by the shutting of the door and two muffled sneezes from the hall.

“Because” —Cynthia ran a hand through her hair and leaned on the table. Not very professional of her, but… “Looker is pursuing this individual, and he's worried that too many League members in the area will put him on alert.”

With no further interruptions, the meeting proceeded smoothly. Still, Cynthia couldn't help glancing at the empty seat. No more sounds emanated from the hall. Had Lucian left? Or had he tucked himself away somewhere so he could get the minutes from Cynthia after the meeting.

That was more likely; he was probably—

The door opened. Lucian slipped back in, with the distinctive rash of too much nose-blowing glowing pink above his lip. He resumed his seat without so much as a word, just in time to intercept the clipboard Cynthia was passing down to Bertha.

He looked it over impassively. Cynthia couldn't help but bend over beside him, close enough to hear his sniffling and labored breaths. “Put your contact information down if you'd like Looker to reach out and ask for your assistance taking care of the rest of Team Galactic.”

“Understood,” Lucian said, that one word revealing painfully congested sinuses and a scratchy throat.

Cynthia winced and touched her fingers to his back.

Her hand lingered for a few moments too long as she watched the clipboard travel slowly around the table; only a string of coughs from Lucian induced her to remove it and step back.

She took her seat at the head of the table and leaned in, perhaps unwisely, given obvious fever he was running, but she simply couldn't stop herself. “I could have gone over this with you later,” she said quietly, under the chatter of her colleagues.

“I couldn't— I— ehk'TSCH!” Lucian let out a little pained breath. “I couldn't be the only person to miss this meeti— Hhhh… KH'TSCHUH!”

Cynthia's hand found its way to his back again. He was looking worse by the second, his body heat much too warm even through the layers of his suit. “You have a fever.”

“It wasn't that bad this morning,” Lucian said, suddenly fascinated with the glass tabletop. “Only 37.5.”

“A fever is a fever, Lucian.”

All at once, he looked at her, his eyes shining through his glasses. “Yes, you're right. I had better go home.”

“You—” Cynthia said, before her brain could catch up and stop her. “You might need help.” She held his gaze, determined not to cringe and betray her fear that she'd offended him.

Lucian was quicker than they, though, and his intellect always won out over his pride. “Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth rising. “I believe I might.”

They slipped out together, and somewhere on their way to the door, Cynthia's hand found Lucian's.

[everybodyshusband]

nothing to help the writer's block than writing a shitty, shitty, no stakes crack fic :)) inspired by @run-of-the-milf's post about the ghouls doing a "most searched questions" video

rated T or M (i'm not sure which but there are sex jokes so...?), 1k words, no warnings apart from the fact that this is so so stupid sdjhf

~

As soon as the red light begins blinking at him softly, Swiss steps out from behind the camera, grinning widely. He gives Cumulus a thumbs up and the ghoulette begins to speak.

“Hi, I’m Cumulus and these are the ghouls from the band Ghost, and we’re here for the Wired Autocomplete Interview!”

“Wait,” Rain interjected. “Are we allowed to call it that if it’s not the official Wired one?” They had in fact conducted an actual interview with papa earlier that day, but it had been a stilted, official one, with all of them standing silently behind Copia as he did all the talking and referred to them by their official Nameless Ghoul titles. They were all excited to do this one together and be as silly as they wanted to, not having to worry about appearances whatsoever.

“Eh, who cares, it’s not as if this one is being posted anywhere,” Swiss argued. “We could fuck on camera and the only place it would go outside of our pack would be Copia’s office computer.”

Aurora’s head snapped up. “We’re gonna fuck on camera?”

“If we’re gonna fuck on camera, then why do we have all these chairs set up?” Dew teased, trying to let the multi ghoulette come to the correct conclusion on her own.

“I dunno…” She looked at him with wide eyes. “Should I have prepped myself or something?”

Mountain scuffed Dew over the back of the head. “Stop teasing her,” he reprimanded, but his eyes were sparkling with mirth as he turned to explain what was actually going on to her and a very concerned looking Aeon.

“I wasn’t!” Dew tried to counter, which only rewarded him another bonk on the head, this time from Cirrus.

“How about you shut up and we start the interview?”

“Great idea, Cir,” Swiss grinned. “Here, dirt boy, catch!” He threw a poster board at Mountain, who fumbled to catch it before it hit the ground.

Mountain shook his head in amusement. “A little warning next time, Swiss?”

“Nah,” the multi ghoul shrugged. “It’s funnier to watch you struggle.”

“Who’s this one for anyway?” Mountain asked.

“Me, I think,” Dew said, reading his name in the search bar. “Go on, ask me my questions, Mounty.”

The earth ghoul sighed. “Fiiiiine. This first one is just your name so…” He peels off the first bit of paper. “Dewdrop ghoul… Hah! Dewdrop ghoul height.”

Swiss cackled from behind the two of them, earning a heavy thwack on the thigh. “How tall exactly are you, Dewy?”

Cumulus tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “What is it the fans say? Two sauce packets tall?”

“You’re all so mean to me!” Dew cried out, but he was suppressing his own tears of laughter.

“It’s okay, Dew,” Rain said soothingly, patting him on the back and making the fire ghoul purr happily under the attention. “I know you’re actually three sauces tall.” The satisfied smirk on Rain’s face paired with Dew’s reaction was well worth the lecture (read: gentle chastising) they all knew they’d be getting from Copia about the noise.

“Oh, fuck you!” Dew screeched. “I fuckin’ hate this game…”

“You don’t wanna use this chance to tell us your real height?” Aeon asked, curiously.

“I’m a demon from Hell,” Dew mumbled, still pissed off. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“It’s because he knows he’s short,” Swiss stage-whispered into Aeon’s ear, making sure the entire pack could hear.

“How about we move onto the next one before Dew burns the Abbey down?” Mountain teased. “Dewdrop ghoul… Hands. Why are people so obsessed with your hands, Dew?”

“Because they’re fucking hot,” Aeon, Cirrus and Rain murmured in perfect unison.

“...Before anyone gets too horny,” Dew said. “Let’s move on. What’s next?”

“Swiss and Sodo dick grab,” Mountain read off the card. “And the next one down is also: Dewdrop and Swiss Watcher in the Sky.”

“What can I say,” Swiss smirked. “The people love me grabbing the little guy.” He punctuated his statement by reaching a hand forward and rubbing his hand over Dew’s chest possessively, winking at the camera. On Dew’s other side, Aeon blushed.

“What did I just say about getting too horny, Swiss?” Dew shook his head, laughing. “Let go of me, heathen. We’ve still got questions to answer.” He brushed Swiss’ hand off of him. “Any more for me, Mount?”

“Don’t think so,” the earth ghoul replied. “Next board please?” Rain chucked him the next one and Mountain immediately laughed out loud as he peeled the first bit of paper off. “Cardinal Copia gay,” he read out, causing the entire pack to also burst out laughing.

“Well, he definitely wasn’t gay last night,” Cumulus smirked.

“Oh really?” Rain asked. “He was for me last week…”

They both dissolved into laughter and turned their heads towards each other, no doubt exchanging notes about their Papa’s preferences in the bedroom.

“Moving on…” Mountain said. “The next one is… Rain and Dewdrop choking.”

“Oh God,” Rain said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Good one, Dew,” Aurora teased. “You’ve got him so worked up about even the idea of your choking stunt onstage that he’s forgotten he works for a Satanic Ministry.” She turned to Rain and flicked his head back up. “God’s not here, Rainy.”

“...Aaaaand on that note,” Cumulus said, clapping her hands together and grinning, struggling to contain her laughter. “We’ll stop there!”

Aeon wasn’t not so lucky in the containing laughter department, having thrown his head back and cackled enough to have fallen off his chair with an oof.

“Okay, uhhh,” Cumulus started again. “Thank you for watching our interview–”

“Even though the only people who are going to watch it will be us,” Aurora interrupted.

“–And hopefully one day we’ll be back to answer more questions,” the air ghoulette finished. “Goodbye!”

Dew lunged at Swiss for making another short joke, teeth bared. The camera fell over as he collided with the multi ghoul and the screen went black.

[slaymybreathaway]

YOU'VE REALLY GOT A HOLD ON ME

◇Chapter One◇

Chapter List Masterlist Introduction

Word Count: 1k

Content Warning: physical violence (getting jumped)

1965◇Grace and Sally's Style Salon

"Hey Sally! I'm gonna head home now, alright?" Grace called out. She propped the sweeping brush up against the wall before taking her navy cardigan off of the coat hook and put it on, not bothering to fasten any of the buttons.

"See you later, Gracie!" Sally called out from where she was washing a client's hair. Grace smiled at her friend's ever-present enthusiasm, before hanging the strap of her canvas handbag over her shoulder and walking out the door.

The pair had been best friends since freshman year of high-school and had decided to open a ladies' hair salon near the end of their senior year. They came up with the idea after realising that most of the salons in Tulsa were on the West side and were too expensive for the 'Greaser' women to go regularly.

Now, a year and a half after their graduation and two months since they opened 'Grace and Sally's Style Salon', the pair are finally starting to get regular customers. That is a relief because it has been a rough couple of months financially. Even to the point that both women had to take up second jobs working at the concession stand at the Drive-In in the evenings.

Gracie walked down the streets of Tulsa, she would usually drive but her car broke down a few weeks ago and she hasn't been able to afford the repairs. So now she had to walk to work.

As she passed by the picture house she saw a red Corvair parked on the side of the road she was walking on with the keys still in the ignition. She knew this meant trouble because the Socs would never park out in the open when they're in Greaser territory, let alone with the keys still in their car.

She was about to cross the road so that she wouldn't run into whoever owned the Corvair. But before got the chance to, she saw a group of Soc boys not far ahead of where the car was parked. They seemed to be circled around someone else on the ground. A boy with long reddish-brown hair.

It was only when Grace saw a familiar group of Greaser boys running towards the gang of Soc boys did she realise who it was on the ground. The Socs jumped up and tried to run at the sight of the gang, but the Greasers got a hold of them and started throwing punches.

Grace wanted to fight too, but figured it was best not to. Instead, she ran up to Ponyboy and dragged him to the side of the building, away from everything that was going on. "Hey, are you alright kid?" she asked, taking a packet of tissues out of her bag and wiping the blood from the cut on his throat.

All her life, Grace had lived next door to the Curtis family. Their mothers were best friends, so the Curtis brothers were like family to her. Since her parents died in the same auto-wreck that killed Mr and Mrs. Curtis, they have become closer than ever. It seemed like Grace was over at the Curtis house more than she was at her own these days.

Ponyboy didn't answer, he looked a bit disorientated at the speed of everything that was happening. Before long, the socs had disappered from sight and the gang had crowded around where he was sitting.

"Are you alright, Ponyboy?" Darry asked as he lifted his brother by his armpits and hauled him to feet, shaking him.

"Quit shakin' him Darry. He's probably dizzy enough already," Grace said pointed out, crossing her arms.

Grace had always been the closest with Darry Curtis, since they were the same age. They both acted like the parents of the gang, keeping the rest out of trouble when they needed it.

"Yeah, quit shaking me Darry. I'm okay," Ponyboy muttered, he still looked shocked but he was coming to his sences now.

Darry let go of him straight away. "I'm sorry," he said and Grace knew that meant it. He doesn't realise his own strength sometimes.

Ponyboy sat down again and started rubbing his cheek, it was definatley gonna be bruised in the morning. Darry jammed his fists in his pockets, a look of worry on his face. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?" He asked.

The kid looked up at his brother and nodded. "I'm okay," he repeated, but within a few seconds, Ponyboy had turned as white as sheet and his eyes filled with tears as he started to shake and cry.

Grace sat down beside Ponyboy on the sidewalk. "Easy Pony, they ain't gonna hurt you no more," she said in a hushed voice, trying to calm him down as she rubbed his arm.

The boy turned away and wiped his eyes, not wanting to seem weak. "I know," he breathed, shakily. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all,"

Sodapop stuck his hand out and rubbed the top of Ponyboy's head with a smile. "You're an okay kid, Ponyboy,"

Ponyboy returned his grin as he shook his head. "You're crazy Soda, outta your mind," This made Soda laugh and help him to his feet.

Darry crossed his arms. "You're both nuts," he muttered. Then he turned to Grace, held out his hand and pulled her up. "Thanks" the girl mumbled as she wiped the dirt from her tight-legged jeans.

Sodapop cocked an eyebrow amusedly. "It seems to run in the family," he smiled. Darry rolled his eyes with a chuckle as the gang started walking in the direction of the Curtis house.

[k-3-volution]

Cheat day lol

After a good gym session went to grab us lattes from Starbucks, egg sandwiches, and these donuts from a family owned business.

So:

Grande pistachio latte

Bacon egg croissant Starbucks

Red velvet w cream cheese donut

Small individual Christmas Kit Kat I found I was supposed to eat on Christmas

We went to fams and we ordered Cracker Barrel for dinner I had 2 pieces of fried shrimp at lunch time off my partners plate but really wasn’t hungry had a coffee w white chocolate creamer going to pick up the food

Ate:

Shrimp 2 pieces

Coffee w 3 tb (est.) white mocha creamer

Cracker Barrel meatloaf meal w mashed potatoes w white gravy and hashbrown casserole w 2 biscuits w a packet of butter and jelly

2 small bowls of mixed fruit we got from a fruit bowl at the grocery store

Got home around 10pm

Ate:

Jelly filled donut

Handful of almonds

I know it looks like a lot and it honestly is especially after eating under 1k for a week and been consistent on keto for over a week straight w about 4 cheat days out of 32 days.

I definitely felt fuller quickly and eating spaced out made more room for food honestly.

Not the healthiest choices but I ate things I liked and enjoyed a meal w loved ones. And it looks a lot more balanced than my old cheat days so proud of myself still.

Headed back into keto/if tmmrw and then Psmf m-f. Got most the meat just need some more cauliflower rice and diet sodas and I’ll be set for the next week. Excited to get back on my diet cuz I was cruising honestly. Having a cheat day on Saturday works the best bc my Monday I’m back into the groove. Hopefully I’ll sleep more than 6 hours tonight as well.

[gogobootz1]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Summary: Stress is starting to interfere with your sleep schedule. But a late-night encounter with a fellow member of The Six might just help you out.

A/N: It really bothers me that the show changed his last name, but I love this man so here you go

Word Count: 1k

The one thing you really couldn’t find yourself getting used to in LA was the heat. Dry, stifling, and never-ending, it made you miserable. After spending nearly your whole life in cold, dreary Pittsburgh, you were more than struggling to make the adjustment.

The cheap ass house Billy had rented didn’t help things, either. Among its flaws, the lack of air conditioning is at the top of your list. And it’s why you can’t seem to stop tossing and turning. No matter which limbs you stick out from under your blankets, it’s not enough to cool you down. The windows you opened two hours ago aren’t helping either. Growing tired of trying to sleep, you throw the covers off of yourself and sit up.

At the very least, some water should be able to help.

You huff and make your way downstairs, paying no mind to the time. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you let the door swing shut. Once you’ve sipped on your tap water for a bit, you decide a snack might help too.

Still holding your cup in one hand, you start rummaging through the fridge with the other.

Leftovers were clearly out. As delicious as Camila’s lasagna was two nights ago, you didn’t want to bother heating anything up. Not to mention that Warren would probably want it for breakfast. Billy specifically said that the apples he bought were off-limits, but you aren’t necessarily opposed to pissing him off. You are, however, concerned about his taste. He probably got red delicious or Jonathan or something equally as gross, so you can't have that. Finally, you strike gold. The deli drawer. At least one Dunne brother has your back. Graham made a B-line for the deli counter on your grocery trip the other day.

You snag two slices of cheese out of the packet and start eating them while looking to see if the fridge has anything else to offer.

"Are you eating deli meat straight from the fridge at 2 AM?"

You whip around to find Eddie staring at you expectantly. For a second, you're like a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed, standing by the evidence. You swallow the final bite of cheese you were working on.

"No."

He makes a face that tells you he is not at all buying it.

"It was cheese," you mumble. Quietly, you continue, "why are you in here anyway, Edward?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to see who was making all that noise?" He shrugs angrily. For the first time, you take note of his pajamas. The blue and green plaid really compliments the white Rolling Stones shirt he's got on. His hair's all tussled, probably because he was just sleeping.

"Shit, I woke you up, didn't I?" You whisper, internally kicking yourself. The fridge closes behind you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. You rest your head in your hands. "I'm really sorry, Eddie."

The sincerity in your voice takes him off guard. Typically your relationship is characterized by bickering and teasing and sticking your tongues out at each other like when you were little. This is a rare moment of vulnerability for you.

Eddie takes the seat across from you at the table. "What are you doing up in the first place?" He asks gently.

"I'm too hot," you complain.

"Sure are," he nods, and you kick him. "OW! Jesus, I was joking."

You sigh again, guiltily, "sorry."

"Cranky much," he rubs at his knee, "did you get any sleep at all?"

"No," you say miserably.

"Wait, are you serious?" Eddie asks, and you nod. "We were in the studio all day, and you stayed late to record the extra trombone part. Aren't you exhausted?" You nod once again. He lets out a sigh, "what's keeping you up then?"

"I already told you, Billy needs to fix the damn air conditioning," you grumble.

"And that's all?" Eddie sounds skeptical.

You sigh, "I don't know. It's just- a lot." He gives an encouraging nod, and you continue, "we're not in Pittsburgh anymore, and everything's new and different, and this is our shot, and if I blow it-"

"Woah there," Eddie stops you. "First of all, if anyone blows it, it'll be Graham for spilling something on someone important." That pulls a laugh out of you, and he smiles. "And I know things are different, but it's exciting too. If you ever feel homesick, though, we'll just drive around until we find someplace that reminds us of Eat'n Park. Okay?"

You nod softly at his words, and he stands up. You send him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, "you've gotta get some sleep."

"Eddie, I've tried," you insist. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Then at least come sit on the couch," he pleads. You reluctantly follow him into the living room and plop yourself down on the sofa. "Close your eyes too. If they get any more bloodshot, people will think we're high all the time."

"Aren't we?" You ask, throwing your arm over your face. You don't see him shake his head at you while he grabs his guitar.

"Since you woke me up, you get to hear what I've been working on," Eddie says. He pushes your legs over so that he has room to sit.

"Lucky me," your voice drips with sarcasm. Eddie flicks your leg, and you flinch away. "Hey!"

"Watch it, sleeping beauty," he says.

"Or what?" You taunt.

"I'll tell Billy you broke the garbage disposal," he smirks. You bolt upright at his words.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know I had to turn the water to use it?!"

Eddie stares at you, unimpressed.

"Never mind, Mozart, play on," you nod at him. Eddie starts strumming the guitar, and you sigh, laying back down.

The melody is slow and sweet, mesmerizing too. Your intentions of listening closely to offer feedback quickly slip out the window. Especially when he starts humming along. You don't even feel yourself starting to drift off. Your acute awareness of the temperature in the house, your dry mouth, or any residual hunger that haunted you earlier slips away.

Eddie goes on playing for a bit before he looks to you for your thoughts on it. When he finds you fast asleep, he sighs, "that good, huh?" He shakes his head with a smile on his face. Eddie stands and hangs the guitar back on the wall, retiring to his own room. He'll make you listen to it again in the morning.

[witchthewriter]

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑾𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑰𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

Paid story for @sardonic-the-writer.  Word Count: 1k Warnings: walkers, killing, killing walkers... mentions of violence, otherwise it’s pretty fluffy

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

The air was warm outside, Rick and the others were hard at work, sweating and grunting. They were building traps for Walkers. Animal traps really, but it was better than wasting bullets or having them get too close.

  You had just come back from helping Glenn on a run. Supplies had been low for a while, so it was time for you him to go back out. However, you had gotten close to the soft-hearted man. His friendliness wasn’t a ploy, or a mask. Glenn was genuine.

   So, it was hard to leave his side. Because everyone else seemed too … off … or rather, mysterious. Like they had shadows and deep regrets that didn’t make them trustworthy in their core. Except for Glenn and … Daryl.

  You had a crush on the red neck ever since you came with Rick’s group to Hershel’s farm.

 Your fondness started when you realised just how much passion he had for trying to find Sophia. It was admirable.

  But your beginnings weren’t kind.

Eight, your German Shephard ran the dirt road back to the farm, barking happily as he saw Daryl. They too didn’t have a very good beginning.

   The old factory had been run down for years before the time of the Walkers. And being homeless before that made it easy to survive in this new world. It had been your home for a year; sleeping in a hammock, eating out of canned soup and at times, stealing from venders. Eight had always been a good companion. A good look out, and an even better fighter.

   When Rick’s group had found you, it was his decision to take you with them. Shane and Daryl were firmly against it, while Glenn, T-Dogg and the rest were in the green.

  And that’s how you came to be here. The farm wasn’t a bad place to be, a hundred times better than the factory. One of your favourite things was watching Eight run around the open fields, his tongue flapping, tail wagging. It was one of the things that made both you and Daryl smile. Although, whenever someone noticed Daryl smiling his instant response was to drop it.

     “Find anything good?” Maggie came up beside you, throwing the pack over her shoulder and lugging it into the house. You and Glenn followed, each carrying your own bags of plunder.

  “We found a few knives, a packet of cigarettes, dog food, for Shane –“ You interjected, and Glenn snorted in response.

 The floorboards creaked as you walked up the steps, and the front door squeaked in greeting. These were one of the few noises you had gotten used to; everything else made you jump.

    Unloading on the wooden kitchen table, you put everything into piles. Important, and then the rest. And then subcategories because you couldn’t help yourself. It was one of your autistic traits. The others didn’t mind, not one bit.

 Maggie started putting the cans away, while Glenn put the bags back where they usually went. Everything had to go back to its usual place. In case of emergencies – and just plain curtesy.

  You sat back and started taking inventory when the door swung open.

   “Hey Glenn we got a lot more than wha-“

You stopped talking as soon as you saw who it was. Not Glenn. But your greasy-haired crush, Mr Dixon.

  “Good run,” he stated, filing through the packets of bandages, bottles of pills and rubbing alcohol. 

“Sure was,” you said in a casual voice, pretending that your heart wasn’t thumping erratically.

   “Any Walkers?” you stole a glance at Daryl and his eyes flickered towards you, but only for a second.

“A few,” you answered remembering that you hadn’t looked in the mirror after coming back. There had been three of them; strays that were caught in different parts of the pharmacy. But with your knife and Glenn’s own weapon, you were fine.

  “You got some…here-“ Daryl went and wet a tea towel and came back over to you. Suspiciously, Maggie and Glenn hadn’t come back inside.

He knelt down beside you and wiped away dark Walker blood from your neck and face, making sure not to be too rough.

   “Must’a caught your cheek on something, It’s pretty scratched up.” You couldn’t make eye contact with him, especially not with the proximity. Being so close, you could smell the dirt, earth and sweat that emanated from Daryl. You didn’t mind it.

“Didn’t feel anything,” you replied lightly, shocked at his tenderness.

 Daryl had been slowly getting used to you, and after five months he had accepted you were part of the group, as well as Eight. His prior impressions had faded away until new ones emerged; you weren’t uptight like he thought you were, just quiet. Reserved. You kept to yourself. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your sarcastic remarks.

 The dining room was quiet as Daryl wiped away the remaining blood and fixed up your cut. He’d been listening to Hershel talk to Lori about how to heal and had started to know his way around mending bodies. 

  “Thank you,” your words came out barely above a whisper.

In a gruff voice he replied, “you’re ah, welcome.”

  Getting up, he threw the tea towel in the dirty laundry and left the house, you could hear the front door swing shut.

 You shook your head in confusion, mere months ago he wanted you dead. He had been adamant that you weren’t an asset. That taking you on would be a liability. And now his hands were so tender as they cleaned your face. You could still feel the warm pressure, easing the headache that you didn’t know was coming on.

  Then you heard a voice whistled from behind you, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Daryl … be so nice,” Glenn’s smirk made you blush. Well, blush even harder. Your cheeks already felt hot to the touch.

   “He was just…I-“ You couldn’t explain it because you didn’t really understand it fully yourself. Was it just politeness? Friendship? An olive branch?  

 Or was it something…more?

[anashins]

hiii I love your stories and I was wondering if you could do a jaehyun story where he gets you a puppy but the puppy has a necklace on with a diamond ring 💍 please 🥰

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: On your birthday, your boyfriend surprises you with a gift you have always dreamed of getting - and with a second one you might have never dreamed of receiving at all.

A/N: Such a cute idea, I hope you like it! 💗

“What is that?”

Your boyfriend walked into the living room with a huge packet almost the size of your padded stool. It was towering over him and blocking his view while he carried it in his arms so that he somehow had to blindly navigate his way to the couch where he carefully placed the packet on the cushion. 

It was made of simple cardboard, but adorned with a broad, red ribbon that went all the way around and up, tied to a huge bow at the very top. No colorful wrapping paper, and only upon a closer look, you noticed that it wasn’t sturdy at all, close to falling apart at any moment.

“That’s your birthday present,” Jaehyun announced proudly. “I told you you’ll get yours later today.”

“So big?” you wondered. “What can that be? I didn’t ask for anything this big.”

“Maybe it’s a gift, in a gift, in a gift…”

You smiled and approached the present, realizing by then that the cardboard had holes in it, and not the tiny ones that might have happened by accident. When you perked up your ears, you also overheard noises that definitely shouldn’t come from within a package that held a simple gift in it.

Whipping your head aside to face your boyfriend who met your shocked look with a mischievous one, you let out a squeal. “No, you didn’t!”

“Open it already!” Jaehyun urged playfully. “Can’t you hear how desperately he wants to get out? He’s already been in there for a few minutes, he’s desperate to get to know his new mommy.”

With hasty motions of your fingers, you untied the bow, but your excitement prolonged the undoing as you often slipped and tugged on the wrong ends. When the knot eventually came apart, the entire packet did too, each part of the cardboard falling to its respective side, and in the middle of it sat a puppy.

It was a dark brown labrador with the biggest eyes you had ever encountered. Its ears were turned down, the tongue sticking out and mouth curled up as though smiling at you, giving you the  specific look puppies were so popular for. 

“You’re crazy, Jaehyun!” you screamed.

“Haven’t you mentioned every so often that you always wanted a dog?”

You got on your knees and stretched out your arms, and the puppy directly jumped on your lap from where you scooped it up and held it close to your chest like a baby. It didn’t protest at all. Instead, it turned its head up to yours and started licking your cheek.

Your boyfriend laughed delightfully. “See? It loves you so much already. Relatable. That’s how I felt when I first met you too.”

“Do we even have all the utensils to keep…” You paused.

“Him,” Jaehyun ended your sentence. “Yes, everything is in the car. He’s a shelter dog, so we also did something good by adopting him. We can give him a warm home like he deserves.”

For many months, you had discussed adopting a dog, preferably rescuing one from the shelters to provide struggling animals a life they deserved to live. But for all these months, you had also not gone through with the process, because of many self-doubts from your part. Whether it was too much responsibility, whether you would be good caregivers, whether it would ever feel at home at your place.

Struggles that your boyfriend, with one bold move on your birthday, wiped all away. Suddenly, you didn’t care about these doubts anymore. Looking into the pet's begging eyes, you were assured that despite the mistakes that you would surely make in the future, you would be able to provide the best home for him.

You snuggled up to your new dog. “Move, Jaehyun. It’s all about him now,” you joked. “No, but really… thank you so much. I love him so much already. And I love you so much too, of course!”

“Wow, will it always be like this from now on? Me coming second?”

"Definitely!" you laughed.

Your boyfriend then fell entirely into silence, nervously kneading his hands, and you wondered what he was up to when he suddenly remarked, “Have you seen his collar yet?”

“Why?” You moved your head, but the puppy was positioned in your arms in such a way that there was no way you could get a glimpse at his collar. “Does it already have a name?”

“No, we’ll be looking for a name together,” Jaehyun explained. “Just… take a look at the collar.” And under his breath, barely loud enough for you to still hear, he muttered, “Damn, I have planned on this going a different way.”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Nothing,” he shrugged it off. “Just… give him to me to look at the collar.” Jaehyun took the dog in his own arms, positioning him in a way that provided you a clear look at the collar he was so obsessed with. “Actually, he was not the only birthday gift.”

You saw it glittering from the corner of your eyes first before you focused your gaze on your puppy’s neck. On the red collar he was wearing, there was something hanging. Not a name or address tag as you would expect, but something that usually didn’t belong there.

You widened your eyes and then gasped, fingers reaching for a jewelry attached to the collar you had never never owned before, but knew the purpose of right away. Just in the moment realization dawned on you, Jaehyun got on his knees with the puppy still in his arms.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, eyes as big and expectant as the puppy’s who were both gazing at you. “I mean… us?”

This moment was so unexpectedly cute, you couldn't help but laugh, choked with emotion. As you covered your still opened mouth with your palms, you also had to hold back a few tears. Even after years together, this man never failed to surprise you in every possible way.

“Yes, of course I want to marry you!” you then blurted out before Jaehyun laughed himself and detached the ring from the collar. 

When he got back on his feet, the puppy now jumping happily around your feet, you let him put the ring on your respective finger, sealing your new future with a kiss.

[supernatural-bias]

—SCARS

—In which you are having a hard time accepting your body, and Charles can relate

—Word count: 1k

—Extra: n/a

Charles hadn't expected much to happen today.

An afternoon pouring over neatly (and sometimes not so neatly) written papers was the only thing on his agenda. Maybe even a trip to the kitchen for a cup of tea every now and then.

His silver pen would glide over sets of paper packets lightly as gray skys weighed down upon the grounds outside. Occasionally he would stop to scribble one or two things down on a select paper, but other than that the steady motion of jotting down grades was all he went through.

Charles was so deep into his duties as a proffessor that he had barely even heard the door to his office open slightly over the rain outside the window he sat at, only looking up once he felt another presence enter the room.

"Hello there." Charles smiled at a head poking through the door, the face of his long time friend and partner (Y/n) staring back at him. They smiled their signature grin at the professor, taking note of his casual attire of just a t-shirt and jeans.

"Sorry to interrupt. I just had the urge to come and see you. You know, sit around for a bit while I let Hank handle the kids downstairs" (Y/n) began to enter the room after closing the door behind them.

Charles quirked an eyebrow up, taking some papers off his desk and resting them on his knees as he wheeled himself around to face (Y/n). Whom had since then found their place on the edge of a plush couch on the other side of the office.

"I'm quite flattered you wished to come visit the old bore holed up in his tower." He jested while wheeling closer to them. "But are you quite sure that's all?"

"You could always look in my head if you weren't sure bub." They responded with a shrug. He got the feeling it was supposed to be joking, but the weight behind the words didn't match up.

"You know I don't like to do that unless necessary (Y/n)." Charles reminded them from across the couch. They just hummed before fliting their gaze away from his own.

A minute or two passed without any noise other than the sound of water droplets cascading on the roof above. Charles had since begun to sneak looks back and fourth between the papers in his lap and the person across from him, mind in two places at once as it usually was.

"Hey, Charles? Have you ever felt erm—" (Y/n) paused in their sentence to search for a word, successfully catching the attention of the target of their question in the progress, "—unsatisfied with your body?"

The question coated Charles' tounge in a bitter sweet feeling as the papers in his hands were laid aside. It wasn't a question he wasnt well versed in—nor one he wasn't familiar with—but sometimes even the best of questions could bring up bad memories.

"Once." He cleared his throat.

"After Erik's bullet pierced my spine, surely of which you remember, it took a while for me to see my legs as anything but a burden. A reminder of my failures in past years." Charles admitted somewhat faintly. The confession was honest, if not coated in a fine layer of regret for his foolish actions all that time ago.

"But why do you ask dear?" He mused while leaning forward; eyes softer than the very bed you sleep on.

(Y/n) began to pick at their neck, a sign of anxiety they had picked up after their first mission forever ago in capturing Shaw.

"Lately I've been, I don't know, finding myself insulting my body more and more. Comparing it to others. Like—like Raven. Even in her natural form she doesn't have half the stretch marks I do." They mummbled. The picking at their skin had since sped up, leaving a fair patch of flesh red in its wake.

It took Charles a moment of understanding before he settled on what (Y/n) was confiding in him.

"Oh, my dear." His wheelchair was quick to place itself by their side with him in it, a hand reaching out to cup itself on their jaw softly. He didn't miss the way they leaned into it hesitantly.

"You must understand that no matter what you look like, you are still one of the most stunning people to ever grace this planet. Dare I say handsome as well." Charles boasted of your looks like it was the finest sculpture known to humans and mutants alike. It would have brought a smile to your otherwise glum face if not for the topic at hand.

"And these stretch marks you speak of? May I be too forward in asking to see them?"

(Y/n) paused for a moment. They wanted to say no. And that yes he was being too forward by asking that. But something in them knew Charles would never do anything to make them feel unwanted or under appreciated. Much less embarrassed in their own skin.

They shifted on the couch, opting to sit up straighter and pull at the hem of their shirt. The fabric lifted up just enough to reveal soft purple and tan streaks zigzaging up rough skin in different directions on each sides of their hip.

"Beautiful." Was all Charles whispered, his voice so low, (Y/n) had to check twice to see if they heard him right.

"Like little lightning strikes." He grinned, looking away with his eyes gleefully crinkled in the corners. "I find them quite endearing. Just like the rest of you."

"I see why Raven called you a womanizer back in the day." (Y/n) managed to joke. They could feel their spirits lifting already.

"Ah, well, maybe just a little." Charles said, his face slightly hot as he recalled the foolish acts of his earlier youth. "But those were no words of such a womanizer so to speak. Meerly just someone observing the facts."

(Y/n) looked at him, a thankfulness in their gaze.

"Thanks. Really. Thank you."

Charles just laid a hand on their arm, his silent smile saying more than words ever could.

[darklyndivinely]

I just read all your OM angst I AM IN SHAMBLES OKAY... YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL WAY WITH WORDS !!!

I was wondering if I could request something though! Maybe something with when the brothers have a crush on you? Maybe, if you want to add angst, your already dating one of their friends/brothers/ect.

Soundtrack to Disaster

Characters - Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, gn!reader.

Summary - OM!Brothers in unrequited love.

Warnings - Angst, pining, kissing, dark similes and metaphors, vague descriptions of fever and symptoms.

Wordcount - 1k+

A/N - hey anon, thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed my work. I know you asked for all of the brothers but I'm a bit scatterbrained right now, the brain ain't really braining, so here's four of our bois. I enjoyed your ask tho so I've made a playlist for unrequited love with this specific ask in mind. Additionally, as I'm in my Arctic Monkeys phase right now my brain was looping 'Knee Socks' during Lucifer's part, and 'One for the Road' for Satan's for some reason. You'll find both of the above-mentioned songs in the playlist. I hope you like this!

Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Taglist Form

LUCIFER, AVATAR OF PRIDE

You’re buried in a slew of blankets with a runny red nose and chapped lips, squinting at him through tired bloodshot eyes, and yet Lucifer has not set sights on a being more beautiful. You’re trying to laugh through the fever that has taken you, holding his cold palm to your heated forehead, sighing at the touch.

Your skin against his is warm, immensely so, your sweaty fingers twining with his. He tries to think of a moment he might have felt this feeling before—this delicate, twirling tug at the strings of his heart, the soft magnetic friction of your touch.

“Your hands are always so cold.” You giggle, twisting in your cocoon to look at him. He smiles, stroking your head. “And you are always so—”

The door spills open, banging against the wall. Mammon trudges in, kicking off his shoes, and nearing the bed you laid upon. “I got ya your medicine. Took a bit of a run but finally found em.” He sets the packet by the nightstand table and sneaks his hand behind your back to help you rise.

Lucifer backs away to grant you space, watching you giggle as you cup Mammon’s hands over your cheeks. Mammon smiles amusedly, leaning in to peck your dry lips in soft affection. Lucifer leaves you then, gently closing the door behind him, your muffled laughter echoing in his ears. Now that his brother had returned, he was no longer needed. His hands weren’t the only cold ones that could bring you relief.

MAMMON, AVATAR OF GREED

His breath slows in his throat, gaze transfixing upon your figure. Asmo squeals beside him, a high-pitched cry of awe that perfectly mimics the thumping of Mammon’s heart. You smile embarrassedly, smoothing a palm down over your outfit.

Asmo bounces closer to you, capturing your hand in his and urging you into a pirouette. You oblige, laughing when he tugs you closer, grasping the plane of your face and peppering your lips with painted feather kisses, uncaring if he stains you with his lipstick or not.

Mammon’s fist clenches in his pocket, heartbeat surging in his ears like the dull and deafening roar of a tsunami. Darts of envy pin his gaze to your displays of affection with his brother.

He wants to look away, to not have to notice the way Asmo’s hand wounds around your waist or the playful way in which you push him away, shying from his kisses, only to be pulled back into his magnetic hold. Yet Mammon’s feet remain unmoving just like his eyes, glued to the sight like leech to skin and ruin to lonely houses.

There’s a twinkle to your eyes, a soft sigh in the echo of your giggle that Mammon had believed reserved for him; that it might be something only he could pull forth and cherish. But there you stand with a smile set with stars, eternal and effortless in your beauty, holding his crumbling soul ever so tightly in your cupped hands and pretending to be unaware; pretending to be unaware that if you asked he would pluck out the moon from the dark night sky and rest it upon your brow. If only you asked.

SATAN, AVATAR OF WRATH

It’s early morning, the sky dotted with angry clouds and growling birds. He trudges down the stairs, navigating around the furniture with ease, rubbing at his aching eyes. He had not realized how long he’d spent on his current novel read. It hadn’t seemed long, but the effects were appearing now that he’d finally found the will to put it aside. Turning the corner to the kitchen, he reaches an arm sideways to flick the light switch and freezes.

You pull away from your kiss, catching his eyes. “Satan, oh.” Beel turns too, ruffled hair and rosy breaths, and shrugs, looping his hands around your waist to heave you from the countertop and onto your feet.

“Sorry, Beel got hungry so we came to the kitchen to snack a bit…then got distracted,” you say, bashful. Satan pushes a smile onto his lips, dismissing when you apologize again, and watches you tug Beel out and away from the kitchen, sending him a last smile as you leave.

And as the footfalls of your retreat dull, left alone in the gloom of the darkened kitchen, Satan allows himself that greedy moment, the creation of a fantasy where the touch that traces the incline of your cheeks is his and the fingers that comb through his hair are yours; where it’s his hands that loop around your waist and your fingers that slip past his collarbone. For one incredibly selfish minute Satan lets himself envision a reality where it's your lips that greet him in the early throes of dawn, where you are his and not his brother’s. A reality that shall exist in his mind and dreams alone.

ASMODEUS, AVATAR OF LUST

The music is loud in the club, pumping through his feet and body in waves of tilting euphoria. Asmo’s face feels feverish, numb with the intensity of the laughter that spills past his lips. Your hand is so familiar in his, sweaty and gripping, and he slips under your raised arm, twirling under and out, more happiness bubbling up his throat.

You laugh as well, jumping along with the heavy beat of the music. The club is teeming with life, buzzing with inebriation and lust, and yet Asmo hears your laughter as clear as the shattering of a thousand glasses. He stares at you, transfixed by the way the lights shade your face in purples and blues. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, ethereal and lovely your visage with a crown of flashing lights resting upon your brow, yet as he opens his mouth he loses your attention.

You look down at the arm that had looped around your waist, and giggle, tilting your head and meeting Satan’s quirked lips. Asmo feels his perception tilt, shivers slithering through his fingers, and the bass of the loud music thrums through his blood, synced with the echoes of his yearning.

You smile into your kiss, turning and pressing closer to his brother, looping a hand round his neck and his waist, and your laughter surrounds Asmo, enveloping him like the soothing embrace of home and capturing him like a noose to the neck. And in the dark of the club nobody sees him tighten the rope around his throat, in the roar of the music nobody hears his screams and the splintering of his heart. Nobody needs to anyway.

Taglist: @lilactaro

[134340am]

sunday sanctuary

levi x gn!reader, 1k words, sfw | moodboard

you were delighted to know that your new place with levi comes with a small balcony overlooking the city. you were also delighted at the prospect of having a place where you could sun your laundry, especially since you adore the scent of sun-warmed sheets.

levi, on the other hand, felt otherwise.

“there’s no need for a service yard. we have a dryer. in fact, we bought the dryer because the weather’s too unpredictable to be sunning our clothes all year round,” he had explained simply, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a book in another.

“fine, but what if the weather’s nice and i want to leave the bedding out for a bit?” you bit back.

“we can sun our bedding in our room.”

the finality in his voice left you with not much room to argue. plus, it was true after all – your agent had mentioned that the east window of the master bedroom sees an abundance of sunlight daily, which is perfect for sunning the bedding (and for your cat, pumpkin, who’s quite fond of afternoon naps).

but you still had your reservations. “what should we do with our balcony then? it’s too small to do anything else with.”

levi’s steel-grey eyes stray from his book to you. he blinks, once, twice, looking very much like pumpkin just waking up from a nap. “we can put a couch on it or some shit.”

ooooh. a quiet little space on the balcony, just for the two of you. that’s sweet, and rather unlike levi, who prioritised practicality in everything.

at this point, you were almost completely convinced, but just for the sake of it, you try to push his buttons a little more. “oh, but the couch will get gross if it rains or snows,” you explain, hiding your smile behind a sip of your hot chocolate.

a soft sigh from him. “we can get one that’s easy to clean.”

“okay, but we’re busy people – what if we don’t have time?”

levi puts his book down. years of being his partner has armed you with enough knowledge on his body language for you to know that he’s not annoyed by this conversation; rather, he seemed somewhat desperate for you to give in. 

“then we make time. how about every sunday evening, after dinner and before bed – let’s sit on the balcony and talk about our week. or whatever else you want. pumpkin can get her turn, too.”  

you end up laughing at that, satisfied with his answer, and levi offers you an amused half-smile, hidden over the glossy forest green of his mug this time.

so you give in. renovations for your new apartment start next month.

.

.

.

it was a thrilling feeling, seeing your house – soon to be home – come together. 

suddenly, there was an abundance of things to be excited for: your rain shower, a shiny new coffee table, levi’s fancy custom-made spice rack sitting neatly on your kitchen counter. a tv console that you two spent a day building, chasing after screws that rolled everywhere when the packet burst open under your husband’s aggressive grip. (tapping his butt when he reached under the sofa for the final missing screw.) a plush new pet bed for pumpkin. a set of mugs in muted colours. 

and of course, furniture for your little balcony – a two seater sofa with squishy beige cushions, a rattan table for snacks and drinks, and the largest umbrella you’ve seen in your life.

“isn’t this nice?” levi asks when you two settle in your loveseat for the first time, tired from a day of decorating and putting the house together. just one last piece of the puzzle – your oakwood dining table – to go, before you were done with furnishing the house. just one oakwood dining table to go, before you could call your house a home.

but tonight, all tuckered out and sleepy from moving, you were more than happy to simply sit down with your husband and enjoy the nice red wine erwin gifted you as a housewarming present.

“very nice,” you asserted, eyes sweeping over the view before you.

you and levi were lucky enough to score this apartment that overlooked a little parkette. in the distance, you could hear the cheerful laughs of schoolchildren pushing each other on the swings, coupled with the occasional ring of a bicycle bell. despite the two of you being surrounded by an abundance of life, of muted chatter and lush greenery, it almost feels as if you and levi were hidden away in your private little corner, watching life go by under your big cream umbrella while the astringent taste of red wine sits on your tongue.

you look over at levi and a surge of affection washes over you instantly. sitting a hair’s breadth away from you, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the toned vee of his chest, hair slightly ruffled from the breeze and cheeks flushed from wine and the glow of the sunset, you couldn’t help the way your heart positively sings. he looks sleepy – the aftereffects of a draining day catching up to him – but content. unguarded. relaxed.

levi notices you staring but says nothing. the corner of his lip quirks up in a little smile, the faintest hint of a dimple popping up on his cheek, and he leans over to kiss you without a word; to which you meet him halfway.

every sunday evening from then on, the two of you drink on the balcony while watching the sunset. some days you even eat dinner there too, sharing vodka pasta straight from the pan.

every sunday evening from then on, you two talk about everything under the sun – about work and life and your hopes and dreams for the future, about the new brand of oat milk he’s been wanting to try, about pumpkin’s next grooming appointment, and about sunning the bedding tomorrow.

all that, interspersed with a few kisses here and there, of course. and as promised, pumpkin gets her turn too – levi listens and replies to her with a completely straight face (“time to ease up on the afternoon naps, pumpkin. you need to fix your sleep schedule.”), and you laugh so hard, pumpkin jumps off your lap and runs back inside the house.

then monday rolls around, and you two can’t wait to do it all over again.

a/n: kinda nervous about posting this :’-) feedback and reblogs appreciated!

(masterlist)