#Raspberry is a hard worker

[randomruff]

Music, a cup of tea and silent yet grateful company.

Raspberry cookie sighed in content as she put down her teacup. The crisp warm air of the night flowing past her and the beautiful, elegant melody of Mint Choco cookie’s violin whispering in her ears was a wonderful way to enjoy a cup of tea. ‘Speaking of Mint Choco cookie...’ she thought as she looked at him from the other side of the table.  

This was not the first time they’d done this, and she doubted it’ll be the last. It was a simple yet relaxing endeavor that she, quite embarrassingly quick, became addicted to. 

At first, she merely thought it a coincidence that he had been performing when she was so tired out from fencing that evening. Yet, it made little sense since Mint barely plays so late. At least, from what she hears.  

Perhaps he does, considering how much his love for music almost matches her love for fencing. 

‘Ah, is that why?’ she wondered. Did Mint Choco cookie do this because he understands that since you want to master what you love, you wear yourself out when not careful? Because he’s done it before? Raspberry smiled softly. “Thank you,” she whispered, adoring gratitude filling her voice.  

The music came to a pause. Mint Choco opened his eyes and looked at her. She didn’t mind. It was, after all, the first time she had spoken since this all started. Mint Choco smiled. “Anytime,” he whispered back and went back to playing. Raspberry giggled and took another sip of tea. 

‘Yes, anytime.’ Perhaps she should give him a gift tomorrow, as a way of showing her gratitude. ‘Yes, that I shall.’  

After all, what better way to end the day with Music, a Cup of Tea, and Silent yet grateful company?  

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 5

shy!reader really wants to tell construction worker!rafe how she feels but what if he doesn’t feel the same way?  

c/w: the L word, mostly fluff, her being an overthinker & getting a little jealous, pda, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k 

sooo this is the last part! (might write some extras but i make no promises) & just wanted to say how much i appreciate everyone who reads my stuff. the first part was my first piece of writing on this blog and i was overjoyed by the warm welcome and all the kind comments, asks & reblogs (nothing goes unnoticed by me!) so thank u so so much for being so lovely <33

series masterlist

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It’s been exactly two weeks since she came to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him.

She hasn’t been able to sleep all that well and has tried her very best to avoid Rafe, albeit fruitlessly since he insists on driving her home every day and on top of that, often invites himself over or asks her to stay the night at his— not accepting her excuses about being tired and having to wake up early.   

“Why don’t we jus’…be tired ‘n wake up early together then?” his grin is playful. And how is she meant to refuse that?  

And if everything he does wasn’t already suffocating her enough, he’s now helping with the renovation of the cafe since her boss wanted to expand the business; turn the small coffee shop into a bigger one in hopes of more space for new tables and seats, because the amount of clients they got was beginning to be too much for everyone to comfortably enjoy their stay. 

Therefore, she now has to work in the same building as him every single day because (unfortunately) the renovation work isn’t disturbing the current cafe from running nor decreasing the number of customers with a sweet tooth or a craving for their usual morning coffee.   

And none of this would be a problem, if Rafe wasn’t walking around all sweaty and dusty, biceps bulging whenever he’d lift wooden planks over his shoulder or carry around different equipment— looking as attractive as ever.

And with these newfound lovey-dovey feelings trying to break through the surface, she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to stop herself from ogling him or keep her rapid heartbeats to herself whenever he wanders over for a chat on his breaks. She tries to act as normal as she can, but she can tell that he’s starting to pick up on her excessive rambling and stuttering, flushed cheeks and anxious fingers fixing her hair every two seconds whenever he’s talking to her.  

In fact, she’s certain he can see right through her, knows that she’s hiding something. She can practically see how he wants to bring it up more often than not, but seemingly hasn’t found the right way to approach the subject yet, and she can sense that she’s running out of time— can’t tolerate lying to him for much longer.   

She’s been thinking this whole thing through over and over again, to the point of her head hurting while she bakes Rafe’s favorite lemon raspberry cookies as a distraction and because he’s been working so hard she wants to surprise him; see the soft smile that makes the whole world glitter whenever he graces her with it.  

And she wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply she feels for him; how much she appreciates him but every time she tries to open her mouth, the words seem to evaporate before they’ve even begun to sprout on her nervous tongue.

Because what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is all just a casual thing for him and she’s making it into something more than it is? These bleak thoughts turn her mood sour— a pout forming on her lips as she concentrates on topping the flamingo pink icing with fresh blueberries, adding the final touches to their most popular vanilla cupcakes.

And as she’s taking Rafe’s cookies out the oven, she comes to the conclusion that she really only has two options; she either tells him or she doesn’t.

If she tells him, there’s a very high possibility that he looks at her with a crease between his brows and words about not wanting for this to be anything serious hitting her against the face. And if she doesn’t, then…well she doesn’t really have anything to lose, does she? Except maybe the what ifs haunting her for the rest of eternity.   

She tries to get rid of the tormenting thoughts with a shake of her head as she sets the cookies off to cool down, and begins to place the finished cupcakes onto the display counter, trying her hardest to just forget about it all.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

Later that day, when Rafe is contently munching on the cookies she plated for him and happily distracting her from work, someone approaches the counter; a girl with glossy lips and shiny hair.   

“Hi! Could I please get a mango matcha latte?” her eyes are as green as grass as she places her order.  

“Of course, would you like it with ice or no ice?”   

“With ice, please.”

“Coming right up,” she gives the girl a polite smile when her payment goes through.   

“You’re working on the renovation?” the girl’s attention then turns towards Rafe, making Y/N’s gaze flicker over to them as she puts blended mango into the bottom of a tall glass.  

“Yeah, the cafe’s gon’ be twice as big as it’s now,” he drawls, putting the half-eaten baked good down.   

“That’s so cool. You know, I’ve always wondered how construction workers are so strong. Do you go to the gym a lot?” a saccharine voice reaches Y/N’s ears, making her brows furrow while she measures the right amount of matcha powder, trying to appear nonchalant.   

“Uh, yeah, yeah, also think m’workdays sometimes count as workouts,” he scratches the back of his head as she lets out a giggle. It wasn’t that funny, Y/N thinks with a roll of her eyes.   

“Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d wanna hang out sometime? Could give you my number?”   

Something muddy swirls in her stomach in response to the girl’s straightforward question. She doesn’t particularly appreciate the fact that she’s blatantly hitting on Rafe right in front of her, even if she’s painfully aware that they’re not together and the girl probably assumed they were just friends, which they are.  

However, she can’t prevent herself from turning grumpy from the mere notion of him being interested in someone else. After all, the girl is stunning and she wouldn’t really blame him if he wanted to at least consider her offer.  

“Uh, m’actually not available right now,” he offers an apologetic smile when the girl’s shoulders slump.   

“No? That’s a shame. Well, let me know when that changes?” she gives him a flirty smile that makes Y/N quietly scoff as she pours the milk into the mix.  

“S’not changing anytime soon,” she mutters under her breath, making both of their heads turn towards her.   

Fuck, did she really say that out loud?  

“Sorry?” the girl asks, muted jade settling on her suddenly tense form.

“Oh, um— jus’ that…here’s your drink,” she peeps out in her state of embarrassment, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into the side of her face as she sticks a paper straw into the beverage; the ice cubes clinking together when she hands it out to her.

“Right, thanks,” she says before looking over to Rafe once more, seemingly expecting him to give her an answer of his own.  

“Uh…yeah, what she said. Not changin’ anytime soon,” his grin is wide, making the girl’s cheeks flush.  

And when it’s just the two of them again, she flits her eyes down— busying herself with a wooden container of tea bags she’s trying to organize, unable to face him.  

“What was, uh…what was that about?” his tone is taunting, an annoying smirk playing on his features.  

“Nothing,” she quickly dismisses, avoiding his gaze.  

“Nothin’? You’re tellin’ me you weren’t just real fuckin’ jealous two seconds ago?”  

“N—no,” she can’t even convince herself with the pitiful denial.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, m’all yours, alright?” he chuckles as he stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth.  

“How did you know I jus’ was cravin’ these?” he asks around the mouthful as she tries to brush aside the sudden tingle in her ribcage.   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

A few days later, when her shift is coming to an end, her other coworker already beginning to take orders and telling her she’s free to go, she drags Rafe behind the counter and practically forces him to taste test a new recipe she’s tried out; a walnut carrot cake with lime buttercream. 

“Wow, this is…amazing. The sourness in the frosting is so good,” his voice is muffled by his chewing and her heart warms in response to his commentary, never one to shy away from showering her in compliments.  

“You think so? I actually added the lime jus’ cause I know how much you like citrus fruits so, m’really glad you like it,” she beams at him.  

“Yeah? Made this jus’ for me, huh? Can I ask why m’gettin’ this special treatment all of a sudden?” his tone is playful, tongue licking over his bottom lip to clean up the bit of icing lingering there.   

“Well, cause I love you and—” she blurts out before her entire body tenses; mouth hanging open in shock and wide eyes slowly moving to look at him, trying to verify whether he heard it or not. Of course he did. She wasn’t exactly quiet now, was she?   

“You…you love me?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“Uh…I— I didn’t mean to…I mean, you probably don’t feel the same so doesn’t really matter. Just— um...jus’ forget I said that. I don’t know why I—”   

“What are you talkin’ about? You think I spend most of my time with you cause I…what? Dislike you? You can be so silly sometimes, you know?” he scoffs, setting the golden fork down on the porcelain plate.  

She stays silent. 

“What I’m sayin’ is that m’obsessed with you. I mean, you’re even in my fuckin’ dreams, right? But listen, love has always been a little, uh, tricky for me cause m’relationship with my family has always been, uh, complicated? But if me wantin’ to spend every second of my day with you means I love you too, then, shit, maybe I do. But I need some time before I can really say that shit, you get that?” his words are honest and raw and she thinks her rattling heart is going to beat out of her chest.  

“I— um…yeah, of course. Take all the time you need,” she finally manages out.  

“Hey, c’mere,” he says before he’s practically dragging her dumbfounded form into his embrace; — beefy arms pulling her flush against his chest.  

“I mean, we’re basically already datin’ at this point, no? Wasn’t sure how to make it official without freakin’ you out but since you love me, think you’re all good, yeah?” 

She mumbles something incoherent in response.  

“So wanna be my little girlfriend or what?” he murmurs into her hair.  

“I— of course I do,” she speaks against his shirt.   

“Yeah?”   

“Mhm,” she hums before he tucks an index finger under her chin and lifts her face to look up at him—his thumb toying with her bottom lip before he’s leaning down and smearing a sloppy kiss against her mouth.   

“Shit, you’re so adorable, jus’ wanna swallow you whole sometimes,” he murmurs with a soft smile tugging at his lips and eyes twinkling with something syrupy in them.   

“I love you,” she mumbles, almost inaudible; words still too tender to consciously say out loud.   

“Say it again,” he practically demands.  

“Um…I love you,” her voice is nearly a whisper.  

“What was that? Think you can say it a little louder?” he teases.   

“Rafe, stop…you’re embarrassing me,” she whines, cheeks heating up.

“No, m’not. Jus’ wanna hear you say it,” his smirk is all big and smug and it makes her huff.  

“ILOVEYOU, okay?” the words mesh together like fluffy clouds in the sky and her volume is louder than he’s probably ever heard it, causing a couple of curious heads to turn and the lively chatter around them to quiet down some.   

“Yeah? You guys heard that? She LOVES me,” he’s nearly shouting, looking around with a stupid grin on his face— making her flush and hide behind her hands as a few customers cheerfully titter in entertainment.  

“Congrats, dude!” someone even yells.

“Oh my god, Rafe. Why would you do that?” her mortified eyes widen as she crouches down; trying to find shelter behind the pale-yellow counter. “M’never leaving my house again,” she complains with a glare.   

However, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the whole thing, simply chuckling with dimples denting his cheeks— the light-hearted sound making her stomach flutter despite the humiliation crawling up her spine and making her want to vanish into the cracks on the floorboards.   

“Of course you are, m’your boyfriend now which means m’takin’ you out on a date tomorrow, yeah?” he lifts her up with a grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him while his fingertips slip underneath the hem of her shirt, smoothing over her bare stomach and making her let out a squeak.  

Then, he’s grasping her jaw in one hand and pressing his mouth on hers again— her protests withering away like a dead rose when he slips his tongue past the seam of her lips, dragging out an involuntary whimper from her, before she pulls away and hides her face in his chest when she feels multiple pairs of eyes staring at them.  

“Rafe, can we just go already?” she pleads, voice small before he’s guiding her out of the coffee shop; his hand resting on the small of her back and calming her down some. 

And despite the little scene he caused, she thinks she might just be the happiest girl on the island as he helps her climb into his truck with a honeyed kiss warming the apple of her cheek.

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | your small sleepy town has never been enough for you. maybe that’s what makes it so easy for inmate soap, his cellmate ghost, ad their friends on the outside to convince you to help sneak them out of prison. (w/c: 1.2k)

warnings include language, dark themes, prisoners!ghoap, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life), bit of an age gap between reader and 141 (late 20s/30s and 40s), bodily fluids (mentioned), soap and ghost work in the tailoring room, improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, manipulative!ghoap, submissive!f!em!reader, loser boyfriend behaviors (you'll see), illegal activities, violence (mentioned). +18/mdni

masterlist(s)

The claps are almost loud enough to creep under the crack in the door. Almost… thankfully Soap has perfected the art of fucking you in the back of the sewing room closet. Quick, punchy thrusts at just the right angle to yank an orgasm from the both of you. He pierces himself inside you, and your pussy pulses hard around his thick member that spurts out spells of cum that you’ll hold onto for the rest of the day.

You barely contain the whimpers that want to spill from you.

“Oh, whit I wouldn’t give tae hear those bonny sounds out loud, little miss,” Johnny whisper hot, lips brushing the back of your ear messily. He kisses the spot before pulling out of you with a grunt he has to cover with a cough.

He gives your bare hip one more pat, squeezing the skin for a quick moment before hurrying to raise his pants. You feel a heated gaze on your backside as you bend to pull your panties and pants back into place. A rush of heat rewires you once again, as you can feel the load attempt to seep from your whole. You squeeze with a bitten lip and slight shudder, turning to face Soap but able to meet his eyes. The man puffs his chest in a stretch, smirking at you with a smug rub of his stomach.

You sure are something, aren’t you? Letting him fuck you raw in the place he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life, and you can’t even look that sweet gaze at him. The inmate knows the two of you don’t have much time left but takes a few long seconds to up-and-down you anyways.

Finally, Soap steps forward. Swaying in his stand, his pointer finger coming to lull your gaze to him while the rough pad of his thumb drags just across your chin. He makes sure not to speak until you’re really looking at him.

“See ye out there, huh?”

Soap’s tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his lip with a pretty shine. He has to hold back a chuckle at how slow you nod for him.

“Stay sweet, hen,” he sniffs, and you almost flinch at how fast the cool air returns to you at the removal of his hand. You clear your throat, gathering yourself as you grab your clipboard and  follow him back into the tailoring room.

Ignoring whatever eyes are on you, your legs are still a little shaky when you walk yourself back to your seat at the front of the room. You fail in your attempt to not let your eyes glaze back over to Soap, who’s also just making it back to his assigned chair. He collapses in the seat with a breath, scratching the back of his head.

It’s when your stare floats to the man next to him–a mass of muscles and a hard face that you don’t think you’ve seen crack anything close to a smile–that you pause. You’re stuck in a stupid stare, watching and squirming in your seat when they catch eyes with each other. Their silent conversation is loud. It screams right into your face, and you wonder so hard what they could possibly be talking about that it makes your head hurt.

Is it bad you want it to be you?

~

“Grape or blue raspberry? Or cherry, maybe?”

Soap. An odd name you’ve wondered about since he was placed in your section. And his mohawk. Does he cut it himself? Or get another inmate to do it?

Ghost. A mystery in a half, you’ve found. Never speaks. Looks at you funny… a different kind of funny than Soap but still funny.

“Hey.”

A blink of your stinging eyes brings you right back to the gas station dining room booth. He’s sitting in front of you, forgetting about the different options of flavored ice on the laminated menu before him. The stare he places on you is hard to sit with, and you feel the guilt working its way up your throat in the form of bile.

Rocky’s eyebrows do his speaking for him when they pinch together as he leans toward you.

“Don’t want an icee,” you finally mumble, a little rude. Rocky seems more concerned than offended, nodding with visible hesitation. He stays in his quiet while you slide away the menu to rub at your eyes. “Not that thirsty anymore, actually.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” your fiance blinks, pausing for a moment. “Did… did something happen at work?”

“Something always happens at work, it’s a fucking correctional facility.”

Rocky blinks again, trying not to brisk at the harshness of your voice. Swallowing, he shifts. “You know, I still don’t like you working there. In that place. With all those jerks.”

Jerks. That’s the best he can come up with?

“So you’ve said,” you sass back, wishing it was morning already. Morning means that Rocky’s already out of the house before you’re waking up. Morning means you start a new day of work and get to see the way Inmate Soap’s chest and biceps bulge in his prison uniform. Morning means another chance that Inmate Simon might speak to you. “Can we go home now?”

Rocky throws his head to the side in dissapointment, pouting childishly. “We didn’t even get anything yet.”

“Get it to-go, then,” you instruct him, yanking yourself from the booth to make a b-line to the truck with a dissatisfied shake of your head.

Inmate Soap would treat you better than this. Take you somewhere nicer than a goddamn gas station dining room for your anniversary. And you know what? So would Inmate Ghost. Even if he doesn’t speak…

~

Dinner is the usual. Sloppy but edible.

“Same sad meal,” Soap sighs, dropping his spoon so that it crashes into his tray of half-eaten food. He stares at Ghost through his eyelashes before his face brightens with a smirk. Voice lowering, Soap leans. “Wish I was eatin’ her, instead.”

Ghost has to pause in his chewing of the mushy carrots they were served this evening. It’s a miracle the fork in his hand doesn’t break at how hard he comes to clench it.

“‘M tellin’ you, Si,” Soap shakes his head with a rub of his chin, face hazy. “Pussy’s hotter than th’ sun. Would live inside there, ‘f I could…”

“Stop speakin’,” Simon rumbles out, and Soap shakes with a delighted giggle.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Soap shrugs, gathering his spoon back up to pick at the leftover food. “Bet she’d, ah, let ye have a taste, too. Sweet thing… even got those sad eyes ye like. Which you would notice if you’d speak to the lass–”

“Shut the fuck up, Mactavish.”

Simon’s voice catches the attention of a few surrounding inmates, who know not to question what’s wrong. Not if they want to get their head bashed in by an angry Simon Riley. If they only knew it wasn’t anger coursing through his vein, but a healthy dose of blood running down to his cock that’s making him like this. He resettles in his seat, ignoring the way Johnny’s looking at him, and giving a good palm to readjust his now-leaking cock. Biting his tongue, he can’t help but clench all his muscles at how right Johnny is.

You would taste a hell of a lot better than this sad excuse of a meal.

(next part) - © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[jjwolves]

Hello! Your writing's great! Um... Sorry, just a bit unsure because I don't normally request things in fandom spaces... If it's okay with you, could you write something platonic with DBBQ Ena where the reader:

1. Has a hard time trusting her salesman side.

2. Is scared of her meanie side.

3. Can't help but have a squish (that's platonic attraction) on her?

Basically just... The reader doesn't wanna feel like Ena's solely just trying to sell them something nor do they want her to be angry/insulting towards them... Also, gender-neutral reader please. ._.

If you can't or don't want to write this, that's completely fine! Have a nice day! óuò

DROOPY LIKES YOUR FACE ✦•··············•✦•··············•✦

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA the Worker X Reader (Struggling Platonic)

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~700 words, ~3 mins

Warnings: Slight Language

You’ve been working with ENA for a while, and you’re pretty sure that you understand the pattern now. Froggy usually orders you and your partner in crime to go out and squash any problems which need squashing. You do your best to get the job done, and when there’s time, you try to find some reprieve from the crushing reality that this is probably going to be your job forever. You try to talk to ENA. You think that you’d be up for getting drinks later, but it’s hard to get along with her at times.

You two could be friends, you think, as you march through the realm of the carpenter and do your best to avoid any saws which would saw through the room you’re traveling through and send you into the abyss surrounding the tower. Adjusting your tie, you glance over at ENA as you walk. She’s chipper (heh) and red as her head swivels to face you, body unaffected by the movement like an automaton. “The ambiance here is palpable! Would you be willing to buy a jar of it?” Thinking on your environment, you make a joke—don’t you mean pulpable? ENA takes a moment to process before startling you with a switch-up. “CAN IT!” You jump and look away, returning to your nervous tie adjusting. At least she acknowledged it.

ENA is able to get through a door while you wait and idle about near a mouth on the wall that sucks on lollipops endlessly supplied by you suit’s pockets. Hopefully it’s too busy tasting raspberry and rootbeer-adjacent chemicals to notice that your work buddy is intruding in its domain. It takes her some time but eventually she circles back to you and you can stop feeding the thing. “You’re a good worker.” ENA smiles inscrutably. You’re thankful for the compliment, but you wait for the catch. She follows through. “And good workers know amazing deals when they see them. Would you be willing to trade a few lollipops for this stylish ribbon I found?” Should have known.

ENA makes you anxious sometimes. She doesn’t mean to, probably, but she ends up doing it anyway. Once in a while you’ll drop something or tell a ‘potential customer’ something less than flattering—but true—about your services. After the tool hits the floor or the words are out your mouth, you tense up, hoping that she wasn’t around to hear that. You look around. All clear. That is, until you look directly in front of you to see ENA wearing a jagged frown and holding a megaphone. “THAT’S ANOTHER INFRACTION! ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US TERMINATED!?” You jump back and apologize profusely, tripping over yourself. ENA’s face straightens into something more neutral, however, after your blubbering has subsided.

You take a break with your coworker (friend?), making sure to hide away from Froggy so that he doesn’t see you two slacking. It’s awkward and silent until your coworker speaks up. ENA looks thoughtful when she turns to you. “I apologize for the behavior of my employment.” She fidgets with her hands. “I’ve never really invested in a friend before… So please forgive me as I update my software.” Feeling a gentle smile on your face, you say that it’s alright. You’re both working on getting along better, after all. “Speaking of which. Friend. Earlier you had complained about not having any, ‘iced coffee’, as it were. Consider this a payment towards my forgiveness.” ENA reaches to grab something from her invisible item-space. You begin to say that she doesn’t need to pay you anything, but your words die as she places something in your hands. It’s coffee, frozen into a cube the size of your head, attached to the end of a freakishly large popsicle stick. It’s practically a warhammer. You’re baffled. ENA is quick to go white at your reaction. “DON’T LAUGH! IT ONLY COMES IN VENTI! God DAMNIT!” ENA throws her hat down in a fit of rage. You’re thankful for the strange gift from your even stranger friend.

A/N: You have a nice day too, Anon! Geez, guys, I'm sorry if you send in a request and it takes a while to get to it. I try to work down the list of requests by date and there's quite a few (which I am very thankful for). I do try to make every hc list or story very richly detailed, so it takes time to get done. The fics would lose what makes them special if I shotgunned them, haha. Stay tuned, and if you have a request you really really want done ASAP then you can always commission me! Comms take priority after all. :o)

[vixen-tech]

Hi, hi, hii!! Here's a silly little idea I had: headcanons about the AIs developing feelings for someone. What do you think would initially make them feel attraction? Is there a particular trait that makes them-- metaphorically --fall head over heels? What makes them have the realization that their affections are suddenly less than platonic? How subtle or not subtle are they about their feelings? Would they be the type to immediately blurt out these new feelings, or are they the type to never address them?

You don't have to answer all of these questions; I just thought they'd be helpful. AaAA I love your writing so much, especially how you write for AM. Okay, I'll shut up nowwwww

Okay I'm absolutely gonna have to revist this some point down the line because there is so much I could stretch into a full headcanon post. But for now I'm gonna bite into first two questions: Why is it you they fall for? What caught their eye?

To be barred from AM's hatred, you're ultimately going to have to prove him wrong about humanity in some way. Setting yourself apart from the other human survivors and extending compassion to the mastercomputer himself. In particular I really like how rotten-raspberries's White Nights handles the entry point of your relationship and it's the model I like to hint at in my interpretation of him.

I believe Hal would be interested in a old soul type. Someone who would love to sit down and really explain their more philosophical views on life and art. He likes looking at the drawings the crew makes and was taught to sing early into his creation and I think he would find a deep appreciation for someone who indulges that side of him when the others do so on only the most surface level.

I could make the easy observation with Edgar and say he just wants someone like Madeline, but there's a reason it's so true. Being so new to the world he would find such passion and artistry amazing, astonishing. He loves so easily and is so energetic about life, he would easily be swept off his feet by a kindred spirit.

Tau would be very similar I imagine. Given the temperament of his creator he needs someone to kindly sit him down and give him the "welcome to personhood 101" speech. Compared to Edgar I think he'd prefer someone a bit gentler or even scholarly. The type who would not only be content to answer his billions of questions but someone so invested themselves in figuring out how the world works.

As a bit of a departure from what I tend to write, I believe P03 would be suited for more of a rivals with romantic tension type of partner. With his world domination plot and investment in the game of Inscryption it would be very possible for him to get in his head about someone as equally skilled and stuck up as he is. Loving the challenge but hating you at the same time in a "I'm the only one allowed to defeat you" type way.

The hardest to crack is probably Auto. In order for him to even look your way I think you'd have to at first play to his need for efficiency and order. It's only after you establish yourself as a dependable and effective worker that he would pay any mind to your insistence that surely there's something that he truly enjoys, something that he wants.

Glados is another hard one to win over. Being all "married to science" you would have to be of a particular intellectual caliber, able to solve her tests without much set back. Beyond that though, some amount of persistence or rebellion would catch her eye. Perhaps not on the level of Chell per say, but there is a part of her that would love to pick your brain if you're able to consistently break her test chambers.

Although it's a bit sad, Wheatley wants nothing more than to be important. He would probably be the easiest to woo just because he's so desperate to prove himself to anyone including himself. For someone to care about him, to think he is skilled in any way, to look at him as worthy- worthy of love and attention, would be a blissful and new experience. One that he'd quickly obsess over.

[sanjoongie]

ₛₙₒwₑd ᵤₙdₑᵣ

☃snowed under: be overwhelmed with a very large quantity of something, especially work.

☃Submission for the Anti Holiday Event from @lapydiaries, prompt chosen: too busy to go home

☃Rated: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

☃Genre: fluff, smut

☃Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

☃Au: non-idol, office

☃Trope: co-workers to lovers

☃Word Count: 4,493

☃Warnings: Wooyoung is a persistent menace, he also flirts while cooking, kissing, slight body worship, biting, oral (f), hair tugging, hand holding during oral 🥺, kissing with your cum on his lips, penetrative sex with a condom, slight overstim, pain kink, scratching, wooyoung is a panty thief

☃Summary: when your work makes you too busy for the holidays, or gives you any time to visit home, you gain a temporary guest in Wooyoung who is looking to chase away the holiday blues with you. But will a sentimental, intimate setting make this into more than it was meant to be?

☃Soundtrack: Stray Kids' Christmas EveL album {Happy Holidays 🥰}

You cradled your phone between your shoulder and your ear, typing out a work email on your laptop. “I know I know Mom but it’s utterly too busy. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Your mother let out a disappointed sigh and your heart hurt from the sound. “I know work comes first but I was hoping…”

“I was hoping too,” You said eagerly, trying to portray to your mother that you weren’t using work as an excuse. “But this holiday advertisement is just booming and we’ve gotten so many offers for work after Christmas. I can’t just jet off and leave my team to handle everything.”

“I know, dear,” Your mom sounded wearing but proud. “You’ll find time to call though?”

“I will, I promise.”

You said your goodbyes and hung up, rubbing your temples. What was it that you had to do next?

“Heyyyyyyy.” Wooyoung rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to your office and then upon a quick inspection that you weren’t on the phone or otherwise occupied, he collapsed onto the chair in front of you and your desk as well.

Quickly, you moved your open drink out of the way, in case Wooyoung decided to be even more dramatic, and spilled your drink. “Can I help you?” You mused.

“Why did we decide to launch a holiday campaign? I'M EXHAUSTED!” Wooyoung lamented into your desk.

“It’s extremely lucrative,” You brought up.

“Yes, but is the money worth my mental state?” Wooyoung wailed.

Project Manager was a title you held with honor while Wooyoung was your graphics designer. You tried your best to help him out by being the communication between the client and Wooyoung, but Wooyoung still had to bear most of the creative weight. He was pulling long hours at the office and you felt bad for pushing him so hard.

You tentatively patted his head and you froze when Wooyoung moaned loudly. “Uh, Wooyoung, that’s not exactly appropriate noise for being in my office.”

Wooyoung sat up, a pout pulling at his lips. “That’s the first comfort I’ve had in like 72 hours, come on!”

“At least the client has finally settled on what they would like color wise?” You offered optimistically.

Wooyoung blew a raspberry, sinking into the chair until his chin hit his chest. “For now.”

You made a noise of sympathy. “I’ll make it up to you,” You offered.

Wooyoung’s lips were lifted in a sign of dissatisfaction. “Unless you can give me extra time so I at least get to enjoy the holidays then I’m not sure how you can do that.”

You winced. “If it’s any consolation, I'm in the same camp, buddy.”

Wooyoung suddenly brightened up, sitting up in the chair. “Yeah?”

“You needn’t look so enthused,” You grumbled goodnaturedly.

Wooyoung laughed brightly and tipped his head back, covering his mouth. “No. I just mean! I’m all alone for the holidays too.”

It took you a few minutes to absorb that information and to understand why Wooyoung would be excited about you being alone too. “Oh no,” You said, putting your hands up. “Absolutely not.”

Wooyoung frowned and began to whine. “What do you mean no? It could be fun. Come on!”

As much as you were a very hands on person in your job life, it took a lot out of your social battery. So when you clocked out, you enjoyed the solitude and silence of your home. It gave you a headache even imagining Wooyoung in your home for even a 24 hour period. You began to rub your eyebrow in worry.

“I’ll be the best guest, the very very best,” Wooyoung promised. He took your hand into both of his and clasped it warmly. “Plus, I hear you’ve got a nice place. It’s probably nothing like the cramped bachelor I’ve got.”

“Wooyoung…” You tried to tug your hand back, but Wooyoung had a very firm grip on you.

“You said you’d make it up to me!” Wooyoung pouted with his eyes now, making them big and wet and pleading up at you.

You sighed heavily. “Fine. I am a woman of my word.”

Fast forward to the week of Christmas, specifically Christmas Eve. Wooyoung landed on your doorstep bright and early, much to your not-an-early-bird chagrin.

You invited him in and it was a whirlwind as Wooyoung typically emulated. His mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. He twirled around as he took in the second floor balcony and your eight foot tall Christmas tree. “Your place is gorgeous!” He yelled.

You grasped the back of his jacket, that was currently only being held up in the crook of his elbows, and pulled it off to hang up. “Thank you, Wooyoung. Now--”

Wooyoung was already in your state-of-the-art kitchen, rummaging through your cupboards. “Do we need to go to the grocery store? It doesn’t look like you have flour. You do have sugar, that’s a good sign. We’ll need coloring and sprinkles and--”

“Wooyoung!” You shouted.

Your graphic designer paused, eyes on you, mid-grab of a mixing bowl you didn’t even remember you had. “What?”

“Why are you tearing apart my kitchen?” You screeched.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh,” Wooyoung drew out the syllable like his tongue needed to catch up with his brain. “Because we’re going to make Christmas yummies?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “It’s the holidays!” you protested. “We should be resting. Ordering take out. Maybe watching some movies?”

Wooyoung frowned like you just told him Santa wasn’t real. “But I had this whole plan. Making homemade hot cocoa and dipping Frosty the Snowman cookies in them!”

You rubbed your face with your hand. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung rounded your island and grabbed your two hands between his again. “I promise it’ll be fun. Come on. Don’t you want some holiday cheer in here?”

Somehow you let Wooyoung talk you into going to the grocery store, even though it was chilly and you hated the cold. But Wooyoung’s enthusiasm drew you like a moth to a flame. So you let him tug you through the rows, as he grabbed ingredients for his grand master plan.

“What about Christmas dinner?” Wooyoung wondered.

“Wooyoung… there’s only the two of us. Surely you don’t want a turkey too?!” You said, flabbergasted.

Wooyoung laughed, high pitched and throwing his head back, just like in your office. People looked over at you and you felt your cheeks heat up. “We can do something smaller. Come on. It’s the least I can do for you, since you took me in. Otherwise, I might just be heating up a microwave dinner in my tiny bachelor.”

Your mouth opened and closed. “Okay.”

Wooyoung bit down on his lower lip, eagerly eyeballing you. “Yeah?”

You breathed in deeply and let it out with a gusty sigh. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Impulsively, Wooyoung brought your hands to his lips and he gave them a loud smacking kiss on the back of them. “You won’t regret it!”

Your mouth dropped as Wooyoung dashed down the aisle, his boots squeaking against the linoleum as he took the corner quickly. Did your coworker just kiss your hands?

“Woo-Wooyoung!” You shouted at him.

“We need peanuts!” Wooyoung shouted.

You pushed the cart full of baking supplies already and attempted to follow the lightning bolt that was named Wooyoung.

Back at your house, you sat on your couch, leaning over the back, watching as Wooyoung took over your kitchen. He prepared everything mise en place, carefully measuring and setting out various plates and bowls of ingredients. Once he was ready, and he turned on the oven, his eyes glittered as he looked at you.

“I’m missing something,” He announced.

“Oh no, did we forget something?” You worried, looking around, hoping it was still in a grocery bag.

Wooyoung grabbed an apron from a bag on a chair and walked steadily towards you. “I need a sous-chef.”

“Oh, Wooyoung, I don’t--”

Wooyoung ignored you. He was behind you, reaching around and tying an apron around your waist. You held in your breath as Wooyoung finished the knot at the small of your back. He put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. “I’ll guide you through everything.”

A shiver slid down your spine. You mentally smacked yourself. There was no need to have any dirty throughts while Wooyoung simply meant you didn’t have to worry about fucking up his Christmas baking. Right?

Wrong.

Wooyoung had his arms around you the majority of the prepping. If anything needed to be cut up, his hands were around yours, showing the proper way to cut. If you had the rolling pin, he was leaning with you as pie dough was flattened. He made sure your hands were properly floured. He mixed cookie dough with you in your mysterious mixing bowl, feeding a piece of cookie dough and chocolate chunks into your mouth.

That was your last straw. “I need a break,” You said, breaking Wooyoung’s seemingly magic hold on you.

“Why why why, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung’s brown, wet eyes followed you as you put the island between him and you.

“Bathroom break,” You lied through your teeth and made a beeline for your upstairs bathroom, the one connected to your bedroom.

You pushed the door closed behind you and raised your hand to your lips. You swore you could still feel his fingers brushing against your lips as he--you slapped your cheeks with both hands, hoping to wake yourself from whatever dreamland you were in right now. What the actual fuck was going on right now?

You ran the water next and had splashed your face a few times before a loud knock on the door scared the shit out of you, making you jump in the air.

“Hey, are you okay?” Wooyoung’s voice filtered through the wood.

“Yeah!” You shouted back. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You seemed a little flushed down there. You aren’t coming down with anything, are you? I could pivot and make chicken soup if you need it.”

You sighed loudly. Wooyoung was simply a touchy-feely guy. He cared and he gave. You were looking way too fucking deep into everything. Whatever you were feeling, needed to be reeled back.

You opened the door and pasted a cheerful smile on your face. “No, I’m fine. Like I said, bathroom break. Why did you follow me up here anyways? Don’t you have cookies to check on?”

Wooyoung rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, like he was holding himself back. “I’ve got a timer for that.”

You waited for Wooyoung to turn to the side so that you could leave your bathroom but he didn’t budge. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s eyes flitted across your face and you weren’t sure what he was trying to find there. This whole situation felt weird. You felt like Wooyoung was waiting for you to say or do something, but you didn’t know what that was. You let out a sigh and moved past Wooyoung.

“I’m going to go find a movie to put on. Are you more of a The Santa Clause guy or The Christmas Story?”

Your body brushed by Wooyoung’s and in that moment you learned exactly what Wooyoung had been waiting for. His arms circled behind your back and stopped you from moving past him completely. His eyes remained studying your face and his Adam’s apple bobbed in apprehension.

“Boss, do you know why I’m here today?” He asked, his tongue flickering over the freckle on his lip.

You froze. “Uh, because otherwise we’d both be alone on Christmas?”

“No,” Wooyoung murmured. “So that I could get closer to you.”

You laughed nervously. “Well, this is pretty close.”

“Not close enough,” Wooyoung whispered and then leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

His tongue followed the seam of your lips until you opened up for him. Then it tangled with your tongue, as if he was searching out of the taste of the sweet cookie dough you had just consumed minutes ago. It wasn’t until Wooyoung moaned softly into your mouth that you pushed at his shoulders and broke the kiss.

“What was that?” You whispered.

“That was a kiss, Boss,” Wooyoung teased.

“No, seriously!”

“You didn’t like it?”

You didn’t know how you felt. Your mind was reeling with your reality. Did you graphics designer just kiss you with tongue? And did you like it?

A loud buzzer sounded through your loft and then Wooyoung yelped in response. “The cookies!” He shouted and bounded out of your bedroom. And then ran back to the doorframe. “We’re not done with this conversation!” He shouted at you and then ran downstairs.

You were half tempted to lock your bedroom door until Wooyoung threatened to break down the door but you didn’t want to bother the entire building with your drama. So you slowly but surely moved out of your bedroom and down the stairs into the living room.

Wooyoung was moving his chocolate chunk cookies to a cooling rack. His eyes found yours and then he snatched a cookie. “They’re soft and gooey, you should have one.”

You stared at Wooyoung as he broke a cookie apart and then fed it to you. And when you didn’t open your mouth immediately, he said “ah!” loudly until you did. The cookies were perfect. Just like Wooyoung’s typical work.

Wooyoung smiled happily as you chewed and then zoomed back behind the island to decorate the Frosty cookies from earlier.

“So?” Wooyoung asked, without lifting his eyes from his work.

“The cookies are perfect,” You said cautiously.

Wooyoung sent you the most bald-face look, clearly expressing he knew you were avoiding his actual question.

“I’m still processing,” You said.

“I could kiss you again if you need more data,” Wooyoung grinned wickedly.

“I’m turning on a damn movie,” You grumbled.

Wooyoung blew a raspberry at your response but finished his job nonetheless. He made hot cocoa. He slowly heated up the milk, melted the dark chocolate with a double boiler, and whisked his own whip cream.

By the time the intro for The Santa Clause was done, Wooyoung was bringing over his festively decorated Frosty the Snowman cookies and two mugs of hot cocoa. You dug in and you couldn't help but moan out loud at how good the cookies were with the hot cocoa.

“See,” Wooyoung sent you a knowing look, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” You couldn't help but say quietly.

Wooyoung froze mid dip of his cookie. “Are you a serial killer or something I don’t know about?”

Now it was your turn to send him a dirty look. “No but I don’t have any time to entertain a relationship, Wooyoung. You know better than anyone how much my work life consumes my time.”

“Yeah I do know,” Wooyoung agreed.

Wooyoung put his own cookie and mug down, prying the same items from your hands as well, and putting them on the coffee table. “Do you think that information changes how I feel?”

You couldn't help but gasp. “Wooyoung, shut up.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, I won’t. We work together, so that’ll make up for the time we don’t get at home. And don’t you know how healing it is to even sleep in the same bed as the one you--?”

You pressed a finger to Wooyoung’s lips. “Stop that.”

Wooyoung gently set his teeth into the tip of your finger playfully. “Don’t tempt me with a good time,” he said with a husky voice.

“Wooyoung!” You hadn't meant for his name to come out as a whine but it did. You could feel your resolve crumbling.

“I can take care of you,” Wooyoung said, his face completely open. “I can cook, I can fu--”

“No, No! Wooyoung, this is ludicrous. Work romances are notoriously messy. What happens if it doesn’t work out? We work too closely together. Plus, if we sleep together, you’ll always look at me like I’m a present to unwrap for you and I cannot handle that on the daily.”

Wooyoung broke out into giggles. “You’re the boss. Who’s going to yell at you if you’re the one that got caught doing it in your office?”

“We are not doing it in my office, Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung pushed you to your back on the couch. “Can we do it here?” He cocked his head cutely.

Goosebumps littered your skin. You could barely handle Wooyoung begging to go on constant coffee runs at work, how did you think you could deny him this?

“No, we cannot do it here,” You whispered, your throat tight with lust.

“I’ll make you a fresh cup of cocoa when we’re done,” Wooyoung promised, leaned down.

Wooyoung once again stole your breath and a kiss from your lips. His lips pressed against yours and then after a few smooches, his lips travelled along your jaw and then down your neck. You were craning your neck to give him room before you realized he was enjoying himself a little too much by sucking a mark there.

“Jung Wooyoung,” You growled, slapping a hand over the mark. “You did not!”

Wooyoung looked pleased with himself. “I did.”

“You must be stopped,” You said in exasperation.

Wooyoung’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I don’t want you to tell me to stop until you get overstimulated.”

“Excuse you?!” You squawked.

Wooyoung was dissolving into giggles again, all the while pushing your sweater up to reveal your stomach and bra. His lips kissed along the tops of your breasts, following the curve of your breast until he met your sternum. He gently but thoroughly kissed down your stomach before his eyes flicked back up to meet yours again.

“I’ve been a good boy. I let you taste my cookies. Let me taste you now.”

You sucked in a breath, only feeding Wooyoung’s ego even more. Still, he patiently waited until you nodded stiffly and then he hooked his fingers under your sweats and underwear, and pulled them off until you were bare from the waist down.

Your heart beat out of your chest as he settled between your legs and placed sweet kisses along your mound. You could feel yourself warming up for the graphics designer. He bit down into the flesh part of your thigh before soothing it with his tongue and kisses.

When Wooyoung ate you out, you felt like you were an ice cream sandwich. His tongue delicately licked your inner folds like he was truly gathering your wetness on his tongue to taste you. His eyes would shoot back to yours every once in a while, to gauge how you were but you were simply a whimpering mess, biting down on your finger to keep your moans from getting louder.

Wooyoung tugged on your arm until you let go of your finger. “Wanna hear how good I’m doing,” He mumbled and then went back to business.

“Oh fuck,” You cursed as Wooyoung began to kitten-lick your clit.

One hand dove into his hair to hold him in place and your other scratched against the cushion below you. Wooyoung immediately pressed his fingers in between yours, just as he flattened his tongue against your clit, knowing you’d need the support.

“Wooyoung, wait!” You whined. “I’m gonna--jesus!”

Your thighs shook as your orgasm ripped through you embarrassingly early. It had been a while since you had gotten such good head.

“Oh fuck that’s hot,” Wooyoung mumbled before he was climbing up your body to kiss you again.

You could taste yourself on his tongue and his lips and you shuddered at how dirty it was.

“See, told you I could take care of you,” Wooyoung whispered, lips pink and swollen from kissing you and eating you out.

You swallowed loudly. “You did.”

“Let me fuck you on the couch,” Wooyoung pleaded, pressing his head to your forehead charmingly.

“You better have a condom,” You scowled.

“Never leave home without them!” Wooyoung proclaimed.

He stood up and reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a condom package. He bit down on the packaging and then began to undo his pants.

“Wooyoung…oh god.” You went from scolding Wooyoung to moaning about the state of his lower half. He had barely pushed his pants down to his thighs when you saw his cock pressed up against his black boxer briefs. He was thick.

Wooyoung pressed his lips together as he smoothed the condom over his length. “I’m going to stuff you, lovely, just you wait.”

You pushed yourself up from the couch, sitting up the proper way, facing Wooyoung. “If you make some corny joke about me being a turkey, I swear to god,” You threatened.

Wooyoung threw back his head and laughed; the same laugh that had been entertaining you from the office to the grocery store and now in your living room. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat. Whether it was its charm or its owner, you weren’t quite sure, but it always made you react.

“Nah, I just wanna fuck you good,” Wooyoung admitted.

“Shut up,” You whispered, feeling your face heat up again.

“Gladly,” Wooyoung whispered huskily.

He slipped between your legs, rubbing up against your wet folds. His lips pressed against yours, sensually kissing you while he slicked up his condom-covered cock. It was a bit of a job working himself deeper inside of you. You were tighter once you’ve come, however, Wooyoung sounded like he was enjoying every moment of it.

“Sucking me in, jesus,” Wooyoung grunted.

“I am not,” You hissed.

Wooyoung grinned in response. He scooped a leg under one arm and bend pulled it up so he could get a better angle inside of you. “Your pussy is greedy for me.”

“Wooyoung!” You scolded him under your breath.

Wooyoung started to rock his hips against yours, groaning at the sensation. You squirmed a bit as your sensitive clit rubbed against his taut stomach.

“I got you,” Wooyoung cooed at you, cupping your face with his free hand.

“It's too much,” You whined.

Wooyoung’s grin couldn't get any wider. “Want me to stop?”

You couldn't help but pout. “No, I just--” You moaned as he grounded against you again.

“You like a little pain with your pleasure?” Wooyoung lifted an eyebrow at you. “That’s cool. Me too.”

“I--”

You dug your fingers into Wooyoung’s shoulders as his hips swiveled against yours again. Wooyoung hissed and then he chuckled. “There you go.”

You wrapped your legs around Wooyoung’s waist, bucking your hips and meeting his thrusts. You could feel your wetness smearing against Wooyoung’s pelvis but you couldn't give a crap because it felt so good.

You dug your teeth into the nape of his shoulder next and Wooyoung gasped. “Fuck yes.”

The both of you soon unraveled together. You sweet whines intermingled with Wooyoung’s loud, lusty moans. Wooyoung panted into the crook of your shoulder for a moment until his softening cock made him slip out of you and then you both groaned at the sensation. The condom remained and you watched in utter horror as his cum spilled out of the condom and onto your couch.

“Ah, shit,” Wooyoung laughed, eyes looking around for a cloth.

He pulled his pants and underwear up and as he jogged into the kitchen to wet a clean tea towel.

You winced as you pulled the condom out of you and tied it up. You left the couch to throw out the condom. You tugged your shirt back down and looked for where Wooyoung had tossed your--

“Here,” Wooyoung intercepted you with your pants.

You opened your mouth to address what exactly just happened but Wooyoung’s phone went off.

He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it without pause. “Hey, Mom.”

Oh god. If you two hadn't come any earlier, you would have been interrupted by his mom calling. That was--

Wooyoung cupped his mouth over his phone. “No, I told you--uh, what? My location is different?” Wooyoung chuckled nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Wooyoung held his phone away from his ear as his mother screeched through the speaker. “Why didn’t you just bring the girl home instead of telling me you were too busy with work? Don’t you think I’d want to meet her?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, shot anxiously to you, and then his lips pressed his cheeks back. “Mom. Seriously, we’re swamped with work, there’s no time.”

“Well, you make sure you make time to call your family tomorrow, okay? I don’t care how into this girl you are, your family--”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because Wooyoung dashed into the downstairs half bath and closed the door with his foot.

You sympathized at least about the mother disappointed in her child not coming home for the holidays.

At least it gave you time to put your pants on. You frowned when you didn’t find your underwear, however.

Wooyoung must have finished up his call because he came out with an ‘aw shucks’ look on his face. “I’m sorry about that. My mom is--”

“Your mom,” You mused out loud.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughed and then his face dropped. “Listen, there’s no pressure, we can just enjoy this and--”

“Eat dinner? Finish the movie?” you offered.

Wooyoung’s eyes scanned your face except this time you knew what he was looking for: Wooyoung wanted to know that everything was okay. You had just been fed and thoroughly fucked. What wasn’t there to like? “Yeah?”

“Yes, Wooyoung, I’m not going to kick you out of my place,” You deadpanned. “Geez, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“A harsh task mistress who's hard to impress,” Wooyoung supplied.

You laughed under breath, that was part a sigh. “You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“Wait--hey!” Wooyoung protested. “Surely I wasn’t that bad of a lay!”

“No, for making a cum stain on my couch,” You replied.

“I didn’t even get a chance and I’m already in the dog house?” Wooyoung muttered to himself.

It was your turn to throw your head back and laugh, clutching your stomach and tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, it’s not that funny,” Wooyoung pouted, cleaning up his mess.

“Let’s see after supper,” You relented.

You could practically see Wooyoung’s ears perk up. “I’ll blow your pants off a second time.”

“Wooyoung,” You said his name in warning.

Wooyoung looked pleased at your response. “Maybe the third time I can convince you to let me sleep in the bed with you.”

It looked like you weren’t going to be able to shake off this man and you felt a little bit better for it. You two could fill the void each other was feeling after working so hard. And maybe you’d get to finish the movie too.

“As soon as you tell me where my underwear are,” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Wooyoung grinned. “They’re mine now.”

“Wooyoung!”

[theavantgardette]

The Path Untedious - Neil Perry . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

This was lightly inspired by the two Neil asks I've received in my mailbox (including one with black!reader). Here u go sweetcheeks ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ this isn't tooooo according but hey 😌

Your husband was a hard-worker — taking longer shifts in the hospital just for the sake of it, noting down whatever was necessary to get his job done and get patients discharged. It was what his father wanted, but you understood best how it exhausted him so. It brought good money, of course, and the soul-fulfilling duty of being a modern healer was priceless in its own — but it would be ignorant to deny the stress and challenge of the career itself.

Tonight he came home at the usual hour, but he had taken an earlier check-in because of a mixup at the emergency room. It wasn't like Neil to decline, but it also wasn't like him to do the job and not be a total baby to you afterwards.

"My swordsfighting maiden," Neil propped his briefcase on the couch before pecking your cheek, "how are you?"

There's a tiredness in his tone, a loving gaze set in his hooded eyes. They were in tandem with the sleepy howls of the dogs outside and the hooting of owls just outside the window. You dimmed the desklight and stood up to greet your lover. Nimbling your fingers upon the knot on his chest, you undid his tie and folded it along with the jacket.

"Fine," you reassured in a gentle voice, "settled everything today. How's work?"

He blew a raspberry and gave you a look — that look. An expression that read 'people piss me off there, but I'm just glad we're together.' You whistled lowly, putting his dirty laundry away.

"Challenging much?"

"Everything needed to be done, this and that, money and — ugh!" Neil fell to the bed dramatically, an arm covering his face. You giggled,

"Must've been so frustrating."

He pouted at you like a sorry puppy, but you were far too busy tidying up his things for him. Neil stared at the ceiling, pretending there were vines for him to hold onto — to save him and yourself away from this life, a life others chose for him. A life where his real interests were kept hidden and astray, shared only with you in the haven of your home. It just wasn't fair.

But you were so patient and so kind, so loving to his impatient mind and young heart that he would do anything to have you live a life of peace. You were his own anyway.

"Did you do what you love today?" he croaked, voice strained from a day of exertion. If it were possible, your ear would've quirked.

"Let's see," you turned to him in thought, finally, greeting him with your freshly blushed cheeks and rose-glossed lips, "I baked some gooseberry pie, cleaned the oven, prepared your dinner then sewed up some dresses."

Neil reached for your nimble hand and you let him, admiration and awe exuding off of him.

"And," he pondered, searching your face, "did you like that?"

You smiled sweetly, nodding in honesty.

"Why?" he asked in painful disbelief, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. He coughed it off, glad you didn't seem to notice.

'Wasn't it tedious? ' he thought, 'Didn't I bore you?'

You shrugged as if you could hear what tmhe thought, the satin robe he bought you slipping from your shoulder, "I like it. I like serving you. I like... doing what I love. I love love, so I love this. I like you, Neil — like, like you. It's not something I'm forced to do. I hope to God you don't feel that way either."

"No, goodness no," Neil grasped your fingers, kissing them with insistence as he mumbled, "no, never."

You brushed those brunette strands back, hearing Neil sigh in relief as you did.

"Then what is it?" you whispered.

"It's you," he shook his head, "just you."

You stifled a grin, averting your gaze as bashfulness overtoom you. It always did, always will when it came to Neil. He noticed, of course, and pivoted your chin so you'll meet his eyes.

You'dstay like that forever if you could.

𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘:

@someone-sss @sorazki @tofallatlastbutfair @shemisseshome @yournormalidiot @anderperry-soliloquies @unfortunately-lilith @heyyyloverr @theduckwithafroghat @marzcrx @dpspolaroid @itslusii @blackestwhiteswan @awkwardducks @sleeping-arsonist @asuperconfusedgirl

[joansiesbeloved]

Ethel and Joan had a pretty rocky relationship at times despite both being Kennedy wives and practically sisters! Ethel was notorious for teasing her a lot- even going so far as to mocking her at times, and taking digs at Joan under the guise of her being her sister [sister-in-law] and also because sweet, bubbly, unassuming Joan was an easy target for anyone, so it seemed as times. (I hate describing it that way, but I have to agree with it to an extent. But it's not her fault she's such a loveable human!)

“As a sister [-in-law], she’s an easy mark. How can you not enjoy watching Joan Kennedy squirm." - Ethel would say with a grin.

But that doesn't mean there weren't moments where Ethel stood up for her younger sister-in-law and came to her rescue! So this was during the evening that Jack and Jackie opened the White House for its first public party, January 29th, 1961! A bar had been set up in the family dining room, and another in the East Wing, which was unusual. The Kennedys, however, believed that in order to entertain well a full bar was mandatory.

“Ted seemed to have spent an awful lot of time at the East Wing bar,” recalled one reporter present at the festivities. “So much so that his wife was becoming annoyed.” Joan looked elegant in a streamlined pink, asymmetrical evening gown, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple chignon. When Jackie saw her, she rushed over and complimented her. “Oh my God, Joan! Just look at you,” she exclaimed, her brown eyes wide with enthusiasm. “You look fantastic in that color. That’s your color, Joan. Pink. Always wear pink.” Joan smiled graciously, letting the First Lady’s compliment sink in. “Oh yeah? Well you shoulda seen her when she woke up this morning,” cracked a male voice behind her. “It was Ted,” remembered the reporter, “just a little drunk, and a lot mean. He was holding his dessert in one hand [Frambois a la crème Chantilly: raspberries topped with whipped cream], and spooning it out with the other. He had a smug look on his face.” Jackie stared at her brother-in-law for a moment, her lips pressed together, a hard look in her eyes. She started to speak but checked herself. Instead, she walked away, shaking her head in disgust. Ten minutes later, a campaign worker came over to Joan and paid her a compliment about her hairstyle. “Why, thank you,” Joan said, her smile bright. “I just thought I’d try something a little different, you know?” “You wanna see different?” Ted asked, cutting in. He had walked away, but suddenly he was back. “You oughta see her hair when she wakes up in the morning,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s not so pretty.” As the staffer walked off, muttering to herself, the expression on Joan’s face was of complete bewilderment. Quick tears came to her eyes; she blinked rapidly. Ethel Kennedy happened to have overheard the exchange. She grabbed Ted by the arm. “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “This is your wife. How dare you insult her here, of all places? Now leave her alone, you big brute.” Then Ethel grabbed Joan’s hand. “Come on,” she said to her stunned sister-in-law, “I have someone I want you to meet.” The two women headed for the other side of the room, leaving Ted staring into his empty dessert bowl. As they left, Joan, with an aching expression on her face, looked over her shoulder at her embarrassed husband. For just a moment, it was evident that there was a richness of understanding between Ethel and Joan.

[nightsteps]

MORE DAD¡RAFE PLEASE

alright let me give you a rundown on the family

so we all know raspberry she’s our kook queen. they got engaged when she was 24, married at 25, and had their first kid as 26.

their first baby was a girl and they named her allison marjorie cameron after raspberry’s mom. they honestly didn’t care about the gender at all they just wanted a kid. she looks exactly like raspberry.

their second baby was also a girl and rafe was a little let down by this because he wanted a son. they had her when allison was 4, so the girls are pretty close in age. she’s a little brat though she inherited rafes temper. they named her cassandra marie cameron.

they finally got their boy on baby number three and that’s their last one. they had him when alice was 7 and cassie was 3. they named him sebastian ward, after rafes dad obviously.

believe it or not sebastian is not rafes favorite it’s actually alice. she’s just very responsible and a very hard worker. cassie is his least favorite she reminds him too much of himself. don’t get me wrong though he loves all his kids. he’s grooming sebastian and allison to take over the family business, not cassie she wants to be model.

he taught sebastian how to play football and cassandra how to ride a bike. he works a lot and does occasionally miss tennis matches, dance recitals, and football games but he tries to be there as much as he can.

let me know if you want to hear about any of the other guys or any more dad!rafe

[scimagic]

☆ RTV!PUZZLEVISION TOUR [Part One] ☆

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mischief is afoot with this group!

Featuring @michaelscorneroftheinternet (who made the drawing this time!) and @selfshippinglover, with small mentions to @vextheallay and @fenicearts420! <3

[ @rtv-puzzlevision-studios ]

As the tour participants vote for the starting department, Scripted and Sci turn to note the positions of the security team. Swag and Chris to the sides while Lucian takes charge of the back. Absolutely surrounded, as one should expect.

The Siren turns away and blows a quiet raspberry, crossing her arms as she begins to note everything and everyone else in the room with a nonchalant look. Some she recognized, some she did not. All possible opportunities for success or failure, as much as the Director thought they were all possible disasters waiting to happen.

Speaking of— Out of the corner of her eye, Sci notices a blonde person with a blue mark over their eye, blue wings and tail adorning their form while they stare at the bot beside her specifically.

Well they look mad.

Snickering, she turns to Scripted and bumps his elbow, making a small motion with her head to make him look over.

“Seems RTV isn't the only one with fans here, Director.”

Scripted furrows his eyebrows and cautiously glances over her shoulder, analyzing the person for a moment only to look away and murmur back to the Siren.

“Not a clue. They don't seem that interested but keep an eye out.”

Sci raises an eyebrow and scoffs, yet nods regardless. If it wasn't Scripted then it was Michael, but what the hell did Michael do? She didn't know he had enemies! Actually, she finds that very hard to believe. Michael? Having enemies? With THAT face? HAH!

Ah well.

Once the voting seemed to end, RTV spoke through the chatter once more, catching the trio's attention.

“THANK YOU ALL FOR VOTING! LOOKS LIKE WE WILL GO TO THE ART DEPARTMENT FIRST! IF YOU WOULD FOLLOW ME, PLEASE!”

An option they didn't choose but one they will have to reluctantly take. Save for BB, who's excited to see more of the facility and actually participate on the tour. As the tourists begin to ascend the stairs, Sci notices a dragon fly up to the rail and land close to RTV, causing her to scoff with an amused smile.

Bold move, Marie. But she garners the Siren's respect.

… And her attention away from the messed up stairs. Her foot gets stuck on the edge of the very last step, causing the fish to trip and stumble in her walk but she’s quick to regain her balance. Maybe looking like an absolute fool with her arms stretched out and her boss and co-worker looking back at her, but she’s fine nonetheless! The Siren stands back up straight after a pause and a nervous smile, puffing out her chest as she continues walking as if nothing had happened, “cool— cool— all cool, we’re chill.”

Scripted rolls his eyes and sighs, resuming their walk through the hallway as RTV led the tour group. He hums, quietly murmuring to his lackeys once more as they look around.

“Let's start falling back. BB, you can go ahead of us when we get to the art department, Sci and I will take care of Lucian.”

The bunny and fish nod, one with enthusiasm and the other not so much.

“Aye aye!”

“Roger.”

And as told, Bunnybot begins to step towards the front of the group while Scripted and Sci fall back, separating to keep their plans in motion as they get to the art department. The Director doesn’t pay much attention to the guide, the Siren, however, does as she multi-tasks keeping an eye out on possible useful things like her boss AND admiring the work of the production. She was an artist, damn it! She wanted to know more about the studio process too! Even if she had personal experience working for another Puzzlevision Studios. Sue her!

The duo continues to look around until a new employee is introduced.

“Oh, you’re already here! Oh sh-should I introduce myself?”

“Colores, head of our Art department and funny enough the younger SISTER of Lucian over there.”

The Siren’s fin flicks as she glances up at Colores, then glances over her shoulder at Lucian, watching as he waves and is painfully ignored. She winces, shooting a pitiful look at the neon sign head that probably doesn’t even notice amidst the crowd. Looking forward again, the fish looks down at the floor in thought, tuning out the rest of the talk as some memories pass through her mind.

She doesn’t even notice when the group begins to move again, not until Scripted lightly clears his throat and snaps her out of her thoughts. Sci glances over at the bot, who glances back with a raised eyebrow and an expectant look. The fish blinks and realizes it was time for the next part of the plan.

Her part.

She frowns at the Director, letting the other participants walk around them as they stood still for a moment. Scripted frowns back with a glare, the both of them having a quiet conversation with just their expressions until Sci lets out a silent resigned sigh. The duo begins walking again; this time, however, the fish and the bot separate. With Sci trailing behind everyone, she eventually becomes the very last person to rally up in the tour and the closest to Lucian.

God, she didn’t want to do this… I mean, she DID but starting conversations was never her strong suit. But she had to! For the sake of progressing and not getting Scripted on her ass yelling at her.

Actually she’d much rather take a lecture from him right about now—focus.

Taking a deep breath, the fish looks behind herself and steps next to the head of security, talking a bit quietly to not disturb the conversations happening up on the front or garner attention.

“Hey. Lucian, right?” The fish person meekly starts, looking up at the neon sign with a friendly smile. “I’m Sci, SciMagic.”

Lucian snapped out of his thoughts that he had temporarily lept into, before his sign head turned to look at Sci. He recognized her as the fish-person that had been hanging out with the doppelganger and the creepy glasses.

“That’s me”, he meant, putting one hand on his hip as his head started to spell out [Hi!]. “Though I will have to disappoint you, I’m afraid I don’t recognize people as well as my boss. What’s up?”

"Oh. Pssh," the fish flicks a wrist at Lucian, dismissing the disappointed claim. "Nah, don't worry about that, I don't think I'm uh— that interesting of a subject to be known by people. Let alone by your boss—"

She murmurs that last part with a raised eyebrow, but she shakes her head after.

"Anyway, I just wanted to chat a bit. You seemed like a cool guy."

Lucian seemed slightly surprised by that, giving the crowd around them a glance before making a gesture for Sci to continue. He supposed he could spare a few minutes, it wasn’t like much was happening right now.

“Thanks and sure.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing you have a few questions? Not sure I can answer them, but I will try my best.”

The fish smiles up at him with small delight, "thanks, 'ppreciate that."

Sci hums as she goes through the questions in her head. Definitely not a studio layout with secret parts included right off the bat.

"Mm, what's it like working here? Any fun?"

Almost immediately his sign head blanked out as he stopped it from accidentally displaying any of his actual thoughts. Happened a few times before and it wasn’t fun.

“Ah- the work? Well, I suppose it’s fine…” he replied, rubbing his neck as he tried to come up with something that sounded like he was somewhat enjoying his current occupation. “Sometimes it gets tough, security and all that, ya know? But the thrill of figuring out these difficult situations makes it fun again. Trust me though, the other departments? Way more enjoyable. Well, aside from the janitors I guess…”

The fish snickers lightly, "so I've heard..."

She shoves her hands in her pockets, casually leaning back as she continues to chat.

"And I hear ya, I'm— actually on the line of security too…! Tough job but I guess it's given to the toughest for a reason."

Lucian slightly perked up at that, his interest rising.

“Ya don’t say? What line exactly if I could ask?”

At her indirect compliment he simply huffed amused. Yeah, sure. RTV gave him this job because he wasn’t shy of hurting people, alright. Not exactly because he was careful.

"Personal bodyguard," Sci answers with a close-eyed smile, faltering almost immediately as she looks to the side with a bit of a grimace, "though— for the most stubborn person ever that doesn't know when not to get into fights..."

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, making a vague gesture over to RTV.

“Feel ya there, sister. I also have to play that role sometimes when a certain someone decided to make public appearances. When your boss has a sharp tongue it never gets boring at least.”

Sci groans out loud and rolls her eyes, smiling with annoyance and also relief at the shared sentiment.

"Ugh! Tell me about it! It's like they have a knack for pissing off the people that CAN actually kill them! Talk about poking the belly of the beast."

”Yeah, sometimes you think they do it on purpose…”

He muttered, though the previous amusement had slipped from his voice as the word ‘kill’ came up. “‘suppose they just love hiding behind us. The strong muscle.”

"Mh-hm..."

Sci hums before she stays silent for a moment again, turning her gaze back to the front as she hears it’s time to participate in another group vote.

“Oh, and don’t think about SNATCHING something that belongs to the studio, as great as some of the artist tools and merch look. Camera sees ALL and that jazz.~”

Her eyes discreetly glance at said cameras, taking a quick look at them before diverting her gaze back to normal again. A bit of a twitch on her eyebrows as the vote begins once more.

She crosses her arms and glances off to the side, a hesitant look on her face as she begins talking to Lucian again.

"... Sometimes it's the dirty work that gets me, y'know? I can fight, sure, but what he asks of me..."

The fish frowns, fins falling slightly as she mutters.

"Can't exactly say 'no', though…”

Lucian listened for a second to what RTV was rambling before his attention was turned back to Sci. Ah, hilarious. Someone who was in the same situation as him? A funny coincidence…

“So your boss got ya on the hook too? Tough luck,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I would love to tell you that you shouldn’t blame yourself, but well, a bit of humility never hurt anyone, right? Second you try to justify, you may have crossed the line completely.”

There was a sound akin to someone exhaling, before his voice slightly lowered.

“Patience is a virtue. You never know when your chance comes, so don’t give up.”

And there it is...

'Dirty work'.

Sci hums at his advice, her smile now completely fallen as she gets a more serious maybe even a bit saddened look. It was good advice... She appreciated it from someone she could relate to. But nevertheless, she got what she needed. Unfortunately.

The fish lightly scoffs, tone lowering as she gives a side eye to the object head.

"Hope you haven't given up yourself then."

She turns her body to Lucian, looking up at him with caution as she tries to turn her head away from the crowd’s eye. "I don't wanna get you in trouble... Ocean Gods know that's the last thing I wanna do to someone in the same situation as me. But your boss and mine aren't the best of buddies and I'd appreciate a little bit of help."

Sci shrugs, "you help us, you get that chance to bring down RTV."

”Never…”

He hummed. Last thing he was going to do was give the TV the satisfaction of breaking him.

The object head didn’t show a reaction at Sci’s offer, having kind of seen it coming. Someone trying to bond with him, with the same experiences, it seemed a little too perfect. Well, he couldn’t really bring up the energy to feel hurt.

“First of all I suggest you never mention all that again. It’s your one way ticket to disappearing..”, he replied, his tone a bit colder now. “I doubt you can achieve your goal, but who am I to not help out a participant?”

He now turned his back, shielding Sci and himself from the view of the camera. The same camera he now pointed at.

“I can’t move or the boss will come to drag me back personally. What I can do though is keep the eyes off you for a small time frame. Not forever though, the thing that’s watching ain’t stupid.”

The Siren gives him a sheepish smile, "had to get you in somehow. But fine,” she nods. "I can work with that. Thanks. I'll probably signal when we need it."

”Mh-hm.”

He just turns back again, ready to walk off now.

“Just warning you. When you get caught I ain’t bailing you out.”

"Naturally..." The fish sighs quietly, about to take a step away only to turn back with a final thing to say, looking up at Lucian with a guilty and hopeful look.

"Ah... Good talk... I really hope we can have more in the future. Preferably when we're not busy..."

... She really wanted that. Not be burdened with their jobs or plans, with the chains around their ankles from their TV headed superiors. Make an actual acquaintance for once. He seemed cool, after all…

“Maybe. We will see how it goes”, he muttered, before stepping away. He didn’t really have much hope for this to work out.

Sci’s face falls once Lucian steps away, fins laying flat as she gets lost in her emotions for a second or two. But once she snaps back to reality and remembers what she’s supposed to do, she lightly shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing back to focus mode as she scans the crowd for her… boss.

She steps up next to Scripted once more, arms crossed as Sci looks off to the horizon, not even looking at the bot as she mutters her small success.

“No need for bargain… But we got it.”

The Director hums quietly, a small sly smile tugging at his lips. “Makes it easier for us then, good.” He glances over at the Siren, his smirk falling when she turns her head away from him. The bot silently scoffs, looking forward again and away from Sci too, unbothered to deal with her sentimentality.

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Sampling #5

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face. 

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering. 

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently. 

It sent a shiver down his spine. 

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners. 

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him. 

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile. 

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness. 

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion. 

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.” 

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair. 

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.  

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?” 

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told. 

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable. 

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t. 

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?” 

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.” 

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them. 

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him. 

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.” 

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt. 

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.” 

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line. 

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.” 

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.” 

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words. 

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.” 

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.” 

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily. 

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly. 

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.” 

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again. 

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.” 

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer. 

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.” 

His demands were ignored. 

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble. 

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.” 

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do. 

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound. 

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him. 

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy. 

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table. 

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.” 

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.” 

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell. 

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.” 

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”  

Silvan only smiled warmly. 

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.” 

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?” 

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.” 

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?” 

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked. 

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.” 

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily. 

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.” 

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door. 

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

[captainpriceslilwife]

2/3

Okay so here’s part 2 with the miscellaneous stuff. With more hurt/comfort brainworms I fear.

Okay about Raspberry Girl I’ve been lowkey freaking out too hard ever since she started writing it because it’s too perfect of a scenario and too hot and I get overwhelmed at so horny every time so I’ve only read a couple chapters because I can’t ever get further bc it’s too good and I have to go calm down 😭 shoutout the queen @peachesofteal for writing this perfect fic and also having indulged my horrendously long  and vulgar asks as well (I’m Ms. Clit Slurp over there ugh). I’m looking forward to finally really getting into it soon. 

I’m so excited about the new Gaz x Insecure!Reader piece! I haven’t been able to read it yet but I’m happy I get to see more of those two. I love meeting the 141 fics, they’re everything to me, I’m bummed I feel like people don’t write them as much for Price. I wanna read about me being the Captain’s girl and meeting his boys, and I have no problem if we all have to fuck about it. 

ALSOOOO I’m freaking out about that post you made about the delivery woman with the newborn 😭 I think of these guys falling for whatever downtrodden pregnant woman they meet all the mf time. None of them have it in them to not get involved. I just love when they obsess about how unacceptable the circumstances are. I’ve been freaking out about Bird Watching by @readwritealldayallnight since she started posting it and it’s immaculate. There’s a moment in Part 1 when she’s asking Retired!hot construction worker!Simon for help figuring out who owns the daycare place they’re building and he realizes this pretty woman with an 8 week old baby baby is going to have to go back to work and he just hates the idea of “a pretty little bird being all worked up and stressed about finding her new little baby bird somewhere to stay because her job is trying to force her to come back so soon” and just yesssss. Then another moment in Part 3 where he learns that ‘his bird’ and her “baby bird” have been taking the subway because they don’t have a car and he nearly loses it imagining these gals squished on the dirty tube with dangerous people. 

Also the hurt/comfort potential of when it’s THEIR BABY????? Secret baby trope is incredible for this. I recently read this amazing part 2 I never expected to get from the iconic @quarterlifekitty on this topic. In part 1 reader is pregnant and tries to gauge Simon’s interest in kids and he vehemently rejects the idea because of who he is, and he’s kind of spooked by the question and leaves her. In part 2 they get reunited when they run into each other at the store and she’s got a baby. She’s clearly exhausted, and he pays for her groceries because her card declines, then her car doesn’t start so he drives them home, and Simon still hasn’t figured out the kid is his and he’s livid at the father in this situation who has left the love of his life and her gorgeous baby in such a bad situation. Then the lock on the front door is fucked up, and he learns the baby is premature so she was all alone during that, and it clicks and realizes HE’S the asshole who’s neglected his duty and it has the fluffiest ending and just ughggghhh. I think John would go insane in this scenario. To know he had fallen so far from satisfying his duty, that he had left the woman he loves in such a bad circumstance as a man who loves to take care of everything, that the universe had lovingly bestowed upon him what he desperately wanted but refused to take for himself, ever prioritizing his job and the safety of the ones he loves, and he had basically rejected that blessing inadvertently? Ugh Jonathan Price I’ll take as many babies as you want. I’ll birth you a new task force or a whole rugby team sir. 

I always think these tropes work best with Simon and John but then what else would you expect from my ass lmao. But I especially think it works well for them because ultimately I think both of them would find fatherhood so rewarding, although it makes sense for them to try to avoid it at all costs. Plus with Simon being so selfless, and coming from a broken home, and with John screaming *traditional* to me, I just know the single moms would bother them. Especially John. While I think he’s a feminist in a way and he fully accepts the value of women in even workforces as dangerous as his, I lowkey think outside of his job he’s one of those guys who doesn’t even like to see women open doors lmao. As a fellow southern girly I think you get the vibe. These men solve such complicated problems for a living, do such hard things, and I don’t think either of them do fuck all with their money outside of work. So to see a woman with problems that they could so EASILY solve, burdens they would vastly prefer to carry, I think it always eats at them. I think especially in scenarios where they’ve retired and they find they’re bored as fuck and need to feel useful, and crave the guiding and nurturing they got to do as superiors in the SAS, either of these mfs would LATCH onto the nearest sweet thing who needs help expeditiously, make her their pet project. And who needs more help than a single mom? (Just a quick affirmation that this country enrages me always and forever)

YES! I love both of those works you mentioned so much (honestly they were probably the reason i even connected that poor mom with our fictional guys lol)

john is absolutely a chauvanist. not necessarily in a harmful way, but he is bristling whenever he sees a woman not being taken care of (he saw a woman hold the door open for her husband once, while she was carrying all the bags and a baby by herself....he nearly fainted)

i definitely think our boys would buy something else to be delivered to their house, just so they have another chance at talking to the pretty bird and her baby (they were stunned into silence the first time they saw her, too shocked to get out the words that they wanted to say)

and that's when they make their move on her. obviously the approach would differ vastly for each of our boys, but the main goal is the same for all of them - take the pretty bird under your wing, and don't let her go.

(i'm gonna focus on John tho bc that's my man and this is his territory lets be real)

i can already see John realizing that she's the most hyper-independent woman he's ever met in his life. she's not quick to accept any help from him - if anything, she's eying him suspiciously whenever he offers a helping hand. little ms. i got it meets mr. sit tf down and let me do it. but he's slow...patient...waits for the moment when she's nearly pulling her hair out from how stressed she is to swoop in and save the day.

he's picking up medication for her when she and the baby get sick, and he's making sure to bring them extra goodies and groceries even though she insisted she could get them delivered - sweetheart, it's alright. i don't mind, really. put your wallet away, love. just want to see you girls get better, yeah?

the second he finds out that they don't have a car and she usually walks everywhere with her baby???? in her sketchy ass neighborhood???? john has to talk himself down in the mirror every night to fight the urge to kidnap her and keep her at his place (lovingly)

he realizes he can't wait for her to ask for help, or try to stop her when she's already started something - he has to predict what she needs first and get to it before she does. bc that woman refuses to make herself a burden to anyone, even though John is practically frothing at the mouth at the chance to make her life easier.

[paintconsumer]

MEET THE ARTIST!!!

I have always tried to do these for things I join, and this is the first time I've actually finished one!

I'm very sorry if things are hard to read due to my handwriting or the colours, so here's each catagory and what they say:

FUN FACTS:

Born in Midland TX! (WA 2006-2024)

Allergic to Kiwi

Kiwi is my favourite fruit 💔

Lived in the same house my entire childhood

Former food service worker :(

Preferred physical mediums:

Watercolour / Alcohol Markers

LIKES:

Saw Franchise

Musicals

Yellow

The Stars / Space

Rollie Pollies / Ispods

All Music

Rain

Cartoons / Animation

Animals (cats my beloved)

Art / Sewing / Crocheting

DISLIKES:

Hot weather

Blue Raspberry / Cherry / Grape flavourings

Motion sickness

Loud noises

Crushed Velvet

Math

Bugs (Entomophobia)

WILL YAP ABOUT:

Saw Movies

Musicals

Starkid

Horror Anything

The Muppets

NOTES ON THE SIDE:

"Chronic green hair phase"

"Four eyes"

"Real outfit❗️"

"Favourite guy"

"Chronic Tummy Ache"

"Emotional Support Second-Hand Converse"

Hope you had a fun time meeting me!!

-Felix [PaintConsumer]

[blues-sues]

@xhunterbeatsx

IM SORRY BUT. TUMBLR WOULDN'T LET ME EDIT MY POST SO I GOTTA DO IT THIS WAY

Anyway for Bambi, I decided to pair her with...

Farmer Newt! Who, for simplicity sake, we'll refer to as SB, short for Strawberry!

I really like Bagheera and Figaro, so I plan to keep them, but if hunter wants to keep Sabor and Dinah, they absolutely can!

Onto rambles;

Relationship between parents: I believe that honestly SB and Bambi would be ... An adorable pairing. Lots of playful compliments and I think they'd have very interesting conversations. SB would definitely welcome her with open arms if they ever met, and if any pranks were to be made, she'd find it delightful- so long as it didn't harm any of her crops or stress out her pokemon companions. I think she'd have a very strong affection towards Bambi and definitely asks her to help her with tasks around the farm... Disguising it as her needing assistance but reality is she wants her company.

Relationship with children:

SB; I feel like SB isn't quite sure how to feel about them at first. She probably didn't think it was possible at first, but now that she's seeing them- she absolutely gets emotional. I feel like she's a very gentle parent. Takes everything slowly, and definitely places talking the kids through things at the top of her priorities. She's only ever had a guardian figure via the lab, but she knows now how NOT to parent, because most of the workers sucked, so she vows not to be like them. I believe that Figaro and Dinah are definitely most clingy to both parents and they usually trail after her as she carries out tasks.

Bambi; oh Figaro LOVES her. He will be a nuisance anytime he can just to get her attention and they definitely set up pranks together. Sabor is a bit more hard to get close to, but I think he definitely finds his mom's mischievous attitude silly but tries to hide any giggles or laughs behind scoffs, making him look constantly annoyed. He's just not really sure how to express feelings and tries to be all tough but I'm sure Bambi can definitely see through that and knows when he finds what she's doing funny. Figaro and Sabor however are a chaotic duo, and bc they like Bambi a lot, they definitely are usually around eachother and Sabor is constantly being clung to by Figaro anytime he's around and just overall being harassed LMAO.

Bagheera is pretty neutral to both his parents. Doesn't have much a favorite. He's pretty quiet but you can see him trailing behind sometimes before he immediately hides... He's just a shy kiddo to literally everyone except maybe Dinah. I think they probably pick golden raspberries out in the fields together even when they're not supposed to be eating them.

Children Info:

Figaro, Male, he/him, jolly nature, somewhat of a clown.

Sabor, male, he/him, sassy nature, quick-tempered.

Bagheera, male, he/him, timid nature, quick to flee.

Dinah, female, she/her, naive nature, scatters things often.

Note: Hunter can make any changes with Dinah and Sabor if they choose to keep them! Also, fun fact; all are named after a fictional feline! Figaro is named after the cat from Pinocchio, Sabor is named after the leopard from Tarzan, Bagheera is named after the panther from The Jungle Book, and Dinah is named after the cat in Alice in Wonderland.

[pinkfey]

how you see yourself ｡*.♡

i was tagged by the beloved @rosenfey to do this cute lil meme; tysm ambie!! mwah!! i’m self conscious right now so i’m just going to tag anyone and everyone who sees this!! do it RIGHT NEOW >:3

character ➳ this is well known, but i've felt a profound connection to padmé since i was a child. it's not out of relatability, though, it’s from a deep understanding. (LET THE RECORD SHOW I JUST DELETED A BIG ASS RANT RATTLING OFF THE THINGS I LOVE ABT HER CHARACTER BC IT GOT SO LONG I WOULD’VE NEEDED A READ MORE 😭). i just.. i love her!! i love her. i love her and i’m the only one who gets her.

style ➳ no one is a monolith, but i do gravitate towards softer, more feminine looks. many dresses and skirts in my wardrobe :3 though it is ofc not limited to just that

object ➳ so, earrings are perhaps an odd choice here, but i wanted something to represent my clutter bug!! i love collecting little bits of miscellany, earrings included (and these are very my style; i adore pearls and cute “busy” looking items), because i’m a purveyor of all things meant to make my heart glow a little softer <3

place ➳ i'm a cali baby until i die. i struggled to pick one sole place, so i chose the whole state because it truly is so important to me. it's not just sf and the bay area (my home), but the redwood forests to the east and the beach towns down south and wine country to the north. california's pre and post-colonial history is rich and vast and bits of its geographical beauty have survived in incredible ways. and, despite all of the flaws of this godforsaken state, the cultures here have worth. there are merits and there are good people, you just have to care, and because of that, i don’t think i’ll ever want leave. i don't jump ship because work is simply hard; i want california to be what i know it can be.

animal ➳ otters are my favorite animal, we know this, but too many people have affirmed me as a cocker spaniel/cavalier spaniel over the years, so i had to include it. i think it's the hair texture and general air of prancing about?? i am simply a little lady idk what to tell u!!

song ➳ i chose i'm your man by mitski,,,, 👀👀 i'm in the song, just not as singer’s the point of view, if you catch my meaning. men ruined my life but whatever.

job ➳ though office and archival work is my calling (i was born to organize and file and push trolleys of books and boxes and sit on the computer and be a little secretary), part of me will always feel that being a childcare worker is integral to who i am. i mean, i did it for so many years i loved teaching, i loved nannying, i loved early childhood education studies. i loved being miss jasmine :]

food ➳ burritos are my favorite food ever, but i chose the petit fours because, well, it's me!! it feels like me!! little cakes served on dainty platters accompanied by a sweet drink?? bite sized flavors of rose or chocolate or matcha or vanilla or lavender or raspberry and and and???? exactly. teensy and sweet and delicate and perfect.

color ➳ pink, forever and always. the pink i used for this edit is more vibrant than my favorite shade of pink (blush), but pink is pink so i'm okay with it <33

[jaytoons7]

I haven't drawn MLP next gen kiddos since like, 2016. So... Throwback time!

It was really fun to design these little ponies (Plus dragon)!

Notes: I didn't use bases, But I did use show screenshots as a starting point. I cheated lol

I am not 100% caught up on MLP (I originally drifted a bit from a show by about season 7) but I do have an idea how things end.

Character lore below the cut (It gets long):

Fizzle Dust:

Uses She/They pronouns interchangabley

Fizzle was spellborn from Twilight and Tempest, But surprisingly ended up being an earth pony. She is a bit taller than most ponies their age since her parents are both pretty tall

Ever since they were little, She's always wanted to be a royal guard

They feel like they have a lot of expectations on her shoulders, Since Tempest is a royal guard and Twilight is a princess. She tries to hide that though

Raspberry:

Uses any pronouns

Nopony was sure what the child of Fluttershy and Discord would end up looking like. Turns out, Discord's chaotic genetics seemed to awaken Fluttershy's dormant bat pony genetics, Thus ending up with Raspberry

Raspberry very rarely speaks, Using mostly squeaks and chirps

Unfortunately, She was bullied a lot as a kid, Not just for being a bat pony, But because he had a lot of weird interests growing up

They have a pet snake named Banana Sundae

Topaz:

Uses She/Her pronouns

Topaz was found as an egg with her birth parents being nowhere to be found. Fluttershy and Discord took her in to make sure she hatched safely

Unlike her Raspberry, Topaz is very talkative. She sometimes ends up going on for hours

She wants to care for animals like Fluttershy

She might be a part of this gen's CMC

Chocolate Fudge:

Uses She/Her pronouns

Chocolate is Pinkie and Cheese's second child

While she isn't quite as energetic as the rest of her family, She's still really bubbly and sweet

She has naturally straight hair but she makes it curly, Which is why it looks a little weird at the ends

She loves baking and wants to take over Sugarcube Corner someday

Prism Spectrum:

Uses She/Her pronouns

Prism was adopted by Rainbow and Gilda

She was born without a right hind leg, So she tends to fly more than she walks

She is the definition of chill

She sometimes struggles to show her emotions, Similarly to her parents

Apple Jewel:

Uses They/Them pronouns

Jewel is the spellborn child of Rarity and Applejack (They had Twilight's help though)

They are a wonderful artist who recently opened an art studio in Ponyville

They have always been heavily inspired by both of their parents since they're such hard workers

They sometimes paint so long, They forget to sleep, Which is why they often look tired

Blue Bow:

Uses She/Her pronouns

Blue was adopted by Coco and Rara

She lived most of her life in Manehattan. She moved to Ponyville where it's a bit quieter

She's a very talented song writer, But is too nervous to perform what she writes

However, She has a secret stage persona (Think of it as a Hannah Montana situation) named Golden Symphony. She's a lot more confident with her stage name