#Fix Carpet Holes and Rips

[brisbanecarpetrepair]

Brisbane Carpet Repair

Come to Brisbane Carpet Repair. Our professionals are knowledgeable and courteous. We treat our customers as if they were family. Please share your carpet concerns with us so that our technicians can resolve them.

[xythlia]

honestly the biggest pain in the ass of owning a house is the repairs/maintenance

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

[axelsagewrites]

Aegon x sister!reader (maybe the child of Aemma) where she puts him on his place once and for all

Aegon Targaryen*Truce

Pairing: aegon x sister!reader

Word count: 2359

Warnings: arranged marriage, feud, teasing, mocking, aegon having a drinking problem, viserys being a shitty dad, swearing, talks of whores, aegon hitting on reader, angst with slight fluff at points

Masterlist Here

You hated your husband. He was rude and arrogant and a drunk and lazy and loud and egotistical and if the rumours were to be believed a whore. Aegon Targaryen was one of the most infuriating people you had ever met so when Rhanerya told you, you were to be married you screamed.

“You can’t possibly think I will go along with this! I hate him!”

“I know,”

“You know last time I saw him he told me I was prettier than all the whores in Kings Landing combined,”

“I remember,”

“And another thing-“

“Sweet sister,” Rhanerya stood from her chair to take your arms and stopping the pacing that had began to wear holes in the carpet, “You knew you had to marry eventually,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

You ripped yourself from her grip, “but to him?” you almost spat back, “What is father even thinking?”

“He’s thinking about the succession,” she said, her face morphing from concern to sternness as she began her lecture. It was one you heard a thousand times about duty and work and the crown. Rhanerya had gave you the lecture, your father had gave you the lecture, your aunts and uncles and lady’s and lords had all gave you the lecture. Maybe your mother too would have if she hadn’t died when you were so young. Even the queen Alicent had tried to give you the lecture.

-

There was no winning this argument. The debate was settled and no one heard your case. As your dear sister pointed out you didn’t even have one. You had been staying with Rhanerya in Dragonstone for some time but now it was time to return to Kings Landing.

“Daughters!” Viserys greeted with a warm hug and smile as you descended off your dragons back. “My sweet daughter,” he said, holding your hands gently, “I hope you are as excited as I am,” you did your best to smile back at him, nodding courteously to avoid another scolding.

-

“Boo,” Aegon whispered in your ear as he suddenly appeared at your back. you hated the way you jumped and hated more the way he sniggered, “How was the journey my dear, sweet, darling?” he said, moving to stand in front of you and meet your eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile.

You fixed an equally exaggerated one on yours as you spoke, “Wonderful my love. There was just one slight issue,”

“Oh, and do tell,” he said, swaying in closer, bending his head down in mock concern, “Your comfort is my top priority,”

You glanced over the full throne room which was currently filled with your betrothal celebrations. You turned back to Aegon once you were assured there was no eavesdroppers, “I never fell into the sea and drowned like I prayed for,”

You weren’t sure what the look that took over Aegon’s face was. Lust, anger, bitter hatred or sadness. It was all a mix behind his lilac eyes, “You’ve always had quite the humour my sweet,” he smiled bitterly before turning to face the room, “Quite the turnout, don’t you think?”

“Funerals tend to be popular affairs,” you mused before waltzing off into the crowd, leaving a now stunned Aegon behind to pick up his own jaw.

Aemond had only been a couple paces away when you departed and he was quick to join his brother’s side, “Must you always be a bother?”

Aegon snorted at his younger brother, “Please you didn’t even hear what I said,”

“So? I know you,”

“And?”

“I know you’re an ass,” Aemond said as casually as saying the sky was blue, “Try not drive your wife away before you’ve even wedded her. especially if you want any chance of bedding her,”

Aegon snorted, his eyes catching the floor, “Who said I wanted that?” he tried to say cooly.

Aemond leaned in to whisper in his ear, “The way your eyes are locked on her ass when she walks away,”

-

Luckily, you’d managed to avoid Aegon for the majority of the wedding lead up. Between catching up with past friends and mingling with prestigious lords you had little time for the creature. That was until tonight.

Viserys had decided there should be a dinner with his brother, wife, and all his children. You dreaded the whole affair, thinking how torturous it would be. However, you didn’t realise you would be getting off lightly.

While distant Viserys had always been kind to you at the least. he sent gifts on birthdays and said sweet even if hollow words. To Rhanerya, your older sister, he dotted on and to daemon he made jokes and laughed like old friends. However even you grimaced at the way he spoke to his sons.

To Helena he was kind though looked confused by everything she said or did or was. He barely looked towards Aemond and when he did you saw the shame behind his eyes. Anytime his attention turned to Aegon the boy seemed to shrink.

You had been sat next to your betrothed and in this time noticed how quiet he was. You were only two years older than him and always remembered when you were in Kings Landing together how he ran through corridors shouting and screaming as a child. You remembered the loud boasts he’d shout over the hall when you returned when he was a teen. However right now he was as quiet as a mouse.

Anytime his father looked at him he shrunk further into his seat and reach for his wine. The few comments Viserys made towards his eldest son had been lack lustre and cold. When Rhanerya asked about his achievements he would make jokes about the time he dropped a sword during a pretend dule.

“I was eight fathers,” Aegon tried to defend himself but when Viserys made another jib he just finished the wine in his cup instead of argue.

As Viserys and daemon laughed loudly, telling a drunken story from their youth to each other despite both being there at the time, you turned to Aegon, “Are you okay?” you whispered, so quietly only he would hear.

His eyebrow raised slightly, mostly in shock you spoke to him willingly let alone to ask him a question. A forced smile pulled on his lips as he slightly raised his cup, “I am drunk,”

“That’s not what I asked,” you whispered back, glancing back at the laughing older men at the other end of the table, “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be,” Aegon whispered, draining his cup for what felt like the fifth time, “It’s not your fault I’m a screw up,”

You wanted to defend him but as you opened your mouth you heard an ‘oohing’ from the bottom of the table, “The love birds are at it,” Daemon announced, nudging his brother’s side with his elbow. Cackles came from them both and sympathetic smiles from the rest of the table.

-

By the end of dinner, the king was slurring his words and everyone else was exhausted. Aegon stood from his chair, stumbling slightly and earning a heavy sigh from his mother. “Perhaps the prince could escort me to my chambers? After all this castle can be a maze at the best of times,” you suggested to the room.

Your eldest sister was shocked, but Alicent was quick to usher you both away. As soon as you exited the room Aegon went to stumble and fall and without thinking you reached out to steady him, “Careful!” you chastised.

Aegon ignored your pleas and instead slung his arm over your shoulder. You grabbed his hand that was dangling far to close to your breasts for comfort and pulled it away. Instead, you linked your arm with his, “Well that was torturous,” he slurred as you walked the halls.

“Is he always such an ass?” you asked as you reached some dreaded stairs.

“Nah,” Aegon said, shaking his head as he walked up stairs like a baby dear, “He stays away from me most of the time. First dinner I’ve had with him in what, four months? Maybe five actually. When was his name day again?” he asked.

“Nine months ago,” you said, and he clicked his fingers, nodding his head in affirmation before going quiet. “I’m sorry,” you said, breaking the silence.

 “Why?” he asked as you approached the corridor to his room, “You’ve never done anything wrong. Even as kids you were always perfect,”

“I was hardly perfect,” you laughed, remembering all the antics you were involved in, “You were just overly naughty,”

“Its more fun that way,” he winked, a smirk growing on his face as he lent in. you pushed him away, but this time laughed slightly as you did. “Hey this is my room!” he said as you approached the door, “I was to escort you to yours,” he tried to walk past you, but you easily pushed him back with one hand.

“I think I’ll manage,”

“You sure?”

“Positive,”

“Okay,” he yawned, pawing at the doorknob before finally opening it, “Unless of course you want to sleep here,” he added as he stood in the doorway.

“I think ill pass,” you said, screwing your nose up at him though finding the drunken smile on his face oddly endearing.

That was until he kept talking, “C’mon sweetheart. You’ll be joining me here soon enough,” he said as his eyes tried to trail your frame.

Instead, you stepped forward, shoving his chest making him sway back far enough for you to grab the door handle, “Goodnight Aegon,” you sighed before shutting the door behind him and walking back to your own chambers.

-

You somehow saw even less of Aegon after that night. It was odd though. You actually found yourself looking for him in crowded rooms. “Is your brother alright?” you asked Aemond one evening as you stumbled across him in the library.

He looked up with a light smirk on his face, “why? Don’t tell me you’re becoming fond of him,” he teased making you let out a heavy sigh.

“No, I just wanted to make sure my betrothed wasn’t dead in a ditch or collecting diseases at a brothel,”

Aemond laughed lightly at that, “No not this time. He’s been in his room mostly. Don’t know why though. He wont talk much. He gets like this sometimes. Don’t worry though it will pass,”

“I wasn’t worried,” you said before turning to leave.

“You haven’t even touched a book yet,” Aemond called after you, but you ignored his teasing to find Aegon.

-

When you arrived at his room you knocked quickly but when no one answered you did it again but louder. A few moments passed before you groaned and checked the door to find it unlocked. You opened it without hesitation, “Who’s there!” a startled voice came from the sheets.

Aegon struggled to sit up for a moment as you closed the door behind you and placed your hands on your hips, “It’s been a week,”

“Hello to you too,” he sighed, flinging himself back into bed when he realised it was you.

You groaned as you walked over to him, ripping the sheets off his body as he yelped. You were thankful he was at the least wearing a shirt and his small clothes. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Is everything about you?”

“Do you always have to be an ass?” you retorted.

Aegon sighed as he finally sat up in bed, “Why do you care? You don’t even like me,”

Against your better judgement you sat down on the edge of the bed, “Well it looks like there’s no escape for me, so I better try,”

“Oh great, a pity conversation,” Aegon rolled his eyes, “How romantic,”

You couldn’t help it anymore. It had all been building up. The tears were pricking your eyes. You felt your hand slap his cheek and watched his face fill with shock. “I am trying,” you said, standing up and pointing at him as a few spare tears trickled down your cheeks, “I never asked for this and neither did you, but I am trying. You can’t flirt with me and check me out and expect me to fawn over you. I’m not some common whore and even then, they’re paid to like that kind of crap,”

Aegon’s face had softened slightly during your rant, but he soon fixed a distant look on his face. “don’t act so innocent. the first thing you did when you arrived is tell me you’d rather kill yourself than marry me,” You felt your shoulders slump at his words. “You always hated me,”

“Then stop giving me reasons too,” you said and as he went to sigh you cut his defences off, “Stop checking me out when I talk to you and undress me with your eyes. Stop going to the silk streets and visiting brothels. Stop making bitchy comments about me and stop pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. And for the love of the gods do it sober,” you ranted however when you stopped the room fell silent.

Aegon eventually broke it as his voice cracked, “Then what? You’ll love me?”

“No,” you said plainly but you returned to sit beside him on the bed, “But then we could be friends. Or at the least try. I don’t want to hate you Aegon, but you drive me crazy,” a small smile went on his face at the last line, “You enjoy making me mad,”

“Sometimes,” he confessed, his smile growing, “It’s funny when you’re mad,”

“Then I must be hilarious,” you joked, “So do we have a truce?”

Aegon paused for a moment before putting his hand out for you to shake, “Truce,” he said as you accepted his handshake, “So what is it friends do?”

You tilted your head at him, almost out of pity, “I don’t know. We could talk?”

“You always get annoyed when we do that,” he said making you huff. A grin spread on his face, “See?”

You rolled your eyes at the blonde, “I hate you,”

His grin widened, “For once I don’t believe that”

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[seat-safety-switch]

We have bred, in our darkest laboratories, a genetically-modified strain of ultra-caterpillars whose entire purpose for existence is to produce carbon-fibre-bolstered thread for our new line of hard-wearing socks. It’s hell on their little buttholes, but they gladly bear it if it means you don’t immediately rip a hole in the big toe getting ready for work in the morning.

For years, I slaved away at a job I hated in order to afford the socks I needed to go to that job. My dried-out heels and rough, proletarian carpet would shred those suckers after only a few weeks of operation. Buying more expensive socks didn't work: they were just the same crappy material with a more expensive badge on the package.

In times long past, socks really lasted. They were extremely expensive, so much so that it made sense to repair them. If it cost me like a week's wages, I'd probably have learned to darn socks too. Sixteen bucks, at most? Not worth it.

One fateful day, I went to work with slightly mismatched socks. Heel holes on both of their mates, but the unholed ones ended up in the wash. At the end of my rope, I had done my laundry in the dark, not wanting to switch the lights on and consume valuable power that could pay for more socks instead. In that darkness I had matched a dark blue sock with a slightly less dark blue sock, with a different collar pattern. Disaster. All day long, I hid my feet under my desk to conceal the sin from view, but the roving pack of sales guys could smell it on me. They laughed at me, with their fascist haircuts and their tailored suits and their matching socks. Well, who's laughing now?

This day, I sit atop an empire. Our pitch: unbreakable socks. They wear like stone. Better than stone, really, because stone isn't compressed to several thousand PSI and woven into a corrugated laminate capable of withstanding indirect small-calibre fire. Of course, all this comes at a price. They cost about $25 a pair. Oh, and the next weakest link in the chain is your shoes. These babies will rip through a pair of athletic trainers in about two weeks, less if you sweat a lot. That's Bob Reebok's problem. While you're over there, asking them to fix it, see if their socks match. I bet they don't.

[nkirukaj]

Fawning for You (5)

Pairing: Alastor x Voe (Fem!OC)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 2.7K

5. Anti-Hero

Alastor plops down at the bar and rubs his forehead “Give me a glass of Cyanide Husker,”

Husk looks around in slight panic “Uh sorry Boss but there’s no more,”

Alastor turns menacingly toward the cat “What do you mean?”

“We’re all out,”

“How is that possible?”

“Someone else drank it, Boss,”

“Who exactly?”

Husk doesn’t want to give her up, but he knows what happens if he gets Alastor mad “Voe,”

Alastor squeezes and breaks the glass that he’s holding, letting the shards pierce his skin and his blood leak onto the counter. This doe would be the death of him. Well, the second death of him.

“Is there something you wanna talk about Boss?” Husk questioned as he cleaned up the blood pool

Alastor ignored the blood continuing to drip from his hand and stood up, fixing his coat. “Not at all Husker, not at all,” he simply walks away letting the blood drip all over the floor

Alastor wasn’t sure how to feel at this moment. The only emotion that he could recognize was anger, but there was something in there that he had never felt before, and it was something hard to describe. She had always been able to get him to feel new things, something like anger, but feeling like he may yearn for her presence sometime down the line. He dreaded the thought and the feeling while cursing her for making him feel things he wasn’t aware that he could. And damn it, she drank his drink!

Voe met the cannibals at the theater bright and early. In fact, she had gotten there before them because she was so excited to start working. With Charlie and Lucifer’s donations, she had been able to buy a suitable abandoned building that wasn’t in awful shape. Of course, it could still use some love, but that’s what she was here for!

“So what’s the job boss lady?” Rosie asked her once she let them in

Voe clutches her clipboard against her chest “Today we’re just going through the building and seeing what needs to be fixed. That way I can know all the issues beforehand and order supplies and such all at the same time. Okay? Okay!”

She had known that this would be a lot of work, but she wasn’t prepared for how much walking she had to do. In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have worn Mary Jane heels, but she’d needed the confidence boost. Apparently, the original carpets were ripped and stained in about 10 different places, the seats were red and busted apart, backstage was dusty and the pulley system was jammed, the bathrooms were disgusting, with broken toilet seats and hair-jammed sinks. And saving the best for last there was no stage. Where the stage was supposed to be was a giant hole. 

Voe writes this all down on her clipboard, scrunching her brow in focus and concentration when Rosie approaches her. 

“Wow Miss Boss lady, I’ve never seen you like this before,”

She looks up slightly startled “Oh, well yeah I’ve never been this busy,”

“So when you’ve got something to do, you spend less time doing wrong?”

Voe blushes slightly “Yeah, I guess so. Something about knowing where this is going, what it will be, and what it will do, just fills me with a sense of purpose. It means so much to me,”

Rosie smiles “Enough purpose to stay out of trouble?”

Voe nods “Yeah, just enough,”

“Good! We don’t need you doing any more’Spy work’ for anybody else,”

Voe blushes again “I’m past that. I…think I’m becoming someone else,”

“Glad to hear it! I also hear that you’re interested in becoming an Overlord?”

“How did you hear that?”

Rosie shrugs “People talk. Now for some advice, in my particular situation, you have to be trustworthy. You have to get sinners to trust you and you have to take their trust and cradle it like it’s a baby. So that might be a bit of a long road for you unless you want to be a different type of Overlord,”

Voe shakes her head “No, I want to be trustworthy,”

Rosie nods in approval “Good. Then it’s going to take a lot of back-breaking work on your part, but,” She leans down “I think you can do it,”

“Me too,”

Rosie stands back up straight nodding once more “And that’s where it starts,”

___________________________________

“Stop guys I don’t do that stuff anymore. I’m on the up and up now,” Voe tells the live as she lines her almond-shaped eyes.

you don’t have to lie girlfriend

buuuulllll shit!

mmhmm 😂

They were once again referring to the shady deeds she had done on behalf of the Vees. Voe wished that people would stop bringing those up, she felt awful every time someone referenced it, especially Alastor. But she also understood that she made her choices and she can’t undo them. That’s all she would be known as, at least until this theater was complete. And you know what? She should feel awful, it was an awful thing to do and her feeling shitty about it was a sign of her growth as a person. But nobody likes to feel shitty.

“Can we please talk about something else? You guys asked me to show you how I do my makeup and now y’all aren’t even paying attention! If you keep this up you won’t get to see how I do my goddess highlight because I will turn the live right off!”

like you did a bit ago?? 😭

ran like a COWARD

“Yup one thing about me is, Imma leave. And that’s on period!” she swipes her hand across her throat

you should talk about the radio demon

yeA!!

TELL US MORE ABOUT ALASTOR

“No, I’m not going to do that. He asked me not to talk about him anymore,”

SINCE WHEN HAS THAT STOPPED YOU BEFORE LMAOOOO

TBH tho 😭😭😭😭😭

“I know, but it’s stopping me now. I will be respecting his wishes,”

boring

booo

be the MESSY BITCH YOU WEERE MEANT TO BE

The viewer count on her live drops dramatically, hitting Voe like s semi-truck, however, she does not react facially, only saying “Welp, guess they don’t want to see the highlight then. Nobody wants to see the way I make myself look ethereal? You guys left know that I’m not a gossip influencer right?”

yeah we know

i’m here for the makeup

do you boo boo

you still wanna be an overlord ?

“Yes I do! Thank you! I question I can answer!”

then don’t let em see you sweat babes!

________________________________________

Morning breakfast was cooked by Alastor of course, and due to her live, she came down after everyone else had been served. When she approached the kitchen Alastor’s eye began twitching again.

“Hmm,”

“Good morning,” she told him

Alastor emits a low level of static. Good morning? What the fuck was that supposed to mean. She was playing with him, she had to be.

“I can serve myself if you like,” she says

“Of course! Help yourself, just like you did to my drink!”

She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow “Hmm?”

Alastor squints “My drink, dear. Cyanide? Ring any bells?”

Her eyes widen “Oh! Husk gave me that cuz I felt crappy. I didn’t know it was yours until after I finished it. I’m sorry,”

His eye twitches further as he moves out of the way to let her get food. He stares down at her as she does. Did she think they were just going to move past everything she had done? A few polite words and all was bliss. Absolutely not, not if Alastor had any say in it. And he did.

She was the first to raise her hand during Charlie’s activity this morning, which was just to tell everyone what their plans were for the day and how they felt about them

“I’m going to head over to the theater and check everything to make sure I make the proper alterations so it can be to my liking. I am so excited If I’m being honest, I can’t believe this is really happening!” she lets out an excited bleat and flaps her hands

“I’m excited for you. Thank you Voe! That was lovely!”

“Also I’ve already told your dad, but thank you for your donation as well!”

“No problem Voe! I love this new you!”

Voe blushes very cutely “Me too,” and sits down

Did she think this cutesy act would make everyone forget the kind of person she was? She was a ferocious and deadly woman! To bodies…and hearts. Alastor shook his head, slipping out 

“Hmm so ecstatic, you’d think you were headed to the Vees,”

Everyone stares at him and Voe’s blush grows darker and she slumps into her seat

“Alastor…” Charlie says 

Vaggie shakes her head “Unnecessary,”

“What? I just made an observation,”

“We all know about her past actions, but reminding her of them constantly is helpful to exactly no one,” Vaggie “She can’t grow if we don’t let her,”

Voe smiles softly “Thanks Vaggie,”

Vaggie gives her a thumbs-up and a smile. 

“Hey!”

Alastor turns around, seeming curious “Hmm?”

Voe approaches him, a storm in her eyes “Why would you embarrass me like that?” He looks down at her “I don’t know, why would you embarrass me on a much larger scale?”

She turns her head down and closes her eyes “I’m not like that anymore,” she looks back up “Everyone seems to believe in me but you!”

“Because none of them have felt the damage of your deeds firsthand, now have they?”

She puts her hand on her forehead “Ugh I know!”

“But do you know my dear? I’ve felt your damage twice now, all in the name of your own interests,”

“Look, I am sorry, I am so sorry for hurting you. I’ve told you so many times. I don’t know what you want me to do now! You won’t talk to me! What do you want? Alastor leans down and picks up his cane “I want everyone to simply know what you are. You have them fooled, but not me. Remember, I know you. You’re a fiery, uncontrollable, ball of destruction, uncaring of who you hit with your passion,” Voe was unsure if she was being complimented or insulted. “If anything, I’m helping them to not get burned,”

She flattens her brows “Oh how altruistic,”

He places his cane back on the ground, standing straight up “Indeed,”

“Look, Alastor, like I said, I can’t know what you want if you don’t talk to me. Does embarrassing me make you feel better?”

No.

“Indeed it does,”

She sighs “Okay, whatever makes you happy, Alastor,” she says as though she is not mad, but simply disappointed

Well, that hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to, what was wrong with her? Where was the fight he had grown so accustomed to? Did she not care about this at all anymore? When looking up, he noticed another sinner, a siren, staring after Voe. Alastor merely squints his eyes and dissipates in deep-seated fury.

Voe hauled herself back to the theater. She knew that she had just been there with the cannibals, but something called her there. Another thing that she wanted for this place was an office for herself, so she wouldn’t have to stay at the hotel all day. Normally she would have loved to stay at home and work there, but it had gotten difficult to be around Alastor when he insisted on punishing her for something she’d thought he’d already forgiven her for.

She sets up her camera and her laptop and hits record.

“Welcome to my newest project. Theater saves souls and if it doesn’t save yours, then you’re doing it wrong,” 

The comments were not kind. 

that shit DUSTY

dirty af

she finna get tentanus 

But some were actually good ideas.

throw another party in the theater!

yea but clean that shit up first

Parties were kind of her thing. She liked the comment and put her phone away. She sat in a not-broken chair simply going through the list on her clipboard and ordering all the things she had written down the day before. Despite all the dust and dirt everywhere, she felt like she was in the right place. Though she knew that in a few she would start to feel all the bacteria on the ground and in the air. Each order she made felt closer and closer to this dream. She sneezed and dust flew off the seat, yes she was gonna need a shower after this.

___________________________________

“How ya feeling?” Angel asked, slipping into her room

Voe pulls up her pajama pants “Clean after being in the dust-infested theater, why what’s up?”

Angel smiles “That’s not what I was talking about,”

“What were you talking about?”

‘The thing Smiles said?”

Voe seems confused for a moment before she remembers what Angel was talking about “Oh! That! Yeah well,” she shrugs

“How’d’ya feel about it?”

“I feel like if he needs to insult and embarrass me to make himself feel better then he’s pathetic,”

Angel gives her a high-five “That’s what I’m talking about. Forget Alastor, he’s old news,” 

Voe lays back on her bed “I feel like I’m just working, is that bad?”

“No, but maybe you take some time to do non-work stuff?”

She sits back up “Like?”

Angel gives her a big grin

“What?” she scrunches her brows

“Fucking,”

She rolls her eyes and pushes him away “Oh gosh Angel,”

“I’m serious, when’s the last time you’ve had a good fucking?”

She stops and thinks “With the Vees,”

Angel is perplexed “Really? Shit! Is it cobwebs down there?”

Voe blushes “What? No!”

“Well, it will be if you don’t use it. Damn Alastor was careless,”

“That’s not fair. He doesn’t have a strong libido,”

“But he knows that you do, he don’t gotta dick you down to get you off,”

Voe squints in thought, Angel did have a point.

“Don’t make excuses for him! You deserve better,”

She stands up “Yeah, I do!”

“So go get it!

Voe glances over her shoulder at Angel with seductive eyes “I will,”

“I did a 360, now I’m back on my bullshit!” She said to her live She modeled her pink low cut back out mini dress and her hot pink pumps. “I’m going on a date, and I’m going to get fucked”

you mean fucked up??

“Nope!” she grins at the camera cackling. 

And she did, day after day, she was at the theater, and night after night she was in a mini dress and heels that ended up on the floor of someone’s apartment. Every morning when she did her yoga, she made sure that her split was on point so she could be ready for anything. Keeping herself and her day full worked wonders, but she still preferred spending time at the theater. So after weeks of having a new date every night, she decides to just relax inside her new project, waiting for the materials to arrive. She flexed and pointed her foot inside of her baby pink wedges as she waited. She ate her lunch out in the lobby so she wouldn’t miss the delivery or the cannibals helping them set up. Honestly, just sitting there was enough to entertain her, she thoroughly enjoyed this entire process. There was a knock on the door, which she was expecting, but who was behind it was not.

“Hello,” it was a male siren with grayish-blue skin and frosty white hair. Yellow eyes, and a pointy tail. 

Voe tilts her head “Yes?”

“I’m Casper and I live at the Hotel with you. I’ve been watching you for a bit,”

She squints “What an odd thing to say,”

He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah sorry, but I just wanted to offer my services working on the theater. I could be like your assistant or something if you’d like,” 

“Why?” she raises a brow

“I really love theater, even when I was alive,” he gives a shy grin

“And what do you want in return?” She crosses her arms

He looks around “Honestly?” she nods “I just want to be around you. I’m kind of a super fan. I just want to breathe your air,” he chuckles nervously

She squints skeptically, saying nothing before he speaks again.

“I’ll even give you my soul,”

Voe’s eyes widen in disbelief “Really? Just like that?”

He nods “Yes,”

She stares up at him through her lashes “Okay then Casper, give me your soul,”

[shallyne]

Feysand Week Day 2: Hobbies

Tug of War

Day two! So excited! I even included my baby Bryaxis, enjoy. @officialfeysandweek2023

Words: 1,076

TW: none

Feyre's favorite shirt had an accident. Surprisingly, she find a new talent of Rhys's

It was gone.

Feyre was sure that she had put her shirt on the bed before she went to take a shower but it wasn't there anymore. She checked the bathroom, she checked under the bed, she checked if Nuala had put it back in the closet but it wasn't there. She definitely put I ton the bed tho because her jeans overall and her underwear was still there. Cursing, she double checked the bedroom, when she heard a clicking outside the bedroom door.

Fixing the towel that she had wrapped around herself, she slowly stepped in the hallway, looking left, to the doors of the balcony, and right, to the stairs. Whatever made that noise, it wasn't there anymore. She was about to turn around when she saw the end of a black, fluffy tail wagging in the doorway tk Nyx's bedroom. Sighing, she stomped over there, "Bryaxis, I told you not to go into Nyx's-" she stopped when her eyes fell onto the faded Michael Myers shirt that she had found in a thrift store when she was fourteen. Her shirt. Her favorite shirt. Her most worn shirt. The shirt she was going to wear today. And Bryaxis was chewing on it. "No! Bad dog! Shoo!" she said, leaping forwards to grab it, but Bryaxis jumped back, still her shirt in his mouth. "Drop it! Now!"

Bryaxis' green eyes were trained on Feyre, a familiar, stubborn look creeping in. She leaped again, trying to grab the shirt but Bryaxis jumped to the right. Feyre's knee hit Nyx's dark blue carpet, but she kind of anticipated Bryaxis maneuver, so she threw her arm to the right and got a hold of her shirt. Breathing heavily, she kept the towel from sliding down with one hand and held the shirt in her other. "Drop that!" She told Bryaxis, slightly tugging the shirt, hoping to get it free easily. Her dog took that as an invite to play, his tail still wagging as he pulled on it with all his weight, pulling Feyre with him. "No!" she said, tugging back but Bryaxis didn't have any of that. Feyre had to plant her feet firmly on the ground for Bryaxis not pulling her with him. "Stop that, you little asshole, you know exactly that you are not supposed to do this." she gritted out. Bryaxis tugged, Feyre tugged against. Rip.

Feyre gasped and Bryaxis stopped, slowly letting the shirt fall. "You-" she couldn't say anything more, Bryaxis already bolted out. "Bad dog! No treats for you!" she called after him.

Already exhausted at nine in the morning, she fell onto the chair next to Nyx's bed, looking at her shirt. There was a hole as big as the palm of her hand at its side.

"What are you doing?"

Feyre looked up, right where Rhys stood, leaning on the doorframe. She shrugged, "Bryaxis ripped my shirt open!"

He tilted his head, "Wear another one today, well find it again."

She shook her head. "No, it's my shirt. My vintage Halloween shirt, you can't get that."

Rhys frowned, cursing before he pushed off the doorframe and walked over, extending his hand, "Let me see."

"You can't do anything." she told him but handed over the shirt either way. Rhys grimaced, looking at her in question which made Feyre grin slightly. "Bryaxis drooled on it."

"Great." he said, inspecting the hole. "It's not that bad, we can fix it." and without any explanation he left the room. Confused, Feyre sat there for a few moments until she followed him into his office, closing the door of Nyx's room to keep Bryaxis out. When she reached his office, Rhys already sat on a table with a sewing machine set up in front of him.

As she stalked closer, he looked up and his eyes went wide.he just seemed to realize now that Feyre was only wearing a towel. She ignored the flash of hunger in his eyes and took a seat on the dark couch, "You can sew?"

"My mother was a seamstress, what do you think?" he asked, his tone light as he put on his glasses. Feyre's breath hitched slightly but, of course, he heard it and smirked. Feyre rolled her eyes as he began working on her shirt

She loved it when Rhys wore his glasses, she really did. It was incredibly sexy and she always made sure to show Rhys her appreciation and she would do it this time, too. Later. When they were alone. For now she watched him working on that sewing machine as if it was second nature. As usual. Rhysand rarely looked overwhelmed. She was equally grateful and envious of it. Now she was mostly grateful and she was thanking the gods, and Rhys's mother, that her favorite shirt was salvageable.

Feyre rested her chin on her hand as she was watching Rhys, he was so focused on his work that he didn't even throw some jokes or sarcastic comments in, or suggested making a dog house outside where Bryaxis can sleep. She only saw him that focused when he was working on his planet model or studied star constellations. It was endearing and she could vividly imagine how his mother had taught him, with the same impenetrable patience he showed their son. Feyre smiled, so deep in thought that she hadn't realized when he finished until he threw the shirt at her, right on her head. Huffing, she picked it off but still smiled. "Thank you!" she told him, kissing his cheek before she raced back to the bedroom, followed by his footsteps. When he closed the bedroom door, she had already stripped the towel, putting on her underwear.

"Do you have an appointment? What's the rush?" he asked.

"I don't have an appointment," clasping her bra closed and picking up her shirt. She looked at his work, "I just have some things to do before picking Nyx up from school." If you didn't look really close you didn't see that there was ever a hole. "Wow," she whispered, sliding her thumb over the place. When she looked up, Rhys smiled satisfied. Feyre's eyes wandered back to her shirt, then do the alarm clock on her nightstand. Fuck it. She threw her shirt to the side, "Come here," she told him, beckoning him over with her finger. Rhys didn't waste any time claiming her, their clothes soon joining the discarded shirt.

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

[discocholforever]

Holy shit. I’ve been imagining Harry’s home to be a cluttered mess. Total shithole. Holes in the wall. He ripped up the carpet. There’s a vague mould smell and you have to tiptoe around the empty bottles to navigate the floor, yknow?

But then I remembered. Harry’s addicted to speed. His house is spotless. Whatever he breaks, he fixes. Somehow. Harry gets piss drunk breaks a window and shoots a bullet through his mirror and passes out. On his next day off he ‘takes it easy on the alcohol’, sniffs a corrosive amount of speed and has it looking better than before

[kurooandkenmasslut]

Sasuke Uchiha & Naruto Uzumaki x female reader Head canons Alphabet NSFW Sasuke Uchiha NSFW: Here

For: Unbetitelt (sorry it took so long)

Edited! I copied the one I did again and fixed the errors n stuff, I noticed it only got five notes altogether 😨

Naruto Uzumaki :    

A = Aftercare (What their like after sex)

You and Naruto are just lying there 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️

But after like a minute, Naruto gets up from the bed to run a warm bath for the two of you to jump in.

But if he has enough energy to, he’d put in your favorite scented candle in the bathroom for the two of you to enjoy. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part and on their partner’s)

Just like Sasuke, He feels very confident about his body and would be too proud to show it off.

But if he had to choose a body part It would probably be his chest or his dick.

But if someone asked him that he would say everywhere literally everywhere.

He loves you literally everywhere and doesn’t have a favorite since he adores ya.

- But if he had to pick I’d be your breast or your thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Man cums a buttload 💀

So much it basically leaks out of you, but that case is solved quickly when Naruto stuffs his cock back into your hole and tries to keep it all his and your cum goes to waste.

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

Naruto’s dirty secret is only for him to imagine only. 

Dreams and drools of you, coming out of the seawater, in your two-piece bikini (covering barely anything), how the two small orange triangles detail your perky nipples to the warm breeze, how it sticks to your wet skin and shows your body perfectly, how the sun makes your whole body blaze with shininess', How your bikini would be ripped in the next few minutes, with only a few fingers.

- Hopes to god that nobody will know what he’s dreaming about, especially Sakura (she will beat the absolute shit out of Naruto if she finds out about it)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)   

Does not know what he’s doing.

Sure he dreamt about it but never thought he would be actually doing what he desires.

But after he gets older he knows a bit more and will know what to do next.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)  

Honestly enjoys every position, (as long as you enjoy it of course)

But if he had to pick a position I’d probably be 69 positions, or when you ride him.

You can’t even blame him for the 69 positions, Just loves the way you taste and would rather you than be the Hokage, and all the while he gets to feel good as well !! 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)  

Right, hear me out.

HE CAN BE DEAD SERIOUS IN ONE MINUTE, thrusting into you roughly, slamming into you almost, muttering and chanting how you are such a slut for his cock n how you are such a good girl.

AND THE NEXT MINUTE HE’S CRACKING JOKES, laughing at your dumb-founded expression, having a smug look on his face.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Very neat

Keeps it clean in there yk?

If he’s not even bothered it can get a bit messy with golden yellow hair, just like the rest of the hair on his body.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Very romantic.

On-time when you’ve come home from a long day at work, sometimes you met with rose petals lying all over the floor leading up to your shared bedroom with Naruto, and when you go inside the bedroom you met with a shirtless Naruto, lying on the bed, elbow on the bed hand on his head, a rose in his mouth and romantic music playing in the background.

J = Jack off (Masturbation)

Doesn't really, But he thinks about you when he goes on missions, and some dirty-minded ones can go through his head and make his cock twitch slightly.

- So yeah, he does, but you wouldn’t catch him doing often when he’s not on missions.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)  

Praise

Breeding

Begging

The thought of getting caught?? (I don’t know what to call it)

L = Location (Favorite places to do the deed)

Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere and he’s up for it. Want to keep it private? He’s already dragging you to the bedroom, Semi-public or even public? He’s all ready.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)  

Just like Sasuke, The thought of getting caught gets him pumped up.

When you challenge him. For example:

“Y/N, stop teasing” Naruto whined “Make me” “Oh? What’s this? Is this a challenge?” He smirked “Mmm...Maybe..” You grinned when you noticed he got harder in your hands.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, Turn-offs)  

Anything to hurt you. Can’t stand the thought of hurting you. And if he thinks he hurt you in a way makes him feel really guilty, even if you say he didn’t.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, Skill, etc.)  

When he’s receiving, He is an absolute wreck.

Moaning, sweating, panting, scratching, s(c)reaming, and all because of you. 

But he can’t help it sometimes, the pleasure of your tongue striding against his cock, is too much.

And when he’s giving, he’ll have the exact same energy as you did for him. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)  

Depends on the mood.

Usually slow and sensual

But if it’s after a stressful mission he goes quite rough without realizing it.

But If you had a stressful mission he would do anything you’d say. 

For example: “Hey Babe can you sit down?” “I’m sat” (IF YOU GET THIS REFERENCE, ILYSM). “Can I tie you to the be—” Man already has his hands and legs ready to be tied. “Can you pass me over that bla—” Suddenly the blanket is over you with Naruto cuddling your side.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Doesn’t like them that much.

Likes it slow and steady sex, so you can properly feel him and not rushed sex.

But if you were in a hurry and he couldn’t get rid of his boner then MAYBE he would.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He certainly does.

Wants to hear everyone hear how good he makes you feel, and how you scream his name so loudly.

Honestly even that singular thought gives him a rock-hard boner.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or Themselves?) 

Well, only a few ig...

Vibrator, Fluffy handcuffs (he bought that because he thought you’d like it), Plugs and only a few more.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease) 

The biggest tease you will ever meet.

He’ll refuse to give you what you want at this point.  

He enjoys how you beg for him to give you what you want. 😮‍💨

- V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)   

Very vocal. Your sure the neighborhood knows what Naruto and you are doing at night.

He makes a whole bunch of noises that he didn’t even know he could make.

- W = Wild card (A random fluff head canon for the character)  

After a long week or so you’ve been on a mission to send a specific type of paper to another village to be kept safe, you’ve been the one to send it off.

But oh well, at least you are home !!! 

It was around 6 am and the sun was slowly rising through the fluffy clouds, You opened your door quietly just in case a certain blondie would be alarmed.

You took your shoes off and walked up your stairs gently and opened your room door just to see Naruto, sleeping on his desk with a pile of letters that he was about to send you, and the one he was in the middle of, but soon fell asleep.

Your heart melted and you squealed a lil bit loud and Naruto snapped his eyes open and looked behind him, only to be seen pitch black, since well you were hugging him. super cute. 💖

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sometimes you wonder how the actual hell Naruto’s quite big cock enters you

Like its big, not massively big, a bit over average, and above average in girth. 

He hits your sweet spot just when he enters you amazingly.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)  

Naruto has an extremely high sex drive, Meaning if you bring children into this equation, oh it's going to get really messy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)  

After you go to sleep, he just watches you with a big grin on his face, wondering how he got such a beautiful woman like you.

[ikeromantic]

Alice and the Beast, pt 2

For my IkeRev 1K follower celebration, the votes came in for an AU with the Red Army and Alice in Beauty and the Beast. Part 2/5

Approx. 2500 words.

Part 1

Alice and Zero followed the two strange men up to the front door of a palatial estate. The one that called himself Edgar took out a huge key and unlocked the door. The hall within was almost as dark as the night without. He motioned them in, but Alice and Zero didn’t move.

“Come on. It’s cold out here.” Kyle walked past them and lit a lamp. His relaxed grin made Alice feel a little more comfortable stepping inside. 

Edgar leaned over, his cheek brushing her hair. “It’s safe enough in here. Except for the ghosts.”

“Ghosts!” Alice nearly jumped, both from his unexpected nearness and what he’d said. 

Zero looked around. “There are no ghosts. He’s just teasing you.”

She took a steadying breath and fixed him with a glare. “That wasn’t very nice Edgar.” She crossed her arms. “Now. Where is my father?”

“All in good time. First, why don’t you have a seat in the parlor?” He gestured to a darkened archway to his left. 

Kyle gave a tired sigh. “You can’t ask someone to the parlor without lighting it first.” He slouched his way into the darkened room and a moment later, the fireplace roared to life. There was a large, low velvet couch and two leather upholstered high-back chairs. A once colorful carpet covered the floor, now threadbare and as covered in dust as everything else in the room.

Alice stepped inside, wary. Her eyes swept over the room, alert for . . . not ghosts exactly . . . or monsters . . . just anything strange. Her gaze landed on a portrait over the fireplace. It was as faded as the carpet and ripped almost in half, but she could make out the face of a young man. Blonde haired and blue eyed. A slight, thin smile turned up the corners of his mouth. It drew her in like iron filings to a magnet. 

She didn’t realize she’d moved forward until Edgar snickered behind her. Alice turned quickly, facing away from the portrait. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “Umm. So, my father?”

“I’ll fetch him,” Kyle said. He gestured for Zero to follow him. “You come with me. I’m not picking the old guy up again. He’s heavy.”

Zero nodded. “Wait here, Alice.”

“Ok.” She wasn’t terribly happy to be left with Edgar. He was still smiling widely at her as if laughing at his own private joke. It made her nervous. Alice took a seat on the couch, perched on the edge. A puff of dust floated up from the fabric and she sneezed.

“I am a terrible host. You look cold! And thirsty! I’ll go make some tea.” Edgar gave another chuckle and then hurried away. 

She hadn’t been thrilled to be left alone with him, but being left alone without him was worse, she decided. The shadows in the corners were deep, and the doors leading from this room were gaping holes of pure, starless night. All the stories she’d heard about the Kingsley hermit haunted her thoughts.

He was cursed, people said. Cursed by the Magic Tower. The specifics of the curse always changed, depending on who you heard it from. Some said he was unable to venture into sunlight and lived on the blood of the innocent. Others said that everything he touched would wither to dust or turn to salt. Or that he was a vicious Beast, barely human at all. 

“Stop it,” she told herself sternly. Whatever the curse was or wasn’t didn’t matter. She was here to get her father and go home. Her eyes drifted up to the portrait again. She wondered why it was so torn, and who it might have been. 

A noise from one of the open doorways caught her attention. A slight scrape against the wood floor. Alice turned her head. She could just make out a figure limned by the red firelight. Thick curls of fur stuck out at odd angles around a gentleman’s shirt and waistcoat. The starched white linen beneath the red vest strained at the buttons at the throat, and the sleeves were rolled up - too short for the long, thick forearms.

Her eyes trailed down the arms to hands - paws - so large they could cup her head in one palm, tipped with gleaming black claws. And the legs . . . twisted and goatlike, barely constrained in a pair of black trousers, feet bare beneath them. Though bare was the wrong word for such furred paws. 

“Who are you?” The voice boiled from the creature, cold and laced with menace. 

Alice leapt to her feet and took a step back. “I - I -”

“She came for the trespasser. The one I told you about.” Edgar’s smooth, jovial voice came from the darkness behind the creature. He stepped up to stand beside it, not even a wrinkle of worry on his face. 

Somehow, she found her voice in the shadow of this towering monster. Alice looked it - him - in the eye. “My name is Alice. And yes, I’ve come to take my father home.”

The Beast had a mouth more like a wolf’s maw, with sharp fangs that flashed when he spoke. His hair was a mane of snarls, tangling down his back and over his shoulders in shades of red-lit gold. But his eyes drew her in. They were so human. Deep blue and full of distant sorrow. His heavy brow crinkled in disdain. “That is not possible. The trespasser must pay first. Then he can leave.”

“Pay?” Alice felt a rush of incredulous anger. “For what?”

Edgar gave a polite cough. “Allow me, sir.” He smiled at Alice mischievously. “First, for the fine of trespassing. Second, for the cleanup of wreckage and the damage to Kingsley lands. And third, for the cost of his care in treating his broken leg, feeding him, and giving him shelter for the day.” He spread his hands as if to say there was nothing strange in this request.

“How - how much would that be?” Her voice shook with fury. 

“300 charged magic crystals.” Edgar’s grin went even wider.

Alice balled her fist. “You can’t be serious! There probably aren’t even 300 in town, total! There must be . . . some other way? Something else? I can bring you -” She paused, considering what was in her power to give. They had no money, especially now. And few possessions. There was only “-my books. I have a lot of books. Custom bound. Rare editions. You . . . you can have them all.”

“I have no need of children’s books.” The Beast sighed, a weary sound. “We will keep the old man until -”

“No! He’ll just rack up more debt to you that way. Please . . .” She was near to tears now, hot, frustrated tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Edgar cleared his throat. “Allow me? I have a perfect solution.”

The Beast gave him a wary look but did not interrupt.

“Why don’t we send the old man home to recover? He can try to find the crystals needed to clear his debt. And in the meantime, the girl can stay here and work off the debt.”

“What?” The Beast and Alice asked as one. 

“It’s simple. The girl - Alice - will work with Kyle and I on the estate. I’m sure she can be useful. One way or another.” 

Alice did not like the way he was smiling, but his suggestion was the best so far. “I . . . alright. I can agree to that. I know how to cook and clean, and I’m a quick study. I help my father bind books and manage our shop. So, whatever you need. I’m sure I can do it.”

“Then it’s done.” Edgar’s eyes practically sparkled. 

The Beast didn’t look half so pleased, but he grunted and turned to go. 

“W-wait!” Alice stepped forward. “How long will I need to be here? If - if we can’t pay anything else?”

“As long as it takes,” the Beast rumbled, and then disappeared into the gloom of the room beyond. 

She watched him go with a sinking feeling in her gut. What had she agreed to? Serving a monster . . . a brutal, terrifying Beast. It would take years to pay down the worth of 300 magic crystals. 

“Well, it looks like you’ll be our guest for awhile.” Edgar chuckled. “Come with me. I’ll set you up with a room for the night.”

Alice was about to reply when she heard her father’s voice in the hall. She rushed past Edgar, slipping on the damp wood floor. Kyle caught her arm and kept her upright. 

“Clumsy. Keep that up and you’ll get to know me even better.” His smile was gentle, despite the reprimand. 

“Sorry.” She shook off his grip and turned to her father, inspecting him with worried eyes. He had a splint on his leg. It was swollen and bruised, his pants torn. Though he was rumpled and dirty, he seemed in good spirits. “Papa . . .”

He hobbled over to her, with Zero supporting him on one side. “My little beauty! I can’t believe you came out to rescue me.” He gave her a tight hug, and though he hid it well, Alice could feel the tension in him. 

“I couldn’t just leave you out here,” she tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob. “But now - but now -” Then she was crying, hot tears escaped the corners of her eyes.

“Hey! What’s this? Surely nothing we can’t fix over a hot cup of tea and something sweet once we get home?” Her father patted her back, trying to be reassuring.

Edgar took a breath. “I’m afraid dear Alice has decided to stay here to work off your debt. You’ll be headed home alone. Or - with Zero there. But not Alice.” He went on to explain the debt, much to her father and Zero’s consternation. 

Kyle and Edgar ignored their protests as they bundled them into a magic carriage. It had no horse to pull it, only two large magic crystals that hummed with restrained energy. The last words Alice heard from her father was a promise that he would be back with the crystals. Somehow. 

She waved goodbye to him and to Zero, her heart heavy in her chest. 

Kyle shoved a handkerchief into her hand. “Come on. It’s not so bad.” 

“What do you know,” she snapped. “You live here by choice.”

He shrugged. “Fine. Stay sad. I’m gonna go get a drink. Anyone want anything?”

“No but you should watch it.” Edgar frowned after him. “Lance is grumpy already. If he catches you drunk -”

“I’ll just tell him I have another shot to give him when I’m sober.” Kyle gave them a brief grin, then sauntered off.

Alice gripped the handkerchief, wishing she could tear it to pieces. Her anger was back and this all seemed so unfair. 

“Aww, don’t look like that. Here,” Edgar took a small paper bag from his pocket and held it out to her. Inside were some of the most vile looking little candies she’d ever seen. Colors that made her eyes ache in shapes that did not look at all palatable. 

“What is that?”

“Candy. Try the blue stuff, it’s delicious.” His eyes twinkled at her visible disbelief. 

Her stomach picked just that moment to growl, loud and long and absolutely unmistakable. She looked away, embarrassed.

Edgar just laughed. “Sounds like you need more than candy. Come on. Let me show you the dining room.” He lit a candle and held it aloft as he led her down a long, dusty corridor. There were fancy mirrors on the walls, but the glass in each was shattered. And none of the paintings were whole either. Even the wall paper and plaster was torn and split in places.

Alice couldn’t help picturing the claws on the Beast’s hands, and wondering if she would survive working here. 

“Don’t worry.” Edgar paused and laid his hand on her arm,squeezing gently. “You’re probably safer here than in your village.”

“But, the Beast-”

“Only tears apart the inanimate. Never seen him lay a hand on a person.” He raised a brow. “First time for everything though.”

She smacked his hand away. “You shouldn’t tease!”

Edgar gave a half shrug. “Sorry. Bad habit.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

Alice stayed annoyed with him until they reached the dining room. Then she forgot about him and the Beast and everything else for a few minutes entirely. This space was better kept than the hall and parlor. Not a speck of dust marred the surface of a long, formal dining table. There were candelabras lit in the center of the table, their warmglow illuminating the feast that sprawled over every inch of the surface. 

There was so much food, dishes Alice knew and things she couldn’t even guess at. “What . . . is all this?”

“Magic.” Edgar grinned. “We have a chef. But she’s a teapot.”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to tease?” Alice would have frowned at him, but she was still staring at the food.

He laughed, “I suppose you did. Well, doubt Mrs. Potts at your peril.” Now she did frown at him, which only made him laugh harder. “Just get something to eat before your tummy wakes up the Creek family.”

She didn’t need him to tell her twice. Alice filled her plate and picked a chair to sit in. Alice listened with half an ear as Edgar chattered on about the manor. His voice was mellow and relaxing, especially after the long day she’d had. Everything she ate tasted amazing. Savory and sweet, there was nothing that wasn’t good. Even the wine was sweet and warmed her as she sipped it.

In no time at all, she was full as she could be  and beginning to drowse. Her eyelids felt heavy and they kept slipping down. Alice was warm and comfortable, and her mind started drifting into dreams during each long, slow blink. She didn’t notice when Edgar lifted her up and cradled her gently against his chest.

“Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

She made a sound that might have been agreement. Her eyes slid shut again and her head lolled against his shoulder.

Edgar smiled, a gentle expression so different from the mocking, playful grin he usually wore. “I hope this works. For your sake and mine.” His expression spoke to all the things he could not say, even with no one else to hear.

He carried her carefully down the dark hallways. The guest wing was haunted by memories of better times, before the curse that changed Lancelot. Before they’d shuttered the windows and barred the gate to outsiders. Edgar missed those days. Parties and intrigues. Secrets and lies. Now, the only person to prank was Kyle, and that was less fun than one might guess.

Alice’s room was a corner suite with a large bed and inviting window seat. Empty for years, faded by disuse. He tucked her into the fresh sheets. Seeing her lying there, he felt hope for the first time in a long time. Edgar watched her a moment longer, a glimmer of hope in his pale jade eyes.

Part 3

[chrisitsraining]

and yknow what heres the deaths of some fallen s.t.a.r.s members as depicted in the umbrella conspiracy

“Joseph!”

Jill’s scream ringing in his ears, Chris drew his weapon and stopped in his tracks, trying to get a clear shot at the raging beasts that were attacking Joseph. Wesker’s penlight sent a thin beam dancing over the writhing creatures, illuminating a nightmare. Joseph’s body was all but hidden by the three animals that tore at him, ripping at him with gnash-ing, dripping jaws. They were the size and shape of dogs, as big as German Shepherds maybe, except that they seemed to have no fur, no skin. Wet, red sinew and muscle flashed beneath Wesker’s wavering light, the dog-creatures shrieking and snapping in a frenzy of bloodlust.

Joseph cried out, a burbling, liquid sound as he flailed weakly at the savage attackers, blood pouring from multiple wounds. It was the scream of a dying man. There was no time to waste; Chris targeted and opened fire.

Three rounds smacked wetly into one of the dogs, a fourth shot going high. There was a single, high-pitched yelp as the beast went down, its sides heaving. The other two animals continued their as-sault, indifferent to the thunderous shots. Even as Chris watched in horror, one of the slavering hell hounds lunged forward and ripped out Joseph’s throat, exposing bloody gristle and the glistening slickness of bone.

.

“What—” he started, then saw what was on the carpet in front of them, laying in the small sitting area that marked the end of the corridor. 

For a moment, Barry thought it was Chris—until he saw the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo insignia on the vest, and felt a different kind of horror set in as he struggled to recognize the features. The Bravo had been decapi-tated, the head laying a foot away from the corpse, the face completely covered in gore.

Oh jeez, it’s Ken.

Kenneth Sullivan, one of the best field scouts Barry had ever known and a hell of a nice guy. There was a gaping, ragged wound in his chest, chunks of partly eaten tissue and guts strewn around the bloody hole. His left hand was missing, and there was no weapon nearby; it must have been his gun that Joseph had found out in the woods.

Barry looked away, sickened. Ken had been a quiet, decent sort, did a lot of work in chemistry. He’d had a teen-aged son who lived with his ex in California. 

.

Forest Speyer was dead, The laughing, Southern good ol' boy with his ratty clothes and easy grin was no more. That Forest was gone, leaving behind a bloody, lifeless imposter lumped against a wall. Chris stared down at the imposter, the distant sounds of the night lost to the sudden gust of wind that whipped around the caves, moaning through the railing of the second-story patio. It was a ghostly sound, but Forest couldn’t hear it; Forest would never hear anything again.

Chris crouched down next to the still body, care-fully prying Forest’s Beretta from beneath cool fin-gers. He told himself he wouldn’t look, but as he reached for Forest’s belt pack, he found his gaze fixed on the terrible emptiness where the Bravo’s eyes had once been.

Jesus, what happened? What happened to you, man? Forest’s body was covered with wounds, most an inch or two across and surrounded by raw, bloody flesh—it was as if he’d been stabbed hundreds of times with a dull knife, each vicious cut ripping away chunks of skin and muscle. Part of his ribcage was cruelly exposed, slivers of white showing red beneath tattered redness. His eyeless, streaming stare was the crowning horror—like the killer hadn’t been content to take Forest’s life, wanting his soul instead...

.

“Richard!” Rebecca immediately dropped to her knees next to the Bravo, feeling his throat for a pulse with one trembling hand.

Chris stared mutely down at the torn body, already knowing that she wouldn’t find a heartbeat; the gaping wound on Richard Aiken’s right shoulder was drying, no fresh blood seeping through the mutilated tissue. He was dead.

He watched Rebecca’s slender hand slowly drop away from the Bravo’s neck and then reach up to close his glazed, unseeing eyes. Her shoulders slumped. Chris felt sick over their discovery; the communica-tions expert had been a positive, sweet guy, and only twenty-three years old...

.

“Hang on, Rico. We’ll get you out of here, you just have to lie still—” Enrico shook his head, still looking at Jill. “There’s a traitor in the S.T.A.R.S.,” he whispered. “He told me—” Bam! Bam!

Enrico’s body jumped as two holes suddenly ap-peared in his chest, blood pulsing out of them in violent spurts. Through the resounding echo of the shots, running footsteps clattered away down the corridor behind them.

Barry launched to his feet and sprinted around the corner as Jill helplessly squeezed Enrico’s twitching hand, her heart pounding and sick. He slumped over, dead before he touched the cold stone floor. 

[fluffmugger]

bit of semi-egotistical navel gazing but man, I do not give myself enough credit for the things I can do.

so: With the new house we have painted, ripped up the carpet, removed the tacking, etc, etc, etc getting the render off the garage walls, demoed the cabinetry in there, patched the cracks in the back steps, patched the tiles, regrouted the bathroom, removed extraneous coax cabling everywhere, dowel patched the floor holes and stain-matched, puttied, stripped the vinyl tiles, removed adhesive, resanded, relocated the NBN outlet, repaired and remortared the hearthstone, repaired the sliding door lock, repaired the shower screen, removed the laundry door, stripped wallpaper, fixed the bathroom tap, mounted a new toilet roll holder, removed and patched the eight billion geriatric grip handles, mounted new storage in the laundry and bathroom closets, modified the laundry cabinet sink for new shutoffs, ripped out faulty range hood and installed new one, had a bit of a pain in the arse with the laundry waste (found out there was a non standard piping) ripped that out, put in new 50mm and a new P trap, remortared the bathroom tiles and patched any holes so we can kick the reno down the road and currently in the process of repainting bathroom tile (for same reason) thing is, apart from the painting....that’s been me. 

Just me. Obviously there’s shit I don’t touch like electrical and copper piping, so we got trades in for the whole house rewire and the new shutoffs, solar, etc but even then I’ve been organising and talking to the tradies ‘cos they can’t BS me (most of my uncles are tradies) This is NOT to besmirch  His Lordship’s work!  He painted - and that was a big fucking job. Five rooms and a massive wraparound hallway, walls, ceilings and cornices as well as masking and sanding and washing prep - and due to the nature of his work as opposed to mine has been able to be on site to meet & greet the tradies (especially at bumfuck o’clock) and get them all pointed to where they need to go, but jesus christ I know how to do a lot of stuff. I’m awesome.

[liliesandparchment]

Bridgerton AU 02x08 onwards: Part 2

~Anthony~

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t still.

Images kept flashing across his eyes and he tried uselessly to stop the onslaught on his mind – he pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes even as he paced a hole into Lady Danbury’s beautiful auburn carpet outside Kate’s room –

No, he should leave, he should have left long ago. It was his fault this was happening, his fault she could be dying right now –

He heaved a desperate breath, trying to ignore the strangled sound his throat had made that had sounded suspiciously like a sob, and dragged his eyes open even as his hands found neurotic purchase in his hair. His blurred vision detected someone moving towards him and he felt his brother’s hand close around his arm with surprising rigidity.

He belatedly recognized the aborted thumping near him as Lady Danbury’s cane and his stomach swooped again – he struggled out of Benedict’s grip and abruptly pulled himself free as he realized he was being lead away from the her room – the wrong side of the corridor –

He couldn’t be so far from her – not now, not now that she could – any moment –

“Anthony!” Benedict reached for him stubbornly again, his voice filled with surprise and something else – something stiff, and brittle and resolute –

“Anthony, look at me!” His brother pulled harshly and Anthony could barely look at his face – he couldn’t handle Benedict’s judgment on top of it all – Benedict, who had always been forced to witness him fail and fail and fail because of how uncomfortably close he was thrust to Anthony when they had been forced to grow up so so fast so cruelly – no, he couldn’t meet his eyes today, not when Kate was – she was close to being –

“It is my fault. I have done this. I cannot – ”

He choked on his words as he felt Benedict direct his face towards him with both hands, forcing him to witness his brother’s confused, anguished face, his father’s jaw forming the words, his father’s forehead – the exact same shape, wrinkled with worry about him – him who didn’t deserve an ounce of it –

“I do not know what you have done or what you think you have done. But spiraling into guilt about it will not help her now. Let the Doctor do his job and come and wait with me. Calm yourself, brother, and let us take up Lady Danbury’s kind offer of a drink while we wait for news on the condition of her house guest, yes?”

He blinked as he slowly pulled away from Benedict and noticed Lady Danbury a ways behind, a look of abject pity on her face. He felt heat rise in his face as he spied Edwina and Mary’s twin forms behind her and stepped back immediately, tightening his hold on Benedict’s arms for support as he felt a distant swaying in his body. He looked away resolutely, fixing his gaze on one of the curtains hiding the windows. It was still raining outside – he could hear it, along with the murmur of vague sounds from her room behind him. There were no servants rushing about to distract anyone from his embarrassing lack of decorum, or manner, or honor, or sanity in the face of –

He turned away from everyone as quickly and with as much dignity as he could manage to muster in the circumstances. He wiped his face of the wetness he did not dare examine, strugging to breathe deeply, forcing his lungs to work even as his body protested – he didn’t deserve to breathe freely while her fate hung in the balance. No, he shook his head harshly – he had to calm himself and ensure he behaved, lest Lady Danbury kick him out for – well, she had a lot of reasons stacked up against him by now, probably.

Her pity soured something in him and Benedict’s fear for him curdled it into something uglier – his mind sharpened despite itself, if only to coax them he had to grab a hold of his sensibilities. No matter how much he felt like running off outside or drowning himself in something – anything – or jumping off a cliff – or ripping himself to shreds on the jagged edges of her beautiful broken form –

He could not be weak.

Not today. Not here.

To Suspend Time - Find full version on AO3 here. Thank you for reading!💝✨

[kylo-wrecked]

@iomadachd :// { cont'd from here! }

— ☾ —

When you were a mountain, everything below you looked fake, like a city from an airplane window or a little plastic model. At least, that's what Ben was beginning to see now that the band was on top of the world. He didn't yet lavish in the potent exclusivity and prestige that came with flying business class and being given this and that; praise, acclaim, hugs from people whose lives you had apparently changed, but he'd realized the distance it initiated between him and the rest of the world. The little world in which Ben himself was once a tiny person from a tiny backwater town he missed like a shirt that no longer fit. He got too big. They'd do Bonnaroo next year if the fest in Cantonica worked out. 

Vicrul told columnists, media correspondents, YouTubers, and anyone else who'd listen that the Knights of Ren were 'genuinely, really excited to be here,' and then they'd all 'mug' for the camera, posing like Power Rangers, racking up six million views on TikTok before the festival had even begun. And the band was wild with excitement. They tornadoed from tent to tent, trailer to trailer, smoking anything they could find, provided it was green, swapping clothes, wearing each other's road equipment like hats, wearing Barrza’s cymbals like hats, checking behind each other's knees for ticks, arguing about who got to shower and when, and that's when Ben was Ben. He was Kylo when he walked onto the peninsula of the south stage and looked out at the sea of tiny people undulating and ululating like cats in heat, when the band was fifteen seconds from counting off their first set of the night, and he had to adjust the mic (again), which was always too short, but only needed to reach as far as the Fernandes anyway, and gravely regarded the culture junkies determined to suffocate in home-made replicas of the Knight's masks. 

The Knights of Ren weren't allowed to perform without the masks. They couldn't show up at a red-carpet event, on a talk show, or in a Starbucks without them. So, any time Ben got to spend unencumbered in Canto Fest's milieu of artists and performers, some of whom he'd rip his heart out for, couldn't be squandered. If fucking Baby Ariel asked him if he was having 'the best time,' he could say, 'yup,' and it'd be true. He was wearing shirts with holes in them the size of tumors. He was taking showers at 2 AM every night and waking up at 6 AM with an eight-string guitar in his arms every morning. He got to meet Richard Fucking David James. Moses Sumney. He was buzzing, and it wasn't all molly. 

When he couldn't take the volume of all the tiny people dancing under toothpick and cupcake paper tents in the distance stretching farther by the day, the sight of too many feet in flashy socks and Crocs, the hiss of kombucha on tap, Ben sailed away on the last of his high and deflated in the green room, sliding into a fat orange cat of an armchair, sinking until his back rubbed against the bottom cushion, and his mud-spattered heels dug into about two centimeters of road rug. Leila joined him a minute later. 

He glanced at her from the side of his squished profile dubiously. Even from his gelastic slouching posture, his eyes were penetrating.  

"Are you quoting 'Sword' at me?" he mused, propping his shaggy black head on the tufted chair arm to look at her properly. "Sickening."

But he couldn't maintain a straight face for long. A crooked smile unfurled across it, which, due to the nature of the outdoor festival, had finally seen some sun. The grin was unsuited to the gravity of his features, but given he'd never been told to fix his ears, nose, or teeth, maybe that was the appeal.

"How's you?" Ben asked, shifting in reverse at least until his neck reached the flossy cushioned back. His shirt rolled up in the process, giving Leila a brief peek of what was either a bad tattoo or a scar on his hip.

"You did good out there,” he said, referring to Alecto’s afternoon adrenaline rush. “Sorry they pelted you, though.”

He grinned graciously or apologetically. 

"Those 8oz bottles hit like bullets, don’t they? Our drummer says crowds like that only throw that many at women and queers. You ever throw 'em back? She bats them back at the audience sometimes."

Ben lowered his voice and looked at his hands. Maybe the molly was still in him after all.

"Anyway, you're good. If your music isn't pissing someone off, you haven't accomplished anything." Ben shrugged and nodded toward one performer greatly preoccupied with the inch-wide strip of fabric between her ass cheeks. "I mean, you could be doing that all day."

[bloodandmagic]

GoogleXGN!Reader. PT. 1

Minors DNI! Bios without age DNI!!! You will be blocked! NSFW content.

So, this is my first posted fic with anyone, I tired really hard on it so if you like it please let me know! Check the Tags for content warnings.

TW: Crude language, maybe slight dubcon, GNreader, NSFW, uh how do I tag? Maybe Dom/Sub.

How had you ended up here? Laying down on your bed completely clothed looking up at the man as he ran his hands up and down your sides, a smirk plastered over his features and his dark eyes on you.

“Don’t move.” he’d commanded when he’d thrown you on the bed. His fingers traveling up your sides and to the collar of your shirt. “Stay very still” he said and gripped the fabric between his fingers with a sharp tug the fabric gave way, ripping as he yanked. “Good.” he purred

How did I ended up here? The thought came to you suddenly as his fingers began to explore the exposed flesh of your stomach.

It had all started when you found the android while on a nightly walk, the android had been in bad shape, you’d dragged him back to your house to fix him. Heaving him to your house had been a trial in and of itself. The heavy android had a metal frame that was exposed through a gaping hole in his torso. When you’d finally gotten him in the living room of your house you’d been exhausted, sweat pouring off you, and breathing heavily. You’d set him down on the floor and taken a look inside.

The hole in his chest showed the extent of the damage to his torso, the various mechanical parts were either torn to shreds or dented, there were two tanks inside of him, one meant for coolant and one meant for oil, both were dented and one had several gashes in it. Sighing you’d gotten up and walked to the hall closet.

Your father had been a mechanic, when Google IRL and Bing androids had started to become popular he’d taken classes on how to fix them, figuring the services he could provide would one day be in high demand. He hadn’t been wrong and taught you everything he’d known about fixing them. He’d promised to buy you one by the end of this year and had tasked you with buying everything he knew would be most likely to break down.

Grabbing a soldering gun, the iron, and two replacement tanks. You’d walked back to the Google IRL currently leaking fluids all over your carpet and set to work. You knew from experience that if you repaired the most severe of the damage and booted the thing in service mode it would repair the rest itself.

Setting to work you removed the damaged tanks and flung them into the kitchen knowing you were getting oil and coolant all over the place but not really caring at the moment. Then you set to work repairing the damage to the metal inside. You had tried your best to work around the android and not sit on it, one of the joints needed to be repaired and the best angle involved you straddling the droids hips. Sighing you’d thrown one leg over him and leaned forward to repair the joint with the soldering gun, as you did you squeaked in surprise.

Straddling his hips you’d expected him to be flat like most of the others you’d helped your dad repair, instead as you’d leaned down you brushed against his groin and found him distinctly not flat. A blush bloomed on your cheeks, and you tried to force down the thought that someone had bought a c-package for the android.

You’d finished your repairs quickly after that, setting down your tools you wiped the sweat from your forehead and stood stretching. Then you’d sat by his head and pressed on each side of his jaw by his ear.

The Google android shot up quickly. “Now in service mode.” he intoned.

“Run diagnostics.” you commanded standing.

“Running diagnostics”

It had taken him sometime to run the diagnostics, when he had he’d listed the damage sustained on him. You’d told him to repair and walked to the couch to lay down. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you did.

The next thing you knew you were being shook awake, opening your eyes you’d found the narrowed eyes of Google IRL glaring down at you.

“oh you’re awake.” you’d said sitting up, “How do you feel?”

“Systems are running at 100% efficiency.”

“Good.” you said with a yawn. “What happened?”

The android stepped back and stood glaring down at you. “My memory of the event seems to have been deleted.” he said simply.

“oh.” you said. “Well im sure your owner is worried about you, if you’d like I can call them.”

“That would be ill advisable, my previous owner acquired a new model, at the present I do not have an owner.”

Your brow furrowed, “But wont you shut down unless you’re given to a re-sale store?”

“Yes,” he said simply dark eyes on you. “Unless I get a new owner.”

You blinked and chewed your lip considering. “I could uh I could be your new owner.” you offered not really knowing why.

“That sounds agreeable.” he said and stuck out his hand.

So you’d gotten yourself a used Google, the first week had been about him learning your routines, he’d preferred to charge in your room instead of the living room and acted like an alarm for you. You’d quickly grown used to his presence, every day when you gotten off work he’d be in the living room waiting for you. You two would talk as you made dinner for yourself and watch T.V. before bed.

That faithful night before bed you two were watching a movie, well there was a movie playing though neither of you were really paying attention, you were reading a book while he was updating.

“Your friends are asking you to come out tonight.” he said suddenly startling you from your book.

You sighed and looked down at your phone, reaching for it and texting your friends you were too tired to go out tonight.

Google raised an eyebrow as you hit send, “Why do you lie to your friends? You don’t seem tired.” he commented.

You looked at the android, “Because I don’t want to go to the bar to be hit on by strange men.” you grumbled. “and I thought I told you not to read my texts anymore?”

Google rolled his eyes, “I am connected to all of your accounts,” he said as if that explained everything.

You roll your eyes and grabbed the mod sitting next you, Google hated the thing but understood that you needed it as you’d recently quit smoking, inhaling deeply you turned your head and blew the vapor cloud out at him petulantly.

Google frowned, “Stop that.”

You smiled and did it again.

“I said stop.” he commanded. “you will not like the consequences if you continue.”

You raised an eyebrow in a challenge and bringing the mod to your lips again took a larger inhale, stood up, walked over to him and blew it directly in his face. As the last of the vapor left your mouth you smiled.

Google narrowed his eyes at you, “you were warned.” he said his voice dropping into a low growl. Quickly he stood, you stumbled back a step, “Yet you persist.” he growled again stepping into your bubble. Instinctively you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your arm, hauling you close to his chest. “Almost as if.” a deep chuckle escaped his lips as he bent down to your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your ear and neck, “as if you want to be punished.”

You shiver at the feeling, “What if I do?” you whisper not trusting your voice to go louder.

The world seems to still for a split second, before a deep chuckle reverberated through the room, “I was hoping you’d say that.” he said.

Your eyes widen at his words, “Wa..” you start before a shriek rips from your throat as your lifted up off your feet and thrown over his shoulder. “Google...wait!” you say cheeks reddening, “I..” a sharp sting permeates your backside as he slaps it.

“Hush now.” Google says while walking, he rubbed the spot he’d slapped. “I’ll take care of it all.”

He’d flung open the door to your bedroom and thrown you on the bed, quickly he’d invaded your space again, one leg going into between yours and hovering over you. You blinked up at him his normal chocolate colored eyes darker than normal. He leaned down to your ear, “Do not move,” he commanded, “If you move before I tell you to, this will be over, it will never happen again. Do you understand?” He pulled away from your ear and looked intently down on you. “You may speak.”

“Yes.” you say almost breathless.

He’d smiled wickedly at you. “Good.”

Right you thought as he trailed his fingers up from your stomach to skirt around your chest.

“So soft,” he murmured, his fingers starting a path up your neck, stopping under your chin, “So breakable.”

A sigh of contentment left you as his other hand started to trace a hip, fingers playing with the edge of your pants as he did so.

He leaned down to watch your face as his hand dipped into your pants, the hand that had been on your chin grasped it fingers digging into your flesh as he teasingly made his way down to your sex. A moan escaped your lips as he played with your body.

Google chuckled again as he withdrew his hand, “My my, so needy.” he said popping the button on your pants, he dragged the zipper down eyes on your face, “Tell me how much you need it.” he commanded moving closer.

“Google.” you moaned out arousal pooling within you, “Please, please.”

“Please what?” he taunted bringing his face closer, wicked fingers dipping into your underwear to play with you again.

“Ah! Please, please.” you weren’t sure what you were asking for only that you needed something, anything.

“Oh doll.” he breathed out leaning away from you, “mind empty already?”

you narrow your eyes at him, “I..I need..” you pause considering, then a wicked smile grows on your lips and you put on your best pleading face. “Please fuck me.” you whimper.

Google freezes, eyes on your face searching, his smile grows and he pulls his hand from your pants, “Was that so hard?” he asks and smashes his lips to yours. The kiss is dominating, his tongue invading your mouth when you gasp against his lips, he pulls your bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it. The action makes you moan into his mouth. The hand holding onto your chin moves to the back of your head and threads into your hair. He closes his hand into a fist and pulls your head back detaching from your mouth.

He dips his head down to your neck, kissing his way down to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck and bites down, you gasp as he bites you, his other hand holding your hips down. “Please.” you say breathlessly.

He pulls back from your neck and he lets go of your hair, his hands go to your pants, thumbs hooking into your pants and underwear before wrenching them down your legs. He pulls back from your body completely eyes roving over all your exposed skin. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and pulling down his pants.

A blush comes to your face as you realize he’s not wearing anything under his pants, you turn your head away from him embarrassment over taking you, a hand comes to your chin and pulls your face to look at him.

“Did I say you could look away?” he asks one hand trailing down his body to grasp himself. “you will look.” he hissed.

As if his words were a command you slowly your eyes trailed from his face, down the expanse of his torso and finally landing on his hand grasped around his….heat intensified in your face, but you held your eyes on it.

A low rumble came from the man, “Its called a cock.” he said lowly, moving his hand over it slowly, “Or if you rather a penis, not any of the flowery things your silly little romance novels call it,” he stopped pleasuring himself for a moment and climbed up on the bed, “Open your legs little dove.”

You obeyed his command and opened your legs wide, he settled between them easily arms holding himself up, hovering above you he leans down to capture your lips in a searing hot kiss. His hands playing with your nipples, you arch your back to encourage him, he pulls back from your lips and moves down.

His hot mouth encases your right nipple, his tongue swiping over it as he sucked, your hands shoot to his head and tangle in the locks of dark brown hair as you moan out. He pulls back from your nipple and one hand wraps around your wrist. “I told you not to move.” he growled removing your hands from his hair. He places both wrists in one hand and leans over you trapping them above your head. “If I have to restrain you then I will.” he growls in your ear, “Or can you be good and keep your hands above your head?”

“I…” you start wriggling underneath him, his other hand grips your hip and he raises an eyebrow at you, “I’ll be a good.”

He smirks and pulls his hand from your wrists, “Good.” he purrs as the hand on your hip begins moving, he dips one finger into you and slowly moves it. “I do wonder.” he starts, “Those books you read...filthy, tell me, do you really want those things?” he asks mockingly.

The blush on your face deepens, your mouth falling open as his finger picks up the pace inside you, “Ah!” you throw your head back as pleasure shoots through you.

“I didn’t hear an answer.” he sing songs adding another finger and speeding up the thrust of his fingers again.

“Google” you whine, thoughts slowing down and leaving your brain, “Yes.” you hiss when his fingers brush you in just the right way. His motions stop, a dark grin coming over his features, he removes his fingers from you as you whine.

“Well then my dove.” he says, “Let the fun begin.”

[scintilla-iris]

Gone With The Wind

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮'𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼

Authors Note: This is a project I wrote forever ago after rewatching Anne With An E for the third time that I have since rewritten to fit a different period (now, obviously, Bridgerton inspired), I do hope you (whoever "you" may be") Enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe,if interacted with enough, this will not be the only part in the series. Enjoy!

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Florence was sure her father would run holes into the carpet with his pacing about the drawing room, and if the smoke from his pipe wasn’t suffocating her the grip her weeping mother had on her ribcage sure was. She wanted to rip herself from the confines of her corset and tear her lungs from her chest, but she was trying her best to maintain her composure, it was best not to make a fuss when her father was in a mood (which was much more often than not). “Did you know?” Her father asks, stopping in his tracks to point the bowl of his pipe in her face. Florence straightens, opening her mouth to speak and closing it once more. Her mother hiccups beside her, choking on her tears. “Of course she didn’t, Horace, how could you accuse her of such a thing.” Her mother rises from her seat, attempting to stop the man who has once more continued his pacing. Florence takes in a shaky breath, raising a hand to her throat as she struggles to calm her beating heart. Her parents continue to argue as attempts to right herself. “Our daughter is gone, Maud, she has up and disappeared in the night and now there is no one–” Florence’s father huffs, coughing into his open palm. Her mother reaches out to him and he brushes her off, fixing his pipe into his mouth once more. He talks around it, turning to face Florence once more. Florence looks up at him through wide eyes, hand around her throat tightening. “Venus is gone. I want no word of her uttered under this roof from now on.” Her father says, straightening his tie. “Furthermore, as there are no more eligible Meyers girls other than you, Florence…” He looks over to Florence’s mother. The woman has her mouth agape, wet eyes traveling between her husband and daughter. He clears his throat before continuing, blowing another cloud of smoke in Florence’s direction. She chokes on it, heaving as she doubles over on the couch. The grip she has on her throat tightening even more. She can’t breathe, her father continues regardless. “You will be replacing Venus at the ceremony tomorrow-” A gasp from her mother interrupts him before he resumes once more “…the Lionels have already spent a surplus of money on the wedding and I will not let that foolish girl throw away all my hard work.” “Oh god…” It’s Florence this time, and she clutches her stomach as her breaths become labored. “Oh god…” “Straighten up girl, or there’ll be two Meyers girls missing by the morning.” Her father threatens, leaving her with one last distasteful glance before exiting the room, her frantic mother tripping over herself in her hurry to follow. Florence’s head is spinning, her heart racing out of her control, and her lungs seem to be closing in on themself. However, as she falls in on herself alone in the drawing room she can’t seem to focus on her approaching fainting spell, or her newly rushed arranged marriage. Her eyes are locked on the large portrait of Venus lying on the drawing room floor, thrown to the ground in her father's anger. There was only two things Florence truly wanted at that moment:

A swift, painless death.

Or, her sister's eyes (staring back at her lifelessly) gouged and handed to her on a silver platter.

“May God never let me come across you, Venus, because this betrayal is one that will not be forgiven mercifully.”

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