#So like 2053

[mxtomituck]

I’m Taking Bets

How much longer do you think it’s going to be before someone leaks that Twitter and TikTok have been able to accurately “diagnose” people with mental illnesses?

And how much longer after that until we get a tell-all autobiography that says the reason they developed that AI was to specifically target ads to vulnerable communities (like advertising alcohol to people who Google “Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings Near Me”)?

Tell me in the tags your guesses. Let’s see if Apollo is in the room tonight.

[surrender-souls]

killer7 did something to my brain. you guys ever think of hand in killer7? i have so many thoughts, so many questions. forefront of my mind rn is what was kun lan’s taxi driver career in japan like.

[infriga]

My friend and I started watching Bodies cause we were curious about it and had just finished House of Usher so we were the mood for something else to watch, and we clocked the 1890's detective as gay so fast it's kinda hilarious. Sir you did not need to eye fuck the journalist like that.

[pondslime]

adam stanheight has the voice of a mcdonald's manager on 70mg of vyvanse working a double on promo day for szechuan sauce

[softestqueeen]

slipping and gliding pt. 1

pairing: natasha romanoff x afab!reader

summary: When the Avengers spend a day at the local water park, you start to see a certain redhead in a different light. You’ve never had anything with a woman before, but Natasha doesn’t mind showing you what feels good.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! semi-public sex, fingering, shower sex, inexperienced reader, shy reader, kissing, pet names (sweetheart)

wordcount: 2053 words

a/n: Yess, finally I’m writing something that’s wlw! I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time, and this is the perfect scenario. Enjoy <3

After a few incredibly stressful weeks, filled with mission after mission, Tony Stark decided that the Avengers needed a little break. So, he did what was every teenagers wet dream. (pun intended)

He rented out a whole water park.

Jup. The whole thing, just for the lot of you.

But you didn’t mind it. You could lounge around, eat for free at the buffet, and when laying in the sun got too hot you could go for a swim or try out the huge slide, which was the highlight of the park.

You, the other girls of the team, and also a few of the other SHIELD agents, like Maria Hill were lounging around, when you suddenly had the urge to go down that huge slide. It just looked like so much fun and you definitely needed an adrenaline rush that was not induced by the possibility of getting killed.

You got up, announced to the group that you would check out the slide and off you were. After a few meters you noticed someone joining you.

When you looked to the side you saw your colleague and good friend Natasha Romanoff falling into step with you.

“You can only use the slide with someone else. There are only swimming rings for two. But I’ll gladly go with you.”, after that the redhead sent you a wink and a smile. Only a small whispered ‘thank you’ left your lips before you looked ahead of you again and got lost in your thoughts.

Did she always look this good? This was the first time you noticed how smooth her hair falls over her shoulder or how beautiful the head looks that sits on that pretty neck. Her skin was flawless, and she looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. You could see why she was called the most beautiful Avenger.

Did you feel attracted to Natasha? No, that’s impossible. You’ve never felt something for another woman, nor had something with one and you and Nat were only friends! Why did she suddenly make you feel this way?

It seemed like it was only getting warmer and warmer and you were glad that you were about to go on that slide and get into the icy water.

The two of you were silent on the way up, the stairs seeming to stretch into eternity. But before you could overthink your feelings even more, the two of you arrived at the top and the instructor showed you how to sit down on the swimming ring.

Nat sat down into the first opening, and you sat down in front of her. You both laid down flat and you laid onto her, your head between her boobs and your lower back touched her most intimate parts.

Being this close to her made you feel some kind of way. You didn’t have too much time to think about it though, because in the next moment you were sliding down, and all other thoughts were gone.

You and Nat enjoyed the short but exciting ride, screaming in excitement . You hit the water and felt Natashas body covering yours before she smoothly slid up from you and dived to the surface. You followed after her and when you both resurfaced and made eye contact, you broke out into laughter.

It seemed like everything went back to normal, though you still couldn't get her out of you head and stop your racing mind.

You returned the ring and made you way back to the towels and lounge chairs. Once there you grabbed a towel and a fresh bathing suit.

“I’m going to head to the lockers, I need to put on a dry bathing suit.”, you told Nat before heading to the building where the lockers were. There were also showers and changing rooms inside of it, so all of it was easily accessible.

You entered the building and went to the showers. Putting down your towel and dry change, you were about to take off your bikini when you felt two hands grabbing your waist and turning you around.

You could just make out Nat’s face before she pressed you against the wall and pressed her lips to yours. You let out a surprised gasp before you got lost in her taste, her scent seeming to overwhelm you. She grabbed your waist again and pulled your wet bodies against each other before she grabbed your ass with her free hand. The sudden action made you gasp, and Nat didn’t waste this opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Her hands start to roam your body and you were getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

When you both pulled away, Nat whispered against your lips. “I know you want this too, sweetheart.”

You just nodded, not listening to what she was actually saying. You just wanted, no needed, to feel her lips against yours again. You put one of your hands on the back of her neck and the other one went to her waist.

You pulled her in and connected your lips again. Both your and Nat’s hands were now freely roaming and groping each other. You were sure that the wetness you were feeling did not just come from the pool.

You were kissing a little more before you felt Nat’s thigh between your legs, pressing up against you, stimulating your clit and making you moan into her mouth. She kept on moving her thigh and squeezing your hips, holding you in place. It didn’t take long before you felt Nat’s hand roaming again and wandering towards your middle.

You were quick to catch her wrist, stopping her from going any further. She pulled away and looked at you, puzzled, because she thoughts that’s what you wanted.

“I’m sorry Nat. I haven’t done any of this before.”, you told her while looking at the floor, not daring to look into her eyes that you were sure were filled with anger towards you.

But Nat was having none of it and put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her understanding and soft gaze.

“You’ve never had sex before? Sweetheart are you a virgin?”, she asked you without a hint of deception in her voice.

“Well, I had sex before, just never with a woman. I guess in that aspect; yea, I’m still a virgin.”, you answered with a sheepish smile and a blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good. Trust me.”, she whispered against your lips before she kissed you again and you believed her every word.

She kept pressing her thigh against you and you slowly started to meet her thrusts and grind down on her, slowly gaining more confidence.

Her hands started roaming your body again, while you were still holding onto her neck and waist. Her hand was slowly wandering towards your core again, but before she touched you, she pulled away.

“Is it okay when I touch you here, sweetheart?”, she asked you.

You just nodded before pressing your lips against hers again.

Her hands travelled towards your wet pussy, going under your bikini bottom. You let out a soft gasp when you felt her hand moving between your folds. She tested out the waters by spreading your wetness around, caressing your folds before making contact with your swollen clit.

Feeling her at your sensitive clit made you moan into her mouth. The kiss wasn’t as heated anymore but slowed down felt more intimate. Her thigh stopped pressing against you now that her hand took over.

She removed her hand and pulled away, making you whine and chase her lips.

“Patience, sweetheart.”, were the only words that left her mouth before she opened the strings on your bikini top.

Her thigh went back to your cunt, stimulating you while she started caress your boobs. She slowly traced them with featherlight touches before she went over to straight up groping you. You let out moans and whimpers at the stimulation you were getting both from her thigh and her hands.

Her hands on you felt incredible and you wished you could feel her on you forever. She leaned forwards and started to trail kissed over your boobs and over your sternum. Your hand moved from her neck into her hair when you felt her lips on one of your perked nipples.

She slightly sucked on it and circled her lips around it, just how you imagined she would do it with your clit. The thought of her mouth on your cunt made a new flood of wetness rush to your core.

She repeated the same treatment on your other breast before she completely pulled away.

“How about we take this to the shower?”, she asked you with a smile on her face.

“That sounds good.”, you answered her, but you were quickly left speechless when you saw Nat taking off her black bathing suit.

She was breathtaking. She was always beautiful but seeing her completely bare was something else. The soft curve of her breasts and hips, her toned stomach and legs that seem to go on forever.

She took your hand in hers to lead you to one of the showers and once she turned around you could see a small tattoo adorning her lower back. That simple fact made her seem even more human and vulnerable, the fact that under that beautiful façade was a human being that had gone through so much.

But once she put on the shower and you felt the droplets of water gliding down your bodies all other thoughts were erased from your mind. All that was left was the sight of Natasha under the stream of water, momentarily closing her eyes to feel the warm water.

You joined her under the spray, pressing your lips against hers. She was quick to press you against the wall again, immediately taking over.

The kiss got more intense, and her hand went to your pussy again. She started to slide between your folds and circled your clit, finding a steady rhythm.

Once you’ve gotten used to the feeling of her hand against you, Nat took it a step further. With her middle finger she entered your tight pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. She slowly started to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger while her thumb was stroking your clit, and her other hand was groping your ass. Your hips were moving against her hand and your wet bodies were pressed together, gliding over each other, the steady stream of the water only made it more sensual.

When she added a third finger you could feel the coil in your stomach starting to tighten. Nat could feel you clench around her fingers and started pumping them faster, also adding to the pressure on your clit.

You came with shout that was muffled by Nat’s mouth, while she was gradually becoming slower, helping you through your orgasm.

Once you calmed down, she pulled her fingers out of you and gently cupped your face. She pecked your lips before pulling you completely under the stream of the shower with her. She left for a moment, getting some shower gel that was provided and started washing you, her hands gliding over your body making you all worked up again. She lathered shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp and making you melt into her hands.

Once she was done, you felt the urge to feel her body again, so you gave her the same treatment; gently washing her body and her hair.

Nat pecked your lips once again, before turning off the shower and getting a towel, drying your body and hair before doing the same with herself. Both of you got dressed in some dry clothing.

But before the two of you left the locker area, Nat turned to you.

“How about we cut this little trip short and continue with what we started, sweetheart?”, she asked you, a breathtaking smile on her lips and no shame about her suggestion.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.”, you truthfully answered before taking her hand in yours, excited about what she has in store for you, once you were back at the tower.

a/n: i'm thinking about writing a part 2, so please tell me if you's like to see/read one. i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

part 2

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

[erinthelemon]

The Nightmare

summary: bucky has a nightmare and you comfort him.

warnings: swearing, talks of nightmares, Bucky.

word count: 2053

The night was windy and dark, and presented some sort of shield around the lightness on the earth. The wind shuddered the strong windows, that claimed to be shatter-proof though on a night like this it seemed questionable, I looked out onto the city, filled with quiet streets; nobody to be seen. Our cities once bustling and frustratingly loud voices had stood to a silence as night introduced itself, the moon glistened and held power over the city never once there before, calling all its inhabitants back to their houses and settling in for the night. From my view, high up in the tower, slight shines of humanity glared into me from kitchens of someone’s midnight feast and someone who’d had a bad sleep. That’s the reason i was awake, not for fear of my own dreams, but disturbance of someone else’s.

I lived in my workspace, like it never stopped, sandwiched between people who had reason to care for me and make me feel loved in a way the rest of my life had never shown me. The luck i felt for being in this type of environment, made me feel worthy of anything i get. The sound of uneasy breaths, and stumbling escapes from the room next to me: Bucky. He often found himself in this situation, and either me or Steve would help him through the toughness of this time. I moved from the window of life, and dreaded to look at his body that screamed in agony of what’s haunted him in his sleep. I run to my door, grasping the handle and throwing it open, to get to him as fast as i possibly could.

He shuddered and jerked as though a puppet, with strings still controlled by HYDRA and haunting him at every living moment. His life served up on a plate for them to continuously tourment and play around with. Although he has been safe from their grasp for a few years now, he mentally and emotionally suffered whether he’d admit it to us or not, deep down he was a man with much trauma, biased he was fine, when deep inside most knew he was not. With time, I had been able to become one of his closest friend, following Steve of course, their friendship would never falter. And duties of a close friend, meant I am to care for him in his sensitive state.

He was not yet awake from his nightmare, I tiptoed towards his bed so as not to make any loud noises, caring for the creaky floorboards id managed to map out having been in here one too many times, safely reaching his bed. I knew i had to take this one step at a time, experienced in how to make him calm. Though he was still thrashing around, i climbed onto the bed sitting on the edge, and gently moved my hand towards his head, to see if he’d recognise the touch, at an instant he stopped his rash movements, though still asleep; realising the soft touch that so desperately aimed to calm him. Yet he didn’t wake up, the hand i’d placed on his head now aimed to stoke his brunette hair, which was tucked neatly into a bun towards the back of his head, however it was now messy and much of the strands were hanging out the bun.

Without him moving around, I couldn’t help but examine the stillness of his nature, his face still tense but sweet looking, his forehead sweaty and scattered with hairs escaped during the daunting night, and his once rough breathing soothed to a calmness. Before I could take in the features of his face more closely, he stirred and i moved as to not get in his space (anymore than i had). His figure flung up to be sat upright, the nightmare had continued into his still sleeping frame, and beads of sweat trickled down his smooth skin. He sat up with his breathing still shaky, as he took in air, not yet noticing me. I admired him.

It took him several moments to realise i was there, silently i sat back onto the edge of the bed. Allowing him to go at his own pace as to not force contact he did not want. A comfortable silence was placed in the dark, now peaceful room. I waited for him to speak first, giving the freedom he had not had for the time he’d had in his haunting thoughts. As he watched his hands in front of him, I sat viewing him, taking in his beautiful features, questioning how someone could go through such a dream and end up, although disheveled, still pretty at ever inch of him. However rather than speaking he just turned to me and tugged at my arm, leading me to move closer to his frame. The quietness in his actions sparked in me there was to be no speaking until i left him. Once i’d moved closer he tapped on the bed, urging me to sit down next to him. A silent thought that revoked me to wish his grant for peace, after the hell he’d just been in.

I slid my slippers off, and shuffled onto the bed as to not make so much noise, due to his fragile state. After sitting in silence for several minutes, Bucky puts are arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a bone crushing hug, almost as if, if he didn’t grip onto me as hard as he was I’d disappear. I slowly hugged back and used my hands to rub his back, soothing him to relax and potentially go back to sleep. The hug felt like it went on for a lifetime, not that i could complain; I never let go until i felt him pulling away. The room felt cold no longer in his touch, and i felt i needed to enter the hug again, however refrained due to not wanting to outstay my welcome.

I began to move to the edge of the bed once again, moving the hair off of his forehead and giving him a light kiss on his forehead. A silent way of saying goodnight to him, and I got up to leave his room, allowing his space to sleep. However when i reached the wooden door and went to push down the metal door handle, he coughed, in which i turned around.

“Y/n, stay. Please.” he whispered, his voice croaky from sleep, perhaps still strained from the screams, but seems pleading.

With this request, I nodded. Although this has never been done before, i just wanted him to sleep well and whatever would help him do that. Though my heart skipped a beat when he asked me to, knowing nothing would happen, but the thought of him wanting me to stay the night with him, made me adore him more. Making me think he feels safe with me. I walked my way back towards his bed, grabbing the blanket off his chair by the window and stealing a cushion off his bed, placing them on the floor next to his bed. In the faint light, due to the light under the door from the kitchen I could see his eyebrow furrow.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he asked voice above a whisper.

“I’m sleeping on the floor.” I whispered back, not wanting to intrude on his space.

To this he just patted the bed, and nodded his head to the spot next to him. I picked up the pillow and put it back onto his bed, and the fluffy blanket back onto his chair. Then to him, I lifted the covers and climbed in, to the warm, comforting bed. Then he moved over, and i turned around so I could give him space, his breathing was quiet and steady which lulled me into a peaceful sleep.

As morning approached, the birds chirped and flew into the distance. The light flooded into the room through gaps in the blinds. Admittedly I’d never seen Bucky’s room in the light, only entering when he had a nightmare, as he didn’t often want to go in his room reminding him of the nights he spent there. As my eyes opened slowly to adjust the light, I felt a heaviness on my body. I looked down to my waist and his hand was neatly wrapped around it. A smile settled on my face, i turned over slowly as to not wake him up. His face peaceful, something I’d never seen before fully. Especially when he’s bathed in the morning light. His mouth slightly opened and his soft breathing graced my ears. I sat gazing at him, until he eventually spoke.

“Quit looking at me, I’m quite awake.” He muttered with a chuckle following. A noise so adorable I could almost melt, I’d never had this intimacy with him, and yet it felt so right. Almost making me want to kiss him, however this thought made me panic and so I went to move out of the bed. Although his hand felt this movement and pulled me closer.

“Bucky, please I have a gym session with Nat at 7.” I didn’t, I just couldn’t bear the intimate moment that struck up thoughts I’d never thought, which could lead to an end in our friendship if he didn’t feel the same.

“No you don’t, because I have a session with her sparring.” Shit, I thought. How do i get out of this now.

“Oh, maybe i got mixed up, Wanda. That’s who it is, I’ve got to go. Sorry!” I panicked, words getting mixed up. Trying to get up again, but being held down by his hand.

“Doll, what’s going on? Am i making you nervous?” he said with a smirk gracing his plump lips, which made my heart sore to my stomach.

“No!” I spluttered, making a fool of myself.

“What’s making you so nervous, doll?” he muttered in my ear, my heart now in my feet it seemed. The nickname and the smirk combined made me weak.

“Nothing.” i lied, trying to get my nerves back, worried he’d see through my lies.

“Are you sure it’s not how close we are? I’ve wanted to ask you to stay for a long time now, I guess i just was too out of it to care. Looks like i made the right decision.” He murmured still close to my ear, the secret now out in the open, crazed my mind. Without thinking, i couldn’t control what happened next.

I pushed myself forward, looking into his blue eyes for a split second, trying not to get lost in them, then aiming straight for his lips. They were like a soft cushion, they were plump and our lips slotted perfectly together. At first he didn’t kiss back, to which my heart sank believing id made the wrong decision, but as soon as his lips started to move against mine any misjudgment left my mind, the kiss was slow and steady to begin with. With the first taste of him, the hunger increased in me, it became more intense and his tongue began to explore my mouth. Our tongues danced in unison as if made for each other, exploring everywhere they could. At this point i was leaned against his chest, feeling the pace of his heart, it beat rapidly allowing the confidence that the kiss was the right idea. When we pulled away, i slowly blinked and stared into his eyes, where he leaned forwards and pecked my lips.

“So tell me how great at kissing i am?” he said with a cocky smirk, to which i slapped his arm lightly. Sending him a judgemental stare, before giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“You’ll do.” i teased, and then got out of his grasp, and he sent me a confused look, which nearly made me melt once again. “We should do this again sometime.” i winked towards him and then exited the room.

I contained myself before i got back into my room, and did an excited dance and then got ready for what awaits. All i wanted and more was Bucky Barnes, and now i’m only a few steps away from getting him forever.

a.n. so this is my first post so i hope it’s okay 😭

[banquetwriter]

Can you do a Johnnie x reader like you go to one of Tara’s parties and it’s just you guys having fun and going home together and super cute

୨୧ Karaoke ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ reader is hungover a lil, cursing, drinking (nothing bad tho just a party) one kiss 🤭

summary: ʚ you share a first kiss with Johnnie at another one of Taras parties ɞ

Words: 2053

An: AHHH THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE WE NEED MORE FLUFFY JOHNNIE STUFF!! i hope this is what you meant and i can def do one where it’s just y’all at home (👀)

SUPPORT ME

You could hear your phone ringing. You weren't sure where exactly. You felt the natural urgency to pick your it up. You opened your eyes, squinting at the sunlight that leaked into your room. You answered the phone with a creaky little “Hello?” you asked. Flopping on your back.

The tiredness of waking up suddenly filled your body. “Y/n? ARE YOU STILL ASLEEP?” Tara’s voice shrills through your phone. You wince holding the phone away from your ear in pain. “Yes Tara, I WAS still asleep until you called me. I am still hungover… I think.” you said rubbing your eyes, you felt something weird on your hands so you looked at them only to reveal dried crusty makeup… Perfect!

Falling asleep with your makeup on is super cute. “Y/n! It's 2 pm! You have my party later! You can be hungover tomorrow, ok?” she said. You hear rattling sounds, she is presumably setting stuff up while calling you. You take the phone from your face to reveal it is, infact, 2:13 pm. You put the phone back up to your face, sighing.

“Yeah I remember, don't worry,” you mumbled, turning over. “Ok good, and take care of yourself seriously, eat like a salad or some shit,” Tara says as you let out a little giggle at her words. “Will do Tara,” you say, finally standing up and stretching.

“Bye y/n.” you hear her say before the call ends. “Mmmmm fuck.” you mumble to yourself rubbing your face, with your hands. You check your phone to see a text from Carrington asking if you are still collabing today.

“Damnit,” you mumble, pulling up the text chain. You confirmed the collaboration and suggested a video idea of streaming you guys trying the deli food from Erewhon for the first time. He agreed to the idea, you took a shower, got half ready, and filmed the stream with your friend.

All the comments talking about just how rough you looked were not helping your confidence any. You knew that they were joking but still. It didn't make you feel very good or very motivated to dress cute for the party tonight.

A party where Johnnie WOULD be. And as stupid as it was to admit you wanted to impress him so much. So after the video was filmed of eating shitty and overpriced food you managed to pull yourself together to get ready. Hoping back in a shower to shave and go the full nine yards.

You put on a damn cute outfit that was sure to earn a few edits from your fans. You did your makeup and hair to your liking and the night was looking up. You frizzed and messed with the last strand of your hair before snapping a picture for your Instagram story.

You were feeling a little mischievous and decided to put a song in the background as one of Johnnie’s. You picked “Angel of Death” since you helped him direct that one. You posted the black-and-white selfie and audibly giggled at the thought of seeing him within the next hour or so.

You hopped into an Uber and eventually made it to Tara’s party. The bright lights and music created a lively and bright atmosphere. You set your bag in Tara’s room and made your way through the living room saying hi to all your friends.

Managing to get to the rooftop where Tara and the rest of the gang were. “Heyyyy,” you said creeping up behind your short friend. “Y/n!” she shouts, wrapping her arms around you.

You get pulled into a tight and warm hug, smelling the alcohol on her breath. “Y/n, what's up?” Sam asked, looking up from his seat on a couch. Fairy lights and another speaker were set up outside.

There were a bunch of people all packed into the smaller space. “I'm good, what about you?” you ask, taking a cup from the table. “Were good were good. We just heard about you being a little hungover this morning from Tara.” Sam said, squinting as he took a sip of his drink.

You faked a look of offense as you looked at Tara. She has a giant grin making her hand into a heart as an apology. “Tsk tsk. I was not hungover! I was just recovering from one the previous day, ok?” you say in defense of yourself as you sit next to Johnnie and Colby.

“Well, that's not what we heard,” Colby said next to you, holding his hands up. “I was hungover yesterday and these two dumbasses forced me to try 7/11 pizza so yeah this morning was a rough time ok?” you say pointing to Jake and Johnnie.

Jake’s mouth flew open in offense. “Woah ok the Pizza was NOT that bad.” he grabbed a bottle of alcohol pouring some into his cup. Johnnie let out a dry laugh beside you, you turned to him smiling. “Ok, y/n we believe you. And you didn't wake up next to that server we saw mmmm?” Tara said, moving her shoulder a little.

“Hell no I didn't wake up next to no fucking server. You're one to talk by the way,” you said, sipping whatever was in your cup. “Whatever,” Tara says as you settle into the couch.

The air was cold but there were heat lamps surrounding the terrace. The next warmest thing was Johnnie's body. He was so close to yours that you could practically feel his heat radiating onto your skin. “Was the pizza that bad?” Johnnie whispered into your ear.

“No not really but Jake woke me up at the ass crack of dawn to stream that so,” you whispered back. You could smell his cologne and the smell of cigarette smoke on him. You know that smoking wasn't a good habit but fuck he did look hot when he did.

“Hey, it was like 11 when we filmed that. It was not that early ok?” he said back his voice louder this time. Not that anyone noticed. Everyone else was absorbed in their conversations at this point. You giggle slightly at his words.

Your eyes look up to meet his. It's hard under all his hair and messy eye makeup to see his bright blue eyes, but you manage. You stare into them for almost too long. You close your eyes forcing yourself to look away. You’re scared you might have never been able to look away if it wasn't for the fact you were both at a party with other people.

Including all of your and his friends who would tease you both if you were gazing into each other's eyes. “Hey, I was hungover that day, ok? 11 is way too fucking early to be up hungover.” you say in defense of yourself for what feels like the millionth time this night alone, downing whatever was in your cup.

You inhaled sharply feeling the roaring effects of the alcohol as it burned its way down your throat. “Yeah, that's completely fair,” Johnnie says, moving his head slightly to move his hair. You purse your lips together moving your body to face the group again.

Johnnie stays looking at you, his shoulders now completely blocking your view of Jake. Not that you were complaining of course. The night moved on, and you didn't drink a lot, not trying to upset your stomach further of course.

By now you, Jake, and Johnnie were all doing some shitty karaoke downstairs. You of course had picked a PTV song and were attempting to nail the notes. After your throat was sore you handed the microphone off to Jake and sat next to Johnnie once again.

Jake had picked some Billy Joel song he and was failing miserably. You and Johnnie were both giggling away at his antics. You pulled out your phone to record him. “Oh god are you actually gonna post that?” Johnnie asks with a grin.

“Duh. Probably just put it on my Instagram story,” you said nudging him slightly. There is a beat of silence between you two before Johnnie speaks again. “Is there a reason you posted your picture to my song?” Johnnie asked.

Your hands, which were still holding your phone, dropped slightly. You felt a rush of heat flood your face as your brain short-circuited. Trying to come up with an excuse for your random amount of boldness.

“Oh- I just- I-” you stuttered out turning the video off. You felt like a fish out of water flapping around for any excuse you could think of. And thank whatever god may exist as your prayers were answered as Jake handed the microphone to Johnnie.

“What? Dude, I'm not singing.” Johnnie said, looking at Jake’s hand holding the microphone. “Duuuude!” Jake says dramatically slouching down, feeling the obvious effects of the liquor. “Dude you're literally a singer,” you say looking at him, your eyebrow cocked up.

“I-” he starts to speak before looking at his friend and then at you. You nod your head in encouragement, he closes his eyes with a sigh. “Fine,” he mutters, grabbing the microphone. He takes a few seconds to queue up a song.

You don't record this time. Just laugh with your friends as Johnnie attempts to sing a song. His eyes catch yours for a moment, and his voice breaks and slowly stops working. It seems like time slows down only your heartbeat can be heard

It feels like for a few seconds your worlds combined. The eyes that were watching Johnnie apparently caught up to him as he suddenly looked around the room. He tries to pick up the pace of this song and fails miserably. Completely missing half the words.

Your breath catches in your throat and you decide you need a break. You swallow deeply, stand up and almost run out of the room. You weren't sure what you were doing, just that you felt like your insides were suffocating.

You made it to the kitchen grabbing an empty solo cup and filling it up with water. You gulped down a few drinks of it before sitting up on a counter. You wipe a drop of water that fell from your mouth as footsteps alert you someone walked into the kitchen.

You turn to see that Johnnie is slowly creeping into the room. “Hey,” you said looking back down at your feet that rested against the cabinet. “Hey,” he said, walking around the kitchen island facing you. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the opposite counter as you.

“Y-yeah I'm fine. Just got a little intense back there I guess,” you said gesturing to the living room where we both just were. “Did you really wake up with that server?” he asks, barely able to keep eye contact.

You laugh slightly “God no.” you mutter out once again looking down. “Tara And Kat were making a bunch of jokes about it but I was never into him don't worry.” you say trying to laugh it off.

He doesn't say anything, just slowly getting closer to you. You looked up at him. You feel your eyes lock again.

You don't shy away this time. You let Yourself hold eye contact. That familiar feeling in your face travels back in. Your breaths move at similar paces as he slowly shares your space.

You tried to speak but no words came out. You're glad they don't truthfully. Johnnie's hand slowly comes up and meets your face, holding your chin. He moves in between your legs and pulls your face in for a kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed as your lips meet. You swear you could hear fireworks exploding in your brain. He was so so so close, but you needed him closer. The cup was long abandoned as your hands reached up to pull his face closer.

It seems to work as his whole body moves next to you, touching you. His hand, the other one that wasn't holding your face steady moves to hold himself on the counter.

You're not sure how long it was before you moved away from him for a breath. You feel the heat in your cheeks move down to your neck and chest and you look down. “Wanna get out of here?”

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Ziehen

Chapter Thirty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Zachariah, Crowley, Dick, Bobby, Sam and Benny

Word Count: 2053, with other media

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, talk of extra-curricular activities coming up, a thirst trap because Jensen has been unfair lately, Benny being a teddy bear, and Bela trying to make amends

Series Masterlist

“And between record store day and Phantom Traveler’s release, Q2 is looking to break records for us,” Zachariah droned on.

“Well, it’s the least they could do,” Dick added glibly.

You couldn’t roll your eyes, you were on camera, but you wanted to. Crowley didn’t reply, but Zachariah chuckled and took a beat to agree before going on down the line of his report. Bobby huffed, but kept a lid on it, which told you how much he knew Dick was right.

“Things are shaping up well with pre-orders and the appearances Bobby and company have lined up between Vegas and New Orleans with the album release.  should outshine their previous album sales by a wide margin,” Crowley tacks on, almost bored with the success.

You set that up, not Bobby, but you kept your mouth shut, nodding.

“Y’all can thank Y/N for that, you know,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Of course,” Dick agreed offhandedly, eyes darting down to other parts of his screen.

Thank God for Bobby. You simply smiled and kept listening.

“Sounds great, people! Let’s check back the week of the release to ensure we’re still on track. We’ve got a lot of numbers to move to get in the black here, but I see good things happening,” Dick smarmed and instantly sent a meeting invite for the following month. 

“Thank you!” you replied dutifully and closed the window for the chat. After accepting the invite and adding it to your personal calendar, you exhaled long and hard. You checked your phone, Bela had called again and left another two text messages. You ignored her. She could wait.

You called Bobby for a mix of mutual griping and to debrief about where that put you all going forward. 

Without even a greeting, Bobby started, “I swear they get dumber every quarter.”

“Tell me about it. Thanks for having my back in there, though, I was starting to see red by the end.”

“You and me both, darlin’.” Bobby huffed. “The amount of stuff you get done is amazing. Even without all the run-around from the last tour, you are doing more than anybody I’ve seen in your position. We appreciate ya, even if the suits can’t see past their nose jobs.”

You beamed.

“Thanks. So, what’s on the agenda for the week? I know Dean and Sam took Gibson and Pamela to the zoo.”

“Yeap. Got the Midway Museum tomorrow if you have time, got tickets for anybody who wants to go. Might be good time for pictures if you need some candids for the socials.”

You knew this was his way of telling you to come, he even gave you justification for doing it on so called work hours.

“Maybe. I might just steal some from the band. Too much to get done before the show on Thursday.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join us if you get caught up or not.”

“Thanks.” It felt like all you could say to him today. It was a small word with a lot of connotations, but you were grateful. You owed Bobby so much. Though he never gave anything he didn’t want to give or for any form of repayment. He was too good for this industry. They all were.

“I’ll keep you posted. I have calls with the next couple of venue coordinators today and then some event security stuff tomorrow morning with Benny for some non-venue signings and stuff.”

“You still want to do the battered women's shelter thing?”

“The domestic violence survivors fundraiser in Vegas? Absolutely.”

Bobby hummed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bobby. And that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“Do you think it looks like pandering?”

“I think it looks like community service. And if I didn’t think Dean could handle it, I wouldn’t have signed him up for it.”

“Even after that little disappearing act on Saturday?”

“Dean is a domestic abuse survivor, Bobby. Part of what he’s gone through is accepting that.”

“Yeah, but Cas—.”

“Cas is still family. And he didn’t press charges. And you know Dean—- penance is something he needs to do for himself, too.”

Bobby sighed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Trust me, this is still my good side.”

Bobby actually chuckled at that. “I bet! Okay, I should get going, promised the missus we’d hit the shops before dinner.”

“Have a good one.”

“Alrighty, bye then.”

You smiled at your desk as Bobby hung up. He was happy and Annie was good for him. It didn’t matter their pasts, they made it work, and made each other better along the way.

Which seemed utterly remarkable and unattainable for somebody like you.

But if anybody deserved it, it was them.

You put down your phone and pulled up Twitter, it was time to dig through the chaos and do what you did best: highlight the good, the band's synergy and the new momentum and bury the bad. 

Which seemed to include you this time around, unfortunately.

After Twitter, you tackled Insta, Reddit and even FB, though most people cross posted the same images and anecdotes, some people only used one of the bunch. And some only used them on pain of death, namely Dean. Meanwhile, Bela had posted a couple of great shots from the afterparties, which you liked as the band and as yourself. 

You were crabby, not petty.

And busy, damnit.

The next morning, Sam smirked at you when he caught your eye in the hotel’s gym. He was already sweating from running outside, but must have come back to stretch or work something more intensely. What you weren’t expecting was Dean to be hot on his heels, equally as sweaty, equally as mischievous.

“Trouble! How’s business?” 

You rolled your eyes and took out an earbud, not sure you really heard them.

“What’s up?”

“We’re gonna lift— you want in?” Sam was teasing you now.

You pedaled stiffly and shook your head. “Fuck no, I’m good here, got another ten mile circuit after this breather.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean taunted and grinned before he crossed his legs and touched his toes. What the hell? Luckily there was only one other guest using the elliptical, so they weren’t being complete nuisances, yet.

They weren’t even directly in your line of sight, otherwise it could have gotten awkward, and distracting.

Still, you felt them keep glancing at you, making faces, and even cheering for you when you shifted up with your ass out of the seat to get the best angle for the various hills. You flipped them off, but kept your eyes forward and your earbuds in place.

Thirty minutes later, you groaned and stepped off the stationary bike. Dean and Sam had been talking more than doing curls with the free weights, obviously being dorks about each other’s efforts.

Boys.

“Good workout?” Dean asked as you sanitized your equipment. Sweat clung to your oversized tank top, all down your back, and between your legs. Thank god you wore your black workout leggings today.

“Yeah? You?” You smirked as Dean made a show of extending his movements slowly and pointedly. Yes, Dean, your arms should be illegal, you thought.

“Good, uh— need help stretching?”

You looked at him a little dumbfounded and then back at Sam, who seemed just as surprised as you were by the offer.

“Nah, I’ve got my bands and stuff in my room. Though, I bet Sam would love to see you try and bullshit your way through a cool down routine,” you tacked on, trying to laugh off the offer. Inside you were imagining Dean’s weight against you, pushing your knees up and out, flexing your hip joints with his thick fingers digging into the meat of you…

“Hey! I was just being nice.”

“Dude,” Sam muttered.

You sighed and gave Dean an apologetic smile. “Maybe another time.”

You pretended not to hear the series of slaps that happened behind your back as you made your way to the elevator and your generic hotel shower.

Benny treated you to lunch after your video calls with the S.A.F.E. House staff and the one with the folks at the radio station who’d be interviewing the band the morning of the first Vegas show. 

“Saw your tweet on Cas’ post,” you added thoughtfully, midway through your shrimp po boys.

“Yeah, well, didn’t want him thinking he done wrong by us.”

You chewed and nodded, silently telling him that you got it, appreciated it even. 

“You hear anything else from the guys about the last show, you know, after Dean disappeared and, um, everything?”

You needed to know if the guards were loyal, but mostly you wanted to know what they had seen.

“Seemed pretty anticlimactic to most of them, from what I hear. Dean came through, sober and clean as a whistle. —Even the venue goons didn’t clock anything weird,” Benny pointed out before taking another bite, his teeth flashing in the afternoon sun.

After a few moments, Benny continued. “But, uh, that label stooge you got following Bela? He’s the one to worry about, really, seems to keep his cards close to the vest.”

Damn, you knew he was right before he even finished the sentence. Tiny would be the one to squeal to Crowley, or worse, Dick, at the end of the day. You wondered if you could buy him off or treat him in other ways while on the road. Bela wasn’t scheduled to be around until the second Vegas show, you had some time to figure out his motives. Or if he even cared at all.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

Benny sniffed and looked around the small patio outside the restaurant. “Bela’s not really Dean’s girl is she? She some kind of clout pusher?”

You swallowed and took a long slurp of your iced tea, washing away the now muted flavor of your lunch. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Benny. They’ve definitely been enjoying each other’s company more than I expected.”

“Perhaps—- but don’t you worry none. She’s not the type you settled down with and he’s got eyes deeper than the cut of her fancy tops.”

You huffed. Benny certainly had a way with words.

“It’s okay, Benny— I’m not in a place to be jealous.”

He just raised his eyebrows at you and took another bite.

“I did this— I set them up. I’d guess you’d call it reaping what I sow or something?”

Benny nodded and shrugged. “Or something.”

“You won’t— you won’t tell anybody, right? His story is safe with you?”

“Doll, I’ve been covering that boy’s ass since before Lisa— I’m true.”

“I know, Benny, sorry—- it’s just so much posturing all the time. I just want to take pictures and show the world how badass they are. I want people to hear the stories behind the songs, because it shows they’re human too. Sometimes I wish—-”

“Wishin’ for rain in the desert aint doin’ anybody a lick of good. You know the score, you just gotta beat them at their own game. Dean’s a good man, he knows what’s real. Don’t think we all don’t know that, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Know who your people are, if you trust Bela— then she won’t let Tiny think anything is up. Friends have each other’s back against the world, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, suddenly feeling ridiculously immature for ignoring her for the past few days.

“Eat up, cher. It’s a long tour. You’ll need your strength.”

That was an understatement, but you dug in anyway.

“Y/N, listen— I’ve resorted to leaving you a voicemail. It’s come to that. I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean anything disparaging about you the other night— just maybe about how you treat Dean. Not that it's bad, overkill more like, but it’s not like you’re bad or weak for doing it.--- I know how much you loved her, Y/N, I know. Him too, it seems. I just don’t want you wasting so much of your life trying to make up for losing her. It hurts to see you so— subservient. You are so much more than an errand girl. So I’m sorry for my lack of tact. But I’m not sorry I brought it up. Okay? There. Call me back and yell at me properly already, Jesus.”

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 32: Tronco

[mapis-putellas]

What we left behind.

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 2053

Warnings: talk of death. Vormir. Guns

Summary: Natasha was gone. At least, that's what you'd been told. She’d sacrificed herself; died to save everyone else, to bring back her family. If that was really the case, then who was at your front door?

The familiar sensation of a tear streaming down the side of your face breaks you from your thoughts as you stare up at the whirring blades of the fan. The wetness tickles your skin, but you couldn’t quite find it in you to wipe it away.

It had been nearly six months now since you’d lost your girlfriend, and that same old numbness still remains. It sits heavily on your chest like a blanket, except, this blanket wasn’t at all comforting. It was suffocating; restricting every single movement you make like a straight jacket.

The only thing you seem to know how to do anymore is cry, and even then they were pitiful tears, barely enough to warrant actual cries. It was almost as though you’d cried so much that all of your tears had simply run out. You’d all dried up.

Your eyes flicker almost subconsciously around the room. The only light came from a slit between the curtains at the window, the feeble brightness barely enough for you to make out anything other than the fine dust littering every surface. The sight of it brings you back to the last time you’d cleaned. It was over five months ago low, the day Natasha was supposed to come home.

Through the blip, neither you or Natasha had managed to find it in you to really keep your shared apartment tidy. You didn’t see the point, and Natasha just simply didn’t have the time. She was too busy with being team leader to what was left of the avengers.

But that had all changed when the plan of her going to vormir with Clint was put into action. She’d bring Yelena back with her, her mom and dad, and you’d share the first dinner in over five years with your girlfriend and family.

But then Clint had arrived back alone with the soul stone in hand, and a deep sense of unease had held you rigid until he’d shaken his head telling you she wasn’t coming back. That was when your whole world had fallen apart right in front of you.

You remember not being able to breath. You remember crying so hard you had physically made yourself sick. You remember the arms that had tried to wrap around you, and you remembered pushing them away in disgust. They weren’t Natasha’s arms. They weren’t allowed to touch you.

You remember leaving the compound and making your way back home to the empty, clean apartment you’d spent so long making perfect for her.

You remember the feeling of dread that had settled unceremoniously into your stomach. It remains there to this day as a constant reminder of what you’d lost. You remember everything about that day so vividly you want to erase it from your mind forever.

But you couldn’t.

Natasha was gone. She’d made her choice, and now you had to find a way to live with it no matter how badly it hurt to try.

*

And try you did. You woke up everyday despite never wanting to be conscious again. You went to work and pretended like seeing everyone was a blessing when in actual fact they brought you pain. You even managed to befriend Yelena, one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do.

She was a constant reminder of Natasha, and it was hard to differentiate the two in your deep stage of grief. You were sure you weren’t easy to be around for her either, but together you somehow managed to level one another out. It wasn’t perfect, and most days you fought like cats and dogs, but you were all each other had so you’d learnt to make it work.

It was on a normal Tuesday did all of that change.

There was a knock at your front door, the strength behind it both hesitant and wary. That, and the fact you weren’t expecting anyone raises the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and as grab your gun from it’s place in the locked drawer, you try your best to shake of the fear that had suddenly begun to run though you. Safety off and finger on the trigger, you reach forward and grasp the door handle before cautiously pulling open the door.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greets you on the other side. You stand there, body rigid; trembling in complete and utter terror as your eyes burn with the familiar sensation of tears. It was her face. Her hair. Her clothes, her body. But it couldn’t be. She was dead. She died.

This wasn’t her, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

An immediate feeling of dread creeps up from the pit of your stomach, and your pulse beats in your ears so loudly it blocks out all other sound. You go to raise your gun; because how dare this person torture you by pretending to be the love of your life -but raised hands promptly stop you in your tracks. You look at her, eyes wet with unshed tears desperate to fall.

She eyes you cautiously as she takes a small step closer, hands still either side of her head. “It’s me.” She seems to desperately plead, and at the sound of her voice, you feel the tightness in your throat grow a tenfold. It was her voice. This person had her voice too.

You try to say something; anything, but when you open your mouth, you come to find that even words had deserted you. It leaves you to release a choked sob despite your best efforts to stifle it, and you press your lips together in a futile attempt to prevent another from escaping as you tighten your grasp around the gun.

Your hands were noticeably trembling and unsteady, but the implication was there. You weren’t afraid to pull the trigger, and this person had to know that.

“P-prove it.” You somehow manage to choke out, and she nods, her throat bobbing as she looks away for just a second before speaking. You hate that your stomach clenches at the sight of the tears in her eyes.

Natasha used to show her emotions so rarely that each time she even came close to shedding a tear it would break your heart.

“We met just after my defection to shield. We didn’t like each other at first, because you thought I was too stubborn and hardheaded and I thought you were a self centred know it all.” She starts, and you hate the hope that begins to build in your stomach.

You were forced to remind yourself that this wasn’t hidden information. If you were around back then, you would know that Natasha and yourself never used to get along.

She seems to know this, because after a short moment, she continues. “You hate chocolate. The one time I got it for you for Valentine’s Day you waited until I was out of sight to give it to Peter. You hate the movie Up because it makes you cry. My sweater, the black one with the zip is your favourite because it’s oversized and smells like me. You…you used to wear it when I went on missions because it made you feel close. You used to sleep on my side of the bed when I wasn’t there because my pillow smells like my perfume,” she chuckles slightly as she uses one of her raised hands to wipe away the single tear that manages to spill down her cheek.

By now, you could feel your guard beginning to drop. Nobody knew this stuff. Nobody but Natasha. But it couldn’t be her. She was gone. It was a soul for a soul and she was the sacrifice. There was no other choice. She was dead. She was gone…wasn’t she?

“You think coffee is gross,” she continues, seemingly under the impression that you still weren’t convinced. “But you still kiss me even when I drink it. You call it the ultimate sacrifice.” At that part, your lips quirk up at the corners. It was an inside joke when you’d first gotten together. She’d make fun if you for not liking coffee and you’d kiss her just to shut her up.

“It’s our five year anniversary in two months. I was going to propose. I bought the ring and it’s in my underwear drawer underneath my socks. I wanted to spent the rest of my life with you, but then thanos…”

You drop the gun to the floor with a loud clatter and all but throw yourself against her body. Hesitant arms move from their raised position to settle gently around your waist, and you feel the tip of her cold nose nudge against the skin of your neck as she pulls you close to her.

“It’s you,” you choke out as you tightly fist the material of her jacket in your hands. You feel her nod against you, her hands fighting to grab purchase of any part of your body they could. She was shaking almost violently in your hold, whether that be from the cold or something else entirely. It forces you to tighten your grip around her, your hand rising to cup the back of her head.

“It’s me.” She whispers, voice trembling with emotion, “it’s me.”

*

You don’t know how long you remain in the threshold of the front door holding on to one another. It could have been seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew is that you never wanted to let go.

You never thought you’d get to hold her again. Feel the weight of her body in your arms and take in her intoxicating smell that had once brought you so much comfort. She was everything and you wanted to remain in this moment, right here, right now, for the rest of your life.

“Let’s…” you swallow heavily as you reluctantly pull her away from you and bring your hands up to cup her cheeks. Your thumb trails softly over the skin; just as soft as you remembered despite the tears staining it. “Let’s go inside, okay?” You whisper with a tender smile, and Natasha nods as she gently grasps your wrists in her hands.

Her wary eyes flicker down to your lips, and your smile becomes a little more genuine as you lean forward and place them tenderly against her own. They were warm, and soft; a feeling you’d missed dearly.

She gasps softly at the sensation of your lips against her own as her hands move from your wrists and down your back until they come to rest on either side of your waist. Her touch litters your skin with goosebumps, the caress of her hands on you for the first time in months an indescribable feeling.

Her bottom lip slots perfectly in between your own, an action that lingers as you trace the tip of your thumb over her jawline before reluctantly pulling away and resting her forehead against her own.

Her soft breath hits your lips as she clings to the shirt either side of your waist, and you feel your eyes fill with tears all over again as you pull her body into your own before closing the door behind her. Now that you were encased in the privacy of your own home, you watch as Natasha finally allows herself to break.

It starts off small. Quiet, hitched breaths as her unfocused eyes fill with tears. But then slowly, gradually, it gets bigger. Her chest heaves, her breathing intensifies, and she lets out a loud, unstifled sob as she falls defeatedly into your arms. Your own bottom lip trembles as you pull her body flush against your own, hands slipping beneath her jacket to desperately clutch at her shirt.

You were desperate to feel her skin against your own.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” You attempt to sooth, knowing no words would ever be good enough but desperate to try. “You’re back. You’re safe, and I love you. More than you could ever imagine.”

**

Part 2?

@goldenempyrean @mywitchy-assassin @romanoffsbish

[pedropascalsx]

Dabble request: F reader with Dieter Bravo. He finally wins a major award and the reader decides to award him with smutty sex

THE AWARD.

I slightly changed it and had them enter a bet… I hope that’s okay and I hope you like it. Also you sent this in April and I missed it, i’m so sorry it took so long.

Summary: you jokingly bet that you’ll fuck your best friend dieter bravo if he wins an oscar.

Warnings: Smut. P in V. Oral. (M&F receiving). Betting. Strong language. Dieter Bravo being… Dieter Bravo.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

Word Count: 2053

A/N: I tried LOL. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for reading an unfinished version of this fic and encouraging me to finish it. I didn’t edit it and I’m too scared to read it back… so I don’t know how many mistakes are in it 😭😂 ENJOY!!

You groan as your phone wakes you up from the most comfortable sleep you’ve had in weeks, before reluctantly kicking off your covers and stepping out of bed.

The photo of Dieter Bravo's smug face flashing up on your phone screen makes you roll your eyes and curse his name before you swipe to answer. “It’s 5AM Diet, if someone isn’t dead, you’re able to be,” you growl into the phone.

“Shut up,” he says with an obnoxious chuckle, “I’m cashing in on our bet, pretty girl.”

“What?” You say before stuttering, “No. Not today, I’m not playing any of your annoying games this early.. . I’m hanging up and I'm going back to sleep, asshat.” You say, with a wide smile spreading across your face from the sound of his chuckling.

“I can hear you smiling.” He remarks and you roll your eyes again at how easily he can read you.

“What do you want, Dieter? I’m tired.”

“I already told you, I’m cashing in on our bet. March 21st 2015. You said you’d fuck me when I win an Academy Award.” Dieter recalls, his voice dripping with its usual arrogance.

“Buying a fake one from Etsy doesn’t count,” you sigh, imagining he’s just dragged himself back to his hotel from some club, “Dieter, if you haven’t already, go to bed, get so—.”

“I’m nominated,” he interrupts, ignoring the irritation in your voice, “My agent called me fifteen minutes ago. For Hunger Strike - Best Leading Actor.”

“Dieter, you better not be fucking with me.” You squeal with excitement, almost jumping up and down on the spot.

“Not yet, I’m not, pretty girl.”

“When are you home?” You ask, suddenly forgetting how tired you are.

“Eager are we?” He says, his eyebrows raising and the first real smile forming across his face in weeks despite his nomination.

“Shut up, asshat, you’ve got to fucking win the thing first… and if I recall correctly, which I do, I think I said I’d consider fucking you if you ever win one and I only said it so you’d take that damn role.”

“Mhmm. Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘consider’ fall from those gorgeous lips before now,” he teases. “But jokes aside… Tell me you’ll come with me, I hate those fucking things, they’re only fun if you’re swooning over how handsome I am in a suit sitting next to me.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

“Come with me, pretty girl, put those shiny statues to shame, show them how you shine brighter.” He says, unaware of just how fucking cheesy he ends up sounding.

“Only if you buy me a burger after.” You say, glad he isn’t there to see the way you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Deal.”

*

You haven’t left his side for the past few days, he had asked you quietly to stay with him while he went through the required amount of press and you had made sure that your hand was close enough for him to squeeze when he needed it.

And today was no different, the confident Dieter Bravo the whole world thinks that they know, nowhere to be seen and instead the sweet Dieter that a few people have the pleasure of knowing sits beside you, looking at the dress bag containing the tuxedo he’ll be adorning in just a few hours time.

“You okay?” You ask, quietly bumping your shoulder against his.

“Ask me again when this is all over,” he says, before taking a generous sip of his drink. “I fucking hate red carpets.”

You take his hand and squeeze it a few times, before resting your head on those broad shoulders that you love so much.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m really fucking proud of you.” You murmur into his skin, “Always have been, you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.”

He shushes you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, grateful that you’re with him. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Let’s do this.” You say, with a little scrunch of your nose.

*

“And the Academy Award goes to… Dieter Bravo.” The gorgeous actress announces and you swear you can hear his heart beating.

He stands slowly, fiddling with the front of his jacket before turning to face you, immediately smashing his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss that steals your breath before shaking the hand of his director and making his way to the stage.

His speech is short but insightful. He makes sure to make eye contact with you as he thanks you for encouraging him to take the role and then shuffles off the stage as quickly as he can.

“Will you be mad if I suggest we skip the after party?” He asks after they finish engraving his oscar, the award ceremony now over and more hands shook than he could possibly be bothered to count.

“Not at all,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder, and inspecting his shiny new award.

“Room service burgers and a shitty movie to fall asleep in front of?” He suggests, before wrapping his hand around your waist.

“Sounds like heaven.”

*

“It’s really fucking pretty,” you say, your hands wrapped around the statue.

“Yeah,” he says, from somewhere behind you. Unable to stop his eyes from scanning up and down your body, and unable to ignore the way his heart leaps everytime he looks at you. “Second prettiest thing in this room.”

“I’d call you a charmer, but I'm pretty certain you’re about to announce that you’re in first place,” you say, turning around to face him with a giggle and a signature scrunch of your nose.

“No. It’s you.” He says, “In every room. It’s you.”

“Charmer.”

You both stand in comfortable silence for a few moments, just staring at each other before you take a step towards him. “Academy award winner, Dieter Bravo.”

“The one and only,” he scoffs, with a roll of his eyes. “You look really fucking beautiful by the way.”

“Shut up, asshat.” You mumble, now standing toe to toe. Unable to stop thinking about the bet that you had made a few years earlier, one that neither of you had mentioned since the day he was nominated.

He’s been your best friend for years. You met on the set of his very first movie, while working as a makeup artist and immediately struck up a friendship. And while there has always been an obvious attraction between you both, the fear that making a move and acting on it could potentially ruin your friendship had kept those feelings at bay.

But standing here and seeing the way that he’s looking at you, you can’t hold back, so you don’t. You surge forward and capture his lips, kissing him with the same intensity he had kissed you with earlier this evening, but this time it didn’t have to be fleeting. His mouth swallows your moans and his hands start to roam your body, squeezing and grabbing anywhere they could as he kisses you back.

He carefully pulls down the zipper on the back of your dress, dragging it slowly and savouring every second of this moment, a moment he’s been dreaming of since first laying eyes on you.

“Dieter,” you murmur softly against his jaw, wanting him to increase his painfully slow pace of undressing you. “Please.”

He increases his pace, frantically pulling on the material and letting it pool at your feet, before helping you step out of it and guiding you backwards towards the bedroom. His hands still greedily grabbing at any and every part of you as he lays you down.

He wastes exactly no time, pulling your panties off in one clear sweep and diving his head in between your legs. The noises he makes are loud and desperate as he laps at your clit with a messy intensity. Alternating between licking and sucking your little bud, only satisfied when you’re screaming his name and tugging at his signature messy locks before soaking his face with your arousal.

You whimper his name as he continues to lap at your clit, before gently pushing him away as it gets too much. Giggling slightly at the sight of his soaked face.

“Are you planning on getting undressed?” You ask as he moves up your body.

“Not this round,” he growls, before capturing your lips again. His movements are sloppy as he fumbles with his belt, pulling it through the loops and throwing it across the room, before pulling his pants down enough to expose his cock. You push him back slightly, and lay down in front of him on your tummy, a moan slipping out as you take a good look at his cock. Thick, long and throbbing. The tip flushed red with a bead of pre-cum, you lean forward, push up the bottom of his shirt and pepper light kisses on the swell of his tummy, nipping a few times before taking him in your mouth.

He groans your name as you hollow your cheeks, your jaw immediately aching from the sheer width of him and slowly you start to bob your head. Gagging slightly as he rocks his hips and pushes past your tonsils. The snap of his hips meet the rhythm of your enthusiastic mouth. After a few minutes he groans impatiently at not being able to touch you, before pulling out your mouth leaning over you and slapping your ass and then spreading your cheeks and tasting you this way.

You take him in your hand, stroking and flicking your wrist in perfect strokes, moaning his name in a perfect little chant as he uses his nose to tease your clit. You cum with a yelp of his name, taking you both by surprise as he soothes you through the aftershocks with gentle coos and little flicks of his tongue against your pretty little clit.

“On your back, pretty girl,” he orders, giving himself a few rough strokes as he watches you. “You ready for me, baby?” He says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I'm ready,” you confirm with a giggle, yelping with excitement as he pushes into you. Praising your ‘perfect little pussy’ as he fills you to the hilt. His arms swoop beneath your knees, so he can fuck into your deeper. “Move, D,” you beg as he waits, wanting you to adjust to the size of him.

The second you give him permission, he’s rolling his hips back, watching your face intently before snapping them forward. Loving the sound of your pretty moans as he thrusts back into you. He bends over and presses his lips against your face, thrusting himself in and out of you. Finding that spot and dragging his cock against it with ease, loving how reactive and tight your pussy gets around him.

“Oh Dieter,” you whimper, almost delirious with pleasure.

“I know, fuck, I know, baby girl,” he murmurs, “Taking my fat cock so well, baby.” You love how vocal he is, the sound of both of your moans filling the room. “You know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He whispers into your ear. “Every fucking day, since I met you.”

“Me too,” you stutter, seconds before your pussy clamps down around him and everything goes black. White hot pleasure erupting behind your eyes and his name becoming the only word you can speak.

It's a pleasure like you’ve never experienced, you feel him everywhere and you still want more and more. He keeps his pace as steady for as long as he can but his hips begin to falter, his pace more stilted as his cock begins to throb and he pulls out.

Stroking his cock hard and fast as he pants your cunt with thick pearly ropes of his cum.

“Holy shit.” You say with a giggle, “Even better than I imagined, D.”

“Me too,” he says as he collapses on top of you, leaning his weight onto his elbows. Kissing you gently, before nuzzling his face into your neck.

“So how was your night?” You ask with a giggle. “End as good as it started.”

“A million times better.” He says quietly.

You giggle loudly, “Better than winning the most coveted award in acting?”

“Not even a competition. You would win every time.”

[p1nkcanoe]

Prompt: Swiss giving Phantom/Aeon his first knot

Pleader

[ swiss x phantom smut ]

warnings: knotting (duh), dubcon elements words: 2053

Click here to read on Ao3 or read below:

“Mmmrrnn~”

“If you don’t stop making noises someone’s going to come looking for us,” Swiss warns. He bends over Phantom’s back where he’s bent at the waist and pressed to one of the old mahogany library desks and gives him another deep thrust, rolling his eyes when the ghoul makes yet another noise as if he hadn’t heard him at all. “Unbelievable.” 

It’s Swiss’ fault, really. He’d teased the quintessence ghoul all day long with lingering touches, playful little slaps on his ass and even a sneaky dick grab during lunch, gotten him all worked up and then had the audacity to act surprised when he came searching for him out in the library during their work hours. Luckily Swiss has the library to himself. He’d been assigned to organize the books from the storage room with Rain, but then the water ghoul had somehow managed to get roped into something “more important” in the basement and Phantom was more than happy to volunteer in his place. 

“Oh, Swiss…” the smaller ghoul tries between pointed thrusts. “Good. It’s so good.” His claws dig scars into the wood that will never be buffed out. 

“I’m glad, I really am, but you’ve really gotta stop talking.” 

To no one’s surprise, Phantom lets a particularly loud moan fall past his lips with the next snap of his hips and Swiss is quick to slap a palm over his mouth to shut him up. The sound echoes throughout the library equally as loud as Phantom’s vocalizations, and Swiss cringes. He changes his position, smothers the ghoul’s chest with his back and leans on his forearms so that they are bent and flat on the table. His hand pushes harder over Phantom’s mouth so unforgivingly that the ghoul struggles to breathe out his nose, whimpers and drools into his palm. He’s quieter, but only because he’s muffled. In actuality, he only seemed to somehow get louder despite the slowing of Swiss’ thrusts and the attempt at smothering his noises. 

Swiss pulls out slowly, rests his forehead on Phantom’s sweaty nape and breathes in his rich scent and the barely there tingle of quintessence sparkling under his skin, and pushes back in even slower, focusing on the warm feeling and embrace that is Phantom and his pretty hole. He fucks him like this for a while, lets him calm down until his breathing evens out and he reduces back to little hums and the occasional whimper, and eventually Swiss hesitantly unmuzzles him. The reaction is almost immediate. 

“Please, Swiss. Please.”

“If I go any faster you’ll get us caught.” 

“No, that's not–”

“Then what are you even begging for?” 

Phantom pushes his forehead into the desk, groans and squeezes around the ghoul so tight that one of Swiss’ hands attaches itself to his side and digs in for purchase and control. Phantom mewls and Swiss almost covers his mouth again but then he watches as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and he licks wet and broad at the desk under him. It’s an adrenaline-driven action, that much is obvious, but Swiss can’t help but watch in awe as the ghoul falls victim to his own lust and desire. 

“Give it to me,” he finally says, muttered against the now slick and sticky surface. “Need it.” 

“You have it–”

“No, not enough. Want it,” he cranes his neck to look the multi ghoul right in his golden eyes. His own flash purple with a sudden surge of quintessence. There’s something there, something wild. It’s hard to ignore. “Want your knot…” 

Despite how much Phantom’s admission makes his cock throb and his skin to flush with red hot heat, he shakes his head and rises back up to his full height, giving the ghoul another slow, deep thrust. “Oh, no… Not here. This is not a good place for that.” Phantom whines, drops his forehead back into the spit-slick wood and digs his claws into it. He looks like a child throwing a fit and Swiss won’t have any of that. 

“Please, need it so bad.” 

Swiss shuts him up with a particularly hard and quick thrust, brushing up against that spot in him that makes him jolt and his mouth to fall open in silent cry. “No. Take what I'm giving you.” 

Swiss thinks that it’s enough to keep him from begging, enough to get him to shut up and take what Swiss is offering, but then Phantom whines and curls his fingers from the edges of the desk, wraps his hands around the back of Swiss’ thighs, his tail around his torso,  and pulls him closer with a seemingly newfound strength. It throws him off guard and he gets pulled in deep, deeper than his last few thrusts, and Phantom moans out again, loud and unabashed. To say Swiss is irritated is an understatement. He growls, deep and threatening, and shoves the ghoul’s hands and tail away from his skin, but Phantom is quick to put them right back, and this time he digs his claws into the flesh of cheeks, breaking skin and forcing a hiss from the larger ghoul. He shoves him away again, harder this time, and Phantom’s about to try again when Swiss grabs him by his wrists and pins his hands to the desk with bruising force. The loss of his hands doesn’t stop him from trying to grind himself back onto his cock. 

“Oh, you little– you’re pissing me off. Why are you being so ungrateful?” 

“Need it, Swiss. Please. Knot me. Knot me right here. Right now.” 

Truth be told, Swiss’ knot isn’t even inflated yet. Yeah, it’s very slowly starting to build, but if Phantom hadn’t started begging for it, it truly would have been an afterthought–a problem for another time–because no, Swiss hadn’t planned on knotting someone in the library today, especially with work hours ending sometime within the next half hour. This was supposed to be a quick thing, a fun little fuck, a distraction from the real tasks at hand, and now his knot is growing, beginning to bump against Phantom’s hole as it swells against his own desires. And of course, the other ghoul notices. 

A loopy little smile appears on the ghouls face as Swiss fucks him, his body rocking up the desk with every thrust of Swiss’ hips. He looks back at him with his cheek pressed to the surface, brows furrowed together and tilted up at the center in pleasure, and his mouth left just the smallest amount ajar so that he drools from the corner of his mouth into a little puddle. He keeps fucking him controlled but deliberate and Phantom’s lips curl up even more when Swiss’ knot fills out that much more. 

“Shut up,” he warns. A large hand gets placed in the center of Phantom’s back, right where his dark and light side of his body splits, and he leans forward to press his weight into the heel of his hand. The pressure pushes the air from his lungs and Phantom moans out little ah, ah, ah’s with each push into his ass until his lungs deflate and Swiss allows him the smallest intake of breath just to keep him from complaining. 

He feels it, too. He’s inflating rapidly. The sight of Phantom’s flushed face drawn up all pretty while he fucks him on his dick along with the sound of his moans and his pleads replaying in his head over and over again, it’s too much to keep him from not. But no matter what, under no circumstances, will he knot the ghoul. No matter how much he tries to fuck himself on it, or how much he begs, he won’t tie them together. Not here. Doing so would just create a burden for the two, and embarrassment he’d never live down if someone were to walk in on them. So he readjusts his feet, finds that angle that feels good and new, and starts to really fuck him again, not caring about the punched out noise that comes out of him on the first thrust. He’s gonna fuck him good, fuck him thoroughly and quick before his knot swells up completely so that he can’t knot him. It’s a foolproof plan… If Swiss wasn’t already so swollen. 

Swiss lets go of Phantom’s wrists, replaces them on his hips instead so he can pull the ghoul back on his cock when he snaps his hips forward. The sounds of skin on skin echo throughout the large space and Swiss forgets about being careful, forgets about the risk, and pounds him into the hard wooden edge. When his hips meet his ass, Phantom’s hip bones knock painfully against the desk. He doesn’t seem to mind too much. 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. So good. Keep going, give it to me. Give it to me, I know you want to,” he babbles. 

“I’m not knotting you, I already told you.”

“You want to.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” 

He’s beyond arguing with him. Phantom’s close. He is too. His belly burns, tightens up with each clench of Phantom’s hole around his painfully hard dick, and each bump of Swiss’ knot has Phantom begging and sure-set on getting it. “Keep clenching around me,” he groans and moves his hands up across Phantom’s back to hook over his shoulders. His back arches gorgeously and he readjusts his body to plant his elbows on the desk, his hands over Swiss’ in an attempt at intimate closeness. “Keep clenching, I’m close.” 

Phantom does as he’s told, clenches tight around Swiss and the multi ghoul groans, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. Phantom’s tail finds its place curled around his torso again. The spade digs into the soft plush of his belly, surely imprinting itself there. The coil in his belly tightens, gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it finally unwinds and he shoves himself as deep as he can go without popping his knot inside. He grinds deep, cums hot and sticky ropes of cum into Phantom’s hole, and Phantom’s tail begins to tighten impossibly more. 

“Ant–” he starts. His voice catches in his throat when Phantom drops his chest and wraps his arms back around to grab at strong hips. “Ant–don’t–” By the time he moves to shove his hands away it’s too late. Phantom grinds back on that fat cock, pulls his hips and his body in hard with a burst of strength, and with a lewd pop Swiss’ knot slips into his hole and Phantom screams. 

His orgasm multiplies in intensity tenfold and he doubles over when his knees go unexpectedly weak, smothering the ghoul with his body once more and digging his teeth into the soft and sweaty skin between his neck and his shoulder. Phantom goes rigid beneath him, reaching his own orgasm and spurting all over that pretty, antique mahogany with gorgeous, strangled cries. 

Swiss can’t believe it. The little shit knotted himself. 

“Fucking shit,” Phantom cries. His voice trembles, laced with hints of pain and the aftershocks of his orgasm. He releases his hands from Swiss’ hips, untangles his tail, and tries to adjust against the wood but the movement only pulls painfully at where they’re tied and both ghouls hiss. 

Swiss plants a kiss over the already bruised mark on the light side of his neck–a stark contrast to the roughness it took to put it there, and he sighs, nuzzles into the ghoul’s hair. “Now look at what you’ve done… I hope you’re proud of yourself.” 

Phantom hums, indeed pleased with himself. The slightest rumble of a purr begins to vibrate from his chest. 

“Put us quite in a predicament…” 

“How long does it take to deflate?” 

“A while.” Swiss’ arms curl under Phantom’s hips and he squeezes, embracing the ghoul in warmth and attempt at comfort. “Just don’t move. We’re gonna be here for a while because of you.” 

Phantom’s purr gets louder and he wraps his tail around Swiss’ thigh. The multi ghoul rolls his eyes and gets as comfortable as he can get with the awkward angle and position. His eyes stay fixed to the door to the rest of the abbey and he says a little prayer that nobody comes in to check on his progress with the books.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Gone Through Enough (part 2)

Day 2: Childhood

Summary: New friends and heartbreaks.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2053

A/n: hehehe this one is looong (kinda)

@erisweekofficial

this is the part 2 of this series, soooo

✨ENJOYYY✨

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n had not wanted to move into the big, scary looking palace, but her mom had told her that it was important. Something about a high lord and her father working for him.

It did not mean the high walls intimidated her any less. The palace-like house looked like it contained ghosts. The place was too big for Y/n’s liking, who was used to living in a home where every corner was filled with love and didn’t look like you would get snatched wherever you turned.

The palace looked like the people inside would be mean and not give Y/n her favourite pineapple cake just for the sake of making her cry.

She reached up to grasp her father’s hand tightly, Sir Pine clutched tightly in her other arm, her stuffed bunny.

George August glanced down at his little daughter, smiling slightly at the petrified look on her face as the driver of the carriage finished unloading the bags the family had brought along. Servants rushed to pick up the bags, bowing deeply before hurrying away. It scared Y/n more, and she let go of her father’s hand to wrap herself around his leg.

Alana glanced at her husband, then tried to get Y/n to let go.

George simply smiled, then gathered Y/n in his arms. "You have nothing to worry about, my love. You will make friends here."

The girl blinked at her father.

He chuckled. "There is a boy your age. I’m sure you will be the best of friends. You will be kind to him, won’t you?"

The girl nodded vigorously, her fright momentarily forgotten as she began rambling about how she would share her toys with him.

George led them in, already familiar with the layout of the massive fortress, considering he was the high lord’s most trusted advisor. Also the reason he was ordered to move in with the royal family.

The high lord had bestowed what he thought was a favour upon the Augusts.

Stalking through the winding corridors with his daughter hugging him tightly, George finally stopped in front of the chambers the high lord had assigned to the family, then passed Y/n to his wife.

"Alana, there is a chance the lady would be waiting for you inside. Good luck."

Alana nodded, then walked in, setting Y/n on the ground.

Y/n was in awe of the room. Despite how scary the exterior looked, the room she had come in with her mother was very nice. The walls were the same colour as Y/n’s room back at her old home, the fire in the hearth warming up the entire sitting area.

Where a lady was also waiting with a boy in her lap.

Y/n gasped, then hurried to hide behind her mother, her little frock bouncing against her knees.

"My lady, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you." Y/n’s mother spoke, her voice echoing in the high arched chamber.

"I would love to say the same, Lady August. And who’s that little angel behind you, if I may ask?"

Y/n peeked around her mother’s skirts, eyes wide as she stared at the lady from before. She looked nice, and not how Y/n had thought she would look like because she lived in this scary palace.

Y/n refused to speak unless her mother told her to, so she waited as the two ladies continued speaking, then looked at the boy who poked his head out from behind the lady. He had the same height as Y/n, and his hair was red. What shocked Y/n though was his eyes. She had personally never met someone with amber eyes.

They looked almost like liquid gold.

"Y/n? Meet Eris." Y/n glanced up at her mother when the lady spoke, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, and pardon me. I did not introduce myself! Silly me, I am lady Autumn, though you can call me anything you want."

Y/n ducked her head in a shy nod, smiling because that was the right thing to do as Y/n’s old nanny said.

"Eris? Why don’t you show Y/n your toys, huh?"

The boy nodded, then came forward. He offered his hand to Y/n, who glanced at her mother before taking it. He led her out and into another room, where he pulled out a box of wooden swords and shields.

It is safe to say Y/n got bored pretty soon.

But she did love playing with him and dragged him off to show him her toys, though she did have to be her mother to unpack her toys.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Eris’s pov.

Eris had nothing to smile about, really. But he woke up with a smile every morning because of her.

Y/n was his friend, the only one he knew cared about him. She made him smile, she made him laugh. Hell, she made him cry. But it was something he was happy about, because he could never cry in front of anyone else.

Even alone in his own room, he hesitated to let go of his frustration in tears, because being the son of the high lord, even the walls were his enemy.

But with her, he felt safe, secure. Everytime after a beating, she would come talk to him, bring snacks. She would look into his eyes and instantly know whether he wanted her to ignore his newest bruises or whether he wanted to sob his heart out.

She was just like that, his Y/n. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

So when he heard the news of her departure from the capital and into a fairly far away province, his heart nearly gave out.

As he now ran towards her room after overhearing a conversation between George and his father, he wondered if there was any way he could beg her to stay.

Wondered if it would even matter, considering it was the high lord who was sending the August’s away because he was pleased.

Beron had decided to gift one of the bigger provinces to them because he was pleased with their loyalty and services to him.

Eris doubted it was the only reason, considering Y/n and Eris had been growing ever closer recently.

But his mind emptied of thoughts as he skidded to a halt in front of the large double doors and then, heart in his throat, pushed them open and hurried inside.

There on the couch sat Y/n, holding her favourite bunny toy that was falling apart at the seams.

His heart stopped, then started beating faster.

Eris was barely fourteen, still a baby in fae standards, but he was not dumb enough to not understand what he felt towards Y/n was not just friendship.

But he did not want to think too much about what he felt when the one he cared so much for was sobbing right in front of his eyes.

She glanced up as soon as he sat down next to her, and reached out her hand to hold his. "Eris." she gushed, "I don’t want to go. I will have no one to play with, no one to talk to. I don’t want to leave you here either, Er."

He nodded, tugging her into a hug.

"I don’t want to leave you here. He will hit you again and I won’t be here to hug you. What will you do?"

"If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I will survive either. But we have no other option, you know that."

She nodded, pulling away and wiping her tears. "Promise we’ll stay in touch?"

She extended her smallest finger to him, and despite how ridiculous he had always found this pinky promise of hers, he lifted his hand, wrapping his finger around hers, nodding. "Promise."

But as a day later, Eris watched her wave at him teary eyed, and then watched the carriage drive off, the horses whining, he knew it would be almost impossible to keep that promise.

And even though he knew she was as helpless as he was, he did not realise when tha seed of resentment took root in his heart where once a happy tree flourished in the barren land of his conscious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"So I get anything I want if I agree to help you out?"

Eris nodded, meeting the three pairs of eyes that sat around the lounge in his bedchambers.

"Anything that is within reason, obviously."

"So if I want more land, I get it. If I want to come back and be a part of your council of advisors, I will-"

"Yes. As long as it is not something as absurd as handing you the whole court, I will give it to you."

George August grinned, standing up and sending a glance at Y/n. "The plan has already been set in motion."

Eris wondered if Y/n knew, but by the furrow on her forehead, she didn’t. The fact that she was even a pawn in this dangerous game -let alone the fact that she had been oblivious about it- boiled Eris’s blood.

"Care to elaborate?"

Y/n’s father opened his mouth, and with every word that he uttered, Eris had to hold himself back from punching his teeth down his throat.

Y/n showed no emotions as her father talked about his plan, and when her mother started giving her inputs, she just looked numb.

But Eris could see the turmoil in her eyes.

When George finally stopped speaking, Eris dismissed them, but then he did what he never would have in his sane mind.

But, well, he was not in his sane mind.

"Y/n. Stay, I have to talk to you about something."

She glanced at him skeptically, her eyes burning, but then dipped her head in a nod.

Eris did not miss the smirk George shot his wife as the couple exited.

He walked over to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and began making himself a glass.

Y/n remained quiet while he worked, but Eris could feel her gaze on him the whole time.

Once he was done, he settled down on the settee, meeting her eyes.

"Are you okay with this plan?"

She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

He stared at her as he shot back the glass in his hand, refusing to wince as the liquid burned his throat.

"Are you okay with this plan."

She snorted. "Like it matters to you."

She turned to the door, her hand grabbing the handle. But before she could so much as take her next breath, he was on her.

"I think I asked you a question, Y/n."

She glared at him over her shoulder as he pressed her against the door. "And so did I."

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t-

"It does matter to me Y/n. It does because if you are not okay with this plan, it could go wrong-"

She let out a harsh laugh, pushing against his hold. He let her go, scowling as she turned to him with a sadistic smile. "Of course. It only matters to you because me being a pawn in this benefits you."

His heart begged Eris to tell her the truth, but Eris refused to bow down.

"I mean, what did I even expect? You didn’t care about me this past century and a half. Why would you care now?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, placing his palm above her head, the grooves carved into the wood digging into his skin. "You never tried to reach out to me for you to pretend it was my fault we did not stay in touch."

Her lips parted, disbelief shining in her beautiful eyes.

"You don’t know what you are talking about. And even if I did not reach out, you never tried to either. You can’t put the whole blame on me."

She spoke the truth. That did not mean Eris liked it.

He maintained eye contact, breathing deep in through his nose before she shoved him off of her, scoffing when he stumbled back.

And then she left.

Just like she had over a century ago.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

[glade-constellation]

Not Built For This

Sun x Reader

Summary : Sun is having a difficult time, finally cracking under the stress of his job after a run in with a rude parent. You’re there to comfort him.

Trigger Warning(s) : Mentions of abusive/neglectful parent and alcohol, accidental self harm, mention of decommissioning

Rating : T, SFW

Word Count : 2053

Extra : Just a little one-shot I wrote a while ago, sometime in January of this year. I apologize if it’s a little odd. I wrote it when I was having a bad time myself, but I really enjoy how it came out and wanted to share.

“Because I wasn’t built for this!”

Sun threw his hands into the air, bells on his wrist ringing out softly, before he fell to the floor in a ball. You knew he couldn’t cry. Fazbear was at least smart enough to not build their bots with working tear ducts and have them start sparking like a lit firework. But you swore, in that moment, Sun’s eyes glassed over with unshed tears. His shaking frame leaked of such pure anguish you wondered if he’d been built with a human soul. Even covered in stray marker lines and spots of sparkling glitter, he looked so violently drowned in his own emotional pain that you felt it yourself.

“I wasn’t built to do any of this! The ‘daycare attendant’ wasn’t even a role when the Plex was first built! Why do you think we had so many complaints over the years? Why I seem too overbearing or Moon sometimes acts far too frightening for the kids? That’s what we were built for. Performances. Short bursts of dramatic entertainment. Comedy and tragedy. We were theater performers.”

The hiccuping static coming from his voice box was too close to sounding like a cry. His frame creaked and groaned, sounding as if about to combust. Knowing how little maintenance the two of them received, the possibility was too high for your liking. “Sun, honey, I need you to listen-“

“The kids weren’t even supposed to be near us! We were supposed to be up on a stage, only interacting when engaging with the crowd.”

You took a step forward, hands rising as if to reach out to him, “Sun, please, you’re going to hurt-”

A soft crunching sound filled the air. “We’re had to learn all of this ourselves, no help from anyone. Playtime, time outs, kissing the boo-boos away, we’ve had to learn all of it by watching others. People who didn’t even like working here, didn’t like us.”

He didn’t even notice the now dented rays in his hands. “Sunny, please-”

“I try my hardest every day to be the best I can be and do the best I can do with what very limited resources I was given and no one seems to care about anything I do meaning Fazbear hates us and we’re so close to being decommissioned for something we can’t even help-”

“SUN!”

Besides the rattling of his frame, there was finally silence. You stood over his curled body, hands gently but firmly placed on the sides of his face. Even without visible pupils, you could see when his eyes finally focused with yours. With slow movements, you softly began to remove his hands from his now bent rays. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he moves his hands with yours. He slides them towards you, reaching but not touching. An unasked request for comfort. As you reach to pull him forward, he grabs your hips and does the same. There’s a moment in the silence when he simply holds you to him. Then the dam finally breaks.

Sun buries his face into your stomach and sobs.

It’s not quiet or soft, full of shaky breaths and muffled whimpers. It’s not like the daycare kids who threw fits with sharp huffs and cries. Sun folds into you and he screams, static scratching through his voice box. It’s loud and aching and broken, so defeated that your own heart couldn’t help but break with him. He grips you like a lifeline as he cries, frame shivering and vibrating so roughly yours afraid he might actually begin to fall apart. A star in threat of collapsing in on itself.

You let him cry. You hold him as he screams and you try not to cry yourself. Your hand moves from his shoulder to one of his rays, gently tracing it in a way you knew calmed him down.

It’s a while before he finally calms down enough to speak coherent words, but what he says only breaks you farther. “I’m sorry,” drops from his mouth, so strained in static you almost can’t make it out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats it over and over like a mantra. You open your mouth, going to shush him, but freeze as he continues. “Please please please, don’t decommission us, don’t throw us out. I can do this, I can do this, I’m not broken, just a small mishap. Won’t happen again, I can do it, I’m sorry.”

You’re having not of that.

Pull his face away from you, you drop down to your knees. Your gaze is firm as you stare into his eyes. “Sun, you listen to me and you listen to me good. This wasn’t your fault. None of this was. You said it yourself, you weren’t built for this. Nothing about what you do in the daycare is part of a program you or Moon own.”

You stop for a moment, just long enough to cup your hands against the sides of his face. He’s still crying, but he’s listening, and that’s what matters right now. “But you want to know something? That makes what you do in here so fucking brilliant. You care for these kids almost every day, playing with them and cleaning their messes and kissing their hurts away, and you do it so much better than any of the human assistants I’ve seen sulking in here before me. You may not have been built for this but you do it so beautifully that I wouldn’t have known any better unless you or Moon told me. The fact that you had to learn how to do all of this while locked away in here with no help but your own two eyes is frankly far more astounding than Fazbears’ ability to create your AIs. How you haven’t lost it up until now is a fucking wonder.” You shake your head, chuckling.

“But maybe that’s just a testament to you two’s innate ability to love with all your being. When you two commit to loving something, you give yourself away to it. I watch you with those kids all the time and you treat them like a parent would their own children. As a parent should love their children. You spend hours upon hours keeping this daycare in working order without any help, not because you’re programmed to but because you love doing it. That kind of emotion isn’t something you can just replicate. The level of humanity I see in you and Moon far surpasses most of actual humanity that exists on this Earth today.

“If some kid’s abusive bitch of a mother wants to come in and call you a worthless machine because her kid love you far more than her, you take any word that comes out of her mouth with a fucking grain of salt. That’s her problem to work through, not yours. She doesn’t see what you do here. She obviously doesn’t see what you do for her own kid every single day she’s off getting drunk.

“What matters is what those who actually care about you think. The kids love you. Both of you. They were freaking out the day you guys went to maintenance, some actually started crying. Made all those Get Well cards for you two, remember? I highly doubt Fazbear is going to decommission one of their most beloved animatronics from one drunk lady’s comment. They’d have hell to pay.” You bring him forward, just enough to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Hell that I would raise for you.”

Sun falls forwards slightly, head hitting your chest as he pulls you close again. He moves you to the side just slightly, throwing a leg under you so you’re no longer resting on your knees. You throw an arm over his shoulder as he begins to rock the both of you, your other hand coming up to the back of his faceplate to hold him. It's another moment before either of you speak.

You can hear Sun mumble something, but whatever was said is buried in the sound of his fans buzzing on overdrive. You hum in question as you trace patterns aimlessly on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says again, “Moon says it too.” You feel more than see when his rays shrink slightly into his faceplate, “I’m sorry.”

You snort, “Hey, what did I just say? No more of that. It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He pulls back from you, eyes looking down instead of towards you. “That was really childish on my part. Parents complain all the time. That shouldn’t have affected me that much.”

You shush him, placing a hand over his mouth despite knowing that wasn’t going to do much. It still had the desired outcome of shutting him up. “Sun, did you listen to anything I just said?” He nodded, and you quickly continued before he started up again. “I didn’t explicitly say it, but everything I just explained can also be used to say that both you and Moon are extremely overworked.” You give a huff as you roll your eyes, “Give an AI sentience and then make them work until the break. Typical Fazbear right there.”

You feel the speaker behind Sun’s faceplate vibrate as he speaks up, “But we were built to work-”

There’s an audible smack as you facepalm. “Oh my god, I spill my guts out trying to calm you down and you listened to none of it,” you groan. You grab his chin to tilt his face towards yours, “Sunny, honey, it doesn’t matter that it was just one parent telling you something you’ve already heard and gotten over before. You may have been built to work tirelessly but you literally just said you weren’t built to handle this kind of work. Plus, I don’t think Fazbear takes into account that they build living beings. Straw on the camel’s back and all that. You and Moon have one too many things going on up in that pretty little head right now. It couldn’t handle the additional yelling and triggered all your pent up emotions. It’s normal. Happens to me too. Don’t apologize for simply being alive.”

You drop your hand as you finish, watching as Sun blinks at you. His rays flex in and out in no particular pattern, something you’ve realized means he’s having an internal conversation. He finally seems to come back into focus after a moment, simply staring before moving a hand to gently cup your cheek. You laugh slightly as his hand covers the right side of your head but lean into it. He looks like he wants to smile, but whatever he’s thinking is obviously weighing on him. “You. . .really see us as people.”

You can't quite tell if it was a statement or a question, but you nod all the same. A confused look crossed your face, “I mean, yeah? You may be made of metal and silicone, and held together by desperation and glitter glue since the mechanics can’t do their job for shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have just as much intelligence and emotion as any human. Probably more, not gonna lie. I’ve seen Moon hack into things he really shouldn’t more times than I would like to admit. You have this unbelievable talent to read a person’s body language from across the room and change the mood of the whole room to fit their needs.

“And like I mentioned earlier, you two don’t half ass anything. When you give, you do so with your whole being. Simple machines don’t have things like love and trust. You two are the definition of it.”

You could feel as Sun ran his thumb across your cheek as you spoke. As you looked back up at him, you were greeted with a soft look. Sun’s rays slowly pinwheeled around his head as he smiled at you. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back as he pulled you forward. Your breath caught suddenly, your heart beat suddenly too obvious inside you.

He seemed to second guess himself at the last second, or maybe you had simply read too much into that act. Hugging you close, Sun reciprocated your earlier forehead kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbled softly.

[saeruki]

DRIVES FAKES ITEMS MCL

Here is the drive link for the items for Candy of MCL New Gen ! /!\ Warning : For certain items (shoes generally), you must use the base with the feet facing forward (Items MCL New Gen > Base > Base de face)!

I would also like to share with you an old drive with items for Candy of MCL Old Gen (with a few Eldarya items) !

Have fun, and don't hesitate to let me know if you use my items, I'd be so happy to see your creations ! <3 <3 <3 ( P.S.: I will update it as soon as I can ! ) ( P.P.S.: I apologize for the drives in French, it's just easier for me to navigate ( because I'm very bad in English lol ) ).

[themalhambird]

AS THE BODY-COUNT CHART HAS PROVED SO POPULAR....

Crimes Commited By the Bodies Detectives

Hillinghead: Having Gay Sex Whilst Being Victorian; Perverting the Course of Justice (False Confession)

Weissman: Multiple Murders; Police Corruption; 2 counts of Abduction (Esther, technically, & Lady Harker in one of the timelines)

Shahara: Leading an anti-government militia??? [Details unclear]

Iris: gets brother to run DNA on equipment he shouldn't have. Driving without a valid licence and car insurance, possibly (Look, if the Maplewood we see in 2020 still comes from 2053, I bet my hat she doesn't have the right paperwork to be driving that taxi)

Crimes the Bodies Detectives are accused of/framed for Commiting:

Hillinghead: Having Gay Sex Whilst Being Victorian but like. Not with the guy he actually fucked. Also, suicide. Also, his confession to murder is perpetuated by authorities who know its a falsehood

Weissman: Corruption, which would be fair except there is no evidence backing up the assertion- only antisemitism and xenophobia. Murders that he committed. Murders that the people accusing him of them commited. Spying for Germany.

Shahara: Leading a terrorist organisation?? (Seriously the build up around Older!Shahara's group of people is...flimsy, or possibly I need a rewatch but like....did they do anything beyond theorize about The Throat whilst weilding guns?)

Iris: Existing in Victorian England or whatever it is she ends up sharing a cell with Hillinghead for "officially"

Things the Bodies Detectives Actually Did Wrong:

Hillinghead: NOTHING. (OK cheating on his wife is not great, but IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES--)

Weissman: ALSO NOTHING.

Shahara: Even more nothing than the other two combined

Maplewood: Nothing that isn't understandable given the dystopia bullshit she grew up with.