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fantasticsandwich · 1 month

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yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 1)

Don't you know you're the apple of his eye?

The dull hum of the museum’s air conditioning blended with the soft shuffle of footsteps, hardly alleviating the stifling heat that clung to your skin. You trailed behind Cillian, gaze lingering on a serene landscape that seemed worlds away from the cramped gallery you occupied. However, instead of succumbing to the immense discomfort of being perceived, Cillian was in his element, angling his body to capture the perfect selfie, his phone held aloft.

“Stand over there,” he directed without looking your way, focused on capturing his reflection in the glass protecting a centuries-old portrait. “I need more light.”

Yielding an ungodly ring light, you shuffled into place, feeling the tight pull of your blouse as you dangled it over your head. Struggling to hold it in one hand, you fidgeted, tugging at the fabric, wishing you could blend into the walls and disappear. Your oversized glasses slid down the bridge of your nose as you glanced at Cillian, who paused to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead before flashing another practiced smile at his phone. Or rather, yours, because he thought pictures always looked better through your lens despite the inferior quality.

A couple cast a glare in your direction, clearly annoyed by the disruption. You watched Cillian wave dismissively at the glaring onlookers, his attention never straying from the image on his screen.

“Can’t have them ruining the shot,” he murmured.

As Cillian lined up another photo, your thoughts churned. The museum had become a stage, and Cillian, its sole performer. Every sculpture, every painting—they were merely props for his endless stream of portraits. You wondered if he saw anything beyond the likes and comments each picture might garner.

“Isn’t it hot in here?” you ventured, seeking some acknowledgment of the discomfort you felt. “The light isn’t helping. Maybe we could enjoy the art without—”

“Comfort doesn’t get followers, Y/N,” he interjected, his tone light but firm. “You know how it is. Image is everything.”

“Right, of course,” you answered, your cheerful facade slipping into place as easily as your sleeves slipping down your arms. “Image is everything.”

In the silence that followed, punctuated only by the sound of Cillian’s camera shutter, the art around you—a tapestry of colors and emotions—seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the one-sided performance playing out before it.

His silhouette morphed with the statue beside him, his body language shifting from casual to statuesque in a heartbeat.

“Y/N,” he called over his shoulder. “Stand next to that one. I want a photo. It looks like you.”

You hesitated, your eyes tracing the contours of the marble goddess before her: poised, serene, and eternally graceful. You glanced down at your own trendy and curated, yet slightly mismatched attire.

“Um, sure,” you replied, stepping forward with a forced smile. Your limbs felt awkward as you raised an arm, trying to emulate the statue's elegant gesture. The solid chill of the museum air wrapped around your exposed skin, making you acutely aware of how out of place you looked.

“Just like that,” Cillian encouraged from behind the camera, his voice smooth as silk. The device made a soft click sound as it captured the moment.

“Did it turn out okay?” You asked, hoping your performance had been convincing enough to meet his standards.

“Let me see,” Cillian murmured, tapping on the screen with slender fingers. A pause stretched between the pair, filled with the hum of distant conversation and the subtle clicks of camera shutters from other visitors. “Perfect,” he declared, the word dropping from his lips like a verdict. He switched off the camera, his eyes not meeting yours. “Just perfect.”

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of relief and unease. His approval was something you couldn’t help but crave, despite the cost. His hand brushed against yours as he handed back the device, leaving a trail of cold uncertainty in its wake.

“Thanks for helping,” he said with a smile. “Let me treat you to something.”

Exiting the viewing hall, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the muted whispers of other patrons as you and Cillian found your way to a secluded bench in the museum's on-site cafe. A sigh escaped you, your shoulders slumping slightly as you settled onto the cool metal seat, Cillian taking the booth. Already, he held his phone. His thumbs flicked across the screen, dredging forth a gallery of images.

“Look,” Cillian said, holding the phone between them. On the screen was a photo of him standing confidently next to a marble statue, both strikingly handsome, distant and untouchable, cold in their own regard. “Which is prettier?”

You hesitated, your gaze flitting between his expectant eyes and the image of the two figures frozen in time. You zoomed in to inspect their expressions. The statue’s face was one of great speculation, perhaps even sorrow. Cillian, though undeniably attractive, seemed haughty, almost too aware of his beauty. You experienced a surge of jealousy when you realized his skin was as pale as marble and his eyes were as clear as the glass protecting it from view. Adorned by a light blush, his cheeks were not untouched by the heat. Still, not a single hair was out of place. Not a single blemish or dark spot on that noble farce. His skin was smoother than porcelain.

Meanwhile, spotting your bespeckled reflection on the screen nearly caused your heart to stop. Little flyaway strands plastered against your forehead and splay out across your flushed cheeks. Sighing, you turned your head away, pressing against your shoulder to push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. You felt a dull ache as your lips parted to answer, only for the words to tangle in your throat.

“Hard to choose, right?”

“Both are remarkable,” you managed to say, your words carefully neutral. You hoped your voice didn't betray the unease that coiled within, the sense of being tested. His smile widened, but there was a sharpness to it that didn't quite reach his eyes, and you wondered if your response had been enough to satisfy.

“Of course,” Cillian replied, the word drawn out like a soft purr. “But I’d prefer you say I’m living art.”

Your gaze lingered on the screen as Cillian flicked to another photograph, this one a close-up of his profile silhouetted against a canvas of Renaissance art. His nose stood out. Roman, straight, and perfect, casting a shadow that seemed sculpted by the same hands that had carved the figures they admired all afternoon.

“You are. You look like a statue,” you murmured, voice laced with an involuntary admiration that made your stomach clench. Why weren’t you as pretty as him? Was some cosmic force punishing you for a misdeed in a past life?

“Yeah?” Cillian reveled in your praise, leaning closer. “And what about my other features? Do you think they’re just as perfect?”

You glanced at the high curve of his cheekbones, the arch of well-groomed brows, and how his smile never appeared to belong to you.

“More so. It could’ve been modeled off of you, but you’re still incomparable.”

Abruptly popping out his seat, Cillian muttered an excuse and bolted to the counter. He swiped your desserts up and returned in three long strides. Carefully, he placed them onto the table. Humming cheerfully, you swiped a spoon off the table and guided its tapered head to the dessert.

“Wait,” he said, hand blocking the spoon’s path. “Take some pictures.”

Sighing, you yielded and accepted his phone. The parfait was already melting into a puddle of unappealing, inedible goo, but you slid it across the table. When you pulled back from the lukewarm glass, sugary residue clung to your fingers. The strawberry syrup was congealing, slowly sinking to the bottom to mingle with the yogurt, bleeding pink.

Staring at the mess, you licked your lips. You longed to steal a spoonful, but you couldn’t even consider eating until Cillian decided they had enough pictures. Already, you had snapped fifteen at every angle possible. Upon request, you even shimmied out of your seat to take more.

To think, you could’ve been at home, studying, doing anything else instead of practicing your still-life portrait skills. You shouldn’t have been so excited to be invited out by Cillian. Excitement only brought disappointment.

Popping upright, your knee nearly knocked against the underside of the table. At the last second, Cillian reached out, slotting his hand between to lessen the impact. His skin was warm and soft against yours. His palm enveloped the entirety of your knee. You winced and nervously laughed at the contact, swatting him away.

“Tell me what you think about them,” you said, passing the phone back into the hands of its owner.

Your beaded keychain snagged on a strand of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytail. Wincing, you halted to allow Cillian to detangle it. Once free, you moved to stand at his side, peering over his shoulder as he flicked through every photo. One by one, Cillian kept zooming in on his face, only to pinch his fingers back out to focus on a minuscule detail. Not a single pixel was free from scrutiny.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he sighed. His hands snuck out across the table, then his gangly arms followed. Elbows resting on the table, he cradled his face in his palms. His gaze rose, narrowed onto you, startlingly innocent.

Although it enhanced his features during photoshoots, you loathed his opaque expressions. Even after several years of knowing him, it was impossible to gauge his response, to anticipate his next word. Fortunately, most of his requests were only minimally irritating to fulfill.

“Can you take a few more pics on your phone? Maybe they’ll turn out different.” He requested, peering up from his device. Neck craned back to view you, his hair flopped over, billowing out into disarray.

A stray strand brushed against your nose, tickling. His roots were growing in, stark against his bleached strands. You pursed your lips, urging your attention elsewhere. Otherwise, he’d ask what you were looking at, and you’d have no choice but to answer. Since that apparently wasn’t a solitary task, you could expect to dedicate an additional hour to helping him pick a shade then dye his hair.

Self-conscious at the proximity, you stabbed your fingers through your hair, tugging the thick mop back. Prodding through knots, you felt the sweat of your scalp melting through your fingertips, boiling into your skin. Mournfully, you realized you would have to take another shower. And to think, you finished your favorite shampoo the morning prior. You’d ask him to buy more and call it a photography fee.

Feeling more coerced than inspired into the act, you sighed and snatched your bag off the back of the chair. Rummaging through the contents, you plucked your phone out. Cillian eyed the keychain with a small grin.

You inhaled for the sake of your patience. Lowering into another awkward position, you guided the camera around, searching for the perfect angle as he posed, arms thrown over the back of the plush seat.

He was rather opinionated about composition; he liked either having his face centered in images or leaning more to the right-hand side. Rule of thirds, symmetry, and whatnot. A simple photo became a portrait, something meant to rival baroque image. You clicked another picture when he scooped a glob of the parfait onto the spoon. Another, when he took a bite, then another when he pressed the spoon to his lips, and another when his eyes fluttered shut.

At some point during the ten-minute extension, a drop of the watery yogurt slipped past your trained eye, dribbling onto his chin. You set the phone down and moved to grab a tissue off of the table when he prompted you to continue. You complied. At last, Cillian decided to grant your wobbly arms mercy as he finally picked his final pose. To end it, he winked and blew a kiss.

You grumbled, plotting back onto your seat. You winced when the cold metal touched your thighs. “Pay me.”

“An air kiss isn’t enough? Want a real one?”

“Pass. I’d rather gut myself.” You swiped your hair over your shoulder and grabbed a stack of napkins to fan yourself with. Hoping to experience a reprieve from the heat, you reached for your dessert and was sorely disappointed to discover that it had liquified. Only the precipitation clinging to the cup was cold. You grabbed the cup and sloshed its contents around, watching globs spill over the edge. You looked over at Cillian’s dessert and sighed upon discovering that it was in an even worse state. His big, warm hands had cradled it for too long.

Opening up Instagram, you slumped over, assassinated by a surge of jealousy. Posts about vacations in Granada, California, and Rome filled your recommended feed. These broke college students shouldn’t have been partying abroad, living it up. And why were they on vacation when there were still two weeks of spring semester left? Did they take their finals early? How? Could you still get in on the action? Oh well; it wasn’t as if you had money for plans anyway.

When you were done imposing misery upon yourself, you handed your phone to Cillian. He accepted it with the grace of a dog snagging meat.

“I appreciate it,” he said, attention glued to the screen. You saw the images flash across his eyes, his own face superimposed on his retinas as he zoomed in, pinching and frowning. After browsing and sending the photos, he placed your phone down on his lap. Ignoring your sudden anxiety, he rested his hands on the table and smiled. “I mean it. No one else does this for me. Thank you.”

You observed the rings on his knuckles. Glinting like teeth in subdued laughter, he tapped against the table. So pretty and shiny, gleaming with sunlight… And that face… If you became rich enough, you would consider asking him for fashion and skincare advice. He’d taken to giving you gifts at random, and all the products were from expensive brands you couldn’t pronounce.

The perks of having a trust fund, you supposed.

“You’re leaving the country soon, right?” You leaned back against the chair and splayed out your legs, recoiling when your foot made contact with his shim.

A trickle of sweat ran past your neck, seeping down to the plunge of your shirt. Contrarily, Cillian was dressed to attract the sun; he wore a dark dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows. The top few buttons were unfastened to reveal the black designer t-shirt trapped beneath. His jeans were black, with slices at the knees.

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks. Why do you ask? Are you going to miss me? Already feeling the crushing weight of my absence? Don’t worry. I’ll text you everyday. I’ll even bring you souvenirs.”

“No.” Firmly, you shook your head. “You’re the one who’s going to miss me.”

“Get WhatsApp so I can text you without getting charged. It’s about time you finally downloaded it.”

“So you can spam my messages with even more pictures of yourself? No thanks. You have a mirror, and my gallery is already filled by you.” You narrowed your eyes. “Even if I wanted to, how can I download anything if you have my phone?”

“You mean this thing?” Teasingly, Cillian brandished the device. When you reached for it, he leaned back, toting it out of reach. “I can figure out your password and get it for you.”

He typed random combinations of numbers until he successfully unlocked it. You rose from your seat, more serious about retrieving it. To counter, Cillian hunched over, shielding the screen with his body.

“Relax,” he said, head disappearing beneath the table. Self-conscious again, you tugged your skirt down. “I’m sending myself the photos you took of me.”

Red with anger, you joined him, ducking beneath the table. With the slit of your phone screen showing through the opening in his posture, you glanced down, realizing he was going through your messages and replying with a selfie of himself.

“Cillian…” You grasped his shoulder. “Stop being a cunt. I’m not getting WhatsApp if you’re going to keep acting like this.”

Ignoring you, he abruptly stood. In y ourhaste to follow, your head slammed on the underside of the table. With a hand pressed against your scalp, you rose, only to encounter your frazzled expression staring back on the screen.

“Say cheese!”

Holding the phone over his head, Cillian snapped a selfie of you. As usual, he was smiling, sparkling, while your hair was frazzled and your face was sullen. Although you begged him not to, he promptly posted the picture to your Instagram, accompanied by some of the parfait and himself.

“Cillian,” you tried again. Shaking his shoulders, you groaned when he refused to budge. “Alright, then. I guess I’m just gonna get your phone.”

As if shocked by lightning, he jolted upright. He stared at her, eyes peering into your soul. “Go on. I don’t have anything to hide. But why don’t you want me to have yours? Do you have something to hide?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Good.” He shot you one of his infamous, heart-melting smiles. “Since I already looked at yours, we can look at mine together. It’d please you, right?”

There were moments when he sounded peculiar. Was it something in his tone, or was it his irregular phrasing? Regardless of the strange feeling’s origin, you felt a guilty caution and were inclined to dishonesty in his presence. You wouldn’t want to be a bad friend by misinterpreting his overly-zealous intentions.

Swiping his phone off the table, Cillian placed it into your palm. He relayed the password, but his hand remained enclosed around yours, so you punched in the code with your thumb. Chewing your cheek, you scrolled, hesitantly tapping onto a conversation, utterly disinterested until you saw the strange memes passed between Cillian and his friend.

“Here,” you said, resigned as you handed the device back.

He smiled. “See? Nothing to hide.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Shrugging, Cillian retrieved your phone from his pocket again to scrutinize the photos in your camera roll, trained on his appearance as he glided between filters and toyed with the saturation.

You futilely observed him before redirecting your thoughts to something more productive, the upcoming final exams. Soon thought, you began to daydream about fast cars and countryside estates, forgetting how, with the new year’s onset, you watched self-help videos, browsed countless articles to curb your materialistic tendencies.

You took up new hobbies with your friends, painting and snacking on charcuterie and wine. You denied yourself the pleasures of theaters, of restaurants and shopping hauls. But when your paycheck arrived, you found yourself partitioning it into tuition costs, then different discretionary categories.

Your mother incessantly begged you to enjoy your youth. One day, you’d have a fulfilling hospital job, packed with plentiful hours. Even then, there was an expected exchange of currency; time for a pay stub. So, at some point, you lost the desire to save and smartly concluded, that whether for necessity or whim, people only made money to spend it. Money was entertainment. Money was activity. Money was the tears in your mother’s eyes when you paid for half of your snot-nosed brother’s school fees.

Money was whatever you needed it to be, and it was all you lived for. You had tried amending this mindset countless times, but no other inspiration stuck. It was fortunate that you were friends with someone who had too much of it. Cillian spoiled you on excursions, with gifts. So, if he had money, then money was him, and by proxy, you were getting that bag while being in his presence.

Once, during your final year of secondary school, you turned to Cillian for advice. You purchased a shirt from a designer brand and wore it to his birthday party, only to have his younger cousin spill juice on you, Rianning it. On the verge of a breakdown, you stormed to the kitchen. As you furiously scrubbed your shirt with a dishrag, you heard footsteps in pursuit. Teary-eyes, you turned to him and asked to hear his truth of the world.

He hadn’t been rich back then. He was only the boy in the council house next to yours, your life-long friend. He knew you better than you knew yourself. You were attuned to his every quirk.

“I’m so tired of buying, buying, buying, but never feeling like I have enough. How do you get through it? Feeling like you’re enough without having it?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He removed a small clasp mirror, the kind that comes free from stores with a hundred-dollar purchase, and unceremoniously presented it. “You’ve got to love yourself.”

“And how do I go about that when I haven’t the slightest clue?”

“It’s simple.” A light red tinted his cheeks. “You tell yourself ‘You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,’ and know that’s what you’re always meant to be. At the same time, you need to know you’re insignificant no matter what you do. Only relationships define you, and no one wants to be around someone pathetic. You’ll only be used like that, so you need to change to protect yourself.”

Almost reluctantly, he peered up from the glassy surface to look at you, but you felt as if he never truly looked away, as if he were still tracing the contours of his every feature through the glare of the spectacles perched on you nose.

“People say beauty is on the inside, but if you’re ugly on the inside, then you know it can be manufactured.”

Cillian still hadn’t stopped staring at himself as he walked past anything reflective, anything that resembled him. He’d still stare so deeply into your glasses, at his reflection in your eyes and you still wondered if he was searching for a mirror that would twist his form into something beautiful.

You were snapped out of the memory when he voiced a request.

“Your turn,” he said suddenly. “May I?”

“May you… May you do what?”

“You looked at me earlier. I want to do the same.”

“I mean, you’re already looking at me…” You felt his stare and winced. “But it’s… alright? Yeah, go ahead.”

The air was thick as you waited, trying to anticipate his thoughts, unsure of what he had in mind. Cillian observed you with an intensity that felt almost palpable, his scrutiny a tangible force that rendered you immobile—a specimen under a microscope, a subject in a frame.

“Such pretty features,” he commented softly. His fingers slid along the curve of your cheek, coming to rest on the bridge of your nose. Before you could comprehend his intentions, he plucked your glasses off with a swift, almost surgical movement.

The world around you dissolved into a wash of colors, each brushstroke of reality smearing into an indistinguishable palette of hues. Sounds seemed to amplify in the absence of clear sight, the distant murmur of museum visitors swirling around like wind rustling through autumn leaves.

“You look better without these. You can’t see without them.” He dangled the glasses just out of focus, the lenses catching the light and casting ghostly reflections onto the blurred canvas. “But when I’m this close, can you only see me?” He leaned in, noses almost touching. “Sometimes, I like when you wear them, too.”

You blinked, trying to force clarity back into your vision, but it was futile. The room felt larger, more intimidating, as if the ceiling had stretched away and the walls were leaning in to listen. You were acutely aware of your heartbeat, a tumultuous rhythm against the backdrop of this disorienting scene.

“Cillian?” Your voice quivered slightly, betraying your unease.

“Shh,” he hushed, the sound slicing gently through the air. “Just look at me.”

You tried, oh how you tried, but his face was nothing more than a kaleidoscope of light and shadow, his features lost in a fog. He loomed over you, a specter made of shifting shades rather than flesh and bone. The faint scent of his cologne, usually so comforting, now seemed overpowering, filling your nostrils and clouding your thoughts.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, though whether he spoke of you or to himself, you couldn’t tell. The air was charged with a strange energy you couldn’t define. “Can you see me?”

“Only… only shapes. Outlines.”

“Like an abstract. Can you read me? Do you know what I mean?”

“No?” You said, uncertainty. “If you want to talk art, give me a day to talk to that one upperclassman who keeps begging to paint you.”

His presence was static, pointillism in slap-dash dots, yet there was a sharpness to it, like the glint of a knife hidden beneath silk. Suddenly, Cillian's hands cupped your face. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks in an unexpectedly tender gesture.

“You’re cute.” A soft laugh escaped his lips. The familiar sensation of being pinched and appraised was oddly comforting in its normalcy.

“Alright,” he said briskly, pulling away and breaking the momentary spell. Your gaze fluttered up, onto him. He stood, legs screeching against the ground as he jammed his chair under the table. “It’s about time to leave. We’ve got places to be.”

You blinked, trying to focus on his voice as it cut through the disorientation of your vision. “Can I have my glasses? And my phone?” you asked, reaching out in the direction of his voice, fingers grasping blindly at the air.

“Your glasses?” Cillian teased, dangling them just out of reach. “But you look so adorable without them.” His laugh held an edge, like the thin crack running down a perfectly glazed vase.

“As you know, I need to see,” you said, the words coming out more plaintive than intended. You felt for the spectacles once more, movements uncertain without sight to guide you.

With a sigh that suggested he was granting a favor, Cillian finally placed the glasses in your outstretched hand. The world snapped back into sharp relief as you slid them onto your nose, the cafe and its patrons coming into clear view once again.

“And this?” Cillian echoed, his tone playful. Retrieving the device from his pocket, he waved it around. “I’ll give it back, but you need to promise that we'll look at these together tomorrow. I want to coordinate our feeds.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll align our online synergies tomorrow,” you echoed, using buzzwords and nodding although a part of you screamed in protest.

Standing, you snatched a few napkins and wiped down the photo shoot's debris. On the way out, you tossed the melted goo into the trash and bid him goodbye, slouching as you turned away and stepped onto the sidewalk, almost immediately surrounded by a torrent of pedestrians. You surged ahead, elbowing your way through the crowd.

“Hell is other people,” Cillian mindlessly commented. You instantly pinpointed his melodic voice amidst the throng. “Want me to give you a ride? Or walk you to the bus stop?”

Halting, you spun around, wrapping your hands around your mouth to shout. “No thanks. It’s not that far. You should also get home before it gets dark.”

“Alright. Be safe. Don’t get kidnapped.”

“Walking with you could endanger me. Someone would take you for ransom.”

“And you’d pay for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I need to get my paycheck first.”

“Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re not Caesar, so why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged and turned away, finally bidding you goodbye. His arms dropped to his side, madly swinging. You watched for a moment as he pranced, caught in his cool-guy act that he pursued it even as he stumbled over a curb. You chewed your lip to stifle a laugh, allowing yourself a final glance at his strange gait. You began at a leisurely pace, loosening up to let your arms swing like him. Maybe he was happy because he allowed himself to live so freely.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #how tf do I make a master list 😭#cillian

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marleyybluu · 1 year

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Just Sit On It

Spooky x f!reader

Warnings: 18+. bit of fluff and flirting, bit of cockwarming, very much self-insert (inspired by yesterdays events), no use of y/n

Word count: 980

A/N: I had to give this to my favourite boy🤷🏾‍♀️

(Not my gif.)

"You want me to just sit on it?" You ask with fake annoyance in your voice and a quirk in your brow. Spooky chuckled and nodded, a little glimmer in his eye as he looked at you. You two had just finished... whatever round of sex that was, you'd lost count after a while. Both of you high as fuck and missing each other after months of no physical contact, chuck it up to being adults with busy schedules. Sucked.

You were done, out of it and tired— growing a bit sore from how he handled you, not like you'd complain anyway you liked it. You thought he was done too, when you attempted to bait him into one last round he'd respectfully hit you with, "Nah I'm tired for real."

You shrugged and put your shirt back on, chilling in the comfortable silence aside from your music softly playing in the background. You hated a quiet room, especially during sex. But it only took a few minutes for his shirt to come back off claiming to be hot... well it was hot, summer was approaching a lot quicker than it usually did and it was the type of heat to make you angry and irritated with any and everything.

As he lay on his stomach you smiled gazing at his back, how smooth and muscular it was, clean and free of tattoos, unlike the rest of his body. He felt your eyes and asked what was up. You told him you wanted to sit on his back and he let you, you drew faint art on his beautiful skin, and ran your finger down his deep spine. Oof, you loved a deep spine, something about the depth of it was so sexy.

Soon he mentioned he wanted to take off his pants. Again, he was "hot." So you got off and he took off more than just his pants, he nodded over for you to come back and you say there. "I thought you said you were good?"

"I am."

"So why would I just sit on it if you're good?" You challenged with a smirk on your face. Spooky wasn't about to have this back and forth, actions were louder so he sat up and reached over for you, cupping your meaty thigh in his large hand and pulling you on top of him. You gasped feeling him against your sore and yet aching clit.

"Just sit." He shrugged. "And this is comfortable for you?"

He nodded reaching for your hands, interlocking your fingers with his. God, he was just so fucking cute sometimes. You looked down at him as he looked up at you, nothing was said and that's what you liked about your dynamic, you two could just sit like this. Naked or half naked talking about whatever was on your mind or not talking at all.

Adorn by Miguel had come on and you began to hum and absentmindedly move around, for a brief moment forgetting you were both naked on your lower halves. Spooky smiled it was always nice to see you comfortable around him considering when you first met you were so shy you wouldn't even look at him.

He let go of your hands and rested his warm palms on your hips. "Come here."

You beamed and with no hesitation leaned over to meet his lips. Your hands rested on either side of his neck, your lips moving in sync— you could kiss that man all day if it was possible. You felt the bottom of your shirt hike up and pool over your lower back, his hands on your bare ass once again. His favourite part to grab.

One last peck and you pulled back. Spooky noticed the look on your face, a look he was too familiar with— when you wanted to say something but you were too chickenshit to say it, still a bit reserved with your thoughts even though it was clear you could be open and honest with him. "Say it. I could see it in your face."

You sighed all this temptation was getting to you. "You wanna put it in?" He asked. You bit your lip and nodded, silently thanking God that he was a mind reader at times. You leaned forward reaching between your bodies you gently wrapped your hand around his girth and slowly sunk down on him, he always stretched you out so nicely.

And that was it, you just sat on it and it was nice (?) and warm... really warm and slick. You actually did not want to move but he did, pushing his hips up into yours, you placed your hand on his chest saying, "Wait, don't move."

He stopped his actions and resumed holding hands with you. "You're so pretty." He complimented, you blushed looking to the side so he wouldn't notice how embarrassing it was that you couldn't take compliments, especially from him. Your slight distraction was cut short when you felt him move, you giggled turning to him. "Stop..."

He did it again. "Stop what?"

"Spooky... I can feel it- ouu, stop."

He rested his hands under his head and let out a hearty laugh at how flustered you were until he was now feeling something, with your hands planted on his chest you looked down at him with a knowing look. He let out a shaky moan when you did it again. "You stop."

"Stop what?"

"Baby, shit, I can feel you tightening around me." You were easily flexing your walls around him in retaliation. He pushed his hips up into you causing you to moan and fall forward, he did it again, carefully thrusting in and out of you-- your pretty love faces like artwork, his favourite thing to watch. You sucked your teeth in realization.

"Did you just bait me into another round?"

"Always."

Slick motherfucker.

Y’all… oof I had to. I’m still reminiscing. I miss my man😭

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Peace and love🤞🏾

🏷️ : @skyesthebomb @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit

#marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #spooky #fluff #spooky fanfic #on my block fanfic #spooky x reader #spooky fanfiction #smut #spooky x fem!reader #spooky smut

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reallyromealone · 7 months

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Title: tattoo dates

Pairing: dabi x keigo

Fandom My hero Academia

Warnings: baby reader, single dad Dabi, no quirk au, fluff

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Don't be the step dad, be the dad who stepped up.

The sound of summer could be heard in the early morning of Tokyo, the cool air refreshing for Keigo as he stepped into the small tattoo parlor and taking in all the art on the walls. It was actually quite nice... The parlors he looked at online seemed to try and look more badass but this one was organised and incredibly clean "you're my 8:30, right? Keigo Takami?" What he wasn't expecting based on the aesthetic of the parlor was a black haired man covered head to toe with tattoos and piercings, a loose fitting worn tank top that looked intentionally worn out and a pair of black cargo pants and god Keigo was thankful he was wearing sunglasses as he noticed a feint outline.

"That's me~ thanks for fitting me in so early!"

"Yeah, whatever... You wanted a back tattoo right? Do you have a picture?" Dabi was tired, his kid was sleeping in the other room as it was too early to take him to daycare today and the little guy wasn't feeling well so he didn't want him far away "so serious ~ trying to be all tough for me?" Keigos charm was not working as Dabi rolled his eyes "get on the table and take off your shirt" the black haired man said as Keigo pouted but sent him the reference as their phones touched, hopping on the table and removing his shirt.

"Wings?"

"Red ones" hawks said as he rested his cheek on his fore arm, arms crossed over one another relaxed as he felt the other prepare the tattoo and sanitize his back "what shade?" Dabi asked softly as he prepared the tattoo pen "a bright red...crimson almost"

Dabi was focused, the mirror infront of the table, full length and clean as crystal thus giving Keigo a full view of his tattoos arms flexing under the florescent lights "your parlor is much different the others" Keigo said breaking the silence as the needle hit his skin "yeah, gotta keep things clean..." He said simply, Keigo noting how everything was kept at least 3 feet off the floor or locked away.

Music played softly in the background as Dabi worked away "so what do you do for fun?"

"Don't have much time for hobbies" Dabi said simply, the detail he was putting into it was impressive especially the price the other was paying "really? How come?" Keigo asked curiously and the black haired man looked at him from the mirror "being a dad doesn't give much free time"

"You're a dad?"

"Yeah, eight month old... He's sleeping in the other room right now" it was rather early Keigo thought, having booked out of hours for security reasons "I see..."

The two worked for another hour and a half till Keigo was given a break, looking at the work so far he was quite impressed as Dabi went to the other room to check on the kid "hope you don't mind, he's pretty chill so he won't cause issue"

Ok, why was this man so attractive holding a kid? What the fuck.

Keigo tried not to look flustered as the tiny baby looked back sleepily, drinking his bottle calmly before being set in his play pen that was off to the side "normally I don't keep kid stuff here..." (Name) babbled softly as he played with his toys, fully content doing his own thing as dad was fairly close "you ready to continue?"

By the end of the session, Keigo smiled at the babe who was vibing "your total will be 900" the detail on the wings were insane, best work the other has done as Keigo smiled "thanks for being normal... Most places freaked out when they met me"

"Who are you?" Dabi asked blankly and Keigo looked startled but smiled "just an actor, ya know?" Dabi shrugged as the actor paid for his tattoo, (name) snuggling into his dad's arms as the actor left.

But that wouldn't be for long.

Keigo showed up for another tattoo, though this one would have to be in phases as (name) had a doctor's appointment "yeah, he has teeth growing in... So gotta make sure it's going alright" (name) was chewing on a cold teething ring as Keigo booped his forehead, the babe looking confused but didn't do much else.

"A date?" Dabi raised an eyebrow as Keigo leaned over the counter "yeah, I found a good restaurant and it has a kids menu... Maybe mashed potatoes for the big guy over there" (name) looked up as he was chewing on his dad's fingers "you know what a date means right? Were a package deal, he comes first" dabi was deathly serious and Keigo smiled "absolutely"

"Then wine and dine me pretty boy"

#dabi x Keigo #hawks x dabi #male reader #x male reader #fluff #baby reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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murdrdocs · 1 year

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i need cute domestic fluff w finnick and like him and reader like living a cute little life after the rebellion and like them just living together and being happy

this is like the only life i can associate with finnick.

slow days where you both take it easy. sometimes, there's this mental fog that takes place over your minds, especially finnick's, but you've gotten used to living in harmony together, especially in these moments.

these are the mornings when the bed is extra comfortable and inviting. there's nothing urging either of you to get out, so even when you wake up the first time, there's a second and third awakening before you're truly awake. you know finnick can't sleep like that, but he refuses to shower without you, and he doesn't want to take you awake from comfort, so each time you wake up he's sitting with his back against the headboard, a worn book in his hands and a concentrated look on his face.

the showers during these days are long, drawn out, filled with the excessive use of water and products that scent your skin and hair with aromas adored by both parties.

the breakfast is eaten late, bordering on lunch, and it's kept simple, too. sometimes pancakes, waffles, maybe a sandwich. it's usually eaten outside with the sound of waves crashing against the shore as a background. you tell him of your dreams, he silently envies how innocent and pure they are.

"we had a kid, named him mikey."

"mikey?"

an excited nod from you as you sip your juice. "mhm! short for michel."

finnick's lips turn up as he lets your dream take the place of his nightmares. before, the thought of them would make a chill run down his body, but with the image of what mikey would look like in his head, he feels warm, even with the sea breeze blowing across his tanned skin.

afternoons are spent in each other's company. there's a walk sometimes, maybe a bike ride. sometimes you do garden work, planting flowers, taking up ones that've already grown to make a bouquet for the counter. usually, you're both on the beach, finnick fishing while you peacefully lounge on a large navy blue and white striped towel.

then you're back home, the TV softly playing an old sitcom that's bearable by your standards while you paint your nails and finnick cooks dinner, the new bouquet a perfect center peace on the island. the smell of your favorite dish is comforting, and you have the urge to go join him in the kitchen. the nail polish bottle is left half open on the coffee table and you're standing behind finnick with your arms wrapped around his torso, letting the heat of his body and the stove dry your probably-already-ruined nail art.

the nights are quiet. another shower shared, two bodies standing close in the large space. you're usually wrapped in one of finnick's shirts. he typically dons a pair of loose pants. you settle into bed, finnick with the same book from earlier, you finishing the episode from earlier, and you're curled into his side. you fall asleep before the episode ends, leaving it for another day, finnick finishes his chapter.

the lamp is flicked off, your breathing is soft, the window is cracked to let in a breeze and the same sound of the ocean. the mix of finnick's two favorite things –– you and the sea –– is what lulls him to sleep.

his arms around your body, your head against his chest, and a general stillness in your shared home.

#i rlly like this #i think its beautiful #i also rlly want him #finnicksworld!#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair #celeste writes thg

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merp0515 · 9 months

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It was after hours of 3's Coffee N Bombs and the boys had just finished up cleaning up the place. he coffee shop was empty, excluding the two meme guardians and their children that are enjoying their play day together! Soft calming music was playing in the background as they were finishing cleaning up the place ready to call it a night. SMG4 sighed in relief as he was turning around to retrieve the two empty cups that SMG3 and himself drank after a long day of coffee shop chaos. He was about to hold the cup and plate sets, to get them to the back and get them cleaned up when he felt someone eyeing him from behind. He turned around to see SMG3 with his hair down, leaning backwards at the counter behind him staring at him intensely. It felt like the stare was eternal. Four was about to say something until he felt his hand gently pushing his hair at the side, staring at him in a way that he could feel his body get chills by the touch and the way his warm ruby eyes pierced through his blue eyes.

Four had never seen Three react and stare at him with such fixation before. It was as if he was lost in his own thoughts, internally debating to either ask or make an intimate move that could change their lives. While entangled in this tension, he also was lost in thought and seeing small details about Three that he never noticed before. He loved the way his raven like long hair made him look very handsome, the way his battle scar made him look badass, and the way his hand, after setting his hair to the side felt on his face. He can feel the heat of Three's hand through his soft gloves, almost leaning into his former enemy's hand by instinct. Four , slowly ventured towards his lips that remained shut but held a powerful hold on his soul. He couldn't help but stare at them for a moment, thinking about what would happen if they made such contact with each other. SMG4's eyes widen, blushing at his thought of actually moving closer to SMG3, feeling their bodies, and heartbeats connecting their lips together as both men continued staring at each other in silence, the soft music, and both of their breaths being the only thing that can be heard in the empty shop.

Well new art out along with a failed attempt at making mini fic about the art! Lol I love this AU a lot. XD Outfit design done by @lizaluvsthis and AU done by @shygirl4991!

#smg4 #smg4 fanart #smg3 #smg34 #coffe shop au #smg3 fanart #Brewing Romance AU

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rapha-reads · 2 months

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IWTV rewatch

(this is a side-by-side show and book review, now that I've read the books, so there will be book spoilers. Also I'm not good at keeping it short so it will be Long.)

Season 1 episode 2 [... After the Phantoms of Your Former Self] - part 1/3

- Can I start first with a shout out to the music? The soundtrack is gorgeous. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think violins are the main instruments of the opening theme and the music of the "Previously"? If it's the case, that could definitely be a throwback to Nicki, and how the violin music was so important to Lestat when he was still mortal. There's a passage in The Vampire Lestat where he describes the music that Nicki plays that made me shiver:

"He ripped into the song. He tore the notes out of the violin and each note was translucent and throbbing. [...] I had never known music like it, the rawness of it, the intensity, the rapid glittering torrents of notes that came out of the strings as he sawed away."

And then later on:

"Still the sound came. It came rising out of the instrument and cleaving the night as if it were some shining element, other than air and light and matter, that might climb to the very stars. [...] The long vibrant notes, and the chilling glissandos, and the violin singing in its own tongue to make every other form of speech seem false."

Given how important music is for Lestat in the books, it does seem like the show's soundtrack was given its equal importance.

Okay, back to the show.

- Oooooh, we are starting immediately with some Armandaniel! Ahem, sorry, that random guy in the background and Danny boy. Talking about Venetian art. The writers really said "this is a show that has to be seen multiple times at multiple stages of its development to really understand all the layers and all the subtext and all the interpersonal relationships".

*chokes on a cherry pit* "Marius de Romanus"?? Excuse me???!!! Armand has a painting of Marius in his Dubai penthouse? Sorry, I need to be revived, I think I just passed out.

[Daniel] "'Did you always work for him?' [Rashid/Armand] 'I serve a god. It is my honor to serve.'" - Armand you need another hobby than Louis, seriously. Remark: those lenses work really well, at no point can you tell that those are not Armand's real eyes; on the other hand Assad Zaman has really gorgeous brown eyes. Remark: even with the canon change that the sun doesn't make vampires immediately slip into the death sleep as it rises, the fact that Armand is always awake way before Louis does say something of his age.

Love that the mortal servants are wearing masks. Covid ain't no joke, kids.

- [Louis] "'I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. I can assure you it won't happen again.' [Daniel] 'Memory is a monster. We forget. It doesn't'." - firstly, Louis' entrance is eerie. The way he seems to be gliding on the floor, and the total stillness of his face, and the flatness of his voice (once again, in awe of Jacob's accent work). Secondly, hey, the main theme of the first two seasons, hammered in: memory can change, it can reshape itself, it can twist on itself to protect the mind, or to protect itself - can you trust that you remember what happened how it happened? Or is your mind cannibalizing itself, and therefore, do you know who you truly are?

Huh. The music isn't extradiegetic. It's actually playing in the scene.

[Louis] "AB negative, fresh from the farm." - sorry, can I ask, what fucking farm? Is this more of the roleplay, or are non-human animals' blood types also ABO (no, NOT that type, geez), or are we really saying Louis has a human farm...? Excuse me but this cannot be just a throwaway random comment, what the fuck. Too many implications. *five minutes later* Right, so, did a rapid search, apparently some animal blood types also have an A type, and some animals have so much more than the ABO system. In other words, this doesn't tell me anything. "Part of me wants to ask about the farm", yes please Daniel, ASK.

- Lestat is a bloody diva, I love him. Not much to say about the graveyard scene (disposal of the bodies), except that I'm dying of laughter. Louis is going through hell while his body dies, meanwhile Lestat is prancing around, throwing punchlines, humming to himself and stashing corpses into graves. This must have been so hilarious and chaotic to film! Note to self, check if there are bloopers and how many takes did this scene take. Pretty sure that's the kind of scene where you burst out laughing at your co-actor's antics at least once or twice.

[Lestat] "There's the spark." - first of all, how is Sam Reid that pretty, jesus. Secondly, I love the way they represent the vampire's sight. It's such a big passage each time, how a vampire sees the world differently, and not in a metaphorical way, in an actual "my eyes work differently now" way, so of course they couldn't just ignore it. Love that Lestat calls it a spark. And the way they each look at each other, Lestat as if he's falling even more in love, and Louis as if he's not only going out of his mind in a "oh this is madness" way but also in a "I am understanding new things about the world" way. Although, as I've said in another post commenting on book IWTV, one thing about Louis is that he often thinks he knows or understands what's happening while in actuality he has no clue and is completely out of touch.

- [Louis] "'Lestat's blood was giggling inside me, teasing my senses, illuminating the district with overwhelming detail, as if I had walked my entire life as a dead man, and now, dead, could finally receive the secrets of existence.' [Daniel] 'You were fucking loaded.' [Louis] 'Beyond articulation.'"

Firstly, moment of silence for Louis' poetic aspirations slammed back down to Earth by Daniel. What happened basically: "*poetic nonsensical rambling* / Dude you were so fucking wasted / LOL dude I was sooooo wasted". Secondly, yeah, don't get too excited, the bad trip's about to start.

"They were your brothers and sisters once, but now they are your savoury inferiors", says Lestat, the guy who falls in love with a different mortal basically every other week. Oh, he's literally describing them as one would talk about wine. Alright.

I find it interesting that Lestat doesn't say anything about "feeding on the evil ones and leaving the innocents alone". Be right back, need to check the books, when does Lestat starts applying that philosophy? *comes back 10 minutes later covered in blood* Couldn't find a relevant passage. Let's table this for later.

[Lestat] "Careful mon cher, you're beginning to frighten the man." - Daniel talks about that in season 2, if I'm correct. But yeah, memory, huh? How could it have been Lestat who says that, knowing that maker and fledgling are mentally cut off from each other? Either Lestat said it out loud but low enough that only Louis could hear, or Louis, to use Daniel's words, went "schizophrenic" since the beginning and was already imagining Lestat as his subconscious voice.

"Just to be clear, gents, we are here to talk abot farm equipments, am I right?" - oh, are you looking for anything else to happen, random victim number one? Is that a hint of gay panic that I'm hearing?

[Lestat] "The neck, bite the neck, Louis. No, you don't bite the blood, you suck it. Yes, yes, that's better." - have I said lately how much I adore Lestat...? No? Well. Lestat cracks me up. Something I love about hm in the books is his dry humor and delivery. He is really funny when he wants to be.

- Aaaah, we're getting to the first major scene. Makes you wonder why I spent so much time on the first 9 minutes, huh? (Yes, we're barely on minute 10 out of 52, I did say I can't do short)

"'I-I gotta go home.' 'This is your home now, Louis. Breathe.' 'I-I gotta collect money from the cribs.' 'I have all the money we need. Breathe.' ' I have to go see Grace and Paul.' 'Oh, dear.' 'You ain't fucking hearin' me! I need to go home.'"

Several things. And actually one of the heart of the constant misunderstanding between Louis and Lestat. Lestat here has no attachment to his home - Louis on the other hand is the main provider of his family, the man of the house. He can't just disappear, the way Lestat seems to want him to. A few changes from the books, in which Lestat firstly is traveling with his old and dying father and thus has to care for him until his death, and secondly lets Louis understand that he has no money and Louis has to provide for him. Also as we learn in The Vampire Lestat, after his own transformation, Lestat continues to take care of his mortal family, sending them money and gifts. So, unless that part has been changed in the show, a bit hypocritical from him to act as if Louis wanting to continue caring for his family is an imposition. Then there's the part where Louis forgets Paul is dead, and Lestat immediately reacts with concern. "Oh, dear, um, how to make you remember gently that your brother is dead actually" or "Oh, dear, are you alright?".

And finally there's the fact that Louis overreacts without hearing anything Lestat tries to say, without letting Lestat say anything actually, physically pushing him away and then accusing him of not listening. I mean, it's not really Louis' fault, baby boy has gone through A LOT in the last 24 hours (Paul's suicide, his funeral, the church's burning and the priests' murders, his transformation and physical death, his first hunting, not even talking about having to hear Horse Rando's ramblings...), he's confused and lost and hurting and hasn't had time to come to terms with anything that's happened. But on the other hand, Lestat's the only one that could help him, and instead of listening to him, giving him 5 more minutes to explain, Louis almost immediately shuts him out and pushes him away. And in return Lestat closes himself up and decides to be as contrary as possible, instead of being patient and helpful. And sometimes it's Lestat who's asking for patience and support and doesn't get it and Louis closing himself up, etc. And thus the main Loustat dynamic for the next several decades is born.

- "You're going to find that very difficult", yep, thanks Lestat. Very constructive. Oh, and look, the sun is up and none of them is sleeping (yeah, that tiny little change actually bothers me, I don't know why yet - maybe I'll find the words later). Really love the visual effect of vampires starting to flake off as ashes as they burn. Hammers in the idea of "undead body". "The sun gives life to everything but us. I should have told you that" - YA THINK. Explain to me why you have a roof window opened letting in the deadly sun (the sun is a deadly laser, free reference for everyone) when you're a vampire. Sounds like structural failure to me. THIS SCENE. First of all Sam Reid's French pronunciation of "New Orleans" and other words, and then Sam Reid's TRAINING ROUTINE holy shit I'm looking respectfully. OH, and his SWAGGER, we need a swagger competition between Sam Reid as Lestat and David Tennant as Crowley, PLEASE. "The perfect setting for a vampire home, a vampire romance" - boy is so THIRSTY lmao. What a slut (affectionate - and also, free gift to non-book readers, Lestat canonically LOVES being called a slut, I am not inventing anything; go mad with it). LOVE that Lestat goes into the coffin fully NAKED and then looks at half-burned Louis and still goes "it's okay, you can go on top", NOTHING will turn him off when it comes to Louis, absolutely nothing. And then Louis' little "gulp", his realisation that, oh, shit, doesn't matter that the guy is an asshole, he wanna tap that.

- Oh, I was going to stop part 1 with this, but Daniel and Louis' exchange is too good to pass.

[Louis] "'Too many firsts for one night.' [Daniel] 'How's sexuality play in that?' [Louis] 'It's a complicated question, Daniel, and we shouldn't conflate it with the salesman's death.' [Daniel] 'Humor me.' [Louis] 'To satisfy your fixation, being transformed by Lestat, being desired by him, bedding down with him, was an overture of sorts to that side of my nature.' [Daniel] 'To the shame of queer theorists everywhere.'"

*cackling* Two catty drama queens trying to outcunt each other, this is a feast. I love Jacob's delivery of these lines, as if it's so not interesting and he'd rather talk about anything else, but also, he cannot stop himself from talking about Lestat. There's really the reluctance of talking about something, someone, that meant a lot, still means a lot, but hurts so damn much that it's better to pretend that it doesn't mean anything anymore. I can't help but seeing that last line as a bit of a meta commentary on the history of the books? I'd need to do some research on book reviews in the '70s, see how the homoerotic explicit subtext of the text was received by non-queer audiences, or even what queer readers were saying, if they (the queer theorists) were divided in their interpretation of the text, or if the book was viewed immediately as a gay romance. Because, like, it's been a month since I read IWTV, and in the meantime I read the rest of the series and dived into the few fics I could find, but if memory serves, IWTV the book doesn't outright state that the relationship between Louis and Lestat is a romance. Mmh. Too many things to research, let's table this for now.

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chansfavouritechild · 8 months

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straykids 9th member

Word count: 1,107K

pairing: skz x 9th member f!reader

warnings:mention of sickness,physical illness, stress, overwork, overthinking

Genre: fluff (+angst)

🎬Summary: Sarang, a versatile idol, navigates her career, creatively supports friends, and strives for perfection despite sleep deprivation and the fear of disappointing others.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Too much work

Sarang had a bunch of friends and was good at more than just singing and dancing. She was always busy designing cool outfits for events, making album covers, and helping out with photo shoots. She was a creative wizard, whether it was clothes, makeup, hair, or even coming up with ideas for photoshoot backgrounds.

Being an idol was a ton of work - sports, dance practices, and endless emails. Even with her crazy schedule, Sarang couldn't say no when her friends asked for help. She knew she should sometimes, but she didn't want to let anyone down.

One night, she was chilling on the couch between Felix and Bangchan. While the guys chatted away, Sarang was in her own world, drawing an outfit for Yeonjun on her iPad.

Felix got curious and jumped up to check it out. He was fixated on her iPad, watching as she brought Yeonjun's outfit to life. Sarang greeted him with an "Oh, Felix," realizing he had been standing behind her the whole time. After a quick explanation, Felix gave a nod and went back to his seat.

Felix, still in his seat, was amazed by Sarang's art. Watching her, he felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He didn't want to disturb her creative flow with small talk but couldn't help but notice how kind she was and how she always went above and beyond for her friends. It felt a bit silly, but he couldn't deny he was kinda attracted to her creative side.

As the night went on, Sarang was struggling to stay awake. Running on no sleep, she convinced herself that coffee and protein bars would keep her going. She was super hard on herself, always trying to prove herself and avoid letting people down. In the middle of all this, she got a call from her friend Jay about a special event, and he trusted Sarang to come up with a killer design.

Felix, seeing how tired she was, got genuinely worried. He watched as she sipped coffee and munched on protein bars. Despite the lack of sleep, she still looked amazing. Felix felt a mix of admiration and concern for the way she pushed herself so hard. He just wanted to be there to comfort her, help her ease the stress.

Felix glanced away, still feeling a bit worried. Bangchan, sitting next to him, noticed Felix staring at Sarang. He raised an eyebrow, wondering why Felix was so focused on her. Bangchan nudged Felix, a small grin on his face. Felix, feeling caught, blushed and turned away. Bangchan chuckled at the reaction.

Bangchan looked at Sarang a bit longer, noticing how tired she seemed after putting so much effort into Yeonjun's outfit. He was surprised she was still planning to work on another event. She was just too kind for her own good. Bangchan was worried, hating to see her push herself so much. He glanced at the others before turning back to Sarang.

As Sarang got deeper into her creative zone, exhaustion started hitting hard. Coffee and protein bars weren't cutting it, but she couldn't shake the idea of taking a break - it felt like a waste of time.

Watching her struggle with heavy eyelids and yawns, Bangchan couldn't ignore the signs that she desperately needed sleep. Yet, she kept pushing for the sake of others. The idea of seeing her suffer just to make others happy didn't sit right with him. Bangchan thought about speaking up but decided to keep it warm, making occasional eye contact and offering a reassuring smile.

Despite the eye contact, Sarang's vision blurred, and the world spun around her. Shapes and colors overwhelmed her senses. Bangchan silently observed, concern growing as he saw her exhaustion taking a toll on her.

The eye contact continued until he saw her eyes roll back, and Sarang collapsed. Bangchan's eyes widened in shock, and he rushed to catch her. Frustration turned into deep concern as he checked her pulse to make sure she was okay.

In addition to worrying about her, Bangchan felt a wave of guilt washing over him. He was mad at himself for not stopping her sooner. Gently placing her on the couch, Bangchan kept a close eye on her, arranging her into a more comfortable position.

Sarang lay unconscious on the couch, the room filled with a heavy silence as the members of Stray Kids gathered around. Bangchan's face showed shock and deep concern, regretting not intervening sooner.

Felix, who had been keeping a close watch, rushed to her side with worry in his eyes. The atmosphere in the room turned tense as the others exchanged concerned looks. Bangchan, realizing the seriousness of the situation, took charge.

"Grab some water," he said, his voice firm yet filled with concern. Han and Seungmin hurried to the kitchen to get water. Felix, still by Sarang's side, gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

As the others rushed to help, Bangchan couldn't shake off the guilt. He knew he should have spoken up earlier, insisted that Sarang take a break. But dwelling on the past wouldn't help now.

When the water arrived, Bangchan took it and dampened a cloth. Carefully dabbing Sarang's forehead, he hoped to bring her back. The room was tense with concern and guilt, but Bangchan tried to keep it together for Sarang and the others.

Slowly, Sarang began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered, and she groggily looked around. Felix's worry turned into relief, but Bangchan still couldn't shake off the guilt in his gaze.

"You scared us," Felix said softly, his hand still gently on Sarang's shoulder.

Sarang blinked, trying to focus on the faces around her. Bangchan sighed, a mix of relief and remorse in his voice. "You need to take better care of yourself, Sarang. We appreciate your dedication, but we can't have you pushing yourself to the point of collapsing."

Sarang managed a weak smile, feeling the warmth of the members' concern. Bangchan's stern expression softened, his worry turning into genuine care.

"Let us help you," he continued, his tone gentle yet firm. "You're not alone in this. We're a team, and we look out for each other."

The incident became a turning point for Sarang. She learned to balance her love for creativity with self-care, realizing that her well-being was just as important as her dedication to her craft. The members of Stray Kids became a strong support system, reminding her that she didn't have to carry the weight alone.

And that's the story - do what you love, take breaks, and don't worry about what others think. You're worth a break. <3

#straykids #ot8 x reader #9th member of skz #skz ot8 #9th member of stray kids #9th member #stray kids #bang chan #felix

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rowretro · 9 months

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𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

✧taglist✧: @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @wntersm

✧CHAPTER 4✧

Babe walked out of school silently. With the boys having to stay behind for basket ball practice, she had plenty of time to make it home before they ever catch sight of her.

Home.

The one place she can finally find peace. Now she's moved out of the toxic household of her family, without the need to visit those judgemental relatives that don't even know her, she finally found herself at somewhat peace.

Once she arrived home, she made sure to lock her garage and lock the doors of her home, sighing in relief. However, she knew there's no way she'll be at peace even in the four safe walls of her own home... the paranoia was eating her insides.

Not even a nice cold shower or warm bath with a side of red or white wine could calm her nerves, though she was still feeling icky as she had just gone to school.

After weighing the odds of one of the boys appearing in the shower with a knife in hand to stab her, she finally decided it was safe to take a shower, with some loud music playing in the background.

7 songs had passed as she finally stepped out of the long shower, drying herself as she wore some comfortable attire. She rushed downstairs, feeling that she's be more at peace there.

With her Spotify playlist blasting in the back, and a pencil at hand, she sat at a rather messy desk, dried acrylic paint strides decorating the surface as many other art pieces surrounded the room.

Only that corner of the room was such a mess, and she wouldn't even try to clean it up as it will be worthless if she starts painting again. For a second, she forgot those boys even existed.

For a second.

She received a text from an unknown number, as she clicked on it her blood ran cold...

Unknown number:

Aw you didn't wait for us?

Babe.

Babe answer me right now.

For every minute I have to wait on your text, will be the amount of time you will experience hell...

Babe read the texts, wondering what to text, but it's not like she had all the time in the world to come up with a response... She had totally forgotten that she had given Sunghoon her number.

Babe:

Sorry I kinda forgot

Uhm this is Sunghoon right?

Unknown:

Sunghoon??? you gave Sunghoon your number?

Babe:

Well yeah he did ask for it

if this isn't Sunghoon than who is this?

Unknown:

Riki. I copied your number

Your pin number is so basic babygirl

Anyways. you took 17 minutes to respond... but you can make it up to us if you get to our home on time.

Riki sent her the address as Babe hastily slipped on her high heels, running over to the building, not wanting the boys to take note of any of her vehicles.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. As if he was waiting there for her, Riki answered the door almost immediately.

His bare face handsome as ever, those pretty chocolate moles now visible, his dark eyes, held a spine-chilling psychotic look, while looking rather alluring, and those perfect plush lips. So perfect... so kissable...

He was so handsome, his hair wet, the white shirt fit him perfectly, and the way he towered over her...

But that was all overlooked... that psychotic look in his eyes, that deadly smirk plastered on his lips, the way he snaked his around her waist... one'd think he was a loving boyfriend up to some mischief.

"You're early... I was kinda hoping you'd arrive a little late.... you see im feeling bored darling" Riki added pulling her inside as he shut the door.

Babe sat on the couch, silently as she observed her surroundings. So elegant... the place looked rather classy. "It's just you and me tonight... the boys are busy working" Riki randomly said as he noticed how the girl nervously picked at the hem of her skirt.

"You're lucky I don't feel like cleaning up blood today... you're off the hook." Riki said as the girl looked up at him in shock. Only then did she notice how he was seemingly hot, the sound of his sniffles and coughs were heard as he gulped a spoonful of medicine, the disgust evident on his face.

The male simply dragged her up the stairs to his room, and pushed onto his bed, triggering her instantly, but she froze when he simply rested his head upon her belly, snuggling her as his arms wrapped around her figure.

His eyes were already closed as he babbled nonsense. Confused, Babe got up a little, balancing the weight of her upper body on her elbows. The psycho looked so peaceful, his body was really warm. Hesitant, she lied back down, running a hand through his slightly wet hair.

She reached for a towel, softly trying to dry his hair, trying not to wake him up. A few minutes passed as she heard the familiar voices of the other boys, filling the building.

Sunoo froze by the doorway as he noticed Babe trapped in Riki's embrace "Jungwon Riki caught us a deer." Sunoo called out to Won as Heeseung frowned "But I'm right here-" Hee said as he walked over to Sunoo.

"Not you idiot- her-" Jungwon pointed at Babe who blinked. "Leave her for now... Riki's sick if you yank her away from him he might just leave another scar on your back." Jungwon as Sunoo rolled his eyes

And the deer fell right into the deadly trap, now stuck underneath the demon himself...

✧𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗✧

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dualityvn · 2 months

Note

Hey Nightmare! I replayed your game recently and wanted to explain why I chose music in the survey. I love the game on almost all of its sides, and a lot of them just stayed with me. The sprites are so afshsg, Keith's smug expression portrays a lot of the character that I saw in the blog when he gains confidence. His jealous/worried expression frightens me because he looks very unstable. And about Tene, he really looks like the socially awkward /and dangerous/ dork he is. I can see when he's nervous and when he's relaxed. I can read his face and not misunderstand when making choices around him. Their sprites are more than good for me, they're charming. If I have to be picky I'd say maybe the backgrounds could improve. The characters don't mix well with it, but sometimes that's good because contrast;; and also gives you a mysterious, foggy vibe like everything is just a bad dream and you don't know what is going to happen.

I love the writing too, especially the last date! I got the scary vibe (and the fae painting was great!), it gave me chills. The writing stays with me during my daily life, I love the dialogues and I repeat them all through my brain. I like how you show things, imply things instead of just saying them. I like that the MC is smart enough to know what to do in different, unexpected situations. If anything, I think you could make that feel more natural. For example, sometimes you can choose "I'm not scared" after a scene that freaked your character out. Maybe make us choose the option earlier and show during different scenes how the MC is not scared, that way MC's acts match their words. Still, the writing is awesome for me. The romantic scenes just make me all giddy amdjsk, I wouldn't change a thing about that, and the MC's options during them (i like that I have the option to say I'd put a collar on tenebris, and you can also not be into that just bc tene is). But ofc changing the writing and art is up to you! I shouldn't mention this because it's evident but it's your game and more important than making a game that people will enjoy is making a game that you'll enjoy making and you're satisfied with!

My point is (sorry that was long!) the only thing I don't remember after closing the game is the music. I slightly remember Tene's main theme (which I find funny when it starts playing because it's like HELL YES TENE IS HERE TO MAKE TROUBLEEEE BABY) but the rest doesn't really stick with me. This doesn't mean it's bad, it's actually good but I know it could be better, it could add a lot more than it does. There are some moments when the music goes off (like the first date) which I don't think is a good moment to go off because you usually get worried/scared when that happens. Walking home after the date during night should feel more tiring and nostalgic, yet romantic. There should be a way to differentiate a happy charming, magical night with the boys from a calm, nostalgic nightly path. And if there's a way to add more life to a VN, that's music! It doesn't have to be a masterpiece, but feel more 'full of life' if you get me.

I hope my review is useful and not bothering agshsgs. This is all me trying hard to find things that could be better. The demo is already so so good as it is! I was surprised to see the survey in the first place when you're already doing great and hard work. If you have to point a gun at me to choose, music is my choice. I think a lot of VNs underestimate it (not that I think you do!). I say this as a person who used to undervalue music, I can draw and write but cannot make music to save my life, I suck at it 😭 but now I wouldn't be satisfied until finding the perfect piece.

Take what I say with a grain of salt Nightmare!! Thank you for giving us this masterpiece already. 🙇 Hope you're doing great!!

Hi! Thank you for your feedback and for all the praise! 💕

Honestly, I absolutely get where you're coming from in terms of the music. But sadly, music is something I can't do all that much about. I don't have the budget to hire a composer, so I'm stuck with using whatever royalty free music I can find. I will try to plan it out a little better in terms of when certain tracks play, though!

#duality game

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v0idim · 9 months

Text

Idk where the art is someone drop the art credit in the comments 🙌😜

Small Encounters

Itadori Yuji x Reader

!Basketball College AU!

You walk out of class and see Itadori ready to pick you up. What is he doing here?

2/?

☆*:.｡. o(Second Small Encounter)o .｡.:*☆

You walk up to Itadori's car, watching the tinted glass roll down. "Pleasure seeing you again, but why are you here?" You hunched over so your head would be in view of the window. Itadori smiled showing off his pearly white teeth at you, getting out of the drivers side, grabbing your bag and placing it in the back seat before opening the passenger door for you.

"I told you I was going to pick you up. Wheres the gratitude L/n?" He chuckled a bit before ushering you into the car. "I have a game today and I have to be there in an hour. I don't want to rush you but I really do have to get ready soon." You stared at him in confusion, thinking to yourself 'Why would he pick me up if he has somewh-' your thoughts get interrupted as Itadori begins to ramble again.

"Can I get ready at your place? I'll take you to the game, Nobara said you were coming so why not just come with me to the game. We're both going to the same place, less gas, better for the environment ya know. Don't want these happy trees to wither up because I decided to drive around my car. You get me?" Your mouth gapes as you stare at him. He sheepishly smiles at you.

"No offense Itadori, but I just met you and you already want to come to my apartment? You seem chill but are you sure you want to come to my place?" You strapped on your seat belt, you really wouldn't mind his company. You make a mental note to text Kugisaki that someone else is giving you a ride to the game, you'll just meet her there.

"If you're fine with it, I would love to get ready at your place! I really do wanna get to know you more L/n" You sat in your own thoughts for a while as he started the car, feeling the engine pur beneath you. He handed you his phone so you can type in your address into the maps app.

'He's not a bad guy right? What's the worse he could do? I would like to get to know him better too. Everything is gonna be fine.' You thought to yourself. Looking out the window as the cars seem to blur right pass you.

After some time, you arrive to your apartment, you show him to the parking garage that lies beneath the complex. Having rich siblings was a great benefit because they seemed to pay for the expenses that were out of your budget, for example, your apartment.

"Woah I didn't know you were rich like that dude. This garage is so dope and it's only the parking garage!" He slightly glances over to you as he pulls into one of the guest parking spots.

"Eh I'm not rich, I don't pay for my apartment." This confused Itadori a bit, he shrugged it off as he went over to your side of the car and opened the door. After you exited the car, he went to the back seat and collected his and your bags. "But anyways, you have a nice car! Probably cost a fortune." Matching Itadori's pace, his long strides were hard to keep up with but you managed.

"My sensi bought it for me. He's hella rich! He bought it for me when I became a starter on the basketball team" Once again, Itadori had managed to shook you again. Leaving you in confusion as you enter the elevator door. You pressed the 6th floor and stood in a nice peaceful silence as the soft jazz played in the background of the elevator.

"So what position do you play?" The elevator dings, you watch the doors open slowly. Stepping out and grabbing the keys to your apartment out of your bag.

"I'm a point guard, but I'm pretty good at all positions." He stretches his arms over his head, cockiness lingered in his tone. "I've been playing since grade school, so many years ago I dont remeber the age I actually started playing." You arrived to your apartment, unlocking the door and letting Itadori in first since he was carrying quite a few bags.

"Dude your place is sick." He wonders around the kitchen and living room after placing the bags down near a chair. He looks at all the pictures you have around your living area, all the trophies you had on display. "Who's B/n? And damn are they good at volleyball! National champions is so impressive!" You walk towards Itadori, placing your slippers on your feet.

"That's my brother, not sure if you heard of him but he plays Volleyball professionally." You grabbed a small rag and cleaned off any smudges the trophy had. Since your siblings were always away you only had small memories of them.

"WAIT DAWG YOU'RE THE LEGENDARY B/N SISTER?" He grabs your shoulders and shakes you violently, Itadori had seem to become comfortable around you... and you were glad.

"Yea, I don't tell many people about it." You rub the back of your nape as he loses his grip around your shoulders. "Too much attention and some people take advantage of me having a 'famous' brother" You sighed as you walked over to the fridge. Silently mumbling some words to yourself, wanting the topic to change from your brother and his achievements to something else.

"What do you want to drink?" You yell over your shoulder towards itadori who was now sitting at the small dinner table that stood in the middle of the dining room.

"You have hi-c or redbull?" he yelled back slightly, turning his head to the side. His eyes land on the upright steinway and sons piano that leaned against the wall. You walk in with many juice boxes of Hi-c fruit punch, just incase Itadori wanted more. "Yo L/n" you hummed in response. "You play piano?" You slightly nod your head, walking back into the kitchen to grab some protein bars and snacks for Itadori.

Once you sit down, he calls out your name, grabbing your attention. "Can you play something for me?" Although you always hear this question, it always makes you nervous. Itadori notice you tense up a bit. "You don't have to play if you want though!" he grabs a juice box and stabs the straw in the top of the box.

"Its fine, I have to practice playing in front of people more anyways." You wipe the sweat on your pants before taking a seat on the piano bench. "Anything you want to hear?" You glance over your shoulder at Itadori, he had move closer to you, pulling up a chair right behind you.

"Play runway by Kanye!" He crossed his legs on the chair, now sitting cris-cross, as he watched your every move precisely. You pressed the E key on the piano, then letting your fingers run across to play the song. Letting your fingers glide across the keys like butter. Itadori watched in silence, amazed by your captivating skills. The song comes to end end, turing your body to face him.

"So did you like it? I messed up a little. It's been a while since I played that, sorry." I gave him a tight lipped smile. He had his mouth slightly open.

"L/n.... that was so beautiful." His voice was a meer whisper. "You're playing is so beautiful and elegant." He locked eyes with you. "I saw you walk out of the music building. Do you major in music?" Itadori seemed interested in you career, which was rare to you. Kugisaki hates it when you talk to her about music, but Itadori seemed to actually pay attention.

"Yea, I'm a Jazz studies Major. Nothing flashy but it's pretty neat." You stand up from the bench, walking over to the dinning table and grabbing a juice box.

"Do you have a concert or something coming up? I would love to see you play again." He followed you arond with his gaze.

"Yea I have a recital in three weeks. You should come!" You look at the time on your phone. it was 4:36 "Um.. Itadori what time do you have be at the gym?" You looked at him, once again you were running late.

"I gotta be there at 5, Why?" He pulls out his phone to check the time. "Oh my god! Where's your bathroom I have to change!" He rushes around your apartment.

"Its down that hall to the left. Im going to get ready real quick, knock on my door when you're ready to leave!" You walk into your room, slipping into a different outfit before putting on some more chapstick and a light layer of mascara. You fix your hair and put on new socks, opening the door of your room. You walk into the living room and see Itadori slipping on his slides, he was wearing his basketball shorts and a black hoodie. "I'm almost ready, let me just put on my shoes." You tell Itadori as you sit on the floor, shoving your foot into your shoe aggressively. You walk to the kitchen counter and grab your keys, a pack of gum, some water, and a hair tie. After grabbing all your necessities you walk out the door.

"Okay let's go, do you mind if we drive fast?" Itadori says in a rushed manner, you finish locking the door. Speed walking to the elevator as Itadori just takes longer strides.

"Nope, as long as you make it on time." You decide to take the stairs instead. It would be faster and its good for cardio. Itadori takes the lead as he skips multiple steps at a time, you rushing behind him. Finally making it into the parking garage, he unlocks his car with a click. Opening the passenger door for you, you let out a small thank you as you get into the car. He enters into the drivers side, throwing his bag to the back and starts the car.

"Just making sure, you're fine if I speed right?" Itadori quickly pulls out of the garage, heading onto the highway towards the school.

"Yes I'm fine with it, now step on it bro!" The car roars loudly as he shifts gears, the lights from the outside turn into flashing streaks. You take a look at the speedometer and see Itadori is going 110 MPH/177 KMH.

You make it to the school campus in a blink of an eye. 4:56. Just on time. You and Itadori rush into the gym, you take a seat on the bleachers, watching your pink hair friend lace up his shoes.

Suddenly your phone rings. Looking at the contact name, your heart drops a little.

INCOMING CALL : NOBARA

A/N

Sorry for the short chapter :( Anyways I hoped you like the ff so far. IK THEYRE MOVING KINDA FAST BUT TRUST ME IT WILL SLOW DOWN

#voidimwrites #jjk nobara #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #itadori x y/n #itadori x reader #itadori yuji #jujutsu itadori #nobara kugisaki #basketball #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #college

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tagsecretsanta · 9 months

Text

From @sofasurf

From @sofasurf to @janetm74

My prompts were:

1. Steam.

2. Stripes/striped.

3. ‘Did you have to?'

I think I've managed it!!

DINER

"Yellow car no hit backs!"

The sounds of a scuffle and indignant squawks. John's tone held a warning, "So help me Gordon, if you lay a hand on me!"

"Na ah! No hit backs allowed!"

"Oh I won't hit you."

There was silence in the car as the other four contemplated John's words.

"Man, you have zero chill," Gordon huffed turning to look out the window while Alan sniggered. In the front seat Virgil and Scott exchanged amused grins.

"Remind me again why this was a good idea?"

"Because, Johnno, we have a few days off for Christmas and Alan has never been on a proper road trip." Scott accelerated round a corner causing Virgil to grab at the handles.

"Car not One, Scott! Car not One!"

Scott ignored him catching Alan's eye in the mirror and winking. Of his brothers, Alan was the one who shared his appreciation for speed. The mountain side whipped past on either side of them. "The point of a road trip is to enjoy the scenery not travel back in time." Virgil complained while Scott pretended he hadn't heard him

It wasn't often they indulged in frivolous perks of wealth. When Scott had mentioned their road trip plans to a friend, who happened to also be the CEO of Ferrari, the offer to test drive the new SUV prototype had been more than the speed freak Scott could resist. It was big enough for all five of the brothers to travel in comfort, though Scott had yet to relinquish the front seat to test that theory.

"Right well, remind me again why I agreed to come!" John was prepared to be pedantic. Close proximity to Gordon occasionally had the effect.

"Ah, Johnny, Johnny," Gordon draped his arm over his brother's shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Fishface!"

"Jonathan, Jonathan," Gordon ignored the daggers shot his way, "It''s because you love us and because we promised we'd stop off at that new lab so you can talk all geeky about geeky stuff while the rest of us normal humans go Christmas shopping."

There were sounds of a scuffle from the backseat. It was all in jest however, everyone was in good form and beginning to unwind though, perhaps they were due a break from the confines of the car. Scott caught John's eye this time waggling his eyebrows.

"Now kids, don't make me stop this car."

He then performed another stunning manoeuvre that Virgil felt was more fitting for the air than the asphalt. However, his older brother was, it appeared, genuinely enjoying himself and Virgil would put up with breaking the land speed record for that reason alone.

"I'm hungry." Alan peered longingly into his long finished bag of Doritos.

"Eos recommended a dinner just through the next town. It's about 30 minutes from tonight's stop. She says their page is down, weird, but that she thinks it seems our kinda spot." John peered at his tablet.

"She was right about the motel last night so that works." Scott agreed and the state of the art central console pinged as John sent the location through. Scott glanced at the display, "Just an hour further on. Can you wait that long, Allie?" He caught his baby brother's eye again, meaning clear.

Alan put on his best whining voice, "I don't think I can Scotty. I'm starving. I feel faint."

"Did you have to? Brat!" Virgil chocked out as Scott pulled even more power from the engine. His whoop of delight brought a smile to the faces of the others in the car.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

A much shorter time than it should have been; the five brothers had selected a quiet corner booth of the small diner. It wasn't busy which suited them well. It had some twinkly lights, a small tree and upbeat Christmas tunes playing softly in the background.

John and Gordon made for the restrooms while Scott slipped into the corner and flopped opposite Virgil, all long relaxed limbs. He spread his arms along the back of the seat and let his head fall back against the surprisingly comfortable cushioning on the booth; just the right height for him.

Alan, as always drawn to Scott like a moth to flame slid into the space below his eldest brother's outstretched arm. He said something that made Scott laugh, and Virgil's heart warmed at both Alan's obvious delight in his hero's response and how chilled Scott appeared. Should nothing else happen on this trip, Virgil would consider it a hit for that reason alone.

"Right, I'm starving!" Scott reached for the menus left for them by the waitress. Virgil and Alan followed suit. Each took one and read in silence a moment.

"Um, guys?" Alan had turned to the middle page and was staring at the menu.

"Hmmm?" Virgil was still reading through the appetizers.

"Scott, look!" Alan dug his eldest brother in the ribs. Scott followed the teen's outstretched finger and his eyes widened and he immediately flicked his menu to the centre. Virgil did the same.

‘Thunderbird Specials’ the centre section of the menu had hand drawn pictures of the Thunderbirds One through Four and a slightly inaccurate representation of Five. Each had corresponding dishes.

In a rush? Thunderbird One steak burger with fries and our unique hot sauce.

More time to chew? Thunderbird two- tomahawk steak – great for sharing

Thunderbird Four our famous surf and turf. Fillet mignon and our locally sourced fresh organic prawns. All day breakfast with our mouthwatering Thunderbird Five pancake stack and creamy asteroid milkshake Thunderbird Three our unique coffee triple expresso. They don’t call it rocket fuel for nothing! “Eos set us up!” Alan exclaimed.

Scott and Virgil exchanged looks, “It would appear so!” Virgil said while Scott flipped further through the menu looking for an explanation.

John and Gordon returned at that moment- Gordon bouncing excitedly on his heels. “Guys, you are never gonna believe this.”

“Eos set us up,” Alan repeated lifting the menu to show them. Scott batted it down, checking over his shoulder. “Don't draw attention!” Virgil whispered as the teen giggled a little.

John rolled his eyes at them, “Yes. It would appear this is Eos’ idea of a little joke. I thought it was strange I couldn't see the online menu.” John slid into the booth beside Virgil while Gordon dropped on Alan's other side swiping the menu despite his protests.

“There's a picture of dad and some dude on the wall over there!” Gordon pointed the direction he and John had come.

John met Scott’s gaze and held it a moment, “It’s a picture of Dad and the owner’s son. He was in that refinery fire, remember right back near the start of IR?”

“The big one in Texas Dad fought with top brass about for weeks after?”

John nodded, “Seems Dad pulled the son out just in time with Thunderbird One. There is a little bit about it under the picture.” John’s face was hard to read, memories of Jeff were always bittersweet.

“Really?”

John smiled, “Yep. And it appears the owner hasn't forgotten. Proceeds from the Thunderbird menu,” he gestured the pages open in front of them, “Go to a charity that supports rebuilding in disaster areas.”

“That's pretty cool, right?” Gordon was grinning.

“Yea,” Virgil agreed.

“Way to go, Dad!” Alan said his tone impressed and Scott dropped his arm to pull the teen in for a quick side hug.

“Way to go Dad,” Gordon repeated back his own tone softer with a little something unreadable in it.

Scott simply nodded a soft smile on his lips. He seemed to lose himself in memories a moment and Virgil tapped his ankle gently with his foot under the table causing his older brother to meet his eye. He nodded in reassurance. All good.

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Gordon broke the spell. “but if you want the absolute coolest, check this out!” and he produced a bundle of papers from behind his back. “Thunderbird colouring sheets!”

And just like that the spell was broken and chaos descended in the table.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

The food was exceptionally good. Obviously they had to sample all the Thunderbird menu and the argument over whose dish was the best looked set to continue until next Christmas. They had pulled the crackers orbited with their meal and squabbled good naturedly over the tacky prizes and each now sported a jaunty paper crown.

Gordon and Alan had listened engrossed as John and Virgil had regaled them with the tale of the Texas fire with Scott chipping in little details. Dad in action had truly been impressive and John, although he would deny it, was a gifted story teller when he chose to be.

Now a quiet contentment had descended in the group. Virgil sat back, stomach full and observed his brothers. He clutched his Thunderbird Three coffee and allowed the steam to curl up lazily in front of him. It had a pleasing kick though Three’s pilot was still complaining that three older brothers had stated “No” in unison when

he'd tried to order one for himself. He and Gordon, also banned from that much caffeine before being trapped in a car with the others, were appeased with hot chocolate. Apple pie and chocolate cake had also been consumed. Road trips were hungry work.

John was quietly messaging Eos who was delighted her subterfuge had worked while the three opposite him, yes the Commander of International Rescue included, were finishing off their colouring pages. Scott's tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration, a small tuft of hair sticking up from where he’d run his hand through it, as he finished colouring Thunderbird Two blue. The argument had been brief and Virgil had

decided not to sink any further to his level. His own completed green version of One had a festive santa hat in lieu of her traditional nose cone. John meanwhile had been mildly offended by the inaccurate Thunderbird Five option and so was egging the others on in their colour wars.

“I mean we should be pleased they don't have an accurate image of our top secret satellite, Johnny!” “Don't call me that. And that's not the point, Scooter. Here, you haven't used this shade of blue yet.”

The battle between Alan and Gordon had almost come to blows when Alan had finished a red version of Four only to see the blue and yellow stripes the aquanaut had given Three.

John and Scott had added fuel to the fire by appearing to seriously consider the benefits of a respray for each accordingly and much brotherly silliness had ensued. Virgil did however make a note to keep a track of blue paint supplies as John was sneaky when he wanted to be and was watching Scott's drawing with barely concealed mirth.

There had been a hairy moment when the waitress had appeared to recognise them, or at least Scott. He had placed a finger to his lips and his teeth had practically sparkled as he smiled at her silently requesting she not give them away, sealing the deal with a little wink. She hadn’t divulged their identities, serving then with wide

eyes attentiveness; though a napkin with her number on it had been dropped on Scott’s knee as she refilled his coffee much to his surprise, Gordon and Alan's glee, and a murmur of, “unbelievable,” from Virgil.

Pucture complete, Scott looked up and met Virgil's eye. Virgil motioned to the other three and raised his eyebrows, Scott’s indulgent smile matched Virgil's own. Moments like this were all too rare. Scott sat back stretching his long arms along the back of the seat again, content like Virgil just to enjoy their company.

Virgil was called in to referee/ judge the which Thunderbird looked best in the new colour competition that still raged. When he looked back at Scott a few minutes later the eldest’s wasn't looking at them but at something behind Virgil's head, his expression a strange one Virgil couldn't quite read; thoughtful, wistful even? Virgil turned in his seat to see what had grabbed Scott's attention. He immediately recognised what Scott saw.

A woman who couldn't be much older than Scott himself was wrangling a small team of children into the booth by the door. Four boys aged roughly between twelve and four by Virgil's guess, she had another baby, a little girl who couldn't have been older than one in her arms. The baby had blonde hair and was waving a stuffed toy excitedly. He watched as the woman handed her to the oldest looking boy who immediately started to make faces and bounce her up and down, occupying her while the mother helped the other boys out of their coats.

Their excited chatter and the baby's infectious laughter drifted across the diner all clamouring for their mother’s attention as she attempted to answer several questions at once. It was chaos and to the two brothers watching, achingly familiar.

One of the younger boys needed the restroom and he and what looked to be his next older brother passed their booth, heads bent in discussion their conversation just audible, “I already explained, we can't ask for ice cream cos it makes mom worry.”

Virgil looked back at Scott who caught his eye and looked away. Seeming to shake himself a little as if to clear something from his head, Scott used his long reach across the back of the seat to tap Gordon on the shoulder, stealing his second last bite of cake as Gordon moved too slowly to stop him.

“Ugh! You are the worst, Scooter! Remind me again why I let you hang out with me?”

“Because you need his signature to access your trust fund,” John helpfully supplied spearing Gordon’s last piece.

He and Scott high fived while Scott slipped out of the booth to settle the bill.

“Actually ‘bout that...” Gordon turned puppy dog eyes towards his oldest brother.

“Told you, Squid, I am not signing off on you buying a Christmas tree farm in Vermont.” He ruffled the aquanaut’s hair as he passed.

“You have no vision, Scooter!”

Scott’s laugh floated back to them as he made his way to the counter.

The other four brothers watched enthralled as their waitress and another server both jockeyed to serve him.

Scott’s dimples were on full display as he leant in the counter bending his head towards the girls conversationally. Virgil could swear he could see their eyes changing shape to little hearts, “Does he even know he's doing it?” His tone was reverential.

“I really don't know. Sometimes?” John replied folding his arms as the waitress reached across to bat Scott's arm conspiratorially.

“His powers must only be used for good,” Gordon covered Alan's eyes, “You are too young to see this Allie.” Alan batted his hands away, ducking to continue watching the display at the counter.

Judging from the way the waitress was listening intently and kept glancing at the family in the booth Virgil was sure Scott's not inconsiderable powers were indeed being used for good. He didn't doubt for a second the family that reminded them so much of past times would find their bill paid with a healthy ice cream allowance added. People often thought that Virgil was the soft hearted Tracy brother; he just didn't have to hide it so carefully from corporate sharks.

Judging from the way the waitress’ eyes widened slightly as she retrieved the handset from his brother, there had been a healthy tip added to their own bill as well.

As they passed the family, now tucking into burgers and fries with gusto, the tiny girl tossed her toy into the ground. Scott bent to pick it up, smiling at the mother who smiled back in tired gratitude. He flung his arm around Virgil's shoulders as they walked towards the car.

A yellow Mustang pulled into the parking space in front of them and Gordon and Alan looked at each other, frozen like gunslingers at high noon.

“Yellow car no hit backs.”

John beat them to it, walking between the two giving them each a solid cuff to their heads. Their outraged cries floated on the crisp air drawing the attraction of the older two. It was the little things at Christmas really John thought. He hung back slightly watching as his four brothers crossed the parking lot, the sky was trying to snow, a few flurries escaping the black clouds.

“Thanks, Eos,” He whispered into his open Comm before hurrying to catch up with a shout of, ”Shotgun!” that sent the others scrambling to reach the car first.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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