#ty for asking too muffin!!

[swim-culture-is]

How is your back feeling these days? I hope it's a bit better. Winter training is a beast.

it feels better ty!! my shoulder blade was not really where it should've been but my ortho lady put it back in!!

#shout out to kathleen my goat #ty for asking too muffin!! #luvv #not swim culture #ask

[einsatzzz]

The OC Questions!! I must asssk!

For Kurumi:

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?

For Kana:

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

For Yui 💜:

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

Thank you for sending these questions Muffin! 🥰 I tried doing some extra doodles too hahaha

Kurumi

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

She has an upbeat voice but not too loud, which is around moderate volume so she can be heard clearly. But she can make her voice very loud if she wants to, especially when excited. She usually speaks in a casual tone and often uses nicknames for friends like "Goku", Take-chan", "Nii-chan" (Ryohei), "Hiyorin" etc. She uses Boku (ボク) to refer to herself.

Her voice claim is Hinata Satou! I linked a sample too (the VA voiced Mizuki here):

Link

We got most of our voice claims from ProSeka ngl hahaha but this one fits kurumi so well

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Most people assume she's a girl, they're both right and wrong. She doesn't mind, since it doesn't matter that much. The only thing that matters is that she wears cute clothing/fashion without worries. A very important warning is to not refer to her as a cross-dresser when she switches around cute masculine & feminine clothing because Kana and Yui will murder the person who ever says that.

I will make her wear all the cute clothing, it's what she deserves.

🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?

I guess being selfless enough to be willing to sacrifice yourself can be considered as a self-destructive tendency. She's also very forgiving. If someone were to stab her maliciously, she'll still forgive them in the end somehow.

A habit that hinders her from becoming her best self is her hard-headed refusal to change. For example, she's really good at hand-to-hand combat but didn't really have much preference for using her weapon. So during training periods when she was younger, she only trained on hand-to-hand combat and didn't really focus much on handling her weapon. It proved to be very disadvantageous down the line because she'd have less options in battle and she can't use the weapon to it's full potential.

Kana

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

To a certain extent you can say she likes reading. She mainly does it to either pass the time quietly in an idle way (she doesn't like loud noises) or if she wants to do studies/research on certain things (mostly family-related matters).

If there was a genre that she frequents, it would be autobiographies or semi-autobiographies. A notable example would be "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai. Between fiction and non-fiction works, she reads non-fiction works more. She does read *all* the romance-centered shoujo manga Kurumi recommends but parts of it leaves her a bit confused and a few headaches.

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

With absolutely no negative repercussions at all? A wish to fade away in peace (oblivion) and a bright future for her family. She would prefer to die now while she's still at her most "peaceful" point in her life, since she knows it's temporary. Similar to Reborn&co (but not exactly the same), she is a bit of a "cursed child" herself.

BUT only if there's no repercussions though, she knows it would leave her family in shambles if she actually just disappears out of nowhere.

Other extreme scenarios: where her partner gets killed or dies (before she does); or on the flip side, if the partner somehow fatally harms/kills other people that are also most important to her.

Sometimes, I wonder if Reborn can actually read people's minds. Most likely, he's just extremely good at reading people in general.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

This question is so angsty, definitely her genre haha but can u really break something that's already long broke---

Betrayal of trust and abandonment - since she already prefers spending time alone, away from people in general and her full trust is only something that she gives out so very very rarely. For someone to become her partner (a significant other or a bestfriend), a huge amount of trust, respect and attachment must be involved. If all of that were to just be thrown away, it would be too cruel and brutal, akin to continuously kicking someone's already dead body. (kana love interest, pls don't actually break her heart 😢 we alr broke it plenty enough)

Yui

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

He has a laidback voice with a playful tone to it often. It's not that loud, but he can be loud when he is in the mood to annoy people. Depending on the person, he either refers to other people casually, reuse the nicknames Kurumi uses on them or come up with a a really bad one. He uses Boku (ボク) to refer to himself, but sometimes also uses Ore (俺).

His voice claim is Daisuke Hirose! This sample should be closer to what we're going for? It sounds silly enough, which suits him.

Link

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

All the time in the world to create masterpieces of inventions after another. Creating and fiddling with machines has been a long-time passion of his after all. He would especially love to be able to finish some of his long-term projects (there are even ones that he started when he was just a small kid).

Initially, many people think he's a slacker or a bad student, since he often skips class (he attends just enough to not have problems with moving up grades), but he actually has excellent grades whenever he takes quizzes and exams, which shuts any angry teachers off. There are also others that think that he isn't being a proper "right-hand man", but he surprisingly takes it seriously in his own way. He genuinely cares for the twins, plus a lot of things were sacrificed to get this position too, after all.

FYI Room arrangement is: Master's Bedroom (Ninomiya Parents), Kurumi, Kana, Yui

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

He receives love letters often and is very open to receiving them as well, so you could say he likes it. If he ever does get to have his ideal partner, I can imagine him leaving mixed stupid and affectionate messages to them to get a reaction, though it would only be an occasional thing.

#ask #ninomiya kurumi #ninomiya kanako #yorimitsu yui #oniyanagi #muffin #ty for sending these questions! #onto the next one! #omg wait now that i think abt it #kana's previous oc/canon ship technically did break her heart to some extent *scratches head* #to a lesser extent perhaps kurumi's too? #well we call them kanarumi's exes now #*cough*can someone*cough*in khr*cough*please*cough*step up*cough*for these two*cough* #also feeling wishy-washy with kana's voice claim again might suggest some adjustments so good thing it didn't get asked yet whew #feeling funny might go back & post yknrm in their previous oc/canon shenanigans lmfaooo #khr oc #einart

[fyodorkitkat]

what do you think is fyodor's favourite tea time snack?

Maybe some small cookies or tea cakes. I haven't really thought of it until now tbh but I think he would like something like a butter shortbread flavor or if it is a stronger flavor then lemon poppyseed or the thumb print cookies with jam in them.

#ty for the ask 🙏💜 #this may have been influenced by the lemon poppyseed mini muffin i was given this morning lol but i think it would be a good teatime #cookie flavor too #did you send the one about the teacup dear anon? did you want to share your ideal vision for his teatime setup? #-Lue asks

[xuchiya]

baker's secret ingerdient {k.yeosang}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The rhythmic thwack of Yeosang's whisk against the metal bowl was a familiar soundtrack to his mornings at Cafe Love. Flour dusted his apron like a badge of honour, a testament to the countless pastries he'd brought to life within these walls. But lately, the melody of his baking had a discordant note – the growing number of disappointed sighs as customers learned his signature croissants were sold out yet again.

Seonghwa, the manager along with the food decor, were concerned about the head baker and the pressure. Seonghwa approached the flour covered man, “Yeo …”

“I don’t need help hyung …” Seonghwa feels bad that Yeosang can’t express his burden yet he understood from the dark circles underneath his eyes, the hunch of pressure on his shoulders. Seonghwa glanced at the lady at the corner, looking at them with a frosting on her cheeks. 

Seonghwa sighs, “I’ll look for a way.” 

Yeosang prided himself on his creations, each croissant a delicate masterpiece – flaky, golden, and bursting with buttery goodness. But the demand had become overwhelming, for days that turned into weeks that it became too much for him that he finally broke down with Seonghwa about his pressure and in need of help.

     He needed an assistant, someone who could share the burden and the joy of baking.

The double door of the kitchen chimed, announcing a new arrival. Yeosang glanced up, expecting Seonghwa with another piece of bad news. Instead, a young woman with eyes as bright as blueberries stood hesitantly by the counter. Her hair, the color of melted chocolate, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

  "Can I help you?" Yeosang asked, his voice cold despite the flour dusting his nose that makes him soft and warm.

The woman stammered, "I, uh, saw the sign about the baker assistant position. Your manager told me to head here since today will be a little more crowded than usual, and don’t worry, I love to bake!"

Intrigued, Yeosang wiped his hands on his apron, approaching the woman with left eyebrow raised,  "Love to bake, huh? Let's see what you've got then." He led her to another table, just across his, a haven of flour sacks and the intoxicating aroma of sugar and butter. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

  "This place is amazing!" You exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. Yeosang gave her a neutral look. "Tell me that, when you can handle 24 pieces of croissant, 20 pieces of brioche and 10 blueberry muffins."

You grinned, placing your shoulder bag down, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows; tying the complicated apron around you, "Challenge accepted."

The following hour was a flurry of activity. Flour flew, butter creamed, and the air filled with the comforting scent of baking. Yeosang watched intently as you handled the dough with surprising dexterity. Your movements were quick and confident, belying her initial nervousness yet there was something itching on Yeosang as he watched you knead the dough. 

“You’re hurting your wrist if you keep doing that.” Yeosang shakes his head, approaching the woman. You move to the side to watch him knead the dough easily before removing to the side again to recreate his actions but Yeosang sighs in disappointment making you look down; you were so confident about the things you've been doing and the moment you heard that made your confidence deflate but you have to keep up with the professionalism and continue kneading the dough.

You heard Yeosang sigh once again before you felt presence on your back and a soft grip on the back of your hands as it led you to kneading on his pace. You felt his breath fanning your nape, “This is how I do it so I wouldn’t hurt my wrist.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch, paralyzed, with the close proximity of your warmth against your head baker. Your heart wasn’t also helping with the situation.

“... understood?” Your eyes  widen, looking to your left; having an intense eye contact with Yeosang. Both of your hands halted, just resting each on top of each other. Yeosang had admitted the moment he was kneading the dough with you, your sweet perfume lingering in his nose and your face that was covered in flour.

You both pulled away, looking away from each other as the redness so evident on your faces. Yeosang cleared his throat, clearing the awkwardness, “Continue doing your job.”

They worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic kneading and the satisfied sighs escaping the oven as a new batch emerged. Finally, Yeosang pulled out a golden brown croissant, its layers impossibly thin and perfectly risen. He held it up for inspection.

You look closely at the croissant, “How is it?” You look at him– at the same time– Yeosang glance at you. Once again, you find yourself in your own world as his eyes trails on your eyes, down to your nose then to your cherry lips then back to your eyes.

You were doing no better as you took notice of his birthmark on his left eye, his lashes resting so perfectly that it made his eyes big and sparkly that you wouldn’t get tired looking at them.

“If you both are gonna kiss, please do it after the rush hour.” You and Yeosang pullaway to see Wooyoung leaning on the door with his arms crossed and playful smirk on his lips. Yeosang nodded, a hint of red on his cheeks, “Yes, of course.”

  The day ended with a success, your smile was brighter than the fresh pastry, turning to your head baker,  "We did it!"

Yeosang couldn't help but return the smile. He'd found his assistant, someone who not only shared his passion but also possessed a talent that rivaled his own.

The afternoon rush was a whirlwind. Customers who'd previously left disappointed walked away with bags filled with warm, flaky croissants, their faces beaming with satisfaction. The pressure lifted from Yeosang's shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie as he and you worked side-by-side, a well-oiled baking machine.

By the time the cafe closed, exhaustion mingled with a deep sense of accomplishment. Leaning against the counter, Yeosang looked at you, another set of flour dusting your cheeks like a baker's badge of honor.

"Welcome to Cafe Love," he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. You grinned back. "Thanks for having me. This is going to be fun."

As they cleaned up, they talked about baking dreams and favorite pastries, their laughter echoing through the quiet cafe. You were wiping your table when you realised how this customer always comes back ordering his pastry with so much adoration.

You spun on your heel, “Uh Yeosang?” Yeosang was busy placing back his utensils but still managed to acknowledge you, “Yes?”

You twist the towel as a sign of nervousness, “Every baker in town has its secret ingredient … Do you happen to have one?” Yeosang pauses, silently placing the last utensil inside the drawer before closing it. He looks up, wiping the cloth on his fingers as he approaches you with big strides. 

Your breath hitch as you watch Yeosang lean on your ears, “It’s something you wouldn't believe even if I told you." He stops just short of your ear, his voice a low murmur sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his breath tickle your neck."But maybe, I can show you sometime."

You were slightly confused until Wooyoung came barging into the kitchen with his enthusiastic smile, “Hey love birds! Seonghwa wants to have a drink for another successful week for us, so if you guys are finished come outside.” You nodded, placing the rag inside your apron, “Of course, thank you Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung winks at you, “Anything for you, darling and anything for this Cafe Love.” You did not question his last statement as you helped Yeosang on the cups before Wooyoung returned back inside again, just sticking his head, “Ahh .. you guys can kiss now.”

“Wooyoung!” Both you and Yeosang exclaimed, making Wooyoung cackle loudly before exiting the kitchen, “Oi~ Benvolio, take this chance man.” Yeosang chuckles at Wooyoung, hushing him.

“Benvolio? From Romeo and Juliet?” You question, Yeosang nodded, “He named me after Romeo’s cousin, for no reason.” 

You pouted, thinking about the tragic love story, “From what I remember, Benvolio is like someone who tried to mediate the conflict between the families, and he was also the reason Romeo and Juliet got together. He's the nicest character that I have observe, he deserves someone to be love, you know.” 

Yeosang looks at you, intrigued. He does not know much about the tale but it somehow matches what he did to Wooyoung and to his lover though, Yeosang helps Wooyoung to do the first move in talking; he and Wooyoung aren’t close as being blood related hence cousins.

But Yeosang didn’t mind much of it and continued doing his work. Yeosang knew then that Cafe Love wasn't just about the delicious treats; it was about the connections forged over shared passions and the joy of creation. And with you by his side, the symphony of baking at Cafe Love was about to get even more beautiful.

Yeosang glance at the old worn out book, it was closed but he knew inside those were the secret ingredients of creating a pastry full of love. It was a book given by Wooyoung’s significant other, Wooyoung’s long lost Juliet.

Yeosang had seen how his best friend fell in love and experienced love. So he made an oath that not every single soul will experience love not only through emotions but through food.

Yeosang smiles, looking over at you, his smile brightens and extends, “Benvolio is indeed a nice person to deserve himself a beautiful lover in this life.”

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang scenarios #kang yeosang fluff #8 makes 1 team #kang yeosang fanfic #ateez atiny

[lululandd]

being kyle ‘gaz’ garrick’s significant other would include:

for @itsohh (i tried hehe >:3)

♡ the nicest king sized bed.

your mans sleepin on dirt and wooden floors on duty so he would like to not do that at home. the bed comes with the fluffiest pillows and the softest sheets with a bajillion thread count. you would love to stay awake on your phone for a couple more hours but damn, you think that bed would let you?

♡ quoting vines.

he doesnt understand why you always say “look at all those chickens” in a childish voice while gesturing at the ducks in the park, so you had to educate him. you two say “merry chrysler!” when you get invited to price’s during christmas. you think he wont understand but he replies with a “merry crisis!” and nik just stands there bewildered.

♡ doing the dishes.

he loves to cook but loathes doing dishes. cooking is his comfort thing. he doesnt get to eat well during work, and cooking just brings him comfort. he loves it when you buy a weird ingredients from the supermarket, like, oh! new things to learn how to cook!

♡ receiving memes in your dms even though you are legitimately sitting next to each other.

you asked him why doesnt he just show it to you, you’re literally right there. he doesnt like shoving things in your face. he’d rather hear your supressed laughter or that blast of air from your nose and that is so much better than a forced reaction if he showed it to you immediately.

♡ bath bombs!

kyle loves watching them dissolve, they help him relax and feel safe. would bring headphones if he’s alone or if you’re with him he’d bring back massagers and you get to massage each other as you soak.

♡ helping him with sleep paralysis.

kyle gets nightmarish sleep paralysis that can occur up to six times a night at its worst so youve become attuned to small noises he makes during sleep. a balloon could pop near you while you sleep and not wake you up but as soon as your brain recognises kyle making small noises? you’re wide awake and ready to get him through it. he has vaguely told you what he sees during episodes and you help him by just talking to him about random things and making jokes and quoting vines.

♡ his parents asking to hangout with you.

his parents love you. like. they’d shoo him away if he wants to come with sometimes. its so funny that he gets housesitting duty while his parents take you out. and they spoil you. do you complain about it being too cold in the winter months? sweater shopping. new mini heater. is it too hot during summer? new portable ac unit. kyle has joked that you should complain more often to get free things from them but you genuinely feel bad for accidentally saying things sometimes.

♡ taskmaster and the great british bakeoff

he loves seeing people try to problem solve. and loves it even more when they find loopholes in the given tasks and do something unexpected. his favourite from taskmaster is when rhod gilbert tying alex horne to a chair when the task to be ‘the slowest to be untied by alex’ and he had tried to better and then perfect victoria coren mitchell’s bloody mary muffin :3

(he also watches big fat quiz of the year like soap but doesnt follow it yearly, and loves to joke around with soap saying “oh nooo!” like the mitchell brook primary school children on base.)

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

[t-h-i-n-g]

hi can u do dialogue prompt 26 with percy jackson ? and congrats for the 1000 followers, you deserve it !!

26. “i smell something burning, you’re sure you’re okay in there?” “i’m fine! i’m fine!”

w percy jackson

Event headline. Event masterlist

Percy didn’t understand how the living hell he ended up here. 

He’s an excellent cook.

He’s been cooking for years.

His mother taught him basically before he could walk.

So why the hell were the eggs in front of him burning every single goddamn time he made a new batch.

Spaghetti he can make.

Muffins he can manage.

Souffle is a struggle but it's tolerable.

But eggs.

That's where he draws the line?

Make it make sense for him, please.

Percy doesn’t know how much more his trash can take from the searing hot burning smell of eggs being dished into it before it’ll cry.

Or maybe him.

“Percy?” A faint soft voice called behind the kitchen door.

He’s so glad he got it installed. Screw the point of you saying ‘The house won’t be as open.’ As long as you can’t see him internally screaming at inanimate objects he’s fine.

“Yeah?” he calls back, with a sore attempt of an even tone.

“Everything okay in there? Why’s the door locked?” 

Percy’s gaze darted down to the jiggling door nob.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast. But I guess it’s not a surprise anymore.”

This was not a lie. But he was kinda planning he could actually present to you a semi pretty looking plate and not a bunch of black blobs.

“I smell something burning, you’re sure you’re okay in there?” you asked.

Percy’s eyes widened as he turned back to the simmering pan. Steam lifted from the cooking material.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” he called rushing to stop the potential disaster. Pulling the pan off of the stove, he turned it off and sat it on a different burner.

Sighing Percy slouched in disappointment as his disgrace of a meal. Slugging his way to the door he opened it and met your concerned expression.

“Breakfast is served,” he grumbled pulling the door back for you to see his monstrosity. You winced at the sight. 

Stepping into the kitchen you scanned the different material and objects scattered about.

“How long have you been at this?” you asked.

“Too long,” Percy stated, dragging a hand down his face.

Your expression softened at his disheaved state. Approaching him you placed an arm around his waist.

“How about we go out for brunch instead?” Percy leaned into your hold.

“As long as you don’t order eggs.”

ty for your request shawty :)))

#1k follower event #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

[liightsout]

the blue - part eight

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ summary: the boys head off for the Bahrain GP ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

✯ now playing: halley's comet - billie eilish ✯

✯ masterlist ✯

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

mattieryan just posted on their story

danielricciardo sent you a message

danielricciardo mattieeeeeee you're killng me here

danielricciardo pretty girl

Liked by adamjames22, danielricciardo and 64 others

mattieryan family

View all comments.

adamjames22 we've lived in the flat for 2 years and this might be the first time you've used the kitchen properly

↳ mattieryan gotta get my muffin fix somehow

↳ danielricciardo what's a boy gotta do to get one of those muffins

↳ mattieryan win a race 🤭

↳ danielricciardo on it boss 🫡

gia.ryan99 thanks for hanging out with me!!

↳ mattieryan any time angel 🫶

Liked by danielricciardo, adamjames22 and 123 others

mattieryan good luck to these two hooligans

tagged danielricciardo and landonorris

View all comments.

landonorris mattie 😳 you were sent these in confidence 😳 why u gotta do us dirty like this 😳

↳ mattieryan you both look cute!!

↳ landonorris yeah yeah sure 🤨 also adam has told me i'm supposed to say thank you 🙄 so thank you 🙄

danielricciardo thank you mattie 🤍

↳ mattieryan 🤍

adamjames22 what am i? chopped liver?

↳ mattieryan i literally just spent an hour on facetime with you, what more do you want from me? 😐 ur so NEEDY 😐

Liked by user1, user2 and 7432 others

f1paddockgossip New photo of Danny and Lando posted on Instagram earlier today ahead of the Bahrain GP. The photo was posted by the friend of one of the Mclaren mechanics Adam James. Not much is known about the friend, Mattie Ryan, all her social media profiles are on private. A source close to the Mclaren garage tells us that Ricciardo may have a close friendship with the mysterious Brit. Will post any updates when we get them!! xoxo

View all comments.

user1 greaaaaat, Danny's not even been at Mclaren for a week and this girls got her claws in lol

user2 such a cute photo of them!! was she with them? will she be at the race?

↳ user3 adam posted on his story that he had been on ft with her so i assume she's at home? they must have sent her the photo or it's not from this weekend

↳ user2 ohhhh ty for clarifying!

user4 does anyone know what her insta is?

↳ user1 it's mattieryan - but if you want to see more about her you're better off following adamjames22 his account isn't private and he posts about her a lot

↳ user2 stop searching for info on her, it's such an invasion of privacy! if her account is private then we should respect that!

Liked by adamjames22 and 64 others.

user5 surely if she's going to date either of them it'd be lando? he's more her age? danny's gotta be like 6/7 years older than her? bit gross if you ask me

↳ user2 no one asked

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ authors note: hey angels! sorry for the delay in getting this posted, i've been super busy last couple days. saw the 1975 on wednesday and noah kahan yesterday so i'm suuuper tired.

i'm also in a state of despair cus danny ric broke down in my hometown yday and was at my local supermarket getting the car fixed and it's just a lil too close to home for me :( :(

hopefully gonna get part nine written tonight/tomorrow so shouldn't have to wait too long.

hope this quick lil social media chap is ok in the mean time! ✯

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #danny ric #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 fanfic #dr3 imagine #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo fluff #f1 fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 smau #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fiction #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris smau

[muffinsin]

Hey muffin. As you have done G|P Donna with Bela and Cass, could you do a G|P Donna with Dani? I know you said you have a lot of asks so don't worry. If you don't feel like doing any of my asks then you dint have ta. Just so the ones you want. Would rather you enjoy your writing than have it turn into a chore. Weird

This took so long to answer cuz of my full inbox and me losing track of requests🙇‍♀️ But absolutely! I’m very curious about Daniela x Donna, I’ve barely stumbled across this ship so far!

Let’s get into it :) settled on some good old smut snippet for the two ;)

Masterlists

Donna smirks at the gagged, blushing woman sat on top of her thigh. It seems, at last Daniela has no more words to spare.

Her golden eyes are wide and bright when the dollmaker taps the bit of fabric that pokes out of her mouth, then groans when she pushes it back in with her fingertips. Daniela feels her own arousal on the panties in her mouth, and whimpers at the strange feeling of loss upon being sat on her lover’s thigh with the lack of underwear.

She knows, her dollmaker can easily tell how wet she is now. And she knows, she’s staining her lover’s beautiful, black dress.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have acted out the way she did. Perhaps she shouldn’t have so boldly mocked that her fingers could get the job done better than Donna’s cock. And why? All because she was told to wait for her lover to finish crafting a doll before she would turn her attention to her favourite, redheaded little doll. Alas, the troublemaker couldn’t resist mocking and giggling about, even licking her fingers for emphasis.

Now, she is made to wait nonetheless.

With her panties in her mouth, her dress hiked up to reveal her smooth, wet cunt against Donna’s dress, and deep red ribbons tying her hands and arms together at her front, the Dimitrescu can only whimper occasionally as she watches her lover work.

She feels her throbbing clit against Donna’s soft, cloth-covered thigh, yet what gets her really going is the obvious bulge in her beautiful dollmaker’s dress. The bulge, that is so boldly pressing up against her ass, and the bulge she is not allowed to grind up against.

She whimpers when the arm slung around her waist tightens around her and pulls her back against Donna’s front. She whines, as if in protest, upon feeling her ass pushed up against the bulge, yet being unable to feel it properly.

The arm shifts a little, and Daniela’s head falls back as a hand pushes against her throat. A sweet, almost too sweet, kiss is pressed to forehead, right above the rose tattoo.

Next, a bit of fabric is lifted to her face, and her eyes follow Donna’s finger as she traces the seams made to hold it together. It looks like a dress, made of black snd dark red material. Secretly, Daniela hopes it will serve one of the many dolls Donna crafts specifically for her.

She is brought back to the present by a snap of Donna’s fingers.

“See this, my little doll?”, she hums, her voice husky and low, quiet and deep from the lack of use. Daniela’s squeak in return seems almost high pitched in comparison. “This is a french seam. I prefer it over a plain simple one, as you know. It allows me to hide the seam in most cases”, she explains, and with each word the poor, gagged and tied redhead only squirms and whimpers more.

She can’t help but want those lips and fingers elsewhere.

“Mghmmm!”, she moans, her hips rocking in a desperate attempt to receive pleasure. She feels her own wetness smearing against her, and shrieks into the fabric of her underwear when she is pulled backwards harshly, until she is sat firmly on Donna’s bulge.

Her cheeks burn up as the older woman sets down the dress and trails her index fingertip across the wetness left on her dress by Daniela’s messy cunt. She whimpers, eyes wide and pleading up at her lover when the finger is presented to her.

If it wasn’t for the gag, she would all too eagerly lean forwards for a taste. Alas, with the smallest movement of her head already, Donna lifts her finger and brings it to her own mouth.

The squirming redhead can only moan and whimper when her lover hums around the wet digit, then pulls it back out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, did you want a taste, principessa?”, she hums. Daniela squirms at the petname, her cheeks adapting a link pink hue and her eyes shining an even brighter shade of gold. Donna’s dark eye seems to glisten, almost.

The submissive woman’s shriek is muffled when Donna spreads her legs a little and she drops down on the chair the woman is sat on, and groans against the fabric in her mouth when her hair is grabbed. Firmly, but with a loving smile on Donna’s beautiful lips. Just the way Daniela likes it.

“On the floor, principessa. You’re going to be a good girl now, little brat”

Her tone doesn’t leave room for arguments at all, and Daniela knows it. She lowers herself to the floor when her hair is let go of, and remains quiet like a well trained submissive when the drenched panties are dragged from her mouth.

In a way, she still has a lingering taste of her own arousal on her tongue.

She whines as her chin is grabbed roughly, yet knows soft and gentle treatment is usually reserved for times she behaves. Still, she can’t help but rub her thighs together. Her dress seems entirely too warm on her, with the arousal clear between her legs and her cheeks and neck warm and crimson.

The dress, of course, is a beautifully crafted one made for her by Donna. And really, it turns the dollmaker on to no end to toy with her sweet brat in it.

The light, pale colour works perfectly with Daniela’s skin, and does an excellent job at making her appear more innocent than she is, something she knows her lover enjoys.

Still, now it is all too clear that the redheaded brat is far from innocent.

Daniela whines again when she is pulled under the table, a small gasp and a displeased whimper leaving her plump, soft lips before all her complains are shut down the moment Donna pulls up her dress and reveals her smooth, olive skin.

The Dimitrescu licks her lip at the sight of soft, partly marked skin, and the sight of her poor lover’s cock straining against her underwear. She yearns to take them off, yet is harshly reminded of being unable to do so when her hand attempts to lift, yet only strains against the red ribbon.

In a swift motion, Donna tugs them off instead, and Daniela gasps in surprise when her lover’s large cock slaps against her cheek.

She grins a little at the idea of teasing Donna, yet this grin falters fast when the fingers move from her chin in favour of grabbing her face tightly.

“No misbehaving, little doll. Is that understood, cara mia?”, Donna husks out, and again her submissive lover rubs her thighs together almost desperately.

“Must I remind you not to misbehave again, Daniela? Have the marks faded, my flower?”

Daniela’s blush intensifies, as if only now all too aware of the sharp handprints on her ass and upper thighs created by ruthless spankings that left her crying and whimpering for hours. Of course, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“No, Donna”, she breathes out, her eyes wide and eager to please. She wants nothing but to touch her lover, to convince the authoritative and dominant woman to fuck her senseless.

Alas, Donna has other plans.

Daniela gasps when her jaw is squeezed and her lips automatically part.

“Wider, carissima”

The redhead blushes all the way to the tip of her ears, her eyes shyly meeting the dollmaker’s dark one when she opens her mouth wide.

She remains in the position even when her face is let go of, and moans already upon merely feeling the large tip drag against her lower lip.

Donna holds her cock tightly, her expression loving, yet stern. Daniela knows; what she is about to get is for acting like a brat. And the thought is enough for arousal to drool out between her pussy lips and smear against her cunt. She’s so wet, and it merely makes her whine softly again.

At last, after a couple more minutes of antagonising teasing and dragging of her tip against Daniela’s plump lip, the older woman pushes herself inside her lover’s warm mouth.

“Nghnm!”, she groans, the feeling of the brat’s warm mouth around her simply heavenly. Donna watches her lover through a lidded eye, her hand grabbing the back of Daniela’s head to push her forwards. The redhead’s muffled moans, whimpers and gagging is like sweet music to the dollmaker’s ears.

Daniela whimpers, the large tip shoved down her throat and preventing her from breathing through her mouth. As she breathes, she smells all of Donna, and her scent nearly drives the poor thing insane. She squirms and whimpers, shakes her hips and arches her back. Yet, the other woman doesn’t quite see it fit to reward her brat just yet. No, Daniela is to warm her up now.

As she looks down at her lover struggling to keep her in her mouth without gagging, a wicked desire crosses her mind.

Already knowing what this is, Daniela’s eyes widen when Donna’s free hand as much as reaches down. Her moans and shrieks are muffled by the large cock settled in her mouth when strong, but precise fingertips press down on the sides of her nose, until the poor thing is left struggling to breathe.

A dark eye flashes and reveals desire and dominance as Daniela squirms and moans, her begging futile and desperate, tears springing at beautiful, golden eyes and running down her cheeks at her constant gagging.

Donna hums periodically as she counts silently in her head.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Daniela whines pitifully.

Eleven, twelve-

Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty

The poor brat is beginning to struggle, now, just as Donna expects. She knows her sweet doll, however, and knows she can take more.

As such she only smiles in adoration as Daniela squirms and whimpers, her tied arms jerking about, her fingers flexing, her head attempting to pull back, which is easily blocked by Donna’s hand set there.

Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty

Daniela gasps for breath when her hair is gripped and her head is pulled backwards, a large tip dragging first against the inside of her bulged throat, then her mouth, then her lips.

Teary eyes look up at Donna as the woman coughs and attempts to catch her breath, and a watery smile is her reward when she cups Daniela’s cheek gently.

“Beautiful, principessa”, she praises, content to feel the flesh under her fingertips heat up again.

Daniela grins when her lover’s cock- soaked in precum and her drool- is presented to her again.

“Now; be a good girl, and don’t make a mess, little doll”, is Donna’s only command as she allows her cock to push back inside her lover’s warm mouth.

She picks up her materials again, content to finish her work with her girlfriend’s warm mouth and tongue working around her.

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #daniela Dimitrescu x donna beneviento #weird anon

[beeindaclouds]

Request!

My request is if you can write the dsmp or the members you write for with a famous/known idol!s/o, like what would they do and how they handle their fame like even with them faceless or sumn

(if your not comfortable writing this or don't want to at all, it's completely okay! Don't pressure yourself ty!!)

Hallo, thanks for requesting!

This is like a reverse idol!AU from my Idol!DSMP headcanon hehe

Hope you enjoy <3

DSMP dating an Idol!Reader

Includes: Dream, Georgenotfound, Sapnap, Badboyhalo, Quackity, Karl Jacobs, Wilbur Soot, C!Technoblade

Requests are CLOSED

Reader: GN - They/Them

❝ Dream ❞

He's so proud of you

And likes to remind you everyday of how far you've come and how amazing you are

Man's whole twt account turns into a fanpage for you

Like if you're a singer he reminds everyone to stream your music and retweets pictures of you live

You two definetly collab too!

Or if you're an actress he has like threads about all the roles you've done lol

He's a very supportive boyfriend

❝ Georgenotfound ❞

Ok here me out-

He jokingly uses you for "clout" on tik tok

When in reality he just enjoys doing dumb videos with you

He gets shy whenever you invite him to movie premieres of stuff you've been a part of or just have been invited too

So every picture paparazzi has taken of you two always has you two holding hands cause it's his way of comfort

But he also uses this situation to his advantage to post stories and videos on Instagram lol

Like "On a dare at the VMA's" 😂

❝ Sapnap ❞

Man shoves your relationship in everyones faces

Because everybody needs to know just how much he loves you and how happy he is with you

And also how proud he is of you

Like "Look at my partner, their famous and beautiful and amazing and talented-"

He coud go on for days haha

Whenever you're caught out by paparazzi in his hoodies or hats, he becomes all giddy and happy

Whenever you take a pause from you work, you join his streams

There are many clips of you and Sapnap randomly breaking out in songs during streams

❝ Badboyhalo ❞

Unlike the first three, he's the calmest out of everyone

He doesn't make it a big deal about dating you, but still support's you in his own way

Like playing your music in the background during streams or talking about a movie you've recently been in

Chat will from time to time ask about you and Bad is always happy to say how you are and what you're working on if he's allowed to

I think that your fans found out you two were dating because you started posting pictures of Rat and they quickly realized what was happening

But by then you've been dating for almost a year haha

Oh and you definitely have your part in "Muffin", as a special guest

❝ Quackity ❞

Mans smitten for you

Famous or not, whenever you're brought up he becomes all shy

He doesn't talk much about you, because he likes to keep your relationship private, but he's happy to answer a few questions whenever asked

Or whenever you randomly call him while he's streaming and puts you on speaker just so you can say hi to chat

He'll then mute to talk to you and chat chuckles away at his little happy smiles

❝ Karl Jacobs ❞

Out of all people, your own boyfriend questions how he got so lucky

Cute and talented? W O W.

I'd like to think that you two met at a random premiere he got asked to attend and hit it off from there

And from that day on you two always attended premieres togheter

And oh matching fancy outfits!!!

He's also someone who likes to keep you to himself, but it's ok talking a bit about you two

So fans don't get to see much, but appreciate what they get

❝ Wilbur Soot ❞

If you're a singer, COLLAB!

Lovejoy ft. You

And you both help eachtoher with music and lyrics

But also if you're an actress, he helps you get into the role and repeat your lines

For some reason I think you two start testing the waters during your relationship, and post pictures of like specific stuff about eachother being in the same place as a way of giving a hint

It took a whole month for people to realise that "Oh, they're dating, hold on-"

You two had a few laughs

❝ C!Technoblade ❞

Wether you're royalty or simply famous for one of your talents, Techno never let your fame affect him

Sure, he tried to convice you of not dating him cause he may ruin your image

But you also would never let something like that get inbetween what you felt for the piglin

Eventually everyone found out about you two, but they're too scared to talk about it in a negative way

Who knows what the famous blood god would do to them

I ended up not doing everyone, cause I ran out of ideas, but if you want more then I'll think about making a part 2

#dreamsmp #dsmp #mcyt #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #badboyhalo x reader #quackity x reader #karl jacobs x reader #wilbur soot x reader #technoblade x reader #beeblurbs

[maybeimamuppet]

3 mac+ronnie

35 chandler+ronnie

26 cady+ janis plsss

hello dear friend ty for the ask!!

3 macaronnie goodbye

“Muffin, I’m only going to Florida,” Mac says for the umpteenth time, stroking through the ends of Veronica’s wild chestnut brown mane.

“Miami is dangerous!” Veronica insists. “What if someone tricks you into doing meth?”

“I- what?” Mac replies. “How would that even- never mind. I’ll be fine, babe. I’ll be back in two weeks.”

Veronica pouts, and absolutely does not remove herself from Heather’s shoulder. “Hmph.”

“Don’t you hmph me,” Heather giggles. “Look, my flight boards in twenty minutes, do you want to kiss me goodbye or not?”

Veronica abruptly pulls back and nods vehemently. Heather smiles and tucks some of Veronica’s hair behind her ear. “That’s what I thought.”

Veronica follows her, smiling like an idiot, as Heather leads her by the hand to the restroom. She locks the door behind them and presses Veronica against it, smiling at her before she leans in to kiss her.

Veronica smiles back and returns the kiss, winding her arms around Heather’s waist and tilting her head for a better angle. She tries her best to memorize the feeling of Heather’s soft, thin lips, the little sounds she makes in the back of her throat from time to time, the taste of mint from her toothpaste and the faint lingering flavor of lemon from the lip balm she uses. The feeling of her sunshine yellow tank top she has on under her fingers, the softness of her already tanned skin as she shifts to hold her face in between her hands.

Heather eventually pulls back to breathe, and Veronica presses their foreheads together instead.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Heather says.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Veronica says. “Don’t do meth.”

“Oh my god, I won’t!”

35 chansaw to gain something

Veronica can’t breathe.

She’s not convinced there’s even any oxygen in this room. If there’s any room for it what with all the cigarette smoke and weed and perfume swirling around their heads. Veronica can almost feel an asthma attack brewing, but she tries to keep her coughing as quiet as she can, lest she be crucified by the red demon before her.

Blessedly, Chandler doesn’t seem to notice anything. “Hey, come on.”

“What?” Veronica stutters.

“Are you deaf? Two words, Veronica, that was two words,” Heather huffs. “Come on, pillowcase.”

Veronica takes her hand and follows desperately as Heather leads her through the winding halls of the building. It feels like some kind of sick labyrinth to Veronica, but she manages to keep up. “What are we doing?”

“Kiss me.”

Veronica chokes on air. Or ‘air’. “What?!”

“For fucks sake, did you have a brain tumor for breakfast or are your ears just clogged? I said kiss me,” Heather repeats.

“No, I heard you, but what the fuck, Heather? Why do I need to kiss you? There’s-there’s people here,” Veronica hisses.

“Exactly, pillowcase. College guys love seeing girls doing stuff. Easiest way to nail a hookup,” Heather says.

“I don’t want a hookup!”

“And not everything is about you, you brat,” Heather retaliates. “Now come on.”

Veronica sighs to herself and steps a little closer. Maybe she can get away with just a little peck.

Nope.

Heather grabs her face in between her hands and slams their lips together, tangling her fingers in Veronica’s hair and licking at her lips. Veronica can’t help but gasp, which gives Heather a chance to slip her tongue into Veronica’s mouth.

Okay then. Two can play at this game.

Veronica pulls a sound from deep in her gut, a heady, breathy moan that Heather swallows. Veronica barely even had to force it. She presses Heather even harder against the wall and bends a knee so her thigh presses between Heather’s leg. Heather gasps in surprise, and Veronica takes the opportunity to bite at her lips and tongue. She takes the bottom lip between her teeth and nibbles gently on it. She opens her eyes for a moment, and finds Heather’s almost black, her pupils blown and almost shoving out all the blue-grey of her iris.

She lets her lip go with a pop and slides her hands lower.

And lower.

And lower.

“Veronica,” Heather whispers against her lips.

“Mm?”

“Where’d we park?”

26 cadnis as an apology

Janis sighs as she swirls her ‘punch’ around in the tiny plastic cup. The music blares around her, and a massive crowd of sweaty high schoolers in fancy clothes move as one big mass on the dance floor. Bouncing, dancing, twisting, everything Janis hasn’t ever really been interested in.

“Come on, babe, cheer up,” Damian says desperately from next to her, having to shout a bit over the thumping bass. “Regina’s here in a fucking spinal halo and she’s having a better time than you.”

“I know,” Janis says miserably. “I just can’t stop thinking about-”

Just as she’s about to utter the name that’s been weighing on her heart for a month, the girl herself bursts through the heavy metal doors of the school gym. She’s flanked by her Mathletes, who scatter around to find the other dorks, get drunk off the spiked punch, and join in the mob of dancers.

Cady, on the other hand, marches straight up to Janis, grabs her by the arm, and drags her straight across the gym and out the door opposite where she came in. Janis shoots a panicked look to Damian and tries to splutter a protest, but Cady keeps going and the doors slam shut after them.

“What the hell?” Janis huffs when Cady finally comes to a stop in the hallway and seems to come back into her body. Cady looks at her with something akin to terror in her eyes. She doesn’t seem to have really known what she was doing and just found herself alone with Janis for the first time since everything went down.

Janis waits. Folds her arms over her chest, leans against the lockers set into the far wall. Stares at her ‘friend’ and waits for her to say something.

Cady doesn’t.

She stares back, arms limply at her sides like she’s forgotten she can move them. Janis can almost see the weight in her feet that seems to cement her to the floor, and the panicked thoughts that must be running through her head a mile a minute.

Janis sighs when she realizes Cady isn’t going to say anything and pushes off the lockers to go back and find Damian with a grumbled, “Unbelievable.”

Before she can get past, “Unbeliev-”, Cady pounces on her. She slams Janis aggressively back against the lockers with a clang, presses against them with both hands on either side of Janis’ face, and leans in to kiss her in a flurry of motion that leaves Janis reeling. Which might also be from where she hit her head on the lockers. Whatever.

She freezes under Cady’s frantic press of lips. This is all she wanted for months upon months. All she wanted while she watched Cady be swallowed by that pink monster and turn into someone she didn’t recognize.

But now, as Cady has her pinned to some frigid metal in the middle of the hall, Janis is totally frozen. She’s kissing me.

She blinks. It feels… nice. Cady’s lips are soft. She shifts to tangle her tiny hands in Janis’ blazer and presses up on her tippy toes so they can be even closer. She tastes like mint and something almost metallic, and she smells like books and pencil shavings and fuck it.

Janis winds her arms around Cady’s neck and kisses her back, leaning harder into Cady and swiping her tongue into her mouth. Cady makes a content noise in the back of her throat and falls back on the flats of her feet. Janis leans into her so hard she actually bends over backwards a little bit. Neither of them complain. Cady sucks Janis’ lower lip between hers, nibbles slightly on it in a way that pulls a sound from deep inside Janis’ gut before she lets it go and pulls back to take a breath.

Janis doesn’t let her. She pushes forward this time, walking until Cady is pressed against the cinder block wall and ignoring the feeling of her waxy lipstick smearing all around her face and blending with Cady’s cherry chapstick.

“Janis, wait,” Cady pants after another long minute of their lips locked together. Janis pulls back just enough to see her and looks into her eyes.

“What?” she whispers. Cady shivers in her arms just a little bit.

“We should talk,” Cady says anxiously. “I have a lot to apologize fo-”

Janis doesn’t let her finish, surging forward again. Cady doesn’t complain this time, and eagerly kisses her back.

“We can talk… later,” Janis says in between pants for breath when they break apart the next time.

Cady doesn’t say anything, she just nods frantically.

Janis never thought she’d be so okay with hearing absolutely nothing from Cady’s lips.

#thank you friend!! #again i don’t proofread these etc etc #be nice if they’re bad #enjoy #mean girls #heathers #chansaw #macaronnie #mcnamawyer #cadnis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #veronica sawyer #heather mcnamara #heather chandler

[typingtess]

His plan to have them leave the cabin in Mammoth Lakes at 6AM so they’d be back in LA just in the early afternoon. While he was on vacation from NCIS, Deeks was working for the LAPD at the Rose Parade tomorrow and then the Rose Bowl.

The undercover unit had to send a few people over every January 1st to help with two huge events so Deeks always volunteered. Showing up for something most of the rest of the squad hated got Deeks some points from all of them. Plus, Deeks liked the parade – his Mom took him every year as a kid because New Year’s Eve was something old Gordo sort of controlled. Now, he was paid time-and-a-half to watch the people watch the parade. Nobody getting hurt means he did his job.

After the Parade, LAPD transports the officers working the parade to the Rose Bowl. He got moved to the VIP area after an old college buddy who worked in sports facility management saw him a few years ago. He’s there undercover – mixing and mingling with the VIPs - making sure nobody who shouldn’t be there somehow got in and making sure those who are supposed to be there behave. With Oregon playing, Deeks hoped to meet Phil Knight. Maybe he could get a pair of Jordans out of it.

But the plan to get back to LA took a turn around 8:30ish when they were on 395. Kensi saw a Denny’s and well, suddenly a Lumberjack Slam was in her future. And obviously his since he was driving. She got it as takeout with what looked like a gallon of orange juice. There was some breakfast sausage for a grateful Monty. He got a muffin, some fruit and a cup of coffee.

Another pitstop to clean out the truck and take Monty for a bio-break had them about an hour behind Deeks’s mental schedule.

“So, do we have a plan for the office?”

“Plan?”

“You know, for when we go back.”

“Well, I guess we go to the office, say hello to Callen and Sam. Ask Sam if Aiden is still home. Ask Callen if Joelle is still in the picture – probably need to find a better way to say that.”

“Deeks, be serious.”

“Well, you didn’t let me get to Nell or Eric yet. Or Hetty. Or Granger. I do wonder how he’s doing.”

“Be. Serious.”

“I. Am.”

“What are we going to tell them about us?”

“As little as possible.”

“That’s not in your nature.”

“That is exactly my nature.”

“Deeks, I say this with great affection, you talk all the time.”

“Thank you for the great affection. And I do talk all the time. But I’m pretty good at saying very little by saying a whole lot.”

Kensi sat for a second, opened her mouth and decided against whatever she was going to say. “So we say nothing.”

“Nobody’s business.”

“So our secret.”

“Not a secret, just not something I want to discuss with Eric, Hetty, Ty in IT.”

“What if Hetty wants to know?”

“Hetty’s not in the position she use to be. For good and for bad.”

“What does that mean?”

“She probably can’t send you halfway around the world again but I could go back to LAPD without Director Vance breaking a sweat.”

“So we keep things quiet.”

“No, we don’t flaunt things. Things were going on before this trip, things will keep going on after this trip.”

“That wasn’t firmed up before.”

He turned his head and looked right at her. “It was always firm for me.”

“Me too,” Kensi said with a big smile.

They drove a little while with the area looking a lot more like the California they knew and a lot less like the mountains.

“So what do I say if Trudy from accounting asks about my vacation.”

“That Trudy is the office busybody. Probably comes with being named Trudy.”

“And if I don’t have an answer, she’s fill in the blanks.”

Imitating Kensi, Deeks started, “Trudy, I went skiing with Deeks and Monty. And snowboarding. I was bad at that.”

“That’s a lie!”

“The bruises on your ass disagree.”

“They’re not bruises.”

“Kens…”

“The rental snowboard was cheap.”

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools,” Deeks chided before going back to his Kensi imitation. “I went skiing and snowboarding with Deeks and Monty. He rented this great two-bedroom cabin right at the foot of the mountain. Two bedrooms are totally the way to go. We had such a great time.”

“We did.”

“And she doesn’t need to know that Monty used the other bedroom because the cabin stove in our room and the fireplace in the living room were bad for him.”

Kensi was quiet for a minute. “You would have been dangerous as a fulltime lawyer.”

He smiled. “The secret is to tell the truth, just tell the truth in the way that is best for your case.”

#NCIS: Los Angeles #NCIS: LA #head canon #NCIS Los Angeles #ncis la #densi #kensi blye #marty deeks

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 5

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

CW: 18+ content in this chapter (smut). Smut across the series. Mentions of parental neglect, and alcohol abuse across the series as well.

Series Masterlist

My Complete Masterlist

_________

Calum catches the crunch of gravel and looks up. The nose of your car crests up over the small bump and rolls to a stop near the door. Your window rolls down and you lean out of the window. “I got told there was a stud muffin in these parts,” you joke. 

Calum’s laughter bubbles up in his chest but climbs down the few steps, guitar case at his side. “Hmm, I think we both might need directions on that one,” he returns. You peel yourself out from the driver seat and open the side back driver side door for Calum to get the case inside. He can spot a blanket on the backseat. There’s a basket on the floor. The back of some canvas peers up at him too as he gets the guitar settled. 

It’s silly. Calum knows it, but his heart races because it’s all becoming so real. A real date. But he knows he has to confess too. The envelope in his pocket is no doubt visible to you. With the instrument settled, Calum shuts the door. There’s a smile on your face, but Calum knows. He pulls the envelope out and hands it to you. “That’s-that’s for you.”

He watches your eyes skimming over the letter. But he already knows what’s up there. Ninety days. Sixty of which you’ll still be able to work at your full rate. The last thirty you’ll be given two installments at a fraction of your normal biweekly pay and be ‘excused’ from your duties. This is all contingent on you not finding something sooner. If you do find anything sooner, you’ll only get full pay until your resignation date. It’s more than what was originally discussed with the sixty days total for you to find work and two weeks pay even after you’ve been excused from your duties. But Calum hopes it’s enough. Though you asked him not too. 

“I’m glad I didn’t make you a liar yesterday,” you state, looking at Calum. He can feel the heat behind the sharp gaze. 

“I know. I know you asked me not to get involved. I should’ve listened. It was a very ugly discussion. But, I needed to know you were going to be okay for at least a little bit. I’ll do whatever I need to do for you to forgive me. But I can’t, I can’t say I’m exactly sorry for getting involved.”

You nod, lips pressing together in a firm line. “I’m annoyed. I need you to know that. I’m very annoyed at you for meddling.”

“I can take that,” Calum returns. “You have every right to be annoyed.”

“I’m really fucking annoyed,” you huff, like it’s somehow the only thing you can utter. 

Maybe it is. Maybe there’s too much else tying up your tongue so you settle for this. Calum almost wants to ask for the rest of it. Until he notices the tick in your jaw. That’s game over. That’s too far. Calum knows that it’s a big mess up. Well, to be honest, he knew it was a mistake the moment he knocked on the office doors. But he’d still gone through with it after the door creaked open. Yet, he’d accepted that he’d have to face the consequences. This here, your flickering gaze and tight jaw are the consequences. Part of them at least.  It takes a long few moments but you finally aim your sights at him.

“Just tell me what I need to do.” Calum’s not above begging when it comes to you. That’s for certain, not when it comes to you. He’ll grovel. He’ll get on his knees. He’ll do whatever imaginable. 

You sigh, slapping the paper at his chest. It’s not hard by any means, couldn’t even cause a paper cut. But Calum gets the message loud and clear before you speak, “Don’t get involved unless I ask next time, okay? Please don’t.”

“Scouts honor,” Calum answers, holding a hand over his heart. 

“Thank you. For this.” You hold the letter up. “I really thought I was going to be a goner before the end of the month. And this helps. A lot. But I can fight my own battles. I like having you there to support me. But I don’t need a savior. I want you, Calum. The goofy guy that makes me laugh. I don’t need some knight in shining armor bullshit.”

Calum’s never once questioned your ability to find a solution to the shit life’s thrown to you. He just wanted to make the load easier to carry. He’s always got a brain focused on finding a way to make things better. That’s what people who love each other do. They try to make the days a little easier. But if that’s not always what you want, he can work on that. 

Calum nods at the request. “I can be that--the goofy guy that can make you laugh.”

“Good. Now get your cute ass into the car, please?” You exhale at the end of the question--shaky. But your attempt to smile is genuine. 

“I can,” Calum agrees. “But can I get a hug first?” Your response is the hug, tight around his body. It eases the slight ache around his chest. Even though Calum fucked up, you weren’t pushing away. 

“I’m sorry I overstepped your ask,” Calum whispers into your skin. 

He’s sorry that he undermined you. Calum just needed to know that you’d be okay. There were other ways to go about it, but when he woke this morning there was still a fire in his belly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were getting shafted. And Calum wouldn’t stand for something like that. He surely wouldn’t. 

“I’ll forgive you,” you laugh. “With time.” 

“As long as you do.” That’s all Calum needs to know is that with time you’ll forgive him. And it surely doesn’t hurt his case that he was able to pull through this time. Fate may not always be on his side though. Calum ought only to need to learn this lesson once. 

Your rub at Calum’s side and he knows his time is up.  “The food’s going to go colder,” you tease. 

Calum laughs, giving your body one last squeeze. “Got it, got it, got it. Getting my cute ass into the car. Promise.”

Calum opens your door and you slip inside. Once he’s sure you’re settled, he closes the door on your side. Your laughter echoes when he cracks open the passenger side door. It’s a silly thing, the dramatic waddle around the car. But he’s just hoping to break the tension, find the right corner to lift up so he can ease himself back into your good graces. The guy that makes me laugh, you said. Calum could do that. 

The drive passes with the soft echoes of guitars over your radio. Though it burns on Calum’s tongue to ask yet again about what you have in store, he does his best to remain content with the fact that he knows you’ve taken the time to plan and put together anything at all. The streets Calum’s come to learn well over his two odd decades pass by him, the trees whipping by the windows. When you mentioned a park, Calum was sure it would be somewhere closer, but as ten minutes turn into twenty and the city falls further and further behind him, he thinks maybe you have something else in mind. 

“Are you attempting to take me somewhere that won’t require my baseball cap and my sunglasses aren’t needed?” Calum jokes. 

“It’s a park I used to go to a lot as a kid. So, sunglasses and cap are still needed,” you laugh.

“So a place you enjoyed, I take it?” He really wants to ask if it’s the place you might’ve used to escape. He really wants to ask if you’re going to be okay. Though he doesn't know a lot about what you endured, he doesn’t want you to subject yourself to something that you don’t have too. 

“A lot,” you answer. 

Calum nods, a hum falling from his chest. There’s not quite a sadness on your face, though Calum thinks maybe it could be. “Have you been back to this town in a while?”

“My parents are still out here with Charlie and Teagan.” 

He doesn’t want to assume. Really, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t assume but for a moment the wonder sparks the fleeting thought that he might get to meet them. That you’ve also included your siblings in on the event, but he doesn’t voice it. He tucks that hope up under his tongue. “Speaking of Teagan, I know I am late, but do you know what she’s into? I’d like to get her a gift if that’s okay? For her birthday.”

You laugh a little. “Don’t sound so unsure there.”’

“Hey, hey, I’ve fucked up once. Not trying to do it a second time.”

You nod. “Yeah, it’s okay if you really want to.”

“And I do,” Calum clarifies.

“Teagan’s getting into a glitter and unicorn kick. There’s a stuffed unicorn that she wants and it’s huge.”

“How much of a detour would that be from this park?”

“Ten minutes or so,” you return, voice tilting up a little. Calum can almost see the mental map you’re running through. “It-it is a little expensive.”

Calum takes the warning in stride. Though he wants to reach out, taking your hand or squeeze your knee to provide comfort, he reframes. “Would we have time for such a detour?”

“You don’t-you don’t have to get her this unicorn.”

Calum knows he doesn't. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. “Let me just get my eyes on it, before I make a decision. That sound good?”

You give a nod. “Sure. I missed the easiest exit, but I can get us there,” you relay. 

Of course he doesn’t know where anything is in relation to each other just yet, but he hadn’t meant to cause a big ruckus with the ask. “As long as you’re sure it’s not a problem.”

“No. It’s not. Just traffic,” you laugh. Calum can see you’re trying to merge into the right lane, he assumes to take the upcoming exit. But no one seems to be budging. You’re able to get over eventually, though he laughs at your quiet swears. It can be difficult around this time though it should soon be thinning out just a little. 

It is a bit of a loop Calum notices. The exit you got off at is further east than the shop, so there’s a long journey back west. He’s not come down here often. He distinctly remembers coming down a couple times for the Christmas tree lighting in the square, but hasn’t gone in recent years. The streets are familiar with a hint of a haze. Calum knows them based on the landmarks--the stores he’s had to make sure he didn’t pass or make turns at-- but he doesn’t know them like reflexes. He wouldn’t be able to name a street just by how far he is from it. 

But you take the lights with ease, taking turns with practice and before Calum truly realizes, you’re pulling to a stop in front of the toy store. In the window front Calum spots a train set, going round and round on its tracks. Around it, he spots a display of a pink dress--he assumes for princess parties--bright colored boxes scattered about too. It’s a cute store, one that Calum is sure all kids peer into with big wide eyes, tugging on their parents hands to at least just take a peek inside. 

Calum’s up and out of the car first. Though his goal is to get to your door, you’re out before he can finish the walk around. He holds out his hand, waiting for the warmth of your touch. It doesn’t come and he looks back over to you, noticing the tension across your shoulders. “Okay?” he asks. The pictures are already out. They wouldn’t stop now, but maybe it feels all too different for you. Maybe Calum’s taking leaps that you’re not ready to take. He turns his palms back into his side. 

You nod. “I’m okay.” Your steps are long, arm brushing over Calum’s. But you don’t take his hand. 

“Is this too public?” Calum asks. 

The hesitation lingers, thick between the centimeters between the two of you. “It’s-I’m just I can see the headlines now, I guess. A little scared.”

Calum nods, a tiny smile cresting over his face. “How can you see headlines if I haven’t shown them to you yet? What if they’re not important?”

You laugh, looking up from your shoes. “Touché. But I think it’s hitting me. This is your reality and by extension, mine too now, I guess. If I stick around.”

“Oh,” Calum huffs, covering his left pec. “You wound me. But it’s okay if it’s scary. This is all new to you. I didn’t--I don’t mean to push you into something.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think you are. It’s just something I didn’t realize until now.”

“We can take it slow in public,” Calum offers. He’s not really sure what slow looks like, but it’s an olive branch. The two of you can figure out what slow means. 

“I like slow,” you agree. 

It’s just a nod between the two of you, but Calum motions up to the door of the store. “To visit a massive unicorn, yeah?”

“To visit a massive unicorn,” you agree. 

Just before Calum can take a step, you slot your pinkie around his. This is slow and Calum’s not going to let it slip out of his fingers. He tightens the hook of his digit, letting the flutter of his chest consume him as he opens the door for you. Your smile, quaint as it is, warms his body. This--this is what Calum needs. Inside the store, Calum catches the cheery twinkles of music drifting in through the speakers. It’s cut intermittently by the whistle of the train, the crank of a toy, a child’s laughter, the patience rumble of a parent’s voice. There’s a wander that settles like a blanket inside the warmth of the store. 

And there’s you, pinkie still wrapped around Calum’s, taking the lead as you wind around the front displays. You are a sparkle in the lights of the store, eyes darting around, but body carrying straight on. Calum thinks maybe you are taking catalog--eying what to get for Charlie’s birthday or what to put on the Christmas list. He wants to be able to help, keep an eye out for what they might like too. He’ll get there one day. For now, he follows a couple steps behind and it’s not long before the bin of stuffed animals appears in front of them. The unicorn sits at the top of the pile, pink and white, the horn a plastic iridescent with silver and gold streaks in it. 

“There she is,” you laugh, looking back to Calum. 

He takes a look at the yellow sign, taped to a piece of cardboard box, which is then taped to metal bars keeping the toys from tumbling to the floor. 60 dollars for the smaller versions. And it goes up by an increment for 15 for each size over it with a cap at 90. Calum’s really not sure how one is supposed to decide how much any of them cost, but he peers back up at the unicorn towards the top. 

“Give me a hand?” Calum asks. He’s tall, but even with the height, he knows he’s not going to be able to get it down himself. “But first, will this fit in your car?”

You peer up to the stuffed down, close to Calum’s height as well. “She’s going to have to be okay with being squished down, but she should fit in the back.”

“Yeah, then give me a hand please?”

“And you’re sure you want to do this? Teagan won’t die if you start off smaller, if you’re really sure you want to do something for her birthday.”

There’s a hair of something teasing to the tone and Calum laughs. “Are you saying I might be setting the bar too high?”

“Just a little.”

“Well, here’s a little bit of context about me, should you have forgotten, I’m going to set the bar high.”

You shake your head and Calum knows it’s overkill. The stuffed animal is more than maybe necessary. Yet, Calum’s not going to walk out of this store without it. It’s not what the toy is, but what it means. It means that he’s doing what he can to show that he cares. “I’ll get an employee over here,” you laugh.

“Oh, I’m no wimp,” Calum laughs. He looks around and notices a three rung wooden step stool next to the animals. 

“You absolutely are not serious,” you hiss. 

Calum’s not going to stop. He takes the first two steps up and stretches up to his tiptoes. His fingers brush over the hoof. It’s going to need just another push, so Calum plants one foot on the third rung and pushes up. It’s not the smartest thing in the world, especially not as the stool wobbles. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper behind him. 

The stool stabilizes beneath Calum and he gets his hands solidly around the leg and shimmies it loose from the stack. As it unfolds, Calum realizes it’s a tad smaller than it looked from below. But it’s still massive. The horn nearly pokes his hat off his head but he gets out of the way before glancing back down to get his steps back down. When he peers down, he spots you holding the stool steady for him. 

“You are a mad man,” you laugh. 

“Only when it matters.” Calum gets to the ground and settles the unicorn into his hip, hugging it to him, though the top half still towers over him by about six inches or so. He’d hazard it’s nearly as tall as him when on the floor, if not just a little bit taller. 

“Could I add a second detour to drop this off?” he asks, knowing he’s really dragging out more on this date than you might’ve planned. 

“Uh,” you gasp with a little bit of laughter, “I think you’ll have to. There’s no way I’m driving around with that in my car for longer than necessary.”

“Fair enough. And I-I can drop it off personally, if that would work better for you.” It’s only after your confirmation that Calum realizes in doing so, you’ll be subjecting yourself to a visit to your parents. 

“It’s okay. Teagan will be more than excited.”

“Have you told your parents?” Calum asks. Should he also be worried that it’s the first time your parents even are aware of you dating, let alone who you’re dating? He knew that your siblings might’ve had an inkling that you were dating someone. Yet, Calum’s gut lets him know that you may not have told your parents.  

“They know I’m dating someone. Just not who,” you conclude. “Though, your reputation may proceed you.”

Calum thinks he hears what’s being asked: that maybe he doesn’t give away who he is. He can do that, as best as he can of course. “Well, it’s a good thing this is just as big as I am.”

“That’s okay?”

He nods. Even if it did hurt, Calum’s not got the grounds to force you to do more than you’re happy to do when it comes to your parents. “Yeah,” he returns in a whisper. He’d hoped one day you might be able to envision something closer, but that’s your life. That’s the pain you’ve endured so he lets himself be secondary in this realm. He lingers a couple steps behind so that you get the ability to take control when you need it. He lingers to let you know he’s there, but he’s not trying to take cover. 

“Who’s the lucky little one?” the older lady at the counter grins as she rings up the item. 

“My sister,” you laugh. “I think she might die when she sees it.”

“Well, that’s what we hope,” Calum teases, gently offering the item to you. You take it with a nod. 

“Oh, Your Highness, I hadn’t seen you. My apologies,” the woman stutters out. 

“No, please,” Calum laughs. “Literally, I don’t think anyone could see their own shadow behind that.”

“I just wish we’d known. We’d clean this place up a bit. Though, I think the little ones enjoy the ruckus.”

“No, there’s no fuss for me. Just here, as a patron.” This is the part that can get old. The constant pressure that he exudes just by showing up. But the interaction wraps up rather painlessly and you cart the unicorn back outside, a whopping 90 dollars later. 

“I hope you’re good at geometry,” you laugh, unlocking the car doors. 

“I like to think I know my way around,” Calum returns, rearranging a few things to help you tuck the unicorn into the backseat. It’s nearly a close call to get the animal inside, but with it buckled in, you and Calum watch over each other over the hood of your car. “You’re sure you’re okay to see your parents?”

“Calum, we don’t get along, but it’s not going to kill me. And if it does, at least you’ll get to say you were right.” It’s a teasing grin, but Calum takes it slipping back into the car. 

“Just one second,” you ask, pulling your phone out. Though the call’s not on speaker, Calum catches both sides of the conversation. 

"Hello."

“Hi, sorry to call so last minute, is Teagan home?” you ask. 

 Calum captures the soft reply from the other end of the phone, “She is.”

“There’s an extra birthday gift for her. Is she okay for a visit? Ten minutes at most.”

“How far are you from here? We’re having dinner right now.”

“I’m about twenty minutes from the house.”

“She’ll just be finishing up dinner around then, I’d reckon. That’s okay.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

“You’re welcome.”

The call ends and before Calum turns, you’re throwing the car into reverse. Perhaps, it’s better just to let this moment go, let it be what it’s always been.  Calum watches as you seemingly go back into the direction that you two might’ve been going in originally. The streets are the same as the ones you came up on. 

Ten minutes into the drive, your voice cuts through the silence. “The neighborhood’s..well, it’s probably not what you’re expecting.” 

Calum doesn’t know what the warning is meant to convey. Had he given some sort of hint that he’d made any assumptions about your childhood? Calum hums in acknowledgement to your comment though as that it doesn’t seem like he’s ignoring you. As the time passes, the houses get taller and expand. Big lawns and gates. And as the deeper you two get, the more the houses settle into the massive shadows.  Admittedly, this isn’t what he’d assumed you’d grown up in. Perhaps, he did have some sort of subconscious expectation about what your childhood home might look like. But the houses look like the kind his friends grew up in. There’s discomfort in the fleeting thought that something like this could’ve been happening to someone he knew and he probably wouldn’t have suspected it just because of the looks. Had that happened to you, where your abuse had been overlooked for so long simply because you grew up here?

The deeper into the neighborhood the more Calum would even hazard a guess that he might recognize some parts of this neighborhood now. At least this part. But he just waits and waits and when your signal clicks around the two of you and you make the turn into a paved driveway, at least six feet in length up to the house that has two stories, and a two car garage, Calum gets it. There’s a bit of shame that solidifies in his gut. Why had he expected your parents to be living in a rather harsher part of the neighborhood? Why did that make something about your story easier to swallow? But he looks up at the house, yellow lights dancing in the lower levels, and Calum feels a bit of disgust at himself and a tad more rage at your parents. Clearly they were capable. Yet, you were here, worried about the job you’d been doing for years being swept out from under your feet in the matter of weeks. 

When the car cuts off, he’s got to swallow the rage and shame and unbuckle the unicorn from the backseat to give to your sister. The front door bell rings throughout the evening air. Calum stays on the step below you, holding onto the unicorn in front of him, peering out from the side of the stuffed animal. The door creaks open and Calum’s expecting your mother, maybe, your father. But the body is tiny, short with pigtails. Your name falls over their throat in a squeal. “Mommy said you’d be coming by!” 

Your laughter catches Calum’s ears. “Yeah, Teag. Came by to see you. Can we come in?”

“We?”

Calum watches as Teagan finally takes in the stuffed animal and waves when their eyes lock. She waves in return, eyes big and wide as she looks up at the toy. “Holy moly,” she whispers but widens the door open. 

You step through and Calum follows suit. Inside is warm, the lights in the foyer warm and the scent of dinner still lingering in the air. If not for the fact of what Calum knows, he’d say this place felt homey, lived in and inviting. The three of you don’t go further into the house and right at the base of the stairs that seem to lead further up into the house, Calum spots a man. Your father, he assumes. Calum gives a nod, praying that he’s still undetectable as he drops the unicorn down to Teagan’s level. It’s short lived--his hope--because your father sits up a little straight on the steps, but seemingly freezes at the same time. 

“Teag, this is my friend,” you introduce. 

Teagan blinks up from the unicorn to Calum. Recognition settles on her face and she pats at your knee to wave you down. You squat to her height. “Your friends with the-?” Teagan whispers, voice coated in awe at the prospects. She’s seemingly so in shock that she can’t finish the question.

Calum watches the slight wince that flashes over your face but you nod. “Yes, but that’s between us. It doesn't leave those lips ever, got me?” You mime zipping her lips. 

Teagan gives a fervent nod and mimes zipping her lips close too. “Got you.”

Calum kneels down, holding the unicorn in front of him a little. “I heard it was your birthday a couple days ago. Is that correct?”

Teagan nods, sliding in closer to you. It’s subtle, but she inches in towards your chest. “Yes. Do you know everyone’s birthday? Is that like your job?”

Calum laughs at the question. “No, no, unfortunately I don’t know everyone’s birthday. It’s not a part of my job. But I do know the birthdays of important people.”

“So, I’m important?” Teagan asks. She inches now out of your safety, intrigue pulling her out from your wing and closer to Calum. She looks like you, the longer Calum stares. Her eyes are less sharp than yours, but there’s a softer version of your face in hers. A face open and ready for the world. 

Calum smiles. “Yeah, Teagan. You’re pretty important. Especially to your sibling.”

“How did you two become friends?” Teagan asks. “I met my friends at school. Did you two meet in school?”

You snort at the question. “Teagan, let’s be careful there.”

“What?” she questions. “It’s fair.”

“We met at work,” Calum answers. “It’s sort of like school. But this, this is for you,” Calum notes, moving the unicorn closer to her. It swallows Teagan’s height two times over and almost a third time too. But she holds it by two hooves, staring up at the giant mythological creature.  

“It’s mine?” Teagan questions.

Calum nods. “Yes, for your birthday.”

Her eyes light up, stepping into the stuffed animal. “Thank you,” she rushes out, looking between you and him. 

“It’s from him,” you explain nodding over to Calum.

“Thank you,” she beams at Calum. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Teagan.” 

“Can-can I give you a hug?” Teagan asks Calum. She bounces on the balls of her feet, brimming with an excitement that only children seem to be able to hold. Calum nods, holding out his arms for her. It’s a quick hug before she bounces back over to the stuffed animal and drags it over to the stairs. 

“Look, Daddy!” Teagan shouts. “Look!”

“Yeah, I see,” your father smiles but keeps glancing from Teagan to the two of you like maybe he’s also processing something at the same time. “That was very generous of him, wasn’t it? Did you say thank you?” Given how close he is, Calum’s sure your father did hear Teagan’s gratitude, but he asks anyway. 

Teagan nods. “Yes, yes I said thank you! Charlie, look!” she hollers. 

You pause her for a moment before she runs deeper into the house for a hug and a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, Teag.”

“Love you,” she returns in the embrace. Then she carries on, dragging the unicorn with her down the hallway. She doesn’t seem to care that the item is probably twice her weight either. Teagan gets a hold and uses all her might down the hall, deeper into the house where Charlie must be. 

“Tell Diana I said thanks again for letting me stop by,” you direct up to your father. 

He stands, taking a few steps back down to the ground level. “I will.”

You nod and turn to the door but Calum watches the half step your dad takes, mouth sliding open like there’s more to come. So Calum slides just a little between the two of you. The attention turns from you to him. Calum watches the suspicion settle in the older man’s face. But your father doesn’t take a step back. “So I guess it’s true, huh? The buzz that’s been going on?” your father questions. 

“I’ll call again before I drop by,” you return. Calum’s not sure he’d fault you for not wanting to get into the specifics. Though his presence does answer the question in and of itself.

“I didn’t mean--I’m sorry,” he offers. The door creaks open. Calum can hear the crickets chirping. But he keeps looking forward to your father. “That didn’t come out right. Just wanted to hear if you’re doing well,” your father clarifies. 

There’s only silence from you initially. The door eeks close, not so much as a slam but Calum feels the evening air cut off from his back slowly, inch by inch. The crickets concert is soon silenced behind Calum fully. 

“I’m doing,” you answer. 

“That’s good, yeah?”

Your name is called again, from deeper in the house. You follow the sound, stepping around Calum. He watches and wants to follow, but remembers he’s supposed to be hanging back. “Yes, Charlie boy?” you call back out. You disappear down the hallway. 

The sigh that leaves your father is heavy, his face falls. “I won’t talk,” he offers to Calum. “And Teagan won’t either. She adores her sibling too much to utter a peep when promised not to. Thanks for being there. For them, with them. Makes an old man like me not feel like shit to know there’s something out there taking care of them.”

“Of course, sir.” Calum nods. 

“Oh, it’s Melvin. Yeah, no need for ‘sir’ here really. Though I guess, should I address you in any specific way in all of this? Don’t really know the rules of engagement,” he laughs.  

Calum takes in the black plastic frames on your father’s face, the beard and eyebrows going white slowly. Here, right now, he looks so plainly like a father. Like someone who might try to use the latest slang to stay relevant, or just to annoy his children. It’s probably a good thing that no one’s past is branded on them for Charlie and Teagan’s sake. “Just Calum is fine,” he answers to Melvin’s question. 

“Just Calum,” Melvin repeats with a laugh. When there’s no laughter from Calum in return, he nods, lips pressing together. It’s awkward and tense. 

“My dad would’ve love that,” Calum offers. “Maybe it’s a Dad thing.”

Your laughter bounces up the walls. “Oh, no, sir, Santa’s already left. I only get a few minutes with him at a time. I can’t go clogging up his line.”

“C’mon! Please. For your little brother. Call him again just for me.”

“When I come back in a couple of weeks, make sure you have a list. I’ll see what can be done. But I can make no promises,” you laugh. It’s interrupted by Charlie’s own laughter, a screech followed by giggles. Calum smiles at the sound, imagining maybe you’ve wrapped the little boy up in order to tickle him. 

“You love them.” Calum looks back at your father, a sad smile painting his face. “You’ve got a certain look in your eyes about them. I know that look.” 

“Sir?” That’s definitely not expected. 

Melvin gives a small tuft of laughter. “And if it means anything, like literally a dime in the bucket or anything, I see the way they look at you. I know it when I see it,” Melvin states. “I don’t have much grounds to say for certain about anything involving them of course. But I know my kid.”

“Don’t go. Please stay!” Teagan bellows. 

“I’ll be back. Don’t I always come back to you, Teag?”

“You do. But you could stay. Mommy and Daddy say that they want you to say.”

“I promise I’ll be back. I love you.”

 You come back up to the foyer, a piece of paper in hand. The handwriting is thick and wobbly from what Calum catches, though it’s only in pieces as you fold it up. Your goodbyes are shouted, I love you’s breaking through the calls too. Calum meets you, pushing himself deeper into the house but careful not to be seen. Your pinkies hook yet again.  

“Nice to meet you, sir. And please, let your wife know that I appreciate her letting us drop by.” Calum extends a hand. Even if things looked good, Calum wouldn’t attempt to undermine you. He could though ensure that he remained polite. His own mother would have his ass if he didn’t. 

Melvin nods in return, shaking his hand. But it’s the only thing said before you and Calum exit the house. The crickets are singing around them. “So I’m Santa Claus, huh?” Calum jokes after you’ve shut the door to the house behind you. 

“Teag’s good on her foot when she needs to be. I’ll tell Charlie the truth soon enough. He’s…a bit more truthful and straight laced.”

Calum laughs at the description. “I don’t think he’d stand up to Miranda’s scrutiny, so good to avoid it if you can.”

“See, you get it.”

Calum walks you around to the driver side of the car. There’s nothing on your face that Calum can pick up, a tick of your jaw, the glazed eyes. “You good?”

“Peachy,” you nod. “I still have Santa Claus to take on a date.”

Calum snickers again at the fib. It’s a good one. Though he’s sure sooner rather than later Charlie will definitely catch on that it’s not Christmas yet. Not even close to it. “Ho, ho, ho,” Calum returns, opening your door. “I should’ve called in a favor from Rudolph then.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, next time,” Calum agrees. He notices as he’s walking back to the passenger side door two tiny bodies in the windows next to the door. Teagan waves at Calum which he returns and Charlie seems to only watch, eyes wide as he gazes out. Calum salutes Charlie quickly and attempts not to show too much of his face before stepping into the car. Teagan and Charlie turn to each other, speaking but there’s no detectable sound as he shuts the door. 

There’s a little solace, Calum thinks, that he’s gotten a deeper glimpse into your life. The way your siblings thoroughly enjoy your company. The way you enjoy theirs. But there’s still that leaden shame in Calum’s gut: his own assumptions, his own ignorance, the discomfort of knowing what he knows about your parents but the care they give to your siblings. The past wouldn’t exist without the present and the present still tastes sour of what’s behind it.  Two things that don’t exclude each other. Two solid truths. 

“So, Melvin and Diana then?” Calum questions. 

“My parents,” you return with a nod. 

“And you grew up in that house? That’s always been the house you grew up in?”

“That’s the only house. When my parents first got together, they were in an apartment and then moved in there a couple years later.”

Calum won’t press, but he’s starting to put pieces onto the board. Not the richest neighborhood in this town, but still one of the best neighborhoods to live in. And you went fourteen years, maybe less, in that house with your parents drinking day in and day out. And Calum wishes he could say something like, look at you now. But the reality is that you lived with roommates. You took jobs to be as far as you could from your parents but still visit your siblings. You were facing the imminent threat of losing your current job. 

“Can I ask you something?” Calum starts the question right as you pull into the parking lot of the park. 

“Yeah, you can ask something.”

“When you were eighteen and getting into culinary school, what was your dream? What did you want on the other side of school?”

The car cuts off, in park now and the dashboard lights cut out slowly around the two of you. “I wanted freedom. And I guess that looked like working in a five star michelin restaurant and wanted to leave my parents specifically behind. Then the more I hung out with Charlie and Teagan the more I realized I didn’t want to be super far from them. Just wanted a job to pay my bills and see them. So now I don’t really know what I’m looking for if I’m honest. I just know I can’t stop. I feel like I can’t stop long enough to figure it out.”

“I guess in your position it sort of feels like if you stop then you’re risking something?” Calum tries. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “If I stop, then who’s going to pay my bills? That’s the way it starts to feel. If I stop, who’s going to carry the rest of the load?”

“No other family?”

“Uh, maybe on my father’s side? I don’t really know my extended family too well because of everything.”

“I know I’m probably not making your situation vastly better. But know I do want you to figure that out. I’ll do what I can to give you that space to figure it out.”

You cup his cheek, thumb stroking over his cheek. “Thanks for that.”

Calum holds your hand to press a kiss to your palm. “Anytime.”

Calum’s not sure what to expect when he steps out of the car, but you direct him and he pulls out the basket and cooler. You carry the guitar case and painting with the blanket tossed over your shoulder. The park’s pretty empty. He reads over the signs and notices there’s almost two halves. To the left there seems to be a normal playground. To the right, the sign points to hiking and running trails. But you march on forward towards the grassy patch in the middle of the halves. Calum follows behind. He’s careful not to look too much at the painting though he can catch glimpses of something red on it. As you find a good spot to settle, he helps spread out the blankets and anchors down the top and bottom of the blanket with the cooler and picnic basket before settling down next to you. 

“This is quite the spread,” Calum comments as you unearth what you have. Sandwiches, chips, individually wrapped slices of pie, a medley of fruits, a cheeseboard, and a selection of meats as well assembled onto a wooden board. The cooler opens to reveal water, some sodas, a couple bottles of juices as well. 

“Wasn’t sure what you’d go for, but I hope it’s not too much?”

Calum shakes his head, slipping the sunglasses off his face. The evening’s starting to settle in nicely and the cap feels like enough to hide him away. “No, no it’s not too much.”

You nod. “Good. Though I’ll admit, I definitely am nervous.”

“Nervous? Why are you nervous?” Calum pops a grape into his mouth, reading over the labels you’ve hand written on the sandwiches. The one without tomatoes is yours--as Calum remembers even after just one witnessing of you assembling your own sandwich-- and he hands it over. 

“Haven’t been on a date in ages, I feel rusty.”

“You are definitely not rusty,” Calum laughs. “All this is not rust.”

“Some of it is,” you return, peeling off the wrapping around the sandwich. “As a heads up, the painting I bought has been in progress for weeks. So it’s not..totally done.”

“Then I’ll judge like I’m an art snob,” Calum retorts around his bite. 

“I expect nothing less.”

“Can I take a look now?”

“That is why I brought it.”

 Calum’s careful as he takes the canvas into his hands. He sets his sandwich off to the side to avoid getting anything on it. The background isn't finished, you started that much is clear by the glasses and tables. But the foreground is a hand, bleeding, and being cradled by another set of hands. They meet in the middle of the canvas, fingertips brushing mostly. The red of the blood drips over the second set of hands and down to the bottom of the canvas, almost like it could drip off the medium itself and into Calum’s lap. 

He focuses for a moment on the blood, wanting to trace his fingers over it but then decides against it. He takes in the skin tone of the hand bleeding, some of the thumb is facing up and he can catch the tan. If he didn’t know anymore he’d say it could be his hand. Nothing confirms that though. Much to his parents dismay, he’d tattooed their initials onto his hands. There’s some red that he catches on the table clothes in the backgrounds, it’s small and muted the shadows the wrists casting over them he assumes. 

The second set of hands though are a little smaller than the bleeding hand. Calum looks over the details, and thinks the skin tones are a little different, potentially a third hand. But he’s not sure. He carries on, looking over the details and spots there on the left wrist a scar, a darker spot, a little jagged and a little red. He knows that spot anywhere. He scoots closer to you, reaching for your left arm and that you give up easily. He turns it up and notices the same scar. 

“Are these our hands?” Calum whispers. 

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah they are. And that,” you hover over the right hand, the one different in skin color, in the picture cradling the injured hand--now definitely Calum’s. “That’s supposed to be Joy’s hand.”

“Is this? Is this from when I cut my hand on that glass?” 

“Well, sort of. That inspired me.”

“Holy smokes,” Calum laughs, holding the canvas up a little. It’s distinctly a different color to the skin in that third hand. He can see the resemblance to his mother’s complexion. But the hands are all palm up, so it is hard at the first look to see it. But he sees now the veins now crawling up the wrist, feeding in the palms. His are a bit more blue. His mother’s a bit more purplish hue--the depth of her undertone, but he can see care. 

“This is fucking amazing,” Calum exhales on the phrase. It’s not what an art expert might call technically perfect. Some of the scales are just a little off, but the work on the skin tones, the veins, the way the painting almost feels like it could drip off the canvas at any point makes it impressive in and of itself. 

“Thank-thanks. I used to hide in the art room in school and draw.”

“Then what drew you into the kitchen?” Calum laughs. “Why not be an artist?”

“Doesn’t fucking pay,” you snort. “At least if I can cook, I can always eat.”

“But you could be an artist,” Calum returns. “This is fucking incredible.”

“You can have it. Once I finish it. But it’s yours.”

Calum takes in your unfocused gaze, the way you duck your head. He wouldn’t say you’re shy, but you are avoiding him. But Calum won’t let that stand for much longer. He misses how much your eyes glint with the mischievous edge when you’re teasing him. He misses how he feels like he could fall into your gaze and never want to catch himself. He lifts your gaze up by two fingers under your chin. “Am I the first to get an original painting? Be honest.”

“What do you think?” you retort. 

“I think I might be, but I would love to hear it from your lips.” It would be the perfect time to lean in for a kiss. The desire bubbles in Calum’s gut. Slow, though, he remembered that. He’s got to go slow, even if it’s burning his insides. 

“You might be the first.”

“Oh, you’re never going to give it to me easily,” Calum laughs. You’ve always been tough when you want to be. “Thank you, in advance, baby.” 

“You’re welcome.” Calum situates the painting back to safety before reaching back for his sandwich. “How’s Mrs. Clifford? Have you won yet?”

He snorts at the tease. “She’s good and still kicking my ass in bridge.”

“And that’s Michael’s mom?”

He nods, around his final chews. “Yeah, she is. I met Michael in middle school? We went to the same private school. He taught me how to play guitar.”

“So is Michael the reason why you’ve got a drawer full of band t-shirts?”

Calum laughs. “I don’t know if Michael is solely the reason. But he’s definitely an influence. He’s a producer now,  not that I’m shocked. He always had the music bug.”

“A producer,” you hum around the statement. Calum can’t tell if it’s a question or not, but he nods. “Private school?

Now, this Calum can tell is a question. “Up until university,” he answers. 

“So, what about you?”

Calum hums around his bite, unsure what you’re referring to. You laugh, digging out a napkin and holding it out to him. Only after he takes it, do you gesture to your mouth and Calum realizes he might have mustard on his lips. 

“What did you want to do? Before you realize you were getting shackled to a throne?” you clarify. 

“I wouldn’t call it being shackled. But uh, I went for a little bit to Brazil to a training camp for football.” Your eyes widen at the confession and Calum grins a little. “Dunno. Wanted to be an athlete. But I think well before then I knew what my responsibilities were and what would be expected of me.”

“But those stars that you don’t miss,” you counter. 

If Calum’s honest, he does miss the stars just a little. But he’s always known what would become of him. There was no fighting it. He had his youth. He’d have plenty of stories of his friends and him laughing in cars with all the windows down going well over the speed limit on empty highways and the bright artificial lights illuminating the pavement. None of that would ever overthrow what work he’d have to do. Even if he wanted something different, he’d never get it. 

“No, those stars were hideous. But, it’s--” It’s like two halves that make a whole. Calum misses how easy life used to be. How he could spend his days worrying about who had a crush on him and he could spend the days worried about a test, about forgetting to ask for a ride but knowing he’d always get one. And none of that negates that Calum always knew where he’d be. It was always clear that no matter what Calum did he’d be here--lined up for the throne. That was his destiny. 

“It’s what?” you ask. 

“It’s just an unspoken rule. I could do whatever I wanted when I was young. But when I got old enough they’d want me on the throne. I was allowed to be a kid, but I always knew where the road was going to lead.”

“A road with detours.”

“Exactly,” Calum agrees. His parents had driven the ship for years, and he took the reins. He had his fun and eventually all the turns still lead here. When he took control, he knew that. He knew no matter what he’d always be here. 

“There were rumors.”

“Rumors?” Calum questions. 

“Rumors that you’d gone out of town looking for a bride. This was a few months ago.”

It doesn’t shock Calum that his love life seems to be the hot talk of the town. He’d prefer it not to be, but the reality of the situation means he’s got to get used to things about his life being under scrutiny or just being gossip subjects, no matter how wrong it is. He studies the way you stare out into the treelines. The pinch to your brow returns, where it’d previously varnished on the drive to the park from your parent’s house, it returns now. Your forehead holds the ‘V’ of the knitted brows. 

“A few months ago, like before or after our first time?” Calum’s not too naive to call it the first time you two made love, and he’s not grotesque to call it a fuck either. It’d been a succumbing, melting into desire, but there’s no way to say that without it sounding like sap. So first time feels like the best calculus of words. 

“I caught wind of them before.”

“Didn’t seem like they stopped you much. If I remember correctly, your direct words were, ‘I want you to fuck me.’”

You snort. Calum knows the swat is coming. He braces for it, for the back of your hand--knuckles and digit-- to connect with his sternum. When they do, he takes your hand into his pressing deeper into his body before bringing your knuckles to his lips. He can spot the knicks along your skin from all the cuts you’ve probably endured. “And if they were?” you tease, looking over to him. Your eyes twinkle with your amusements. 

“Well, if rumors can do that,” Calum starts, lips brushing over your skin, “I’m dying to see what comes next.” 

“Calum,” you laugh. 

And god, he loves the way you say his name. His toes curl in his shoes and he exhales harshly onto your skin. No syllable gets lost in the curl of your tongue. It’s not lost on him that you’ve yet to use a pet name, but if just his name can make his whole body feel like it’s on fire, Calum knows he’s a goner should you ever decide to bestow such a prestige of a pet name onto him. 

“But what about those rumors?” Calum asks. His lips are still brushing over your skin. He’s still keeping your arm extended out, and it feels like he could hideaway between the brim of his cap and the softness of your skin, even while scarred. 

“I was selfish.”

It sounds like a confession and Calum settles your intertwined hands to his lap. “Selfish about what?”

“I had those rumors burning the back of my brain and when we kissed, I told myself I would take whatever I could get even if it wasn’t all of you. Sometimes I still think I’m waiting for this all to come crumbling down. And then your mom wanted lunch. Your dad wants golf. You call me just to hear my breath sometimes and I think that it won’t. I don’t want it to crumble.”

“That’s why you said you didn’t want to fuck this all up?” You never did call Calum to tell him later what had gone down. He hasn’t pressed it until now. 

“I said that because sometimes I want to run. There’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me I need to get out because all the safety I’ve built in being anonymous is going to shatter.”

That--that’s not something Calum anticipated. He knew there was fear, or least assumed so. “But you’re still here,” he counters. It feels a little desperate in his chest. Though he doesn’t want to panic and think you’ve done all this just to end it, it still claws at his heart. 

“I am. I want to be here with you. It’s…it’s just hard. Especially after that conversation with Miranda. It would be easier to drop it all. But I don’t think that’s the best choice.”

“I hate to point out the obvious. But we are in public, right now.” Calum knows that you know but he’s not going to let this slide either. 

“Call it exposure therapy,” you laugh. “I just--I’d gotten used to safety. And I don’t have it anymore. Or at least I don’t have what I had before. I have to like rebuild. I don’t even know what it would look like to rebuild that safety. Well, expect for the fact that I’m stealing you mom. She’s definitely a part of it.”

“No, I encourage the stealing of my mother as long as I get visitation rights.”

“That can be arranged.”

The air fills with the laughter bubbling from both you and Calum. Just behind it there’s the flutter of wings as a flock of birds take off. The sun’s tipped deeper into the horizon. The air’s cooling. But Calum keeps watching you. The V’s still there in your brows, smaller than before, but not gone. 

“If-If my mum’s a piece of safety, then I do want to encourage you to reach out to her. I know it’ll be weird because she’s my mum. But I think right now what matters more is your well-being. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and she won’t come back to me with it. not if you don’t want her too. She’s good with secrets.”

You give a nod, looking over now to face Calum directly rather than speaking out into the air in front of you. Your eyes are glassy, but no tears fall and Calum waits. He just wants as the words tick at your jaw. It’s slow, but the words build up and out and Calum listens as you speak. “It’s--she just reminded me of everything I wanted from my parents. I see the way my parents treat Charlie and Teagan and I’m so happy for them, but I am so angry that I couldn’t get it too. Last week, after we met, I realized how much I hadn’t let myself be angry about it all. I’m still trying to be the perfect kid for them but I still push them away because I’m fucking pissed. And everyone wants something from me, right? Everyone wants me to act a specific way--be it either forgiving my parents, or moving on, or whatever. But I just, sometimes I’m stuck. I’m just stuck and I’m angry and it’s exhausting.”

“Fuck them--everyone’s that ever wanted something from you. Including me.” Calum returns. It feels easy to say and he knows it is easy for him to say. But he means it. “The only thing you’ve got each day is the best you’ve got. Whatever it looks. If it’s 50%, then that’s the best. If it’s anger, then that’s the best. And I wish I could say I’d make everyone not want something from you. But the truth is, I can’t do that. No one can. The thing you can do is just give yourself the space to have what you have.”

It’s a slow and thoughtful nod that you give before you squeeze at Calum’s hand. “Yeah, yeah maybe you’re right,” you whisper. It’s caught in the gentle breeze and passes over Calum’s cheeks like a wispy breath. 

“Your world’s fundamentally changing, baby. You don’t have to have a solution right now. I know a lot of the changes are because of me and some of them are a little time sensitive. But I mean it, there are just going to be some days as you grieve that you’ve only got a little in the tank. And there’s going to be days where you’re angrier than others. I’ll still be there okay? But not as knight in shining armor bullshit. Promise,” he grins. 

“How then?” you ask, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. 

“I’ll be there like the goofy guy that makes you laugh. Who kisses you when you’re sleepy still in the morning and you complain about your morning breath. Like the guy who’ll make your toast just right and always listens to the ancestors about how much sugar to put in your coffee. Like the guy who’s your boyfriend. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, if I’m honest. And you can still call me out on my bullshit too.”

“Oh, I’d be happy too,” Calum laughs. “You still owe me a couple more bites on that sandwich though,” he notes, nodding over to the item in your lap. 

“Yes, yes,” you laugh, picking it up again. “Thanks. For listening.”

“Anytime,” Calum whispers. 

The evening darkens quicker than you or Calum quite planned for, undoubtedly related to the detours that you set on earlier. But just before the twilight passes, you and Calum pack up the remnants of the food--a couple individual bags of chips and the empty tupperware. It’s less of jostle now that the bags are a little bit lighter as the two of you pack everything back into the car. 

“I still owe you a song,” Calum notes as you two start back to the castle. He doesn’t want to slack on his end of the bargain and he doesn’t want to let you go just yet either. Though he’s sure you might have to work tomorrow and he’s sure you’re probably not comfortable escorting him to your place just yet either. Not that he faults that. The timing might look a little too suspicious. 

“Are you asking me to stay the night?”

“Are we at a point where I can ask outright?”

“Say it in lamest terms,” you counters, flicking your eyes to Calum for just a moment. Maybe not even a full second. 

“I want you to spend the night with me.” It’s an easy sentence to say now. Like he was only really asking for permission to say it so plainly. And maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s always waiting because he knows just how hard what he’s asking for. He wants it to be easy, but it never will be. He just wants to make it easier. If he could just make things easier that would be all he needs. But the trick to all of this is that you can still say no. Even though Calum’s telling you what he wants, you still have the rebuttal. 

“I’d love to,” you answer. His heart soars--not one ounce of a hesitation filtering into your words. “But!” It comes out loud and you hold a hand up in front of Calum’s chest. The groans at the interjection climbs up his throat without thought and Calum throws his head into the headrest. 

“Finish the demands, just twist the knife,” he huffs. 

Your laughter is soft. “You’ll live, big guy. Promise. But you dry as I wash first before anything else?”

“I don’t think drying dishes will kill the mood that much,” Calum hums. It does make Calum’s gut twist at the name, though he’s sure you don’t really mean it like that, more like a tease at his own dramatics, Calum curls his fingers into his palms. God, he feels like a teenager again. Like somehow everything about you calls to him. His own personal Siren song echoes in the wisps of your breath. 

“Mustard breath didn’t kill the mood,” you laugh. “I don’t think anything can.”

Calum doesn’t think anything can either. But he wallows just a little, shifting in the passenger seat to make you laugh again. When you do, he follows the sound, how it brushes over the glass of the window and then backwards towards his ears. It warms his gut as it goes. The words are bubbling on his tongue, right at the soft palate, but Calum can’t say them. He doesn’t even know how true they are. Though it would feel right, he withholds. Instead, he bothers you for your hand at a red light, just to leave some kisses and letting go when the light turns green. 

The sink’s rushing by the time Calum returns from depositing his guitar and your spare bag and other piece of tupperware on the rack waiting for him. He slides by you to grab the towel hanging off the oven. Your skin is soft, a slight chill from the evening, but Calum presses kisses to your cheek regardless. You hum. “Dishes, Calum.”

“They’re not nearly as fun,” he laughs.

“They’re not.”

It’s a simple sentence, but you melt into Calum for a moment, weight falling back into him. You’re solid against Calum’s chest. As his arms wind around your waist, he squeezes. The embrace is warm and Calum swears his mind’s never been as quiet other than when he’s embracing you. 

It’s all too easy to leave a kiss on your neck. It’s all too easy to wrap you with both his arms, and force you back into Calum. He knows your head will drop into his shoulder. He knows you’ll hum again with that little blissful smile when he runs his nose along the cut of your jaw. The content hum falls from Calum’s throat easily. He takes a gentle bite out of you and then kisses the area before moving on to the dishes. 

A whine pierces the air and Calum nearly buckles. He loves that sound, the little huff of disappointment that escapes you because you know just like he does that you’re still going to the responsible one. You’re still going to wash the fucking dishes and Calum’s going to fucking dry them. But it’s not what either of you want to. Calum loves how much you hate it because it only serves to build the anticipation. It really only serves to make every touch, every kiss that much sweeter. 

The last of the dishes hit the drying rack and the drain releases to take the water down with it. Calum’s been purposefully slow, taking extra wipes at the lids. He should be listening though. He should be paying more attention to where you are in the room because it falls silent for far too long. Calum catches the ticking off the clock and nothing else. He snaps the lid onto the bowl and places it down in the bag and just as Calum bends over just a little to get your basket and cooler stacked up into the corner, the crack comes. 

It stings and maybe it stings before the crack hits the air. But Calum laughs, shock falling over the laughter too as he whips around, one hand resting on his ass as he spies you with another kitchen towel in your hand, winding it up for another shot. 

“That was my butt,” he hollers. 

“It’s a cute one too.”

The retort doesn’t slow you though as you step in just a little bit closer to Calum. His laughter ceases. “No, no, not like this.” Calum’s not going to go down like this. He winds his own towel up. It’s ridiculous. But it doesn’t stop his own smile. 

You’re slow, crouched over as you hold your kitchen town at the ready. Calum knows it’s reactionary, but he takes the crack. You lean back out the crack of the towel, your own laughter bubbling out of your chest. Calum’s overextended tried to reach too far too fast and can’t back up before you get a hit on his forearms. 

“Yes, yes exactly like this,” you laugh, wrapping one of Calum’s wrist up into the towel. It’s a gentle pull, but Calum lets himself go into the command. Where’d this been the entire time, this playfulness, Calum doesn’t know. But he’s glad it’s there. He’s glad to see it as you pull his body into yours. 

Your hands are cupping his cheeks, pulling him in for the kiss and Calum can’t even refute you. Can’t be mad that he doesn’t get the chance to tease you for being desperate. Because god, you’ve always tasted so sweet--even tainted in sweat, Calum thinks it’s the most intoxicating taste. The air of the kitchen echoes with the sounds of the huffs, the press and pull of lips. Calum knows he wants to swallow you whole. He wants to press you into his ribs, make you the marrow of his bones. 

The blood in your veins thumps erratically. Calum can feel them throbbing against his lips as he breathes into your neck. “My room?” he asks in a pant. “Or are you ready to risk it here?”

Calum laughs at your sharp intake of air. “Oh, did you think I’d forget that? How you admitted that you daydreamed about me taking you here in this kitchen?” Calum seals another kiss into your skin. 

Your response is only the heavy inhales. 

Calum grins, slowly lifting his head to watch your face. The slack jaw of desire, the furrow of your brow because he’s stopped. “Yeah, I remembered. Tell me though. Did you fantasize about being caught? Did I have to keep you quiet? Were you bent over this island? I need every detail, baby,” Calum whispers closing in. 

You’re going to push up, try and capture Calum with another kiss, but he’s quicker, pulls out of the way before you can get in closer. “You’re not playing fair," you huff. 

“Please tell me?” Calum adds. It’s so desperate, even to Calum’s own ears. But he doesn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to care.

“It starts with a kiss,” you start. It’s with a heavy exhale over your lungs. Calum complies, holding your face between his hands. Your body goes lax and Calum’s more than grateful to watch how much a touch from him can cause you to turn off like a light. But as much as he wants to swallow the sighs down, he lets you go when you pull away from me. 

“Your hands are under my shirt,” you pant. 

Your skin is hot--or maybe it’s his own skin-- but Calum slips his hand under the cotton, caressing your side. The shuddering sigh ghost over his face, but Calum wants for the next instruction, the next part of the fantasy to come alive. 

“I’m working off your shirt,” you laugh. “The fantasy has a dress shirt.”

Calum looks down at the cotton Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and grins. “My apologies, baby.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” 

Your fingers tease at Calum’s skin under the shirt and though it tickles, his eyes flutter close at the touch. It’s sure, but soft. “I’m usually in my uniform,” you continue on in a whisper. “But we’ll make do. You move me over the counter, my chest pressed into the marble.”

He takes your waist more firmly and Calum pushes one hip to urge you to turn. You go willing, hips pushed out into his. The jeans are tight and Calum ruts, needing the friction. He’s going to explode before he even gets to have you. It’s burning at his gut when your voice comes fluttering out. 

“You kiss my neck.”

Calum leans in, mouth salivating at just the thought of another taste. You’re real in his hands. You’re real in his mouth. Calum has to keep telling himself this is all real. Because he swears if he doesn’t, it’ll all float away. He’ll find some way to convince himself that he dreamed it. And instruction after instruction, Calum takes your body apart. It’s slow but steady as you allow yourself to be consumed. 

The instructions never waiver. Calum never falters. He knows he’s doing what you want. He knows he’s making you feel good. Why else would you have fantasized about it if it weren’t good? His body is hot, can feel the start of sweat at his hairline as he eases himself into you. Every kiss, every touch, every piece of clothing has been touched, bitten, pulled just the way you wanted. There’s no way one body can hold this much desire and not crack. Calum’s so sure he’s going to crack. His skin is holding by seams but your sighs, the way you praise Calum, keeps him together just enough. 

All Calum has to do is chase the punched out sighs that escape your throat. All he has to do is focus on you and it all makes it a little easier. Though he’s never felt such a tightness in his gut. To say a body’s been made for him feels too simple of a phrase. You’re not an object. You’re not something that can be consumed. Your body feels like the things prayers are made of--hope and pinning. Your body feels like what hymnals are yearning for. And Calum wants nothing more than to collapse at your feet and worship you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huff out. 

And though the castle is quiet at night, the last thing you two need is to be caught. Calum presses down a little into your back and pulls a kitchen towel discarded onto the counter into his grasp. “If you can’t be quiet,” Calum laughs with a whisper. “I will have to resort to desperate measures.”

His hips are steady into yours, attempting to keep from too much noise, but still keeping each thrust powerful. More than once your knees have hit the cabinets with a clatter, but that can be played off, assumed to be normal noise of someone in the kitchen. Your moans are definitely not something that can be played off. 

“Fuck,” you huff. It’s loud, sounds deep from within you. 

“Baby,” Calum coos, pushing the towel into your mouth. “I warned you.”

You whine, openly, freely into the towel at another thrust. Calum grins into your skin. Watching the way you reach back for him, the way you push back into him like you can’t get enough. 

It’s blinding and fast when Calum cums. It’d been building, feeling at the edges as it peeled up, but it takes literally everything out of Calum when his release hits. Your body is still shaking under him from your own orgasm and Calum knows all his weight on you is not ideal, but he’s not sure if he knows if his knees will work. He feels wobbly but kissies at your exposed cheek. “So good for me,” he whispers. 

Your laughter is soft and Calum pulls the kitchen towel away from your lips. “Better than the fantasy,” you whisper back to him. 

Calum helps you up, once his own knees cooperate. It’s a slow process to get clothes reassembled. The kisses are slow, hazy, but Calum feels the burn of you in his lungs. A burn that somehow only you can soothe too. 

“I’ll meet you upstairs,” you whisper against Calum’s lips. 

“We’re-we’re not going to get caught nor is anyone going to say anything to us if they see us together.” The word’s already out, more or less. It’s out as much as it needs to be. 

You snort. “No, I need to clean the kitchen. Disinfect after everything.”

“Oh.” Not an articulate response but it does dawn on Calum that maybe it should’ve been a bit more cautious. But what’s done is done now. Either way, he nods, kissing at your temple. 

“I’ll get your things back into your car? Or do you want to leave them in my room?”

“My car is okay. It’s all clean now.” You kiss Calum gently, trailing it up to his nose. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Happily,” Calum returns. 

It’s five minutes for Calum to get the items back into the trunk of your car, but once they’re settled in, he watches from the doorway of the kitchen as you spray and scrub down the counters. You make it seem like easy work. Though, there's a force behind your scrub that Calum ponders. “I don’t think a sponge is going to erode marble,” he teases across the way. 

“Figured I’d give it a shot.”

You return cleaners to the cabinets, throw gloves away and Calum knows watching you that you are the things prayers are made of. You are hope, and yearning. You are going to be the death of him but he couldn’t care less about that. He drops your keys back into your palm. “Elevators,” Calum directs. 

“And why would we take that when there’s perfectly good stairs?” you tease. 

“Trust me we will need to take the elevators.”

You grin but nod. “Lead the way.”

***********

Calum’s not even sure you’re listening anymore. The strings are echoing through the guitar, but Calum’s sure that you’re long gone. Asleep above him. He’d slid down to the floor after you teased him about being more focused on more sex and not with producing his end of the bargain in order to prove you wrong. He hadn’t even bothered with his underwear and unearthed the instrument. Your fingers were trailing along his scalp, teasing at the nape of neck. Now your fingers are still. Calum leans his head back. Your face is full, but slack pressed into his pillows. 

The sheets cover away your bare body. But Calum knows it even behind his closed eyes. It’s etched into his retinas. He conjures it, even now, behind closed eyes. His fingers dance over the frets, up and down the strings to chase the shape of your spine, carving your hips out from memory. As he licks his lips, the taste of you and him still lingers, Calum etches into the muscles of your shoulders, carrying a steady line down his frets until he’s dancing along your calves. 

When Calum opens his eyes, after playing out the last notes of your toes, he finds you still asleep. Your lips have parted now. A snore will be escaping you shortly. Calum should probably sleep soon. But he watches you. “Sometimes I think it’s just a fairytale,” Calum mutters to you, knowing you can’t answer. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m Alice, if I've fallen down the rabbit hole. But then I think about you, or what you might say to me, or what you might do, and it doesn't feel like falling anymore.”

Calum doesn’t know what is when it’s not falling. It feels silly to call it acceptance. Yet, the falling doesn’t feel like falling when he thinks of you. It feels like ground, it feels like when one lands--a bit of a shock to the knees and spine but then a rush of relief that follows behind it too. 

Calum pushes up, putting the guitar back up in the corner. He gathers your clothes and his, scattered about his room after being discarded with reckless abandon. He’ll have to get to laundry tomorrow, his basket is overflowing. His desk is also a mess--mugs, notes, his computer. He was supposed to clean that up earlier. Some days just don’t happen like they’re supposed to. With clothes and desk semi-organized, he ensures your phone and his are both plugged in and charging for the night. Calum climbs into the bed behind you. Before he can get settled fully, you turn into his body. 

A hum falls from your throat. “Calum?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he returns. 

Confirmation is all you need before you’re burrow into his chest and Calum holds you there, your breath ghosting over his skin as he finds sleep himself. 

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #calum hood x reader #prince!calum #calum hood x gender neutral reader #h writes #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic

[trrickytickle]

(like, about half of) Cognito Inc- tickle headcanons

 NUMBER ONE!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY @moose-muffin TY FOR BEING A FAN BROOOO IT MEANS SO MUCH

dancing brett  (HCS UNDER CUT!!) 

Reagan General: LITERALLY has a set of four robotic hands including her own. Don’t tell me they can not be used for tickle purposes, I’m telling you. Bad perspective on tickling, got tickled by others (not rand, fuck rand) as a kid and liked it, but is extremely touch-aversed now. Will kick and flail but like it- just instinct. Touch starved as shit too.  Lee:  Dorky, snorty laugh. Absolutely uncharacteristic- voice actually goes a few octaves higher. Little honks too. Worst spots are sides, ribs and armpits, and her “ha”s are pronounced, like individually and she likes to throw her head back and sorta guffaw. ALSO a lee- but more low key. At least she thinks so, she can get just as panicky as Brett when tickling comes up in convos. She did not get much of that (thanks, Rand), and will PUNCH ANYONE WHO AT LEAST THREATENS HER WITH IT!! Brett and her are perf contrasts as switches- imagine them ganging up on somebody! 

Ler: Teasiest ler ever and doesn’t even intend it, because she’s just cynical. Uses her knowledge of Cognito tech to her advantages. Always uses her typical dry, snarky comments to make remarks about her lees and comments on their physical and mental state, likes occasional baby-talk and spider-fingers ESPECIALLY with that evil evil HAND THING!! super methodical when it comes to tickles.  Brett General: Loves tickling. Super scared and embarrassed about it, and honestly this man needs to calm down. He’s at everyone’s beck and call- kind of like a dog- which brings me to the touch-starved vibes this guy has. Lol.  Since he’s kind of a sentimental nostalgic d00d  (escapist tendencies much) he openly craves tickles and has lee moods frequently. I don’t like to hc characters as in the community, but he is so in the community. Working for gov. organization means you know, like just about anything so he would know these niche people.  Lee: Nervous as a lee, but will still answer “yes” honestly if he’s asked if he’s ticklish. But such a lee. He literally had a robot thingy pat him on the back. Maaaybe (DEFINETLY) cheer up tickles from Reagan are a given for this man. From anyone, really. He ALSO likes to use the tech to his advantage- maybe simulating tickle scenarios in the hologram room and such, and would LITERALLY orchestrate wacky plots to get his deserved tickles. Likes to be teased and he answers with stuff like “YES!! YES I AM A TICKLISH BOY!!” and like also his worst spots are his stomach, feet and pits!! He laughs so wildly. he’ll literally holler and just kinda has an enthusiastic laugh- kinda like his personality.  

Ler: SPEAAAKING of the nostalgia thing- Maybe he can tap in to his powers and use them for ler-purposes later? Not a ler but he tries. Always overthinks teasing and his kinda-- oblivious-cuteness? leeness can kinda be infectious on a giggly lee!! Teases and pep-talks the shit out of them, also baby talk and tickle talk is just chefs kiss. He loves it when people are lees to his tickling it’s just so fun for him both ways around.    Gigi General: Never considered the fact that two of her co-workers are massive touch-starved fools and the tickle capabilities of Cognito tech, so never really worried about it. This in turn leads to situations. 

Lee: Always says “no no no no no” and backs away and always curses at her lees. Bad at hiding the fact she’s ticklish, so never really gets pedicures and such. Worst spot is her belly. Like THE worst- way too ticklish for her own liking- and someone of her status.  Ler:  Master ler, teases in a way that you won’t tell it is, like a passive-aggressive cheerleader in the locker room. Never attacks without a plan, and likes to use fake-out techniques. Does NOT let anyone in on her tickle secrets and no one even dares to get revenge, because her wraths can last weeks. Punishment tickles to whoever playfully sasses her and frequently jumps into the action on tickle fights. As she said, she’s attracted to power- and tickling gives her that. that is all did not want to do myc. considered it but the penises. 

#tickle headcanons #tickle fic #inside job tickle #tickling #tickle content #t-word #tk fic #tk community #tfb community #tickle community

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

okay how about bella/edward/jasper literally only because of the bit in twilight where jasper supposedly enjoys being around them bc of their happy emotions or something?? like edward does hate jasper but like. is there any way a one night stand would work out?

Oh Jasper, you poor, desperate, soul. This is what you come to, I see.

Jasper gets quickly removed from the relationship and taken on vacation by Alice. Edward may no longer be quite so paranoid about Jasper literally eating Bella, but he is still the family interloper. Edward never cared for Jasper in the least and now Jasper's trying to drive a wedge between him and his wife because he's that pathetic? Not a chance, Edward catches on and removes Jasper from the equation before Jasper can get his foot in the door.

As for Bella, she's still not sure if Jasper hates her or not.

Come on Muffin, Try

Alright, alright, we might be able to squeeze a one night stand out of this. Maybe.

Edward's finding that without the scent, sex with Bella is... uh... a chore. This is bad because sex is the only thing tying their relationship together (though neither will admit this). Bella keeps wanting him to put out, sometimes multiple times a night, and Edward's... having a tough time with that.

Although he feels very deficient and impotent for not being up to the task of pleasing his wife, he needs a stud.

Now, he can't ask Carlisle as Carlisle is an honorable man married to Esme. Same with Emmett (and Rosalie would kill him). He would ask Jacob but Jacob says a hard no as he wants to stay pure for Renesmee (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence in a post holy god I want to vomit).

That leaves Jasper.

Jasper who spent years sleeping around with who even knows what while high on blood and murder. This also implies that he has some experience and is at least probably good at it (though not a bettter lover than Edward, of course not, Edward is a manly man who knows how to make love to a woman like a starfish.)

Alice, further, will understand and loan him out gladly for the sake of Edward as well as Bella her sister and best friend.

Jasper gets an intervention from Alice and Edward telling him that he's going to be pleasuring Bella whenever she wants. Jasper has no idea how to take this. He's also told Bella doesn't know yet. He really doesn't know how to take that one.

Well, somehow, because Bella's a codependent mess and can't leave Edward at this point, and because Jasper's the same with Alice, she ends up sleeping with Jasper.

This goes well and becomes somewhat regular...

Until Edward feels threatened.

See, now Bella and Jasper are talking. They have these inside jokes from the times they've made sweet love to each other/had weird pillow talk about being loaned out to someone else's spouse. They share intimate gestures, lock eyes, and grow genuinely fond of each other.

Worse, Jasper is now talking to Renesmee, his daughter is now treating him like a favored uncle (and perhaps even a father). Renesmee also seems to be growing increasingly distant from Edward himself because of all of this.

Bella... seems to be developing actual feelings for Jasper. Jasper is slowly coming to replace Edward himself.

RED ALERT.

Edward desperately tries to kick Jasper out to make sweet love to his wife again. But now Bella refuses, he can't just loan Bella out then take her back.

Because of this, long story short, Edward ends up sleeping with Jasper and Bella too.

He's straight up not having a good time.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight shipping #jasper whitlock #edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice/jasper #anti alice/jasper #edward/bella/jasper #anti edward/bella/jasper #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

[theunseenpoet]

Lovers Lies | Thomas TMR

Pairing: Thomas x fem OC

Word Count: 2k

Sandra fc = octavia blake from the 100

Carlos fc = bellamy blake from the 100

--

DARK brown hair braided back in two French braids with purple bows made of ribbon tying them off was always in Sandra's hair. Every day since the moment she was sent up in the box to The Glade. 

But other than the purple bows, everything else covering her body was black.

Black long-sleeved shirt. Black cargo pants. Black combat boots. A black jacket even.

Black was, no doubt, her favorite shade...with a dash of purple to make her look less depressed—well, that's what the others had said. Even with the purple, she still felt depressed.

Who could even blame her? Any lone girl trapped in a prison surrounded by only boys would feel depressed. It's no fun and it's barely easy living. If it wasn't for her closest friends who always felt the need to protect her, then she was sure life would've been worse by now. Maybe she would've climbed the highest wall too. But she hadn't. Yet.

Sandra could protect herself when needed, but one rare time she hadn't been able to. That one time turned dark and ended with Nick banishing a few boys for their actions against her. Not only did boys get banished for what they'd done to her, but her closest friends were left drowning in guilt for not being able to help her at a time when she couldn't defend herself.

Those memories haunted the Gladers who loved and cared for her as their own sister.

"How those cookies comin'?" Frypan asked, looking over Sandra's shoulder as she used her washed hands to roll the chocolate chip cookie dough into little balls.

"Just a few more minutes and I'll put them in the oven for after dinner," she hummed with a small smile sent to him.

After three years, she had mastered the fake smile and light in her eyes. And yet, it seemed that Carlos always knew when she was lying. Luckily the older boy was running in the Maze with Minho and Ben most days for the whole day. So, when they did see each other, she could blame her quiet self on being tired and he would usually be too tired to argue.

"Well, they look great," Frypan complimented her with a hand on his hip. "You gotta make those blueberry muffins again soon."

Sandra lightly laughed, finishing the last few cookie balls. "Once Newt gives me the okay, I'll make a batch."

"Hell yeah!" Frypan cheered, walking across the room to the bench. "I swear those muffins are like a drug."

"Did Sansa make blueberry muffins?" Chuck asked, walking into the kitchen with a bright smile.

Sandra made quick work of opening the oven and putting in the two trays of cookies before turning around, wiping her hands on the old grey apron that used to be white.

"Not today," she said, taking the apron off. "But I've made cookies that will be ready by the time dinner is being served." She threw the apron into a basket made out of old sheets full of other dirty clothes that needed washing. "I'm going to the creek to wash clothes. Will you be okay without my help?" she asked Frypan.

"Yeah, yeah." Frypan waved her off with a smile. "You've done your job for the day, and I'll get your cookies out soon."

Sandra sent him a thankful smile while picking up the fabric basket and walking out of the kitchen hut with Chuck trailing behind her.

Since the younger boy arrived, he usually worked during the day as a Slopper. But every afternoon he would join Sandra to the creek at the back of the woods and no other Glader would protest or complain, knowing it was normal for her to take in the Greenies for their first month in the Glade, showing them the ropes and teaching them what they need. Plus, after Nick's unfortunate death, they had been extra careful around her snappy mood which was mainly controlled by grief and anger.

"Did you bring towels?" Sandra questioned, the sound of leaves crunching under her shoes as they walked into the woods that had a settling chill. Soon, the Runners would be back, and dinner would be happening with her cookies as a treat.

Chuck nodded, slinging a bag over his shoulder. "Made sure to grab an extra one in case."

Sandra sent him a true smile over her shoulder, seemingly as he was one of the very few who made the dim light in her eyes slightly brighten. Only slightly.

The further they walked in the woods, the lighter Sandra felt, leaving her worries behind, even if it was only for an hour. The sounds of cows and pigs and the hustling Glade got quieter, being replaced by the sound of water. 

Three years ago, a week after Sandra had first arrived in the Box, she had felt on edge for days, barely sleeping or eating. She had discovered the small creek one night while sneaking out of Alby's hut after he'd offered it to her. Since that day, you could find her at the creek if she wasn't in the kitchen or with her usual friends.

"Do you think the Runners found anything new in the Maze?" Chuck questioned, dodging a low-hanging branch just as she did.

"I'm not sure," Sandra admitted, her body relaxing at the sight of the creek with crystal clear water showing the rocky ground. "If they did, then I'll be sure to tell you."

Chuck hummed at that, dropping the bag at his feet just as Sandra dropped the basket. The both of them sat in silence, taking their shoes off and extra clothing while birds chirped in the lush trees above them.

After taking off her black clothes, leaving her in a black sports bra and underwear, Sandra grabbed an arm full of clothes, goosebumps erupting across her body as she walked into the cold water. Chuck followed close behind her with the rest of the clothes and two bars of soap.

"So, did anyone give you any trouble today?" Sandra asked Chuck, sitting down until the water reached the middle of her chest and she soaked the clothes in the water.

"Only Adam," Chuck admitted quietly, sitting a little behind her with him being shorter.

Sandra frowned, starting to wash the clothes. "I'm not supposed to tell you this because Alby would kick my shucking ass, but you shouldn't let Adam push you around like he does." She paused, looking back at him. "When someone pushed me around, I used to cut up their shirts and pants. Alby was pissed of course, but I didn't care."

Chuck laughed, a small snort following that made her laugh with him. 

The two continued to wash clothes, making small chat about the Glade and about the secret to Sandra's baking that she only shared with him. Chuck was the sweetest boy in Sandra's opinion, and she saw him as her own little brother from the moment he arrived.

Of course, he wasn't her biological brother like Carlos was. The older boy and also the third one in the Glade had known he had a sister from the moment he woke up in the Box, even with all his other memories wiped. The same was said for Sandra, knowing Carlos was her older brother from the moment she saw him. The both of them—and the others—couldn't figure out why the siblings had remembered each other, and it bugged them all, but they knew it had to be for a reason. So, after a few months, the questions around them stopped and, well, the pair became joined at the hip.

Sandra was the sixth one to come up, and the first Runner. For a year and a half, she was the Keeper of the Runners, training Ben, Minho, Nick, and a few others with her brother. 

But then one day while running the Maze on her own—which was normal for her at the time—a Griever attacked her in broad daylight, leaving a large slice from her left shoulder blade, down to her right hip. For some reason, she hadn't been stung like the others who ran into a Griever. But she didn't question it when she woke up in the Med-Jacks hut two days later.

That was a dark day for the Glade, a feeling of anxiety and sorrow thickening the air the Gladers breathed in. Very few of the boys didn't like Sandra, but most of them did and saw her as their own sister in a way. So, for a pale and shaking Minho to bring her back, covered in her blood...Oh, it shook them all. 

Carlos was a mess. The usual tough exterior boy with a sharp tongue and fist always covered in cuts, was silent as death, not a sound out of his mouth as he sat by his sister's side, holding her hand for two days straight. 

Newt had thrown up when he saw her state, the gaping, deep wound on her back, but he still ran with a limp to the Med hut behind Minho. 

Alby was barking questions at Minho about what happened in the maze while Nick barked orders at Jeff and Clint to take care of her. 

Even Gally was pacing outside of the Med hut, rambling to Frypan who didn't bother with serving dinner that night as he worriedly waited for news on Sandra. 

As said earlier: that was a dark day for the Glade. And exactly why she was pulled from being a Runner and put in the kitchen which was her second favorite place to be.

"I was wondering where you were," a deep, silky voice drawled from the bank of the creek.

Sandra smiled, looking over near the fabric basket and clean clothes to see Carlos smiling at his sister, sweat dripping down his forehead with smudges of dirt on his tanned face and neck, making the scar along the left side of his jawline stand out.

"Someone had to wash our clothes," she softly said, holding up a shirt she was currently washing. "Chuck and I finished our jobs for the day, except this one."

Carlos tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told you I would do it after I came back. You did the clothes last time."

Sandra shrugged her shoulders, facing back to the last of the clothes as Chuck quietly glanced between the Glade siblings. "You still need to map, shower, and eat," she stated. "I've got only a pair of pants left and then I'm done."

Carlos sighed, his eyes landing on the silver scar on her back that made a punch of guilt crash against his stomach. "Hey Greenie," he said, turning to the boy who nodded with a hint of fear in his eyes. Everyone was scared of Carlos...and for good reason. He was terrifying at times. "Has she eaten today?"

Chuck opened his mouth to answer, but Sandra cut in with a loud sigh. "Carlos, I'm right damn here."

"Well, no shit," Carlos muttered, crouching down to open the bag at his feet. "Leave the last of the clothes and go have a shower. Both of you." Chuck's eyes widened as Carlos looked up, sending him a warning look. "Separately."

"You're gonna scare the klunk out of him," Sandra laughed, standing up with the clean clothes in her arms and water drops hitting the surface of the creek.

"That's the point," Carlos sassed, holding open a towel while looking away from his little sister.

Sandra offered Chuck a soft smile, cocking her head to the other towel still in the bag as she walked toward her brother. "The clothes are all done, so there's no need for you to wash anything else," she informed her brother, dumping her wet pile of clothes into the basket.

"Uh, I'll hang them up," Chuck offered, keeping his eyes on the floor to avoid looking at her and not wanting Carlos to punch him. 

"I've got it, kid," Carlos said, wrapping the towel around Sandra before picking up the basket just as Chuck dropped his pile in. "If either of you get sick, Alby will have a tantrum. I can't be fucked to listen to one of those again after the last sickness that went around."

"Don't remind me," Sandra groaned, picking up her dry clothes and starting to walk back toward the Homestead. "The number of times I threw up should've killed me."

"I thought it was going to," Carlos whispered, grabbing the back of Chuck's wet shirt and hurrying him up to follow. "Dinner should be ready soon. I'll meet you two there after I hang up these clothes and have a shower."

Sandra only nodded her head, already missing the creek when the sound of the Gladers came into earshot.

--

#the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner x fem!reader #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfic #tmr thomas #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas x fem!reader #tmr x reader #tmr thomas x oc #wattpad #wattpad writer

[rainofthetwilight]

OC asks… hm. …

1. How do you pronounce Hoor and Bahr? (I can guess but I would like to know)

2. What is their favourite season?

3. What is their favourite thing to snack on?

TY FOR THE ASKS WALLOPER!! :DDD

How do you pronounce Hoor and Bahr?

it's kinda hard to explain (especially bahr), but let me try: the 'oo' in hoor is pretty much pronounced like the 'oo' in food, so you're basically pronouncing 'food', except you (obv) replace it with an h at the start and an r at the end. so it's simply pronounced as 'hur'

for bahr, it's like pronouncing 'bar', but with an h in the middle, it's basically "bah-r", the r being like the r in 'learn'

you can also throw in حور (hoor), and بحر (bahr) in google translate or wtv to listen to their pronounciation, except in google translate (and probably even wtv thing you use for this), hoor will be pronounced with a tanween at the end so just ignore that (it would be pronounced as 'hurun', ignore the 'un', that's the tanween)

What is their favourite season?

hoor REALLY REALLY likes winter, mainly because she loves the outfits she wears during it bc she's like the biggest fashion fan, but other than that she loves when it snows and loves to snuggle in blankets with hot coco in her hands lol

bahr doesn't really have a favourite, but spring is pretty high on his list, because it reminds him alot of his grandmother and how he'd go visit her alot during springtime before he had moved, and also because he loves flowers but never tells anyone abt that (was gonna explode from happiness when hoor got him flowers as a bday gift once)

jenna also loves winter, because she loves wearing obnoxiously large sized hoodies and is stubborn enough to even wear a few when it's literally the midst of summer, she is also touch starved so she gets all the chances to cuddle with someone during winter especially

ethan shows alot of interest in autumn! he loves the leaves and loves seeing them fall, he is also obsessed with jumping on them (and hearing the cracks, it's satisfying to him for some reason), he also gets to help lloyd with sweeping them and he loves to help (it became his favourite chore when he got older, he'd rather do it than do dishes)

What is their favourite thing to snack on?

hoor loves to snack on kunafah! especially kunafah nabulsi, she never gets enough of it and could eat like 4 plates of that thing somehow (kunafah nabulsi is pretty heavy, I get tired after eating like 5 slices 😭), if she wasn't able to choose kunfah as a snack however, it would just simply be chocolates

bahr is simple with his snacks, and unlike hoor he doesn't like kunafah (he thinks it's too sugary), he just simply snacks on some chips or cookies, but his go-to is butter cookies when he's specific (he used to eat ALOT of it when he was younger)

jenna's just chips, she doesn't really care abt snacks, whatever's in the cupboard she eats it. but she does prefer cheese and bbq chips more than anything else

ethan is INLOVE with muffins, like actually obsessed with them, lloyd always has to make sure there are enough muffins for ethan alone because he snacks on them at every chance he gets

-

this post may have gotten a bit longer than I expected tbh lmao, ty for the asks!! I love ranting abt my blorbos :DD

#also I called that someone was gonna ask how hoor and bahr r pronounced lol #I hope I made it kinda clear in some wayy! #levi's asks #ty for the ask! #ninjago #ninjago oc #oc: hoor mekawy #oc: bahr tareq #oc: jenna walker #oc: ethan walker #walloper tag #levi's ted talks