#24 different colors of fabric!

[tj-crochets]

Next project: the starry purple quilt! I know this fabric stack is yellow, bear with me lol

So far I’ve gotten like 2/3 of the initial ironing done, and a little less than half of the fabric cutting for the stars. Each star has one 6.5” square and eight 3.5” squares. Then I’ll be cutting out five or six 6.5” squares of each purple fabric (I have 17 and need 93 purple squares)

So, all together, that’s 27/128 squares cut out so far! Wish me luck lol

#sewing wip #starry purple quilt #starry purple quilt wip #this is a present for a friend of mine! #she already knows about it because I am terrible at surprises #and posting here helps motivate me to keep working on long projects #so there will be more wip pictures #it’s a pretty simple quilt pattern once I get it all cut out #well. it’s a pretty simple quilt pattern except for the laying out the fabric #24 different colors of fabric! #I am going to have a bunch of scrap left and it’s gonna be great #purple is my favorite color (except maybe like a spring green? or a teal?) #but I love purple and after this I’ll have like a million shades of purple scrap fabric to play with

[augiewrites]

“under the neon glow” - charlie dalton

summary: charlie convinces y/n to sneak out

paring: charlie dalton x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.1k

Y/N knew they were pushing their luck being in Charlie’s room so late at night, but Cameron was on a rare trip home and the couple would be stupid to pass up the opportunity.

And what an opportunity it was.

Y/N and Charlie were tangled up with each other in his small bed, the boy leaving a trail of kisses from Y/N’s lips to their neck.

“Don’t you dare give me a hickey, Dalton,” Y/N’s voice was stern, but there was a smile teasing their lips and they made no move to make him stop.

Charlie blew a raspberry into their neck before lightly sinking his teeth into the soft skin, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweets.”

Y/N held back a squeal as best as they could—they didn’t want to take any risks to make this night end. They softly grabbed Charlie’s face and led his lips back to theirs.

“We should go somewhere,” Charlie mumbled against their lips.

“You’re joking, right?” Y/N laughed, breaking the kiss.

Charlie smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye—one that Y/N knew very well.

“Why not?”

Y/N mocked a thoughtful look, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your partner is currently in your bed, and your roommate isn’t here to barge in on us?”

“You know I’d never let him stop me.”

“You’re disgusting, Charlie,” the smile on Y/N’s face took any bite out of their words.

“Come on Y/N, live a little.”

“If we get caught—“

Charlie expertly untangled himself from Y/N and crawled over them and out of the bed before they could even finish their thought. He had thrown on a sweater and had one shoe on before Y/N even made it to a sitting position.

One of Charlie’s sweatshirts gently smacked them in the face and fell into their lap as they moved to pick their own shirt up off the floor.

“Really?”

Charlie feigned innocence, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, Y/N.”

Y/N rolled their eyes at the boy, but pulled the sweater on nonetheless. It was one Y/N had their eye on for a while—oversized, a soft fabric of their favorite color, and (most importantly) it smelled of Charlie.

They were both aware he wouldn’t be getting it back any time soon.

“Where are we even going?”

“You’ll see,” Charlie pressed a chaste kiss to their lips before pulling them toward the door, “you’re going to love it.”

_________________________________________

Thanks to the dead poets society, the couple had become experts at sneaking away from Welton in the dead of the night. In mere minutes, Charlie had hijacked Knox’s bike, and Y/N was perched behind him on the seat as he pedaled toward town.

Y/N always felt so free when they were with Charlie. Tonight was no different—Y/N’s heart was soaring as they wrapped their arms tighter around his torso and felt the wind blowing through their hair.

Charlie was going much faster than he should have been with two people on the bike, and they arrived at their destination much faster than Y/N would have liked. Steadying themselves with their hands on Charlie’s hips, they maneuvered off the back of the bike. A bright neon sign buzzed lowly through the window in front of the bike rack.

OPEN 24/7

Charlie wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind, pressing a kiss just below their ear and murmuring, “Hungry?”

They turned their head to meet his lips, “Starved.”

He moved in front of them, opening the door and beckoning them through.

“Such a gentleman.”

“One of the last living few.”

Charlie took Y/N’s hand and led them to a booth in the corner. A bored looking waitress dropped off two menus that Charlie promptly pushed aside and ignored until she circled back around.

“What’ll you two have?” The waitress drolled.

“A basket of fries and a chocolate malt,” Charlie winked at Y/N, “two straws.”

The waitress didn’t bother to say anything, walking away once she wrote down the order.

Y/N raised their brow at the boy sitting across from them. Charlie simply smirked back.

“You trying to live out your Archie comics fantasy?”

“I wouldn’t correct you if you called me Archie for the rest of the night.”

Y/N hummed as they tapped their chin, pretending to inspect the boy’s features.

“You look more like a Jughead,” Y/N tisked, “my view from here, at least.”

Charlie held a hand over his heart and dramatically leaned forward in his seat, “I think you need a closer look.”

Y/N scooted closer to the window as Charlie moved around the table and slid into the booth next to them. He wrapped his arm around their waist and pulled them away from the window and into his side.

“How about now?”

“I think your main character syndrome is kicking in, Archie,” Y/N teased.

“Aren’t I though?” Charlie grinned. “Breaking out of prison to have a night out on the town with the most exquisite creature I’ve ever laid eyes on? Sounds like a main character to me.”

“Oh,” Y/N scoffed, “so you get to be the main character, but I’m a creature?”

“An exquisite one, Y/N.”

“You are so—“

Y/N was cut off by the waitress unceremoniously placing their fries and malt on the table in front of them. She pulled two straws out of her apron and not-so subtly rolled her eyes at the couple as she tossed them on the table. Charlie stopped the straws from rolling off as she turned and walked away.

“This diner has a Michelin star, did you know?”

Y/N burst into a fit of giggles as he blew the straw paper at their chest.

Charlie beamed at Y/N and popped a couple fries in his mouth. They fell into a comfortable silence as Y/N sipped on the malt.

Charlie moved to take a drink of the malt, but quickly darted his head to the side to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek just as his lips were about to meet the straw. Y/N pulled back from their straw, gently grasping Charlie’s chin and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“Can I tell you something?” Y/N blurted out as they pulled away.

“I’ve never stopped you before,” Charlie grinned, “don’t plan on starting now.”

“I think I’m in love with you.” Y/N’s cheeks flushed and their pulse quickened despite their best efforts to calm themselves.

“Well, I know I’m in love with you,” Charlie kissed Y/N again as relief flooded their system, “it’s a main character thing.”

#charlie dalton #charlie dalton x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dps #dps boys #dps fanfiction #dps x reader #dps fandom #dps fic

[prince-kallisto]

Crowley deserved to be in the Glorious Masquerade event 🤧🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛ The outfit was inspired by a lot of different things: Malleus’s costume, plague doctors, nuns (lmao), forget-me-not flowers, and the ceremonial robes. He already has a mask…but I think it would be funny if he wore a second mask on top that looked like a plague doctors 😭 I plan to design more event costumes for him in the future!

I’d like to make a nice painting of the second image too, but I’m not feeling very well today -v- I must have caught something…how ironic that I get sick when designing a plague doctor inspired outfit 😷

I talk more about the concept designs under the cut \(//∇//)\

Crowley’s design was initially like, a copy paste of Malleus’s outfit. I’m actually working on a fic where Crowley went to Noble Bell College instead of Malleus, which is why I started with this idea! But it didn’t feel right, because I wanted Crowley’s design to be unique. I picked out the design elements I liked the most, like the dark colors, feathers, and a draping cape. Although somehow I feel like Crowley’s costume turned out more like a mash up of TWST’s Halloween/New Year outfits…but oh well (´∀｀*) The ideas I have for those events costumes will look very different to make up for it haha

With this and Crowley’s bird mask, I immediately thought of basing his look off a plague doctors, thus the long skirt, buttons, and hat. But I REALLY REALLY love puffy sleeves, especially ones with sheer fabric -v-

Shout out to Japhers (whose both on Twitter and tumblr), because their incredible costume designs helped me out a lot with Crowley’s design 👉👈 I feel like any time I was trouble with an outfit design, I just have to examine their costume design haha for inspiration haha, it’s so amazing! please check them out, their character designs are the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen

Anyway, I got really torn from here. As you can probably see from the sketches, I had all the elements of his costume, but it was how they would fit together is what gave me some problems. The plague doctor cape covering his arms suited him, but I wanted the puffy sleeves ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ As a compromise, he has puffy sleeves and sheer fabric on his chest underneath the coat because I’m a down-bad simp for Crowley 🧎 He’s also wearing thigh high boots under there because I say so

I wasn’t able to paint it well (I’m not experienced with painting), but he has these…swords on his heels? Yes, they’re a real thing. It’s incredibly gaudy and I love it, Crowley would absolutely wear little golden swords on his heels. The corset is very, VERY loosely rib cage inspired but since the corset is at his waist, it doesn’t really work -v- oh well, I just wanted some pretty chains. His costume comes with a lot of forget-me-not motifs because symbolism lmao (Levan haunts me 24/7) and because of their pretty blue color (*^o^*)

If you read this far, thank you for listening to my rambles 🧎 I’m so excited to work on more event designs for Crowley because I’m really sad the staff members don’t get designs like these! I also want to make card illustrations with these costumes, but I need to take a little break 😷 a break from art, that is lmao. As long as I’m still kicking I shall be on the Crowley posting grind 💪

#twst #twst fanart #twst glorious masquerade #twisted wonderland #twst dire Crowley #twst Crowley #dire Crowley #twst headmage #my art #traditional art #KallistoPost #outfit concept

[weebsinstash]

Every day I get closer to writing the "You vs YouTwo trying to steal your identity in the Spider Society" fic (which, the fic even has a name as I slowly build it, I'm calling it Imposter Syndrome because, you know, 1 Reader is starting to get depressed and feel unneeded even before YouTwo comes along and 2. Well. It's self explanatory)

But anyways I keep thinking of all of these dramatic interactions and scenes (shit I was listening to John Mulaney stand up just to write dialogue for Peter Porker, for funsies) where, thinking of either Reader being kicked out of the Spider Society and such, and them having to literally hunt you down and search for you, but. What if YOU came to them?

It's been like 3 months since you "died" after the Society mistaking you for your double and removing the dimensional watch that kept you tethered down, and there's a palpable air of depression. Spiders go to the training room you used to teach your classes in and leave flowers and mementos and share stories of their times spent with you. Maybe they even do something fucking dramatic like set up a memorial, like a plaque with your name and photo or something, but, something to help remind them to be wary of who they bring into the Society and appreciate the ones they have and so on so forth, and also like I imagine there were Spiders who were so attached to you that this entire incident makes them leave the Socety for good (like maybe Hobie equates the way you were exiled to fascist tyranny and hates Miguel more than he already does for letting it/helping it happen, for example)

But, anyways, months later, but not too terribly long for them to stsrt to forget about you, just enough time for the guilt and depression and the longing to marinate, and some Spiders are hanging out in the food court, Peter B and Jess and some of the others managing to drag Miguel out of his lab to eat and be around other people because he's just been holing up by himself almost 24/7 since you "left". Dude's a fucking mess, man, you can literally just look at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, the unwashed hair, the body odor because he fucking lives in that suit, and half the cafeteria is wondering if he's about to start crying into his stupid silly ass Miguel burger and

*FWOMP*

Some loud ass undescribable noise as the fabric of the universe suddenly shifts and, you glitch right back in and slam down on the floor besides their table. The entire room freezes as they literally had no idea you were still alive as you scramble to your feet, the first thing you notice being the food as you DIVE for Miguel's burger, snatching it right off his plate and beginning to absolutely devour it like literally gobbling that shit as the man amd everyone else is AGHAST. You've lost a significant amount of weight (like, an unhealthy amount for the time that has passed) and you're covered in bruises and scratches with tears and holes all over your suit. Your hair has knots and tangles and your Spidey suit is beyond dirty with a raggedy jacket and a tattered backpack on your body. You've just been constantly bouncing in and out of different dimensions, ricocheting all over the place this entire time, which made it hard for you to eat, sleep, bathe, do just about anything normally. One minute you're trying to swipe some food from a market because you have no money, the next you're glitching again and you're lost in an apocalyptic wasteland, or a thick jungle, or even places where shapes and colors don't operate the same as we can even comprehend it

You're constantly dropping the food because your hands keep glitching but you're clearly obviously starving, and Pavitr hands you his chai to help wash everything down, but you still pick up several beverages on the table and absolutely chug them as your friends are just stunned into silence, still in shock, quickly morphing into all kinds of different emotions. Joy you're still alive, horror and pity for your current state, guilt and anguish that all of them did this to you. Jesus, have you even been able to drink water? Like if you didn't have Spider powers you probably would have died by now and it's easy to see you're weak on your feet

And from here I see two options and I'll go with the less exciting one first:

Reader is so fucking hungry and malnourished and weak that after the Spiders make room for you to sit at their table and eat their food, you being just genuinely so fucking worn down from constantly not being able to eat and sleep properly, that you basically show up, eat the entire table's worth of food, and all but fall into a food coma right then and there because this is like the first time youve been able to sit and mildly relax for WEEKS, like here comes Spider Plushie for the save like he's trying to slide across home base, loyally stopping in front of you and directly under your head as you just kind of, slump forward, the little guy making the perfect pillow as he keeps your forehead from smacking against the table, and you're just, like O U T out as Miguel cradles you in his arms because, oh my god he thought you were gone forever, and he won't let anyone else touch you as he marches you straight to, wherever the fucking doctors in this place are

But option TWO: suddenly you pause your gorging as some burps rise up in your chest and you suddenly have some calories pushing enough energy to your brain that you finally look around, like REEEEALLY look around. The entire room is dead silent, some starting to cry with joy and relief, others still stunned, many looking absolutely confused, and your eyes eventually meet with Miguel's. He doesn't look quite as run down as you, but WOW is this one sad haggard looking dilf, and you blink at him for a minute. And then look around. And back at him. And around. And to him

And your expression morphs into something so fearful as you force out a nervous laugh, "oh, wait, it's... you guys..." And the second everything clicks for you, you're IMMEDIATELY TAKING OFF, and despite your weakened state you actually make them really work for it because wow that adrenaline kicks in as you for your life because you're thinking "shit they still think I'm the fake and they'll kill me this time if they get their hands on me" when in actuality Miguel is getting his ass on the intercom system ordering all available units to stop you so they can put a bracelet back on you so you aren't lost again, which i mean it is but isnt even a yandere thing at this point, youre literally going to die without some sort of dimensional tether. But during the chase Miguel realizes you aren't using your webs, and you're actually not nearly as fast as he's seen you before, and he realizes with a broken heart, oh Jesus you're literally too malnourished to produce your organic webs within your body, or a lot of it, anyways. You must REALLY be in bad shape

And I imagine like, the chase comes to a halt, not when they catch you, but when your physical exhaustion finally catches up to you. Sweetie you barely ate anything for the last several days, suddenly gorged on a whole spread of food, and then started sprinting and jumping and climbing and parkouring on shit. You HAVE to stop running because you're literally getting sick and VOMITING, like, your former students and fellow Spiderpeople and of course Miguel are hot on your heels and they all pause and give you space because you're literally having to throw up in a gutter with sweat pouring down your face and entire body developing the shakes as, oh no, you feel your strength leaving you as you can't even hold yourself up, collapsing onto the ground, barely conscious as something scoops you up with the gentleness of handling glass, your eyes unable to stay open as you whimper things. "Please don't kill me... I'll leave... I'll never come back..." before you pass out

Miguel has you immediately checked by doctors while the staff have to limit the amount of people trying to come and see you (because, uh, there are a ridiculous amount of Spiders invested in your wellbeing) and only he's in the room as the medical team details your current state. Severe malnutrition, sunburns, broken ribs, a finger or two in crudely-improvised splints, telogen effluvium aka temporary hair loss from illness/extreme stress, you're probably starting to come down with a cold of some sort, potentially something dramatic like pneumonia.

You sleep for like several days straight while hooked up to IVs and fluids because your body just needed to heal THAT badly. By the time you wake up you feel like you're rising from the dead, your entire body aching and heavy, taking minutes to blink yourself awake to take in your new surroundings. You've got a private medical suite that's pretty well-secured, and when you try to scratch a sudden itch on your nose, you feel a weight on your wrist after going to move your arm. Oh, it's another kind of watch, although this one doesn't have nearly all the features and buttons of the first one, and when you keep rotating your wrist over and over, you can't seem to find the latch to take it off, because, well, there isn't one

Miguel is already in the room with you, either having been working on a laptop or just legitimately sitting there watching you sleep for an unknown amount of time, even if its completely dark in the room. He's gotten himself all cleaned up and back to normal and looking like his old self again but he's honestly not even sure what to say to you. Emotions aren't really his strong suit? Where does he start, apologizing for this whole mess or promising it will never happen again?

The only guarantee for now is that you will NOT be leaving Nueva York again, or even so much as leaving his SIGHT, so long as Miguel doesn't want you to, and trust me, after being tricked and having you ripped away from him, to see you in such a vulnerable sad state because of his own actions when all he wanted was to protect you, he's got a whoooole lotta things he wants to do and talk to you about. First and foremost? Vowing that he's going to make everything up to you, starting now, by being your most devout protector

#yandere spiderverse #yandere x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #atsv #yandere stuff #sinprompts #imma be real im pretty sure my posts dont show up in tags anymore but who knows :(

[thelibraryghost]

A Young Person's Introduction to Late 19th-Century Western Fashion

hello fellow youths

General information Banner, Bernadette. "Exposing Victorian Influencers Who 'Facetuned' Their Photos. (Photo Manipulation was EVERYWHERE)." YouTube. July 17, 2021. English Heritage. "Fashion Through History: Episode 1 – Victorians." YouTube. February 9, 2023. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "100 Years of Fashion // The Fashionable Plus Size Silhouette from 1820-1910." YouTube. June 5, 2021. Victoria and Albert Museum. "100 Years of Fashionable Womenswear: 1830s – 1930s | V&A." YouTube. July 18, 2023. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Victorian Fashion Is Not What You Think It Is." YouTube. March 19, 2019.

Accessories Banner, Bernadette. ""Afro-Victorian": Bringing Historical Black Women's Dress into the 21st Century w Cheyney McKnight." YouTube. October 20, 2021. Cox, Abby. "A Fashion Historian Explains the History of the Handbag." YouTube. January 26, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "Dangerous Things in Victorian Pockets : Mens Pocket History." YouTube. March 2, 2024. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Controversial History of Color Season Analysis." YouTube. November 4, 2023. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Disgusting and Creepy Victorian Fashion Trends." YouTube. October 17, 2018.

Bustles and hoopskirts Donner, Morgan. "Weirdest Victorian Invention: The Bustle-Chair (and we made one)." YouTube. November 20, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "100 Years of Underwear // The Changing Plus Size Shape from Regency to Victorian to Edwardian." YouTube. May 1, 2021. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "All About Bustles! A Deep Dive into 1870s Fashions." YouTube. December 26, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "Why were Victorian Hips Controversial?" YouTube. September 12, 2021.

Cosmetics Birchwood, Vasi. "1800s Makeup Is Not What You Think." YouTube. July 21, 2023. English Heritage. "Queen Victoria Makeup Tutorial | History Inspired | Feat. Amber Butchart and Rebecca Butterworth." YouTube. May 20, 2019. Zebrowska, Karolina. "I Used Only Victorian Cosmetics For a Week." YouTube. July 26, 2023.

Fabrics Rudolph, Nicole. "Did Silk Spontaneously Combust in the Victorian Era?" YouTube. August 8, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of Elastic." YouTube. July 4, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Truth About Arsenic in the Victorian Era." YouTube. January 24, 2021.

Gowns Bullat, Samantha. "Dress Historian Analyzes Victorian Mourning Clothing of the Mid-19th Century." YouTube. March 14, 2021. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "All About 1860's Fashion // What did Civil War-era fashion look like?" YouTube. November 12, 2022. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "How did fashion evolve from 1850-1859? // 1850's Fashion Deep Dive." YouTube. October 1, 2022. Rudolph, Nicole. "Victorian Fast Fashion? The Truth about the History of Disposable Clothing." YouTube. February 6, 2022. SnappyDragon. "Were the Pre-Raphaelites painting accurate medieval dress . . . or Victorian fairtytalecore?" YouTube. April 26, 2024. Zebrowska, Karolina. "19th Century Fashion - How To Tell Different Decades Apart?" YouTube. November 17, 2017.

Hair care and styling Banner, Bernadette. "Following a Victorian Home Made Hair Care Routine (1889)." YouTube. September 11, 2021. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "Getting Dressed in an 1888 Daisy Costume // Easy Bustle-Era Hair Tutorial." YouTube. November 13, 2020. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "Getting Dressed in the 1870s & 1874 Hairstyle Tutorial." YouTube. February 23, 2020. Rudolph, Nicole. "Why did Victorian Women Cut their Hair Short?" YouTube. December 18, 2022. Laundry and housekeeping English Heritage. "A Tour of the Laundry - The Victorian Way." YouTube. September 6, 2019. English Heritage. "How to Wash Up - The Victorian Way." YouTube. March 18, 2021. English Heritage. "Laying the Table at Christmas – The Victorian Way." YouTube. December 14, 2022. Walkley, Christina, and Vanda Foster. Crinolines and Crimping Irons: Victorian Clothes: How They Were Cleaned and Cared for. Peter Owen Limited: London, 1978.

Outerwear and working wear Birchwood, Vasi. "What Irish Working Women Wore in the Late 19th Century | I Made the Clothing of My Irish Ancestors." YouTube. June 23, 2023. English Heritage. "The Real Mrs Crocombe | Part Four: A Victorian Cook's Outfit." YouTube. July 5, 2018. Stowell, Lauren. "It's Hot: Let's Look At Some Bathing Suits." American Duchess. August 18, 2023. Rudolph, Nicole. "The History of Jeans, T-shirts, and Hoodies: Time Travel 101." YouTube. March 20, 2022. Zebrowska, Karolina. "The 1851 Women's Pants That Made The Victorians Go Crazy." YouTube. March 2, 2020.

Shoes Rudolph, Nicole. "100 years of Antique Boots." YouTube. February 10, 2024. Rudolph, Nicole. "How to Make Regency & Victorian Shoes: Beginner Shoemaking." YouTube. June 27, 2021. Rudolph, Nicole. "The Myth of Tiny Feet "Back Then"." YouTube. September 26, 2021.

Undergarments Banner, Bernadette. "I Wore a (Medical) Corset for 5 Years. How do Victorian Corsets Compare?" YouTube. November 7, 2020. Banner, Bernadette. "Making Some Frilly Victorian Underwear || 1890s Combinations." YouTube. February 9, 2019. Birchwood, Vasi. "What Victorians Wore to Bed." YouTube. May 5, 2023. Cox, Abby. "I made weird Victorian underwear (it's a knit onesie) & a pretty 1890s corset || historical sewing." YouTube. March 21, 2021. Lady Rebecca Fashions. "How 8 Different Historical Corsets Affect the Same Plus Size Body." YouTube. December 12, 2020. Rudolph, Nicole. "100 Years of Corset History: How 8 Corsets affect the same body." YouTube. November 29, 2020. Zebrowska, Karolina. "How Did Victorian Ladies Stay Warm in Winter? || THE EXPERIMENT." YouTube. January 22, 2021. Zebrowska, Karolina. "How Did Victorian Women Deal With Their Periods?" YouTube. October 17, 2019.

#victorian era #history #fashion #karolina zebrowska #youtube #video #nicole rudolph #bernadette banner #abby cox #lady rebecca fashions #american duchess #shoes #hair care #hairstyle #morgan donner #1800s #1860s #us history #american history #cosmetics #gilded age #reconstruction era #1850s #1870s #menstruation #1880s #1890s #gibson girl #reference #edwardian era

[arteastica]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (8)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.2k

“My goodness! You are totally going to find a husband tonight.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” The crisp air flowing in through the open window caressed your bare skin and prompted you to ask the question.

“Who cares? Woman, look at yourself.” Hitch grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you to the mirror.

You examined your reflection again, trying your best to find the confidence required to finally step out of the ladies’ room. You had chosen one of your favorite silk dresses for the occasion: sky-colored, cowl neck that stopped exactly where it was comfortable, and thin bow-tie straps to hold everything up. Yes, definitely a favorite. Favorite, as in ‘best liked’ and not as in ‘frequently worn’. In fact, this was the first time the poor thing ever left your room, where a teenager version of yourself used to wear it late into the night, when the risk of getting caught by your mother equaled zero. She didn’t even know you owned it, but you were certain the thigh slit and the flirty silhouette would be reason enough for her to disapprove. But to be fair, you didn’t remember the fabric ever hugging you this way before. Your body had obviously changed a lot over the years, and you were surprised it still fit.

“Jeez. I really wish I wasn’t on duty tonight, so I could wear one of these.” Hitch let out a disheartened sigh. Her chin was resting on your right shoulder and her eyes examined your reflection from head to toe. When they stopped at the slit in your right leg she said “Those thighs won’t have a problem finding their way into a gentleman’s heart.” She gave you one of those smirks you had missed so much. “Or into his bed…”

“Sadly, I’m not here for that tonight. I’m here for work.”

“Sorry but no one who is here just for work, one, looks this good in a slip dress, and two, takes this long to come out. What about punctuality?”

She was right. You had already taken too long. So, very reluctantly, you decided to walk out the door. But as soon as you stepped out, heads started turning in your direction, the attention mostly coming from women wearing pastry-shaped gowns and opera gloves.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting the attention. You knew the dress had been a daring decision. The moment you slipped on it, you confirmed it had the potential to make heads turn, and maybe some part of you actually wanted a taste of that. Would admitting it make you an attention-seeker? According to your script, however, the scene was supposed to play out a little different, and you had imagined yourself actually enjoying it. But, in real-life, the only thing the dress was succeeding at was awakening dormant insecurities, like that feeling of inadequacy you had almost forgotten about. How could you have forgotten though? You used to be inseparable. That was until you started working at the Survey Corps. You thought of your office, and the familiar picture comforted you for a brief moment, until you remembered it was now miles away.

You smoothed down the front of your dress, in part to look busy and also to dry your sweaty palms, but unlike the silky fabric, the crowd’s eyes felt rough on your skin. And you wished you had decided to wear something less special, something that would allow you to camouflage and pass as one of them. Why did I wear this? Your eyes tried to find the answer in a very promising spot on the floor. Maybe it had been out of pity for the dress. As a dress, it would be disappointing to spend all your life in a dark closet. Maybe it had been for old time’s sake. Since you hadn’t felt that out of place in months, maybe you wanted to remind yourself of the sensation. Or maybe it had all come down to something as simple as the color, and how it reminded you of something you had grown to like so much over the last months.

You turned to Hitch, displaying your bare back to the crowd.

“I can’t do this. Not like this. I’ll go get my coat.”

“Absolutely not. You look perfect, that’s why they are staring, because they like what they see. In fact, I would be worried if they weren-” Her eyes got lost in a particular spot on the other side of the room. “Woah, your boss is hot.”

You turned around and felt like you were coming undone. You didn’t understand why all these eyes were fixed on you, when clearly the best view was across the room, where he was standing.

One look at him and it was obvious that tuxedos had been created just so they could be worn by him. That black suit was exactly the kind of fit a woman would pick out for her man to wear at an event like this. And, while the slicked back hair undoubtedly contributed to the fireworks lighting up all over your skin, the real devil was in all the other details. It was in the way he kept his shoulders back and his chin high as he spoke, in the unconcerned drumming of his fingers against his leg, in the way he threw his head back when laughing, and in the way he seemed to fall into place everywhere he went, whether it was a room full of intimidating people, or a field full of titans. Confidence shone through his skin. Confidence, as well as everything else that made him attractive, came from deep within.

“Alright, now go out there and fulfill your duties.” You felt your friend's hands on your shoulders. “That also includes finding yourself a rich suitor who asks for your hand in marriage.” She whispered into your ear before pushing you into the crowd.

Across the room, the commander was talking to a group of older-looking men. Despite your legs feeling as steady as a house of cards, you started walking towards him. You had successfully made it halfway through the uncomfortable stares, when his eyes finally landed on you. Like everyone else so far, he did a double-take. However, unlike the others, he didn’t turn to the next person to whisper something. Instead, he started making his way to you. And most notably, unlike the others, whose eyes traveled all over your body, back and forth between every patch of exposed skin and resting at all the wrong stops, his didn’t. As he walked to you, his eyes were fixed on yours. And, in that moment, you realized you were very lucky. Because those were the kind of eyes that made the world around you vanish, uncomfortable stares and all.

When you finally met halfway, you decided you would gladly give up your ability to blink. It would be a small price to pay if it meant you would never miss a second of that irresistible smile and the way it made his eyes crinkle. He reached for your hand, and took it in with the kind of gentleness you wouldn’t expect from a man who spends his life around flesh-eating giants.

He brought your hand to his lips, and when they met the back of your fingers, you prayed he didn’t notice all the hairs on your forearms standing on end. The rest of your body was clearly getting jealous of your hand. You could tell by the way your lips parted and let out a very subtle, and you hoped silent, moan.

“May I?” He offered you his arm and you took it promptly, deciding you wouldn’t mind holding on to it for the rest of your life, and if that wasn’t possible, then at least for the rest of the evening.

When you got a closer look at the men he had been previously talking to, you realized you actually knew one of them: Commander Pixis, head of the Garrison. You had never met him formally, but you had seen him a few times around the capital. However, before any introduction could take place, a man with gentle-looking features spoke in a soft voice.

“My lady, Erwin is undoubtedly a very lucky man.”

His words took a few seconds to register with you, but when they finally did, your ears started burning, the sensation spreading like fire to the rest of your face as you realized that they, most likely, still didn't know you were his assistant.

After conversing some more, the commander asked to be excused and guided you to another group of people. And so, as you made your way around the ballroom, you realized there were even more eyes on you now, and it wasn’t surprising, the man beside you was reason enough. But the stares didn’t hold as much weight as they did before, because right now you had his arm to hold.

You glanced up at him, and your lips curved slightly as you remembered the little incident from earlier. Much like that man, these onlookers most likely didn’t know you were just his assistant. And something about that, and the speculations it could lead to, the rumors it could start, and everything else it could imply about you and him, made your insides feel as fizzy as the contents of the glass you were holding. For all they knew, the night would end with your dress discarded on the floor, and bodies tangled under the covers. And you found yourself wishing that whatever assumptions they were making would actually come true.

As the night went on, a couple of things caught your attention. One of them was Captain Levi, who looked like he would much rather attend his own funeral. And the other one was a certain pattern of behavior: Every man you met while holding the commander’s arm, purposely avoided looking at your exposed thigh or bare shoulders, and while their eyes would occasionally linger on your collarbones for an innocent second or two, they would quickly migrate somewhere else.

The evening was already coming to a close when the pattern was sadly broken. To be more precise, it was when you met the group of men standing at the top of the stairs. They had been laughing boisterously and drinking steadily since the evening started. Most of them looked like they were well into their fifties, and all six men were wearing ostentatious sashes dotted with the biggest collection of golden studs you had ever seen. The loudest, and presumably oldest, of them all greeted the commander animatedly.

“Erwin Smith, the legend himself. I’m still waiting for that rematch.” You noticed the cufflinks on his shirt and wondered if those were diamonds, because if they were, then they’ve got to be the biggest in existence. “I’ve been working on my double attacks.”

“Intuition is sometimes far more helpful than memorizing patterns, my lord.” The commander replied in a gentle voice.

“That’s why you’re always one step ahead.” The older man let out a guffaw that, in retrospective, felt a little unnecessary, before turning to you. “Woah. Just like in the game, you never cease to surprise me, Erwin. In very pleasant ways, I must say.” His eyes meticulously outlined all the curves of your body, paying special attention to your covered cleavage, and the amount of time he spent there made you wonder if he had somehow developed the ability to see through fabric. “However, I will never understand how your mind works. There is no way I would bring the missus to an event like this. I mean, the whole purpose of a party is to have fun!” The man and his friends broke out in strident laughter, and that was the only moment his eyes left your body, when he tilted his head back to enjoy his own remark.

“I mean no disrespect to you, my lady,” he may not but his body language sure as hell did, “so please don’t take offense.” With tears in his eyes and still recovering from earlier, he acknowledged you briefly before turning to the commander. “But I was hoping we could become family someday, Erwin. You left quite the impression on my youngest.”

You suddenly felt a burning sensation in your chest, and it had nothing to do with the unsolicited attention it had been getting from the man.

“She asked if you were coming tonight. Sent her regards.” The audacity of this man. If the commander were actually your man, how would you feel listening to all this? “Maybe you could join us for lunch tomorrow. She would be delighted to play against you one more time. She’s brilliant, isn’t she?” And right there and then, you realized there would actually be no difference between how you would feel if you were his wife and how you were feeling in that very moment. This man was basically setting the commander up for a little chess date with his daughter, when his alleged wife, fiancée, girlfriend or whatever, was standing right beside him, holding his arm.

“She’s a very gifted young lady.” The commander’s deep voice contrasted the man’s grating tone. “However, I’m afraid I must decline your kind offer, my lord. I will be returning to the headquarters first thing in the morning.”

“I see.” The man cleared his throat, the gleeful undertone seemingly gone all of a sudden. “Anyway, you’re a lucky man. There’s no denying.” His eyes bore into yours, successfully reminding you of a vulture scavenging for rotting carrion. “Your lady is gorgeous.”

That last remark made you feel like you had swallowed a rock; the way he had said it made your legs feel heavier than concrete; and the stare he had given you while saying it, made you feel as clothed as a titan. You knew once this man found out you were not with the commander, you were done. Once, the words ‘she’s my assistant’ left his mouth, this man would come after you. And you also knew that you wouldn’t get far, not with your legs in that state.

“Yes. She really is.” The commander’s voice sounded a lot like the rainy mornings back at the base. You looked up and found him staring at you, his lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze wrapping you like that well-worn blanket your mother always told you to throw away but you never did. You stared back into his eyes and what you saw, took you back to that day in the Forest of Giant Trees, with his heartbeat like a lullaby, and his arms like a sweet childhood memory.

But then, murmuring sounds came flooding in like muddy water spilling out of the sewers. You turned your head in their direction and realized the older man wasn’t the only one who had taken an interest in your dress, but also his friends.

And you decided you would gladly take the women’s stares over these any day. Who knows, maybe the women had only been thinking about how the color didn’t suit you or how fake the silk looked. But something about the way these men were grinning and whispering to each other told you that they were looking for something in particular, and you were sure it wasn’t the tailor’s name. You would much rather feel cheap and underdressed, than dirty and undressed.

You held onto the commander’s arm with your other hand as well, and snuggled closer, in what seemed to be your body’s desperate attempt to elude the attention.

“If you excuse us, gentlemen.” Much like the seasons, his voice always seemed to know when it was its turn to arrive. He guided you away, and at some point between the top of the stairs and the main hall, his hand came to rest at the small of your back. Even through the fabric, his fingers caused your skin to burn. And for the second time that night, you could feel the rest of your body getting jealous.

“Commander, I think I’ll call it a night.” You announced once you reached the main hall. “Thank you for tonight.” You gently let go of his arm and wondered if that was what autumn leaves felt as they were about to fall from the branches.

He nodded slightly, and, probably having no idea how nice it was going to feel, then said: “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. My house is actually very close.”

“All the more reason to do it then.” His eyes crinkled in that enticing way they usually did and, honestly, you didn’t feel like pretending you were against his proposal.

-

The distinctive smell of frost infused the night air, and slipped into your bustle coat as you walked down the familiar streets that led to your house. There was a lingering warmth still left from the summer, but the mist that hovered above the cobblestones signaled the impending arrival of winter. However, they weren’t fighting for dominance, and you wondered if you would ever know such harmony. You glanced at the man walking just a couple of feet beside you, his eyes, on the road ahead; his mind, somewhere you didn’t know; but his hands, his hands were in his pockets, and you wanted to reach inside his coat and take one.

It had been a dreamy night for the most part, but you could feel your heart shrinking a little with every step you took. Every passing street light signaled another lost chance at getting closure. And you still had lots of words awaiting in your tongue, lots of questions lingering on your lips, and your mouth was heavy with all the things that were yet to be said.

“Lord Wald seems to have problems with alcohol.” He spoke in his usual quiet voice, but there was a certain undertone propping up his words.

“Didn’t seem like that to me.” He looked at you, slight confusion painting his features and causing his head to tilt to one side. “They seemed to get along quite well.”

He chuckled. And you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” His eyes were fixed in the cobblestones below his feet, and the underlying something from earlier was still there, but this time you were able to put a name to it: it sounded like remorse.

“It’s okay.” You gave him a reassuring smile, even though he wasn’t looking. “But I feel bad for his wife, and honestly for any woman who crosses paths with him when she’s not around.”

“I highly doubt her presence makes any difference when it comes to his behavior.”

You looked at your hands, they were holding each other as if seeking comfort. “So, you play with her often?” You felt his gaze on you but didn’t look back. “His daughter.”

“Met her once. Very impressive player. Cannot say she got it from her father though.” You faked a smile at the exact same moment a tide of regret washed over you, finally understanding what your mother meant when she said chess was an important life skill.

And speaking about your mother, you caught a whiff of a familiar and otherwise pleasant earthy scent and prayed you wouldn’t find her beloved climbing hydrangea, but when you looked up, it was there. And so was your front door.

“It’s here.” You took a deep breath and released the parting words you had been dreading to say. “Thank you for walking me home, commander.”

He took a step closer, reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, but this time, they parted slightly, taking your knuckles between them in a single, soft kiss. The warmth of his lips and the crisp autumn air blowing on wet skin created a delicious contradiction on your hand. His eyes were closed and his lips lingered, some would say for way longer than was required for a hand kiss. It was a sight deserving of a moan, so you gave him a silent one. One that created a playful tickle in your belly.

But maybe it wasn’t silent enough, because in that very moment he looked back at you. And, as you stared back into the deep blue, you realized those were the kind of eyes that could tell you a million things before his lips could even say a word. Tonight, they were telling you something as well, and although you didn’t know exactly what it was, you knew a few other things.

You knew why your skin tingled under his gaze, and burned under his touch. You knew why the sight of him lifted your heart to the sky while his absence made it sink into a bottomless pit. You knew why his scent reminded you of every secret place you hid in as a little girl, and his voice, of a happier future you wanted to escape to. You knew why the thought of another woman interested in him set your heart on fire, and the idea of him interested in her, crushed it into pieces. And you also knew why you had worn the dress.

You knew the blue of the silk would complement your skin just the same way the blue of his eyes did. You had decided to wear the dress just so you could feel what it was like to have his eyes all over your body. His eyes were not only allowed, but welcome and explicitly invited, to explore every inch of your skin, covered or not. He could stare as much as he wanted, for as long as he wanted, in all the places he wanted. But only him. Because you had worn the dress for him. However he was too much of a gentleman to do it, so you gave him permission.

“Do you like my dress?” You took a step closer, and noticed your hand was still in his.

His eyes drifted to your lips, where they lingered for a second, before following the path marked by your collarbones, down to your clothed breasts where they rested momentarily. Then, they paid a short visit to your hips before finally landing on your thigh, visible through the open coat. It was there where they seemed to feel most at home. And it was then, when you had his eyes on your bare skin, that you became aware of how soaked you were. You squeezed his fingers on instinct at the realization, which caused him to trace his steps back to your eyes.

“Very much.” His voice, almost a whisper; his lips, slightly parted. And you could see his breath, as well as the rising and falling of his chest. He was so close you wondered if he could see what you were thinking of, if he could see how much you wanted him to take the silky fabric off you.

In such proximity, his cologne was even more intoxicating. It was musky and clean, like a fresh bubble bath; sweet and gentle, just like him. You knew it was something you would always crave, even after tonight was long gone. And you wondered how many women had been in this intimate space before, and how many of them were craving his perfume right now.

The small of your back was still tingling from where he touched you earlier. And the rest of your body was demanding the same attention, so you took another step closer.

Goodness, he was so handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you want to know how his lips moved in a kiss, and how his hands followed the curves of your body. And the situation laid out before you provided the perfect opportunity.

The perfect opportunity to stop pretending your feelings were written in some foreign language you had never heard before. The perfect opportunity to call it what it was, once and for all.

“Commander.”

“Yes?” His eyes couldn’t decide between yours and your lips.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” Your voice had never sounded so feeble. “Would you- would you please-” He nodded encouragingly but his breath on your skin was too distracting, successfully causing the opposite effect. “I- I can’t tell you.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes were holding your gaze, and his lips, you could almost taste them.

You could also hear, however, shuffling on the other side of the door, and you looked up to find a light turned on in the second floor.

“If it’s my mother, she’ll ask you to come in. If it’s my father, he’ll force you to.” He let out a chuckle and you found yourself wishing you could make him laugh forever. “Would you like to come in?”

“It’s late. I don’t want to importune anyone.”

“Good choice. If you get my father started, he’ll talk about royal family conspiracy theories all night long.”

“Sounds interesting.”

You did your best to return his smile despite the emptiness you felt when letting go of his hand.

“See you tomorrow, commander. Good night.”

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee

#arteastica writes #you can tell i had fun with this one just by the work count🤡 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #erwin smith x reader #attack on titan erwin #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin snk #snk erwin #commander erwin #aot erwin #erwin smut #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin fluff #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #erwin fanfic #aot smut

[vampzzi]

RAZBERI & WHISKEY

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral reader

cw: eventual smut, slow burn, creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, degrading, friends to lover, black reader, uhh overestimation, masturbating, ghost is kinda creepy and he's a drunk, public sex (people can see you through the glass window but they don't so don't worry), poorly beta read

cross posted on AO3 - edited!!

It was a windy day, the sun was out and the tree blew in the strong winds almost as if they were dancing. Birds chirped and flew around the town as cars placed by the shop and sounds of horns and people chatting as they walked along the sidewalk.

Today wasn't as busy as there was no one in the shop today as you were inside of the cellar, your fingers dancing along the different bottles of alcohol as this would be your second job ever.

You’d been loyal to your old job ever since you were 16 and when you first got the job, you were a waiter. Wasn’t the biggest paycheck ever but hey, at least you made money. That takes you back to some good memories that stay at the back of your head, always on your mind 24/7.Flashback . .

“ Name!! Look at the new uniforms!!” your co-worker held up colored fabric with lace on them, the long sleeve shirt was decorated with lace from the collar to the collarbone. Also following the pattern along the arms as the pants were plain as they were just a plain color. The males version was the same but the lace wasn’t on it and it was just a plain button up and pants but there was a little lace on the bottom of the button up.

“That’s really cute” a smile is on your co-workers face as she jumps up and down “I decorated them myself and got them approved”. You knew your co-worker well, she was your best friend after all, this meant you also knew about her saving up so she could apply for a high tier fashion school as you were happy for it and supported her actions no matter what.

“Can you try it on and tell how it feels, pros and cons and if you like it?” listing everything else she needed to know as you nodded as the outfit was handed to you and your hands brushed up against each other, she quickly retracted her hand.

It was clear as day that she was clearly flushed by the action. But you ignored it and headed to the bathroom as the clicked shut,

Co-worker pov (cherry) Her heart beated in her chest as she gulped, she had never been so nervous. She has had a crush on you since forever. Ever since you walked through those doors and applied for this job, more thoughts swarmed her mind as she looked at the bathroom door and started feeling loopy. What if you didn’t like the outfit, what if she messed up your measurement?, what if it was itchy and uncomfortable. What if..what if..you hated it!

Hands in her hair as she gripped tightly at it and tried to breathe to calm down but she couldn't, she was full of anxiety as she didn’t even notice by the cloud fogging her mind that she was pacing around at a quick pace as she stopped in her tracks as she finally came to realization of what she was doing.

“What am I doing ? “ I’m sure they’ll love it, they said they love the design, I just hope the fit is good enough and fits perfectly for them because they’re perfect. We’re perfect for each other. Her mind drifted off, your skin is so soft the way you would kiss her, tongues dancing against each other as your hands were cuffing her chest and then..

Snapping out of that thought as she looked around, she felt so dirty thinking of you in such a way but she just couldn't help it, she walked over to a table and sat down and waited. She wondered how your lips felt, how your skin felt pressed against her, how it felt to be yours. How it would feel to be your one and only. She felt love obsessed but she didn't wanna drive you off, no no no. She’d never forgive yourself if you guys left on a bad note.

End of cherry’s pov You were inside the small rest room as you began to pull your shirt over your head as you placed it on the coat hook on the back of the door. The pants were next, as they also went on the coat hook as you grabbed the shirt and put it over your head and pulled it all the way down till it reached your waistline, the shirt fits perfectly as it has tons of breathing room.

You had to give her credits for the top as you looked in the mirror and it was gorgeous to stare at, you grabbed the pants and put them on next, buttoning them up as you turnt to the side and then the other. Looking straight forward, this entire aesthetic was pretty, it’s giving vampire.

Turning around and opening the bathroom door and walking out, you smiled as she sat there at one of the tables, rubbing at her temples. Was she stressed? Was it any of your business? You threw the thoughts away and walked up to her.

You guessed she heard your footsteps as she immediately looked up at you “So, how is it? Tell me everything” she looked at you as you looked inside her eyes and saw her pleading. Pleading for the truth? Was it even pleading, seemed more like lust. Why is this even on your mind, stay on topic name.

“I love it, the aesthetic of it is exquisite, the fitting size is excellent and I think the other staff members will like it. I also wanna add how good you did with size, the breathing room is just right” you can see a glimpse of shine in her eyes as her face lights up, she’s blushing.

“I-I’m glad you like it name” She gets out the chair to give you a tight hug as you wrap her hands around your waist as you wrap yours around hers. The hug is platonic and sweet as she inhales your scent and keeps hugging onto you tight.

The moment feels odd…but she brings her head out of your chest and looks at you, the moment is weird now and you can’t help squirm a little as you let go but she stays close. You feel locked in this eye contact with her as the next moment she feels bold and her lips are against yours and you’re taken back.

You don’t know how to react as you just kiss back. Her lips were as perfect as you remember plump and soft, the cherry lip gloss on her lips really sealing the deal.

Ending of flashback “(Workname)?” Drawn out of your thoughts by the sounds of that voice, you look at your hands as you're holding a bottle of whiskey in your hand. When did you grab this off the shelf, no time to think as you place it back on the shelf and go back out to the main area as you’re behind the counter. “Ghost!! it’s so nice to see you again”, you cross your arms as he’s sitting down.

The decorative skull mask on his face as you can see his intense gaze as it can make anyone uneasy as you put your arms on the counter and lean close to him. “The usual?” He nods and without another word you disappear to grab the bottle that reads “Stolichnaya Razberi” along with cinnamon whiskey as you walk back to him and grab a clean glass.

Opening the cooler to the side of you and grabbing the ice scoop and taking the glass in hand and pouring the ice inside the glass. Closing the cooler and placing the ice scooper down and setting the glass down. You pop out the bottle of Razberi and pour into the glass as it hits the ice and Ghost watches the glass and your hands.

You feel nervous being stared at like this but he visits every Friday so why are you so nervous? Placing the bottle down and grabbing the whiskey and pouring onto the razberi as it mixes and creates this golden color, you grab the glass and pass it to Ghost as he catches it. “Thanks” he mutters as the mask kinda makes it hard to hear but you heard it. “My pleasure”

You grab the bottles off the counters and place them back in their reserved spots as you turn back to Ghost and observe his features. He was such a mysterious dude, he came in on Fridays and you guys talked a little bit. You found out he was a part of Task Force 141 and that’s about it.

He likes to keep to himself which is understandable. He also likes to come during closing hours, you stay open just for him to come in but this also strikes another thought, are you attracted to Ghost? No, you couldn’t be right?.

You guys were friends as you asked if you were and he just nodded but you couldn't tell if that was his honesty or the alcohol taking control.

He always got so responsibly hammered, he was sober but not to the point where he couldn't drive home, well there was one time you had to drink him home. He never wanted it brought up, I guess cause he’s embarrassed of that moment, but also the fact he let himself go that overboard. You’ve gone overboard like that before and ended up throwing up all over the floor and passing out, not your best moment but it was at a highschool party so whose to say anything about it. Let’s hope you don't run into any old highschool friends, or you’ll be in for a surprise.

Your eyes linger on Ghost again, looking at what you could, his hands on the skull part as he raises it and pulls his mask up to expose his lips as the drink disappears as he gulps it down in one go. Slightly shaking his head as you can tell by his lips that drink was stronger. His lips, scarred but so soft looking. He got up from his seat and passed over 15$ dollars, the drink was 7 but he always tipped you.

Taking it from his hand with a smile you thank him as he nods. He’s off as he walks to the door and pushes it open as the bells chime as the door closes, he’s off into the darkness as you're left in the bar alone. Pocketing the 15 dollars and grabbing a rag as you put it under some water and ring it out, beginning to wipe down the counters before you close up and head home for the night.

Putting the rag in the sink in a presentable manner you grab your keys and phone from under the counter and leave from behind the counter.

Making you sure you turn off the lights and exit the bar, locking up for the night and heading for the car. Starting up your car as you drive off to your destined area.

The car ride is foggy as your mind is clouded with thoughts as you look ahead, it’s a full moon with minimal amount of clouds as the music plays as you stop at a traffic light. Fingers tapping against the wheels as the light takes forever to turn as it finally turns green and you're free to continue your peaceful drive home.

Pulling up into your neighborhood as you drive through and turn down the road and finally pull into your driveway as you place your hand on the gear shift and put your car into park as you turn off the car. Opening the door and getting out as you look around as it’s dark and walk to your door, grabbing your keys and opening the door.

Locking your car as you get inside and placing your keys down on your table as you turn around and lock your top lock and bottom lock. Taking your shoes off and making your way through your house as you hit the bathroom and begin undressing, turning on the water and turning the knob as the shower comes on. Giving it a chance to let it warm up as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

Walking over to the shower and placing your hand in the water as you feel the water and deem it warm enough and step inside as you let the warm water trickle down your body as you think those perverted thoughts about Ghost get the best of you.

Hands running down your body as you run your hand over your aching arousal, fingers circling as you think of him as your body is warm. You tease yourself as you pinch your nipple and slide the finger past your arousal as you can feel just how tight you are.

You relax your muscles that grip your finger tightly as you slowly thrust and curl it as you let out a gasp. Pushing another finger in, you really feel the burn as a moan is drawn out of you. It's breathy and loud, “fffuckkk ghost..~” you pause as you pull your fingers and think of what you just said. He’s all on your mind, holy fuck.

You spend the rest of your time, showering and trying to get over that embarrassment that lingers inside you.

timeskip

You’re back in the bar, wiping counters as there’s customers sitting in front of you, one of them demanding a refill of tequila sunrise as you grab the bottle and refill the drink. “You’re an angel dearrr~” the last part comes out slurred as you flash him a smile and he smiles back.

Ghost watches you through the shop. No, he’s not a creep. He thinks you’re pretty, he loves your attitude and smile. He’s seen you get bratty and nasty which is 98% of the time he sees you doing the morning - afternoon work hours. He should just talk to you, but he’s not one for talking or friendships even though you guys are “friends”. Fuck, you’re messing with his head. He’s got a hella lot to say about you though.

He should be working, right now. Well he is. Just a side task, 2 more minutes won’t hurt right? Just stare at your pretty features a little longer, he feels smug under his mask from last night. The way you couldn’t stop looking at him, the way he could tell you were nervous and intimated, such an ego booster.

Okay, two minutes up. But you catch his eyes anyways, he keeps his posture still and shows no sign of panicking. Could he be looking at you or something else, don’t be foolish. He’s not looking at you. Probably something else. You shrug and wipe the glasses as Ghost walks away and you feel that intense crushing weight lift off your shoulders.

Putting the glasses down as you click your tongue and your gut is telling you to take your lunch break and chase after him. But, you’d look insane doing that. Chasing after him and embarrassing him in public. What if he’s at work right now? He’s in uniform. He could be doing a super important mission and you’ll fuck it up acting like a lovesick highschooler chasing after their crush.

You do need to step out and have a drink yourself, as you tap your co-worker and tell them your heading out for a break as they give the alright and you grab your favorite drink and pour some in your cup as you leave from behind the counter and go out the door behind the shop.

You take a sip of your drink as you pull your phone out from your jacket as you scroll through social media and drink. You don't even know his name, whats is his name?. You open the instagram search bar and type the name in “Ghost” maybe you’d find him that way.

Nah, just a bunch of irrelevant people and fan pages of ghost but not the actual ghost you know, you sigh out of frustration as you just have to wait till closing hours. Once the cup is empty, you put your phone back in your pocket and before you open the door. There he is, Ghost running down the sidewalk but he stops to look behind him.

He makes eye contact with you or you assume he does as he just stares as you wave at him and he nods at you and he’s off and you smile and head back in. Placing your cup down and serving the customer asking for rum and coke. She wants more coke than rum which is understandable.

She’s awfully gorgeous, the blue dress clings to her body and her gold earrings hang from her eyes, her makeup is light. Red lipstick and eyeliner with a decorative wing, you pass her the drink and she flashes you a smirk. Ohh, makes sense now she’s here for fun.

You’d take her to bed, if you knew what you were doing. You’ve never had sex, sexual encounters yes but actual sex no. Makes you feel embarrassed, your co-workers and friends are all non-virgins. Puts you in this position of constant embarrassment, but you’ll find the right one.

As the day passes on, customer after customer. Drink after drink, It’s finally closing time walking up to the drunk man whose been for 2 hours as you shake him and tell him to get lost as he mutters degrading terms towards you as you roll your eyes and pretend to give a damn.

Wanting to clean up before Ghost comes, you turn the sign to “closed” and gather all glasses and place them in the sink. Grabbing the rag and wiping the stains off the counter while putting the rag in its place and grabbing his usual off the shelf as you place it to the side of you.

The bell chimes as you look up and low and behold, it’s Ghost. He sits down and you make his usual rather quicker today and pass it to him in which he pulls his mask up and drinks. “Soo uh, do you have another name besides Ghost?” He places the drink down and makes eye contact with you “Simon Riley” his voice is hoarse and rough as it makes your leg jolt. “I like your name”

“Thanks, You?” “Well, you know my work name but my real name is “ Name Last name ” Ghost likes your name, he repeats it in his head as he likes the way it sounds, the way you say it.

He holds his glass, “Oh? Feeling bold tonight” you tease at him as he smirks under his mask as you fill his glass up again. He takes a sip as you guys have small talk for the first time in a while. “You must really love your job huh?” “…yeah” it took him longer to answer that it feels like you overstepped with that one. But maybe not?

He’s completely hammered, he’s blushing red under his mask and it’s not from embarrassment or arousal. He’s sober as hell and it shows. You lean forward as Ghost looks at you, he’s quiet and he hiccups and removes the skull part of the mask rubbing his temples through the remaining mask.

“Are you gonna be okay?” asking with pure concern for him, as he looks up at you and still no response as you fidget with your fingers and look around, grabbing a cold bottle of water out of the cooler and passing it to him. “You should stay hydrated though, you’re gonna have one hell of a headache” pausing as you turn around “I think I have some painkillers, stay right there”.

Disappearing to your locker, as you take your key and open it as you push some things around and grab the bottle of painkillers, shaking the bottle to still find it’s full. You walk your way back to him as you pop your head out and walk to him “Got em” taking four out the bottle and laying them in front of him as you close the lid.

He sips on the water as he grabs the painkillers and downs them as he drinks the water, you click your tongue as you look at your phone and notice its 1am. “Do you have a friend that can pick you up?” or I could just offer him a ride again. “Or do you want me to drive me home.”

He doesn’t answer as you sigh out “I’m driving you, get the fuck up” you say with slight frustration as he gets up and you walk out with him. He sways slightly as you lock up the place, having zero time to even bother turning off lights and cleaning up.

You open the door for him as he gets inside the car and you close the door for him, walking to your side and getting inside. The car ride is quiet, Ghost is asleep. The painkillers must have knocked him out, you also have to go to work extra early cause of him. He lives on the outskirts of town probably because of his line of work, pulling up to his house.

You gently shake him as he wakes up and looks at you, he’s still bubbly as you get out and open the door for him as you help him up the stairs. Standing on his doorstep, you feel around him for his keys as you grab them out his pocket and return to him to look at him, he’s kissing you. His rough scarred lips against your own as you pull away and turn away.

“No…you’re drunk Ghost” you see something in his eyes from that but you can’t make it out as you gulp and unlock his door, helping him inside as you close the door. “Uh where’s your room?” He points in the right direction as you look through the rooms and find his bedroom.

You sit him down and help get his gear off, taking his harness off along with his belt then comes his tactical pants as he stands up a little and towers over you as you pull them down and off his legs. His skin is warm as you leave his shirt on. You shouldn’t take his mask off, not without his consent. So, you leave it on as you lay him down and pull the cover over him.

He’s loopy right now but he’ll be better in the morning as you sit his keys on his nightstand and make your way out his house, actually..you grab a sticky note out your bag and a pen and write down that you drove him home and your number. Sticking it on the fridge as you then leave his house, making sure the door is locked before you get into your car and drive your way home.

Timeskip… It’s early morning, as you wipe down the counters, bust some tables along with sweeping the floors and polishing some glasses. Since Ghost was turnt up to the max last night, you didnt get to do your duties, he also left the skull part of his mask as you locked it in your locker.

You don’t want it getting stolen, everything is clean, so you flip the sign from closed to open as you get yourself right behind the counter.

Ghost Pov Waking up the first thing that hits him is he has a headache, but it’s minor and the second thing is he’s half naked in his house. When he gets home, he only remembers talking to you and then everything gets weird. Fuck, he must of got wasted last night, like really bad.

“Oh, bloody hell” he mutters as he pulls his mask off and rubs his temples as he gets up and gets ready to start his day. Doing the essentials as he puts his uniform on, a clean shirt, his tactical pants then the harness and his mask. Something’s missing. His skull piece, he mentally groans at this. He left it at the fucking bar, how stupid could he be.

He makes it out of his room and sees a yellow sticky note on his fridge as he gently pulls it off the fridge and reads it.

“Hey Ghost, I brought you home since you were completely wasted last night and got you into bed, Hope the painkillers help your hangover. - Name (W/N) Also here’s my number if you need anything XXX - XXX - XXXX”

“So they brought me home” at least it was them, anyone else would have been a dangerous risk for his work as he grabs his phone and pulls it out his pocket. Debating if he should text you about his mask but he needs it so he enters your number into the bar and shoots you a text.

Unknown: Do you still have my mask?

You : Yeah, I locked it in my locker so it wouldn’t get stolen or broken.

Unknown: I’m coming by to get it

You: Alright

Putting his phone in his pocket as he also remembers, he left his car there. Oh, fuck this day at this point. He’s frustrated now as he makes his way out the house and he begins his walk to the bar.

Switch back to you Getting a text back from a number you didn't know but with the simple mention of a mask you automatically know it’s Ghost texting you. Also you save his number as the mention of him swinging by makes you look into the small mirror as you think you look okay.

Lace shirt and slacks with your normal shoes, yeah that’s okay. You keep serving customers, as you look outside every now and then. The bell chime makes you turn your head forward to the door as he comes inside, people around look intimidated and scared. As some move out of his way and some leave the bar out of fear. What a bunch of scaredy cats “The mask” he says as you nod and make your way to your locker, unlocking it and grabbing it as you give it to him as he attaches back and looks up at you. You smile, you still haven't forgotten that kiss and he probably doesn’t even remember it, if he doesn’t, it’s for the best.

He leaves and the door shuts as you lay your head on the counter, the day drags on slowly but when the closing hour comes it’s so worth it. So so soooo worth it, so it starts out slow right? The usual, talking and then boom.

You’re on top of the counter while he kisses you, his skull mask is to the side of him while his other mask is pulled up to his nose as you can feel his stubble beard tickle the sides of your face.

His hands placed on your hips as his grip is tight, his tongue is swirling inside your mouth as you moan into the kiss, your tongue fighting back but he ultimately dominates you. Your hands on his shoulders as the other is trailing from the top of his neck to his collarbone and then moving lower and lower.

He catches onto this and grabs your hand, gripping onto it with light force. Carefully not to apply too much to it as you pull away from the kiss with a thin line of saliva disconnecting from you two “Don’t think I don’t know what you want dear” he pulls your arm downwards as he gets closer to see his breath facing over your face as he eyes lock onto yours.

“Cause I want it just as much as you” this part has you gulping as you look and pull away, you have to tell him you’re a virgin. You have to, or you can lie. Why can’t you just lie? Uhh cause of the ultimate pain you’ll feel??? But what if he acts differently cause I’m a virgin. He won’t.. “Hm?” he looks at you with concern as the room is silent for a good 3 minutes as you finally gulp down your anxiety and finally let him know the truth. “Before we start…I just want you to know that..I’m a virgin” you say the last part in a low voice but he hears you.

“You’re a virgin?” repeating right back to you as you nod “Fuck love, are you sure with me?” you nod repeatedly as this boosts his ego, taking someone else's virginity and not only that you’re a whole cash prize to him. You’re perfect in multiple different ways.

“I’II take things slow okay?” He pushes your legs open as rubs against your garments, he can feel the heat radiating on his hand as he holds eye contact with you as you look away in embarrassment. “Eyes on me dear” he purrs out as you look at him while continuing to rub, pulling the garment aside and playing around with your soaking hole, running his finger over it.

He pushes a finger inside as you yelp out and open your legs up for him on the counter as he works his finger inside as your walls clench around his fingers “relax, okay?” you breath out and nod as you try and relax your body as it becomes easier to move his finger but it’s still incredibly tight inside. “Wanna try another?” the second finger is tracing your hole “yyes..” he pushes the other one inside as this when the stretch sits in, his fingers are larger than your own.

Your walls pulsing around his fingers as he thrusts into your wet throbbing hole, the sound of squelching and your breathy groans and moans have him smirking as you can visibly see his expression. Curling those fingers as you jolt and thrash around as he keeps his hand on your abdomen as he pushes you down to hold in place as the orgasm rocks through your body.

He’s still going he has to overstimulate you to get you to a certain point, as his fingers continue to work inside you as you whine and whimper at the intense pleasure and pain that is creeping up as another orgasm feels like it’s gonna rock through your entire body as you can’t move because of his big strong arm holding you down.

He’s easily handling you like you’re nothing and it’s showing a lot, you should be disappointed but you won’t be once that cock is inside you, leaning your head down as you moan out more “fffuckk ghostt, feels so goodd~ ddont stopp” biting the inside of his cheek “don’t plan on stopping anytime soon..but don’t you want my cock inside this wet hole of yours”.

A rough slap is applied as you squeal out as he chuckles and begins to unbuckle his belt as he takes it off and puts it on the floor while working his buttons as he pushes his pants down and boxers when his cock springs out. He also makes sure to take the harness off as it joins the pile.

You’re hypnotized and terrified, it’s so big. It’s thick in size and his head is narrow or is it a mushroom head? Who knows, all you know is that thing is gonna be in your stomach for sure. “Mesmerized by it? Take a picture sweetheart, it lasts longer” you huff as he chuckles again and helps you up as you stand up.

He sits down as he puts you on his lap and leans his head back, he grabs both your legs and spreads them open, holding onto them with his broad muscular arms, locked into a full nelson position “You ready love?” His voice is tired and rough as it strikes you in all the right places.

“Yes, I’m ready.” You brace yourself as he lowers you on his fat cock as you bite your lip as you want to scream out from the stretch but you bare with it. He’s so unbelievably big, you can’t even believe it as he continues pushing you down “A little bit more” you can't even believe a “lil bit more”

He’s fully sheathed inside you, you’re to the base of his cock against his pelvis as he stays still “tell me when you’re ready.” “Alright…” you guys sit there joined for 5 minutes as the pain subsides and feels less unbearable like a knife to the heart. “I..I think I’m ready ghost”

“Simon, call me Simon dear.” He begins to thrust up into you while holding onto your legs, the pleasure runs through your body as it has you moaning and whining from the burning stretch and his brutal pace. “Holyy shittt you’re not h-holding FUCK! B-back” biting your lip as he continues to fuck into you.

“Not one ugh..bit” this position you can’t see his face nor can he see yours but the way he reaches deep within you feels so fucking good, you don’t want it to end. He grabs both legs and holds them close to your body. This position reaches so deep inside you actually think he’s inside your stomach at this point.

“Ohh you’re so big Simon, so so big. D-don’t know how much I..c-can take..” he smirks at that while he keeps thrusting his dick inside your abused overstimulated hole, he’s trying to control himself from bursting his load right now. But you’re so fucking tight, he doesnt know how much last before he creampies your stupid hole.

The more he thrusts, the more grunts and groans leave the both of you “someone could see me fucking me yk?” you freeze at this but the thought of someone seeing you fucked stupid makes you clench harder as it has Simon throwing his head back from the intense squeezing of your hole just how tight can you get? He’s slowly falling apart, bit by bit.

“Who says I’m not into that?” you tease him as he smirks “you’re one dirty person love” He keeps fucking into you, faster and faster. The pace getting so fast his cock almost slips out as the sound of rough skin slapping and moans echo throughout the bar.

You clench around him as you orgasm, he holds back. But the way you moan the way, you clench around him, he cums inside you. Flooding your hole full of his cum as you choke out a whine “simonnn” the warm feeling of him filling you up and some of it dripping out has your thighs almost giving out.

Panting as it wasn't for simons strong arms you would limp on the floor, as you turn your head to look back at him “One more round before I close up or after this round you take me and do me all time” “fending for that second option” you smile as you pull yourself off his cock and grab onto the counter “let me try something, sit up for him”..

He sits up and you get on his lap, sinking back onto his cock as he holds you by your hips as you keep your hands on his shoulders. “Getting the hang of it?…” nodding while rocking back and forth as you can feel the overstimulation but you could care less about that as you take his cock inside your heat.

“Fuck kid, you’re gonna kill me” you smirk “don’t die yet” the rocking turning into bouncing as you hod on tight to him as he thrusts up into you to match your pace, as you both pant and moan each others name as the place feels so hot and you can’t keep yourself as you feel lke you’re chipping away slowly.

You can’t keep yourself together as he fucks into you rather desperately while you bounce on his cock trying to keep the pace moderate but it’s so sloppy as you both pull each other into a messy kiss, tongue, lips and tons of moans.

It’s unbelievably dirty down there, cum dripping down his cock while you bounce on his cock, its a ring around his cock and it's some on the seat which you’ll have to clean later but it's extremely hot.

“Gonna orgasm again, do it bitch..cum again” He grabs your hair while he fucks into you at a unbeatable pace as you lost your balance and almost fall off his lap as he holds onto you tight. He’s quite literally molding his dick shape inside you, you’re perfect for each other. Meant to be as you orgasm on his cock again, that tight squeeze again has him cumming inside you, overflowing your insides.

Tons of it dip out of you but you breathe out, and calm down as you pull yourself off his cock and he grabs some napkins and assists you with that creamy mess as those go in the trash. You’ll need to dump that trashcan in the morning. If you even come to work.

Helping you put your undergarments and pants back on him, he tugs himself back in his pants and grabs his harness as he puts that back on along with his belt. Attaching his skull piece to him as he turns to you “Ready to go?” “Yeah, ‘m ready..” As you leave the shop and flip the lights off, turning around and locking up the place.

Ghost helps you to his car, helping you inside as he gets in the car and begins to drive to his house, the car ride is silent even after all that just happened. Before you know it , you’re at his house as you get out and walk slowly to his door as you guys get inside and he closes the door.

A shower would be nice but once he gets his gear off and you both lay on the couch together, you’re out like a light. Soft snores being heard from you both as the moonlight lingers on you both. What a night it was for you both.

#BITEVINYLCOD #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon x riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #call of duty fanfic

[toffeebrew]

Ink sans headcanons!

Disclaimer: I don't claim anything to be canon. Although, I tried to make sure it didn't conflict with canon for the most part. Erm, I also didn't check the tag before I made this, so of any these are canon/popular hcs i didn't know before making this.

Ink has something similar to a bag of holding tied to his belt. He picks up little trinkets in the aus he visits (something small, of course, like a flower!) It can hold an endless amount of objects. It also stands as as way of reminding him of where hes been and who he's met! he puts any gifts he gets there as well.

He has this weird ability that if you point at something he knows the exact hex code and color name it is. Why? Not even he knows, but it may be a creator giving him knowledge somehow thing.

For his paints? They all taste a little different. They taste like, something? But the exact flavor is so vague it's "hard for him to describe". If anything, they taste like a whole bunch of flavors at once. A little overwhelming to the palate. They all differ in sensation as well, fizzy, smooth, milky etc.

(more yapping under the cut)

Consistency wise, they both smell and have the thickness of acrylic paint. Specifically that kinda watery acrylic paint you can get for cheap at a store (like apple barrel).

Each of his vials has three dosages. One vial is like daily usage. But they can sometimes run out unevenly depending on how bad/good that day is (ex: on an extremely bad day, he has to take more of a positive emotions) so he had extra markings to "top off". Given there's no consistent time frame hes in, he just takes them whenever he wakes up. [ note: this particular headcanon was partially inspired by @/the-local-eldritch-microwave headcanon lol ↓]

He can actually last maybe about few days without his vials, but his emotions just become duller after 24-48 hrs. Taking a sharp decline after about 72 hrs. Their mobility and mental health declines with it as well, so he'd rather not wait for the decline to start! haha unless he got stuck in some situation where he had no choice!!! :D haha

He tried chugging all his vials at once for experimentation! He vomited everywhere. He'll not be attempting that again. Too much at once...

He has a reallllyyyy long scarf so he has enough room for all of his notes. It drags behind him and also dramatically blows behind him when there's a draft. It tracks stuff in it, due to its length. The bottom of his scarf is all colorful because of all the crap hes tracked in it! LOL

If he ever needed it, he'd add more fabric to the end for more notes. I guess eventually it would get cartoonishy long. At least, until it became completely impossible to manage.

On that topic, hes actually quite messy. Although, its more in a "organized chaos" sorta way. He knows where everything is, even if you don't. hes also MESSY not dirty very clear distinction!

In my mind the reason Ink would have a gap tooth in my version is when he was a "sketch" his teeth were more uh implied? So when he's born (how the hell would you word that? conceived? idk) he now has a permanent gap tooth.

#headcanons #inktale #ink sans #inkechos #← i think thats the right tag #sans au #headcanon #undertale au #utmv #utmv ink #all of this is imo ofc #i love talking about this man #love him sm #i want to implement some of my headcanons into his design #but I'm not quite sure how to do it yet #ink sans headcanons #emetophobia #ig? #utmv headcanons #sans au headcanons #toffeesbrews

[butterflypeatea3456]

Soft yan!Ser Criston Cole x Reader x Soft yan!Rhaenyra HC

Part 1

Warning: Unhealthy relationship, minor wounds, you know the drill

Criston Cole only had eyes for the princess. Not the young ladies she often accompanied, especially not you. The one he met because of her. The girl who was often linked arm and arm with Rhaenyra. He didn't notice the toothy grins you'd shoot at him, or your challenging gaze whenever you were forbidden to do something. Or the small pricks in your fingers and hands. The sample sizes of fine fabrics you always had stuffed in your pockets. He was a loyal guard to the heir of the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra first laid eyes on you while pouring wine into a Lord's cup. It was hard not to notice the only other women in the room. There you were standing behind your uncle's chair, in a soft bluish-purple gown. It was a relatively simple dress so to speak, but the design, the colors, and jewels made it a work of art. Her gaze traveled up your figure till she met your eye. It her by surprise when you walked over, greeting her warmly, by holding both her hands.

Former Lady Alicent, now Queen and you were never particularly close. Content on spending time together whenever Rhaenyra was involved. You'd be a fool not to notice the growing rift between the two since Alicent married the King. You spent many nights consoling Rhaenyra, from the loss of their friendship, the stress of being heir, and fears that her father was replacing her. And that one day you would leave her through death like her mother or fade away like Alicent. "You truly are the only one I have left"

You pulled Criston aside more than once to make sure you both were doing your best supporting her. The amount of care you showed warmed his heart. A part of him yearned to be as close as Rhaenyra was to you. But would be improper and fuel rumors that could hurt you both. Your family might take you away from King's Landing, and that wasn't an option. "Of course my lady we need to stay close by"

When rumor's started flying around the castle about Prince Daemon taking Rhaenyra's maidenhood, the first thing you did was confront her. She confessed as soon as you pressed her, that it was not Daemon she bedded but Ser Cole. Small jabs of jealousy pricked at you, but deep down you could not tell who you were jealous of. But that didn't stop you from defending her at every turn. Whether it caused a scene or not. Those actions set Rhaenyra's love for you in stone. You were the only one that fought for her. You didn't look at her any differently like Alicent had, or was furious like Visery's.

Your defense of Cole was more subtle. Knowing very well what breaking his oath and laying with the princess would mean for him. Though Criston did very much notice your soft passive aggressiveness when you first found out. He tried not to let it get to him until he couldn't. Finally, you fessed up when he confronted you alone in the halls. Leaning in your warm breath tingled his ear as you revealed what you knew. His heart dropped, you knew of his worst deed. Seeing the dreadful look on his face, you swore secrecy to him. Going as far as to prick your finger with a sewing needle. His gloved reached yours as he planted a soft kiss on your hand. But it didn't stop the small seed of anger at Rhaenyra for ruining his good image to you.

You don't know where things went wrong. But somewhere along the line things went very wrong. It was like the trio of you, Criston, and Rhaenyra evaporated overnight. As cordial as they both were in front of you. It was hard to ignore the bitter looking being thrown around. And the fact that they were no longer speaking. You were practically with Rhaenyra 24/7 afterwords. And Criston started appearing by Alicent's side more and more. In your heart you knew that things would never be the same between you three. And it was only a matter of time before things reached a boiling point.

#house of the dragon #yandere rhaenyra #yandere criston cole #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #ser criston cole #ser crispin #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #rhaenrya x reader #criston x reader

[coverghouls]

spidey and sprinkles - peter b. parker x gen!reader

this is part one to a multiple chapter series that i have posted on ao3 as well.

summary: While settling into your new apartment in New York, you find yourself enamored with Peter B. Parker, as he spices up your daily life.

You gleamed at the setup of your apartment. Everything was aesthetically pleasing, from the color coordination of the furniture to the pictures and artwork you had managed to stick to the wall. Although it had taken you weeks after your actual move-in date to achieve, it finally paid off, and pride echoed in your chest as you admired the home you made for yourself.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, which was made crystal clear to you as the light of your phone demanded your attention. The decorating that brought itself late into the night displayed itself in the form of the clock on your phone, and now all that was left was to settle into your bed.

You began to slip into your pajamas when a familiar sound erupted from your stomach—a grumble. Once the soft fabric of your pajama pants collides with your skin, it dawns on you that you haven’t eaten at all, being so preoccupied with decorating your new apartment. You slip on a jacket and some slides, grab your keys, and hop into your car.

The car stops at a 24-hour grocery store nearby. The parking lot is empty, safe for a few cars that you only can assume are majorly from staff, with a few customers looking to get a late-night snack like yourself. Slightly spooked by the darkness outside, you quickly enter the glowing market to find yourself wandering down the aisles, pushing a primarily empty cart. Pizza dough, shredded cheese, and some pepperoni make their way into said cart, the idea of a homemade pizza teasing itself for tomorrow's lunch. Grabbing a few more essentials, you get down to the ice cream aisle. Your hand grabs the last bin of vanilla bean as a treat for your hard work. As you reach for it, your hand comes into contact with a slightly warmer and softer one.

You look up and are met with the brown eyes of a man who can’t be any older than his late 30s. You shyly retract your hand while he does the same. The older man awkwardly rubbed his hand behind his neck.

“Sorry, I didn’t know vanilla bean was that popular option.” You smiled at him.

He chuckled, gesturing towards you to take it. “I insist you have it. I can grab a different flavor.”

You frowned, shaking your head and pointing to the container. “No, it’s okay. I can grab something else.”

The exchange goes back and forth until you both coincidentally reach for it and touch your hands again.

The two of you both let out a light laugh, catching the attention of two teens. One is a blonde girl with her head half-shaven, and the other is a brown skin boy with a visually unique jacket. The blonde girl smiled at the older man while walking up to him.

“Did you find the ice cream, or were you busy flirting over here?” She laughed.

This caused the boy next to her to punch her shoulder gently. “C'mon, leave him alone, Gwen!”

The older male rolled his eyes at her as she grabbed the container and placed it into her smaller handheld basket. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to laugh at his obvious annoyance or the red tint that crept across his face at the girl’s blunt description of the situation.

The male pulled out his wallet and handed a couple of bills to the younger boy. “You and Miles go up and pay, and I will catch up in a sec.”

The two teens giggled, walking off and whispering things to each other that you could only assume were pretenses about you two.

The guy turned his attention back to you, a slight smirk on his face. “Well, since it’s my fault your ice cream is gone, I feel responsible for helping you find something else to eat.”

You smiled at his apparent gesture to spend more time with you, but you couldn’t help but accept. “What about your kids?”

He raised his eyebrow, “My..kids?”

“The two kids that you just gave money to?” You stared at him questionably; how can someone forget about their kids?

His confused face turned into one of realization as he shook his head quickly. “No, no, those aren’t my kids. They’re just my friends.”

“Your friends are..two kids?” You questioned jokingly.

Embarrassment was written on his face as he covered it, “No! No! They just come around, and I’ve known them for a bit, so I let them stay! And-“

You cut him off before he over-explained himself. “I know what you mean; I’m just messing with you.” Your eyes wandered around the shelves of the aisles that you two traveled before stopping next to some cookies.

He grabbed the box and observed them. “You can’t go wrong with cookies.”

You nodded, taking the box he handed you and placing it in your cart. The two of you made your way up to the checkout line in silence as the two teens that presumably came with him were finishing their payment.

You rang up your items as he handed the kids the keys to place their purchase in his car. He waited for you to finish before grabbing the bags for you.

“Allow me to walk you to your car. It is pretty dark, after all.”

You agreed and took one of the bags from him.

“By the way, I never asked for your name.” He grinned as he walked you to your car.

“It’s Y/N, and what’s yours?” You took the bag from his hand and placed it into your car with the other.

“It’s Peter.” He handed you his cell phone awkwardly, trying to find the right words. “Will you…if you-“

“Are you asking me for my number?” A curious grin was forming on your lips.

“Yes..” He admitted sheepishly.

You entered your number and handed it back to him. “Thank you, Peter. Call me whenever. I’m always free.”

You got in your car and drove off, leaving him dumbstruck in the parking lot that his charm worked. He walked by to his car, only to be met with questions upon questions from Miles and Gwen.

“Did you get their name?” Miles asked immediately.

“Yeah! It’s Y/N.”

#peter b parker #into the spider verse #peter b parker x reader #miles morales #gwen stacy #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse

[mayakern]

Minority opinion obvs, but I was actually kind of bummed by the shorter mini lengths? I have some OG minis that don't quite cover as much of my booty as they used to, so I was hoping the longer back panel would help, but with the new sizes, it's more like the butt coverage is the same and the front is just shorter 😩 But the new sizes seem REALLY popular, so maybe this is a sign that I'm just not built for minis anymore!! I'll just have to keep an eye out for the next round of midis, and I'm SUPER excited to try out the wrap shirts, they look amazing!! Thank you to you and your team for being awesome!

they’re defs not for everyone!

but i wanted to make a true miniskirt this time around, since the minis before were really just skater skirts and not true miniskirts. especially bc in order to achieve the same length for the largest size as the smaller ones, with the skater skirt length the size D would have to be like 23-24” long and our midis are only like 25-27” long so the midi and skater skirts ended up being a little too similar in length/silhouette for my taste

there is potential for us to maybe eventually fill that middle length at some point but it would likely be a different type of skirt and it could be years in the future.

to draw back the curtain so what: we are a really small brand and it’s important for our different products to be significantly different from each other, since doing lots of small variations is more likely to split our consumer base and complicate our back end instead of expanding our consumer base. like imagine if i’m selling 2 shirts with the same design, but one is on red and the other is on black. there are some people who have absolutely no interest in black shirts and will ONLY buy a red shirt, but most people are gonna be happy with the black one and adding a red option mostly just serves to split the existing customer base instead of adding to it, and because i know have 2 very similar but separate products and because i have to hit a minimum order quantity per garment type/color (bc the fabric is made and dyed to order and there is a minimum quantity to make this worthwhile for the manufacturer), i’ve basically doubled my minimum required inventory, my cost and logistics without significantly increasing sales.

i hope this explanation makes sense haha! and sorry the new miniskirts don’t meet your needs 😅

#ask #store

[crotchety-old-emu]

OLITDP chapter 24 references

as i mentioned in my author's notes of the chapter, there's a few references that i would like to share with those who are interested in them. you don't need to know about them to understand what's going on in the story, obviously, but perhaps it's nice to have some visual aids to go with some of the things that are happening.

if you haven't read the latest chapter yet, and you want to remain spoiler free, it's best to skip this post (or perhaps come back to it later). you can find chapter 24 of our love is these days' piano here!

so here's a short list of things that might be interesting - but definitely not necessary - to know about chapter 24:

penelope's dress at the trowbridge ball is a silvery sea green. the one i had in mind was kind of like this one, from the season three behind the scenes pics. nicola looks stunning in green, especially with the red hair. i found beatrice knight's regency color compendium, a stunning overview of all the fashionable colours of fabric in the regency era, with some fantastic descriptions of how they were made and when they were worn. the willow/sea green colour shown on this page is exactly the hue i was picturing while writing.

lady trowbridge's decorations: i spent days and days researching how lady trowbridge might showcase her wealth and peculiar tastes during this ball, but honestly, i didn't find much info about ballroom decorations and i didn't want to make up things that definitely could not have happened. so i settled on things that i was already fairly certain of were pretty decadent for the era: pineapples and ice cream. after reading up on ice cream in regency times through several sources, i came across the website of ivan day, who is a food historian and has worked on some bbc regency costume dramas. he had a very insightful youtube video on how ice cream was made in those days. in it, he makes one of the ice cream pineapples i mention in the story. ivan day's actual website is under construction, but i found a photo of moulded ice groups, as they were presented in regency times, on another page which was taken from his. it includes ice cream shaped like a swan (which may have been parmesan flavoured, which apparently was a popular ice cream flavour back then).

another food decoration that both eloise and penelope mention is a flummery solomon's temple. i found out about these through watching the bbc documentary pride and prejudice - having a ball, which talks about accurate representation of balls during regency times on television. the part of the doc i'm linking to is the part where ivan day reveals a solomon's temple and explains that this would be a staple on all upper-class tables in those days. the white bits, if i'm not mistaken, are milk-flavoured, the brown is chocolate and/or coffee, the pink is coloured with cochineal.

he also has a page on solomon's temples on his blog, which has a very amusing short clip of how exactly these jellies moved. if you watch it (highly recommend), i'm sure you'll understand why eloise would think it was a good thing to comment on. ivan day himself describes it as:

Because it is made of flummery, which is a kind of opaque milk jelly, the central obelisk wobbles and cavorts in a most entertaining manner, while the four little cones shake, rattle and roll in a very naughty way.

the dance: i must have watched at least fifty different dances that were popular at the time - shoutout to regencydances.org, which not only has a very extensive list of dances, but also a youtube channel and animations showing what the dances would have looked like. i based penelope and anthony's dance on the northdown waltz - which granted, only became a thing from 1820 onwards, so it's technically an anachronism for them to be dancing it. it simply was the only dance that best fit with how i wanted the scene to go. you can find an instruction video on the northdown waltz here. anthony, in this case, would be the red rectangle, penelope the green ellipsis. here's a clip of actual people performing the dance, so you can kind of imagine what it would have looked like. i always knew anthony's confession would happen during a dance, my main inspiration for that was this scene from becoming jane. if you've seen the film, you undoubtedly know exactly which scene i'm talking about without even clicking the link. i remember that when i first saw this part of the film, i stopped breathing for a minute, because it was just such an intense moment, which was exactly what i wanted for anthony's big moment.

there you go, some insight into the tiny things mentioned in the latest chapter that you might perhaps enjoy knowing more about. hope at least some of you found it interesting!

also, i want to mention: i am not a historian, i don't claim that my fic is historically accurate, not in the very least. i try to stick to period-appropriate things, which i do as much research for as i can. but some mistakes will have slipped in there, i am very much aware. so if this is a particular pet peeve for some of the history buffs among you, i apologise.

#olitdp #our love is these days' piano #regency era #regency research #bridgerton fanfic #penthony #my writing #anthony bridgerton #penelope featherington

[vincess-princess]

trying to write original small-form works ended up in this. not exactly small, but it's finished, and that's something considered i haven't finished a thing since 2020

Genres: sci-fi, dystopia, a dash of cyberpunk Word count: 10 228 words Summary: The research facility personnel doesn't like Dex much. Not a single one of them hadn't suffered from one of his meltdowns, be that a bruise or a broken limb. But they aren't getting rid of him. They can't, really. He is the reason the research facility has been built. The military that sponsored it are very interested in a mysterious virus in his body. And Dex? Dex is interested in putting as many spokes in their wheels as he can. Warnings: not spoiling it to you but on AO3 this would have gotten a "creator chose not to warn" tag.

Dex could feel them burrow through his flesh, weaving complex tunnel systems underneath his skin that looked like intricate red webs from the outside. The tunnels healed fast, and the next day the webs would look completely different, each time unique, like a snowflake. All this healing and tearing produced so much scar tissue his skin was growing bumpy and uneven - but at least dead flesh didn’t ache.  

But so far there was still nearly not enough of it in his body to not ache, so much that constant pain fogged his mind, slowed his thoughts and jumbled his perception of reality. It was not so bad, really; pain could hardly break through the veil of fog, and only an occasional sharp spike of acuteness tore through it – but just for a moment, and then everything went thick and bland again.

The medassistant above his head detected Dex’s heartbeat change and awoke with a buzz. Its flexible tendril with a needle at the end began unwinding, aiming at his left arm where constant blood-taking left ugly bruises on the inner side of his elbow. This tendril was considerably faster than the previous three, but not enough that he couldn’t break it too if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not right now, at least.

The needle dug into Dex’s inner elbow and began filling a little vial with coppery blood. The more of them there were, the stronger was the color. His was the brightest in the lab fridge, more so considering that activity in other samples ceased long ago – they couldn’t live outside the host for more than 24 hours.

The tendril drank its due and withdrew. Next to the bed a drawer moved out of the wall. There were two small white capsules inside. Breakfast.

Dex sighed and pushed himself up on the bed. Lowered his bare feet onto the cold floor. Shivers ran up his calves. Would it really hurt the budget to put a rug in here? Anything, really, just to brighten the austere, sterile containment cell, dilute the grey and white with some color.

But the management didn’t like him enough to fulfil his wishes. They didn’t like him at all, to be frank. It was probably all the equipment they had to replace and the new workers they had to hire after yet another of his meltdowns.

Through great effort Dex rose to his feet and shuffled over to the sink in the other corner of the cell. When he waved his hand before the sensor, water poured into his mug – thankfully, he had no restriction on it, because the infection made him really thirsty.

He washed tasteless pills down with water, then climbed back to bed in hope of catching some more shut-eye. The rough fabric of the bedsheet grinded against his skin, inflaming his sharp senses. His brain, flooded with signals of distress, instantly jumped into overwhelm, forcing a groan out of his throat. This was the worst of his illness: lights too bright, sounds too loud, surfaces too uneven, smells too strong. Doctors tried to reduce the sensory input – with limited success: Dex still had at least one meltdown on a biweekly basis. At least not every other day like in the beginning, though.

Just as he wrapped himself in a thin blanket, he heard the elevator on the other end of the hall open and familiar heavy steps approach. The man was limping slightly – seemed like his leg was still healing. Was the management really so short-staffed as to call Mike from his sick leave early? Modern medicine could heal broken bones very fast, of course, but for fuck’s sake, give the poor guy some rest.

Because Dex surely wasn’t gonna do that. As steps grew closer, he stood up and grabbed his mug from the sink, and when the door opened, flung the mug into the figure looming in the doorframe. A thump, an indignant yell and the clatter of the mug rolling across the floor that followed were music to his ears.

“You motherfucker!” Mike yelled. His stubbly face reddened – he was always quick to anger. “I’m so sick of you, you chinch-infested asshole. Can’t wait for them to eat you alive.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Mike. How’s the leg?”

“One day I will get to kick your corpse with it. And I’ll do it. I’ll be the first in line.” Mike promised, kicking the mug with such ferocity it could as well be the aforementioned corpse.

“I sure hope your leg heals by that time. So you can give it your all.”

“It better does.” Mike walked inside, grabbed him by the arm and tugged at it. “C’mon. You’ve got some tests to do.”

“Can’t wait.”

They walked down the hall. It was squeaky-clean, as always – a government research facility had to meet the standards – but there were still crumbs and dust that stuck to Dex’s sensitive feet. Walking everywhere barefoot didn’t help much when that “everywhere” was the lab, the gym and the shower.

Mike led him to the elevator and towards the lab. Dr. Forester waited for them at the door.

“Good morning, Dex,” he said.

Dex ignored him. Dr. Forester didn’t look too upset about it.

“Come in, come in. Mike, I’ll call you when it’s time to escort Dex to the gym.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Mike said to Dex acidly.

“Thanks, I will.”

The guard left. Dex listened to his steps getting quieter until Dr. Forester closed the door.

“Sit down.” He waived at the chair in the center of the lab. “A chair” was not nearly enough to do it justice, though. It was a throne of woe – for the sickest and the damnedest, with cuffs on the handles and at the footrest, a collar where the neck should go and a crown of a neuroscanner above the head. Too much time had he spent on his throne of woe – more than anyone else, as far as he was aware. The longest any other infected lasted at the facility before Dex was four months and eighteen days.

Dex was here for over a year already. He wasn’t sure how much exactly – as time passed, things began to blur. Now his life before the facility seemed a distant memory, a splash of color among the monotony of black and white.

No. He won’t drag those memories to the surface. Burying them again would be too much work.

“I’d really prefer not having to strip you into this.” Dr. Forester patted the throne handle. “That’d do good both to the research and to your well-being. You agree?”

Dex ignored him again. They’ve been through that countless times, and Dr. Forester was right – it hurt no one else but Dex.

Still, he would do it again, and again, and again, until they had to take his body apart limb by limb, but not today. Today the pain was worse than usual, and he didn’t have it in him today. One day wouldn’t change anything anyway.

“Seems like you are. We’ll see, though.” And Dr. Forester picked up a tonometer.

The usual tests followed. Blood pressure, glucose, urine sample, weight, height (Dex added half an inch over his stay at the facility), blood oxygen, ECG, brain scan and he forgot what else. His blood analysis had been completed by that point, and one of Dr. Forester’s assistants – Turner, if Dex remembered correctly – was putting the data into the database.

“Hm. The ironphage concentration is higher than usual today. Another growth period?” Dr. Forester mused at the chart of Dex’s ironphage concentration in the blood. It spawned the entirety of his imprisonment at the facility and grew in spurts: a period of fast growth, a plateau, growth, plateau. Every time Dex hoped a yet another spurt would be the last one, and every time it wasn’t. And it seemed now that another spurt was coming. Not good news for Dex and doctors both.

“It is within acceptable fluctuation, though…” Dr. Forester kept talking, but the sound of his voice faded into the background as another one pushed its way ahead. It was Turner banging on his keyboard like it was his mortal enemy, and the repetitive, annoying clicking rang in Dex’s ears, overpowering everything else. Though not exactly loud to anyone else, it rumbled through Dex’s body, making his muscles tense up and his head hurt. He barely suppressed an urge to cover his ears and instead clenched the handles of his throne so hard his knuckles went white.

“What is it?” Dr. Forester frowned. Damn, he noticed. “Dex, I sure hope you’re not scheming something up. We both know that tranquilizers aggravate your sensitivity.”

“Make it stop,” Dex exhaled. Words came out through great effort. Please, not another meltdown. Triggered by keyboard clicking would be the new low for him to hit.

“Stop what?”

“The banging. Keyboard.”

“Keyboard? Turner!” Dr. Forester quickly identified the culprit. “Tone down that clicking! Or better put it off until Dex leaves. The data won’t go anywhere.”

“Yes, doctor,” Turner said, shooting Dex an unfriendly gaze. Considering that once Dex threw a tonometer at him, leaving a sizeable bruise, Dex understood why.

“Is that better?”

Dex nodded.

“Good. Now, we’re done here. Off to the gym you go.”

Mike and Turner walked him down the hall to another door. There was a corner right behind it, but Dex didn’t know what was there. He never went farther than the gym.

A massive steel door, like that of a bunker, was controlled by a fingerprint lock, and, as Dr. Forester warned Dex, did not react to fingers that were for some reason separated from the body. Not that Dex ever tried, but the warning did change a couple of his plans. All the weapons in the gym were, of course, just training versions of real ones, and couldn’t kill a man, or so he was told – but they were still weapons.

Inside the gym was brightly lit, as always – they never listened to Dex’s requests to tone down the brightness. The rubber-covered floors were squeaky clean – not a trace of blood left from the last time. He’s gotta ask Mike about Trevor – they should have sewn his arm back on already.

The door behind Dex slammed shut. He looked around. The broadaxe he used the last time was missing, and toned plexiglass separating the gym from the observation room replaced. Pity they took away the broadaxe, even a training version. It was heavy enough to leave a good dent and crush a couple of bones.

A robotic voice began reading instructions from a speaker by the ceiling. They were the same from Dex’s first day in the facility, and he could recite them by memory now. The damn white coats kept putting them on every time he came to the gym.

“Shut up!” he yelled at the ceiling. The voice kept reading monotonously. Dex stopped listening.

He headed to the weapon rack and picked up his favorite rifle. It lay heavily in his arms, warm to the touch, like it had just been shot out of. A precise replica of a real-life SVD-X1 shooting rubber bullets. The bullets were real at first, but after the doctors saw enough of Dex’s temperament they replaced all the weapons with their training versions. Still, even the training version of SVD-X1 was light, portable, quick and precise, and reliable like a Swiss watch.

It's been a while since he held Glasha in his arms, and it felt like being reunited with an old friend. It did exactly what Dex wanted from it, didn’t manhandle him and perform tests and experiments on him – what’s more to ask?

Yeah, a bitter thought flashed through Dex’s mind, the facility had really lowered his standards.

The observer – Turner, most likely – must have seen him cradle the rifle and seized the chance. The robotic voice changed its tune mid-word and launched a “precision check”. On the opposite sides of the gym, a good 300 feet away, three targets were lowered from the ceiling. One was about 20 inches wide, the other – 7, and the smallest one – barely 2.

Oh, so they returned to the basics. Out of caution, probably – they didn’t expect him to show his top results after a week of solitary confinement – but Dex could already feel boredom wash over him. He hit those targets during his first month in the facility, why go back to it?

He took his earmuffs off the weapon rack – the gunshots deafened him for good five minutes otherwise – returned to the position and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He felt Glasha’s buttstock nest comfortably against his shoulder, leveled the scope against his eye. He closed his eyes, inhaled and called to the ironphages. Here’s a job for you.

The red webs on his hands filled up and reddened. Adrenaline rushed through his body, overwhelmed his mind with unexplainable confidence, almost like Dex had already seen everything happen. His fingers grew stronger, his hold – more even, Glasha seemed weightless. He narrowed his eyes.

Bang, bang, bang – the three targets fell back and rose ashamedly to the ceiling.

“Boring!” he yelled to the plexiglass, rubbing his shoulder where the recoil hit. SVD-X1 was nearly not as bad as, say, Barrett M72-V1 (not to say lighter), but it was still a sniper rifle. Precision and strike strength came with a price.

Turner must have been annoyed at his expression of boredom: the targets began moving, then doubled in numbers, then sped up. Dex kept shooting methodically, almost without thinking: ironphages didn’t need him to. They granted his arms balance and strength, kept up with the speed, postponed muscle fatigue. Dex reveled in this thoughtlessness, this utter concentration on one thing only: it gave him relief from his thoughts and even lessened the pain.

When the routine was over, Dex was almost disappointed. But then Turner launched the next program – melee. Dex liked it less than precision shooting, but he took what he could get.

He went to the weapon rack, took off the earmuffs and picked a nylon knife. He weighed it in his hand, reminding the ironphages of the weight, the shape of the handle, the point of balance – and then he heard a voice.

Dex was going to brush it off - Turner was speaking on the intercom, probably, - but then another voice joined in. It was low, booming. Then spoke one more person – a woman, judging by the higher pitch. Dex couldn’t make out the words, but could distinguish the intonation quite well.

And it was very telling: both unfamiliar voices were measured, authoritative, commanding. Soldiers spoke like that.

Oh, come on. Dex told them numerous times he would rather die than work with the military, and they never listened. His fingers clenched the handle of the knife. His answer was gonna be the same, and he would show them that.

The knife collided with the glass and bounced off it so hard it landed far behind Dex. It left a shallow dent – they may have reinforced the glass specifically for this kind of Dex’s tantrums, but his growing strength eventually outgrew it, and they couldn’t afford to replace it every couple weeks.

“I ain’t joining the army!” he yelled. His voice echoed all over the gym, rumbled in his ears. Dex winced, but continued.

“Fuck your army and fuck you!” He picked up a heavier knife and flung it at the glass. This dent was noticeably deeper. The ironphages clearly banded up in there to help him convey his point.

The voices behind the glass went quiet for a moment and then began gabbering with growing intensity. The male voice boomed, the female sizzled. Turner could barely be heard – these two must have completely overpowered him. Dex felt no pity for him.

“Fuck! You! Fuck! You!” Dex chanted as he grabbed Barrett M72-V1 off the weapon rack and fired the whole magazine into the glass.

The recoil was so powerful his shoulder exploded with pain, making him drop the rifle with a groan. But it was worth it – the bullets, though rubber, dove deep into the glass and nestled there snugly, framed by snowflake-like halos of cracks.

The glass didn’t break, but his demonstration of discontent sure had an effect on the observers.

“Stop that right now!” Turner’s trembling voice demanded over the loudspeaker.

“Or what?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Turner tried to be ominous, but sounded desperate instead.

“You for real? I’m supposed to be afraid of something I don’t even know about? You’re a horrible negotiator.” Dex picked up another knife and twirled it between his fingers.

“It’s gonna be worse than anything you’ve had before.”

“Really? Now I’m interested. Roll out your new punishment.” Dex flung the knife at the glass again. Turner’s breath audibly faltered at the collision.

“You don’t wanna go through it. Just stop that and you won’t get it,” Turner tried one last time. But Dex was unimpressed.

“Come on! How many guards is that gonna be this time? Ten? Twenty?”

Turner emitted a short laugh. “None.”

Then a hiss came from somewhere above. Dex’s sensitive nose caught a whiff of something bitter and acrid. Then a yellowish gas began blowing into the room, painting everything in vomit-colored residue.

They were sedating him!

Dex couldn’t not agree that this was something new. He’d rather have ten guards. At least those were breakable. He couldn’t break a gas’s leg, try as he might.

“Cowards!” he yelled to the glass, hoping to provoke Turner, but no more sounds came from the loudspeaker. Dex kicked the weapon rack with frustration, but it hurt his toes, so he left it alone. He sat by the wall, coughing as more gas entered his lungs. His head felt heavy and foggy; ironphages, detecting something fishy in the system, rushed to remove the harmful molecules, but they were soon overpowered. The gas was so dense by that point Dex couldn’t see the opposite wall of the gym. It was the first time Dex wished there were more of the phages.

He succumbed to the sedative a couple minutes later. The blissful darkness came abrupt and quick like a hammer to the head.

***

Dex didn’t know how much time he slept – his cell had no windows – but when he woke up, the lights were out. Must be nighttime then.

A headache so bad the hammer might as well have been real kicked in. Moving also didn’t bring much relief: the ironphages were hard at work cleaning his body of toxins and were more active than usual. Combined the pain was so bad Dex could barely move a hand.

He needed to pee, but not badly enough to attempt getting up, so he turned to the other side, pulled up his blanket and fell asleep again.

The next couple days were the same, except he did force himself to pee at some point: they wouldn’t change his sheets with him still in the cell, and he didn’t want to sleep in a wet bed. Dex was thankful for the residual sleepiness that helped him fall asleep hard and fast every time. He wouldn’t be able to bear all that pain while awake.

Aside from the medassistant taking his blood samples, nobody bothered him, or he slept right through it. He was undoubtedly watched – Dr. Forester would never leave his test subject unobserved while on a new drug, because the ironphages’ reaction was unpredictable. They rejected the mildest painkillers with such ferocity Dex thought his insides were burning and limbs torn off piece by piece. Then they healed his broken arm in a matter of days. If at first Dex confidently labeled them parasites, now he was not so sure.

He did wish he never got them, though. As miserable as his life was before the facility, it was still life. This was just existence.

He finally awoke at night, his throat parched and his eyes dry, but the headache was gone and the phages calmed down a bit. He let medassistant take his blood and, looking at the coppery liquid in the vial, realised how hungry he was.

There were six breakfast capsules in his little drawer. So he missed three mornings.

He didn’t have to wait long for someone to remember about him. Mike thumped loudly down the hall and unlocked the door.

“I did not miss you,” he announced from the doorframe.

“C’mon, you’re glad to see me alive and well.” Dex highlighted the last word, smiling.

“The only time I’d be glad to see you is when I get to see your dead body.”

“You’re so rude. Did your mama not teach you manners?”

“Shut up and walk.”

Mike escorted Dex to the lab and handed him over to Dr. Forester, who seemed unusually invigorated. Got another questionable medicine to test on him?

“Dex! How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dex grumbled. He didn’t like talking to Dr. Forester, but he had a request to make. “What was that crap you made me breathe? Could at least tell me beforehand.”

“A new sedative the QC came up with. For larger groups of enemies designated for capture. Our intel has got ahold of its composition, so we recreated it to see it in action.”

“Bet you tested it on regular humans already.”

“That’s right.” Dr. Forester seemed neither surprised nor indignant. He talked about the subject with his usual ease, which did not, in turn, instill ease in Dex at all.

“And?”

“Let me say… the QC chemists have got a load more brainstorming to do if they want a healthy labor force.” Dr. Forester smiled. “Just another proof of our superior technology. Now, as you’re the only remaining test subject,” – Dex winced, - “would you mind describing what inhaling the gas felt like?”

“I might,” Dex began carefully, “if you fulfill my request.”

“Taking advantage of me, huh?” Dr. Forester said light-heartedly. “You’ve got your charm, I’ve got to admit. Ask away – within reason.”

“I want new clothes, these have been worn to bits. And a rug in my cell.”

“Your room, you mean?” Dr. Forester politely corrected him. Dex grimaced. God, who all that farce was for? “Well, that can be done. What color?”

“Pink. And fluffy.”

“I’ll put in an order. Say it’s for science purposes.” Dr. Forester winked at Dex, and he felt like a bucket of sewer water had been upended over him. “Now, let us proceed to our usual tests, and you can tell me about your experience with the gas along the way.”

That day was shower day, and after gym (the plexiglass had already been replaced, as if Dex never shot at it) Dex got to wash off all that sticky, smelly residue of the gas off his body and change into new clean clothes – simple white T-shirt and pants again, but at least without holes between the thighs. No shoes, though – the management believed it could somehow stop him should he make up his mind to escape. Dex could tell them that he would walk on white-hot nails barefoot if it would get him out of the facility, but he knew how paranoid the management was by that point. They could easily make him walk around naked for all he cared.

He sat down on his bed, combing through his hair with his fingers. It had already grown to reach his shoulders, and he didn’t care enough to ask to have it cut. Dex hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a long while, but he was sure he now looked just like Luke in his rockstar phase, only without that stupid heart tattoo. The girl dumped Luke three weeks after he had it done. Oh how Dex laughed at him.

He missed him. He missed him so much it hurt.

***

The next day he woke up from the pain. It hadn’t happened in a while: as the phages began multiplying and pain increased, so did his body’s adaptability. He cried and screamed on day one and slept soundly on day twenty. This seemed to be day one of another growth spurt, as Dr. Forester predicted.

Every time they believed a spurt would be the last one – a human body simply couldn’t host that many phages – and every time they were wrong.

When Mike came, Dex threw his hand over his forehead in a “dying Victorian maiden” style.

“You’re gonna have to carry me. Bridal style, please.”

“No the fuck I ain’t.” Mike bared his teeth in a smile. “Get up, princess.”

He dragged Dex out of the bed by his leg, forcing him to get on his feet. Then they headed to the lab – five minutes late because they had to fix Dex’s bedsheets that he dragged with him to the floor.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dex told him as the door closed. “See, you can be a very nice guy when you want to.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mike replied almost endearingly.

He had been working here since the beginning, and stayed as some left and others came. He stayed even after Dex broke his leg – on accident, of course. He didn’t want that chair to hit the guard.

“A bad day?” Dr. Forester greeted him sympathetically as Dex climbed onto his throne of woe. “Your blood tests show a spike in ironphage activity. We will, of course, conduct other analyses, but it’s pretty damning evidence that we’re having a growth period upon us.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dex said.

“Your analyses have shown a slight spike in activity even before the gas, but today it’s much steeper than usual. Could it be prompted by the gas?” Dr. Forester mused over the chart. “If it could… we could force ironphages to replicate by making the host breathe the QC gas. Or- no, I don’t think it’s the gas in particular. We could try other intense experiences and see how they react.”

Of course they could. And who was the only available test subject?..

“Don’t look so grim.” Dr. Forester must have noticed Dex’s face change. “There is nothing the ironphages can’t fix. Or rather,” he added reluctantly, “there has been – so far.”

“This is not a consolation.”

“That’s the only one I can offer you,” Dr. Forester shrugged. Oh how Dex wanted to claw his eyes out.

But Dr. Forester was the head of the research department. Whatever he saw fit to do, he did. The high-ranking military assholes that sponsored him gave him a “freedom of research”, since he was the first one to keep an infected person alive for more than a few months. It wasn’t really his achievement, but who cared what Dex had to say about it?

“Relax,” Dr. Forester told him. “It’s just a hypothesis, and the one I do not intend to test any time soon. Today we have something else to try.”

“Oh, come on,” Dex groaned.

“No-no, it’s not as bad as you think.” Dr. Forester took a small pill box from a table and opened it. A lone red capsule lay inside. It didn’t look remarkable in any way, but the doctor and both his assistants looked at it… almost reverently.

“We’ve been working on a new kind of painkiller for you – the one that would not trigger ironphages – and I have a reason to believe we’ve been rather successful this time. At least your blood samples didn’t react as violently as they did during earlier trials. They didn’t react at all, in fact.”

“Wait, so you got a reaction off my blood tests to all the previous pills and you gave them to me anyway?”

“Of course. Blood tests are not a be-all-end-all. The body might react completely differently. This time, however, we harbor hope for a much better result.” And he handed Dex the pill box.

Dex hesitated for a moment, thinking of throwing it in Dr. Forester’s face. What was that, the sixth painkiller they told him would totally help him?

They would force him to take it anyway, though. Strip him down to the chair and shove it down his throat, or sedate him with the gas and inject it, whatever.

The box cracked in half in his hands – Dex clutched it too tight without even noticing. Then he heard buzzing coming from Dr. Forester’s hand. He was branding his favorite shocker that Dex had become too well-acquainted with for his own liking.

“Don’t make me tase you, Dex,” he warned. His pleasant demeanor slipped off like a mask. A mask it was, in fact. “Just be a good boy and take the pill. I promise you, it’s not worth it.”

Dex knew that. He had learned that resistance it pointless long ago. It never stopped him before, but now… he was tired. Tired from the pain, the brain fog, the constant sensory overload. And this – this was a potential relief, feeble as it could be.

“Fine,” Dex said grimly. “But if it’s another blow-“

“It’s not.” Dr. Forester was growing impatient. “Need water?”

Dex threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed it in a big gulp. It slid down his throat effortlessly.

“Very well.” Dr. Forester looked relieved. “It should take effect in about half an hour, and then you’ll do a regular training routine at the gym. We need to ensure that the pill doesn’t affect your performance.”

Dex did not reply. He listened to his body, and even ironphages seemed to slow down in anticipation: what did this idiot take this time? Should we show him it’s bad to take meds from shady scientists?

Dex waited for more pain to come. He waited. He waited. He waited. The scientists around him returned to their business, paying no attention to him at all. Only Dr. Forester cast an occasional look in his direction – to catch the moment when Dex falls to the floor and starts thrashing and screaming, probably. At least that’s how it went the previous five times.

Then the pain began to fade.

No way, Dex thought. No way had they finally made a drug that could help him. It was impossible. Nothing could help him, least of all these white-coated rats. He had already learned to live with it, in a way. And now in half an hour a little red pill crushed the wall of his indifference he spent a year erecting around his pain and misery.

“Dex? What is it?” Dr. Forester, an observant asshole, noticed his face change and approached. “Do you feel something?”

“No. Yes. No. Not sure,” Dex said hoarsely. “Gimme some time.”

“Alright.” Dr. Forester returned to his work, but Dex could see he was mostly watching him instead of his papers.

And Dex waited, and the pain decreased until only a sore aftertaste of it was left in his muscles.

He forgot how it felt. He stretched his legs, tilted his head, waved his arms. Nothing.

“Well?” Dr. Forester practically ran towards him. At any other time Dex would laugh. “Any effects?”

“It’s gone,” Dex said. “The pain. It’s gone.” His voice came out so much clearer he could barely believe it was his. “What the hell is it?”

“We call it “The Soother”,” Dr. Forester said, smiling. “The best minds of the Federation worked on it for months. All so that you could feel better, Dex.”

“The military paid them,” Dex huffed, but he couldn’t remain skeptical when he could think and feel clearly for the first time in more than a year.

“That too,” Dr. Forester agreed lightly. “A little financial incentive never hurts, you know. Now, we’ve got to take some more tests and you’re off to the gym.”

Dex reveled in sharp pain from the needle in his skin – it didn’t just add to his main pain now, no, it highlighted the contrast between then and now. Then he went to the gym. With a decrease in ironphage activity his reflexes and strength were lacking, but his mind was clearer than ever, and that evened out his performance a bit. Overall, he did pretty good, even though the military rats behind the plexiglass were not quite as satisfied.

Of course, he could hear them – they didn’t particularly try to be quiet. In fact, they were discussing something – not hard to guess what exactly – with great fervor.

The pill worked really well. And Dex really didn’t want to be sedated again. But he hated the military more. So he lay down on the floor, crossed his arms on his chest the way dead people about to be cremated had their arms positioned and closed his eyes.

“Dex?” Dr. Forester said into the dynamic. “What are you doing?”

“Resting.”

“Please continue your training routine.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t a monkey in a circus.”

“Dex.” Dr. Forester heaved a heavy sigh. “They are our sponsors. They have to see the results of our work.”

“You’ve got your tests. Show them those and leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t.” Dr. Forester’s voice hardened. “You like the effect of the pill, right? Must be nice to not be in pain all the time. Well, it takes money to produce. A lot, in fact. And unless our sponsors see the results, we won’t make any more of it.”

Dex sighed and dove deeper into the feeling of his body. Felt every ironphage, traced every little tunnel they burrowed, tasted the metallic copper of the blood the little tunnels filled with. The phages moved like in slow motion, like they were poisoned roaches that were at the brink of death and didn’t react to humans’ presence anymore. The drug lulled them into sleep, instilled the sense of calm in them, weakened the connection to the hivemind. They still moved, driven by the energy from his blood and fat cells, but now just barely.

Yes, no pain felt good, almost too good to be true. But the relief came from the people he hated most, and it was nauseating.

He got up and continued the routine with cold, slimy shame coiled up in his stomach.

***

“It slows the phages down.”

“That’s right.”

“Ain’t that counterproductive? They won’t help in battle.”

“Oh, the drug isn’t supposed to be taken less than two hours before any intense action. But a couple hours of pain in exchange for a painless rest of the day – isn’t it better than nothing?” Dr. Forester scribbled something on his tablet. “Of course we still have to test for side effects. But what we have now is already promising.”

“And of course I’ll be the test subject.”

“Of course. You have something against it?”

“I…” Dex hesitated. Sure, they ain’t doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, but no pain is no pain. And it’s not like they wouldn’t just make him take the pill by force if he refused. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Dr. Forester made a surprised face. He didn’t really pull it off. “Except the usual tests and daily accounts of your well-being.”

“And how long is that gonna last?”

“Of course, it would be best to conduct a long-term research of five plus years… but we don’t have that time. So, a month.”

A month. It was nearly not enough, but Dex would have time to think.

“Alright. I agree.”

Dr. Forester smiled triumphantly.

“I knew you’d come to the right decision, Dex.”

***

The next month was simultaneously the best and the worst month of Dex’s life. The pain was now present only a couple hours a day, when he was training. His stats did lower, but were still way above those of an average human’s. But now he didn’t have to endure constant pain to get there.

And the military didn’t even try to hide now. The guy with a booming voice was often studying Dex’s tests in the lab with Dr. Forester, and the woman spoke loudly on the phone behind the plexiglass in the gym, perfectly aware that Dex could hear her.

He didn’t do a thing to them, They were the ones paying for his meds that kept the pain at bay. No compliance – pain. The funding had already shrunk by that point – the military didn’t like that it was taking so long. The drug was a breakthrough, though, and now Dr. Forester sported new eye implants and Turner had his crooked – not without Dex’s fault – nose fixed. The activity in the lab picked up, new guards appeared in the corridors (though Dex still interacted primarily with Mike), and the equipment was massively getting replaced with newer one.

“You’ve been on particularly good behavior,” Dr. Forester told him once. “Do you want something?”

“Beer,” Dex said. “And a smoke.”

Dr. Forester frowned. “We don’t know how the ironphages would react to that, and we can’t have a flare-up right now. Anything else?”

“A burrito. With jalapeno.”

That evening Dex was choking on his burrito, his mouth burning. A once adored taste was now unbearable. Maybe it was the phages reacting… but Dex was on the pill. And now that he could feel his inner processes much more acutely, he couldn’t blame ironphages for everything anymore.

He flushed the burrito down the toilet and ended up flooding his cell. He had to spend the night in a different one, on the other end of the hall, and the pillow still retained the smell of a previous resident. Weird – the last time Dex saw another infected was half a year ago. But maybe that were just his sharpened senses.

The medassistant was now drawing three vials of blood a day, and by the end of the first week Dex was feeling weak and dizzy. The ironphages rushed to replenish the blood loss during training hours, and it worsened the pain so much taking a pill after it was like breaking a cold turkey withdrawal. Dex grew even more dependent on it, and despised himself for it. But he couldn’t go back to a 24/7 pain. He just couldn’t.

Then one night he heard an unfamiliar voice. It was crying. “Please stop it. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please-“

The voice was cut short, but it imprinted on Dex’s brain and didn’t let him go. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew Dr. Forester was capable of anything in the name of “science”.

He was infecting others with Dex’s blood. Ironphages could be transmitted only through blood contamination, which is why the disease was rare. But once infected, the body couldn’t adapt to their activity and the infected was dying a slow, excruciating death over the course of months. Infection could only be transmitted through fresh blood. So that’s why they needed so much of it.

In the morning Dex broke the medassistant. Its details were scattered all over the cell when the guards arrived. Dex spent the night in another cell while the medassistant was being replaced. He didn’t get a pill that day. If anyone was somewhere near, he couldn’t hear them over his own screaming and wailing.

The new medassistant was sturdier than the previous one, but Dex didn’t test it anymore. The next day in the lab he told Dr. Forester outright:

“You infect other people with my blood.”

Dr. Forester didn’t seem surprised. “You’ve always been quick on the uptake, Dex.”

“Why?”

The doctor looked at him tiredly. All that money he was now getting obviously couldn’t buy him some rest: he had dark circles under his eyes and always held onto a cup of caffeine stimulant.

“Dex, you’re a smart boy. You can figure it out yourself.”

Dr. Forester was right. Dex knew it for a long time, just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “You’re trying to find suitable hosts. Hosts like me.”

“See? You got it already.” Dr. Forester took a sip from the cup. “We still haven’t figured out what it is that makes you so unique. There’s nothing abnormal about your body that can explain your resistance to ironphages. So we decided it’s time to move one from studying your body to finding someone with similar characteristics. The more subjects, the easier to figure it out.”

“Found anything?”

Dr. Forester’s frustrated face was a clear enough answer. Dex always wanted to be special – who didn’t? – but fate was cruel to him: he never imagined what would make him unique.

“Where are all those people coming from?”

“Volunteers.” Dr. Forester shrugged.

“Bullshit. Nobody would agree to that.”

“Some people are desperate, Dex. And the money is good.”

“Why’d walking corpses need money?”

“Well,” Dr. Forester smiled his uncanny smile, “they don’t know they’re walking corpses.”

That was pretty in line with the military – promise lots of money, sign an NDA, and then the person disappears, never to be seen again. Everyone knew the biochemical companies they hired did human testing. Yet there were still fools hoping to get rich quick. Or provide for their families, who the money was automatically directed to once the person “disappeared”.

Dr. Forester was not in the mood to answer more questions that day, and the lack of answers kept Dex awake all night. How many have already been infected? Why did he never see a single one of other test subjects? On early stages the infection was almost unnoticeable – until one day you woke up with your entire body hurting like hell. But months had to pass before that. He couldn’t forget the voice he heard one night. How could the symptoms surface so soon?

Then he remembered Dr. Forester’s offhanded remark about the QC gas triggering growth periods. They used the gas to speed up the process. They used everything they could get out of Dex to infect more and more people.

But they helped him. They soothed his pain, banished the brain fog, dampened his too-sharp senses. He could think and feel clearly again. One considers it a given, something not worth to be grateful for. Not Dex – not anymore.

Days passed. The side effects of the pills turned out to be dry mouth and occasional mild diarrhea. Dr. Forester was content. As it turned out, the pill also slowed down growth periods. The always steep lines on the chart went down. The white coats could now both speed up and slow down the progression of the illness. Only a reversal hadn’t been yet developed. Dr. Forester said they were working on it, but he was lying through his teeth. Dex didn’t expose him. Let him think Dex believed him.

“The pills seem to be working well,” Dr. Forester said casually a few days later. “You look fresher already.”

Dex shrugged.

“We are thinking of extending the trial run for you. But the bosses are not so eager to provide funds, and the pill is expensive to produce.”

“Maybe if you didn’t waste so much money infecting people you would have enough funds for it,” Dex said sharply.

Dr. Forester laughed.

“Oh, son. Those projects they are ready to sponsor. The pill is produced exclusively for you, though.”

“I feel so special.”

“You think you’re joking, but you are, Dex. You are. The sponsors care greatly for you.”

“Well, I don’t care for them.”

“And that’s a shame. There will be no training today. Tomorrow is an important day for us and you both. You better rest, clear your head.”

“What? What day?” Dex pricked up, but Dr. Forester said no more, just made an impatient gesture. Mike led Dex back to the cell.

“All these new guys are absolute dickheads,” the guard complained on the way. “They don’t know nothing yet they think they’re hot shit. Who do they think they are? They imagine the military academy made them all high n’ mighty. Well, a bit of work here will take them down a peg or two. You gotta show them, Dex. Treat them like you treated me. Make them go through hell and high water.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dex heard himself saying. “Sorry, dude. For breaking your leg. You didn’t do me no bad thing. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Eh,” Mike waived him off light-heartedly, “the past is in the past. It healed fast anyway. The BIS treats its workers well - I didn’t pay a single byte for it. Got to spend some time with my family for once, too.”

Yet again Dex spent the night wide awake. He knew what was going to happen tomorrow. Another attempt to recruit him, make him join the army. The army that murdered Luke in cold blood.

All the previous times his refusal was firm and confident, decision made without a second thought. But this time was different. Now he had a major weakness. And they would surely exploit it.

In the morning Mike escorted him to the interrogation room – Dr. Forester called it “negotiation room”, but he couldn’t fool anyone with it. It looked exactly like those interrogation room in cop movies, handcuffs included. They were added after Dex tried to hit an officer. This time, though, he wasn’t cuffed.

“Good luck, buddy.” Mike patted him on the shoulder. Dex smiled weakly.

He had to wait quite a bit for the officer to arrive. She was a tall, strict-looking woman with a perfect bun on her head and cold gray eyes. She was escorted by two Special Forces agents with their fingers on the triggers of their assault rifles. One wrong movement – and they’d season Dex with lead.

The woman sat on the other side of the table and looked Dex right in the eyes. Goosebumps ran down his spine. This one will be hard to deal with.

“Hello, Dex. My name is major Wright.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Cut to the chase." Dex tried to sound firm, but a bit of a tremble did leak into his voice.

“As you wish,” said the major. “You probably know why I’m here. My colleagues have contacted you with our proposition earlier.”

“I do. And they have.” Dex felt that if he looked the woman in the eyes, he would eventually fall for her hypnosis, so he stared at the table.

“Let me repeat it in case you forgot some details. We in Special Forces are always in search of new candidates-“

“Turnover rate too high?”

“It’s actually lower than in other units. That’s because we only work with professionals.”

“I’m no professional.”

“Who are you fooling, Dex? I’ve seen you in action. The best SF snipers could only dream of your skill.”

“That’s not my achievement. Before the infection I couldn’t throw a bottle into the trash can three feet away.”

“What was before the infection doesn’t matter,” major Wright said harshly. “Forget that part of your life. It’s here and now that matters.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For you too. It’s never coming back. You are never coming back.”

Dex knew that already, but at these words something cold turned in his stomach anyway.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need to accept this, Dex. The ironphage infection is incurable. You will live with it for the rest of your life.”

“Which, as you might know, may end soon.”

“Maybe – or in a couple decades. Dr. Forester has no prognosis on this. But you’ve survived four times longer than any other infected, and that says something.”

“That just says that I’m lucky. Or unlucky. Depends on the point of view.” Dex clutched his fists under the table. The major poked into his every vulnerable spot.

“Sometimes one lucky soldier draws luck to the entire unit.” The major was disgustingly upbeat. She spoke friendly, but not familiarly. Previous recruiters all pretended to be Dex’s best friend, and it was nauseating. Not this time.

“I’m no soldier. Will never be. I’m just not built this way.”

“No one is born a soldier. But with enough discipline, everyone can become one.”

“You mean – everyone can be brainwashed into killing innocent people for the corpos’ gain?”

The major smiled. “That’s a rather… exaggerated way to put it. Corporations are valuable allies, but they’re not the beneficiaries of this war. The regular people are.”

Dex laughed in her face. It turned out too strained to sound plausible, but did convey his point anyway.

“Regular people are never beneficiaries of the war. They either get recruited, are promised riches and die like cattle on front lines while officers sit in their headquarters strategizing, or they get bombed and killed or displaced. There’s no other option.”

“They can go through the war, come out of it with several medals and not know poverty until the rest of their lives,” the major said. “Get free healthcare, a monthly pension, social benefits, free education for their children. That happens more often than you think.”

“And are all those soldiers in the room with us right now?” Dex said acidly.

“Funny.” The major smiled dryly. “Did you consider that maybe you just mix in with the wrong people?”

“The only wrong people I mix in with are you and the likes of you.”

The major rolled her eyes. “You truly are as stubborn as I heard.”

“My pleasure.”

“Then why do you think so many people enlist? If the army was that bad, people would avoid it like the plague, wouldn’t they?”

“They are idiots,” Dex said sharply.

The major smiled. “So your brother was an idiot, too?”

Dex’s stomach sank. They never mentioned Luke before, though he didn’t doubt a bit knew all about him. Maybe they thought it was too sensitive a subject. Regardless, that changed. And this woman, this soldier, would undoubtedly use him to their advantage.

“Yes. He should have never enlisted.”

“But he dragged you out of poverty. He sent your family quite big sums of money for a while, didn’t he?”

That was true. When Luke enlisted, the family finally had food on the table and paid bills. They even managed to move out of a communal roach-infested room to a small but cozy two-room flat. All while Luke was risking his life on the front lines.

“He should have never enlisted,” Dex repeated.

“It was going well, wasn’t it? His contract was almost over, and he even thought of prolonging it. His squadmates liked him, his commander praised him.”

“That praise was worth nothing.”

“In the ranks it is worth quite a bit. He could have been promoted within a year.”

“He could have been killed a thousand times over that year.”

“But he wasn’t, right? The enemy didn’t kill him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dex hissed, his anger rising in his chest – anger mixed with grief, as he could feel tears well up in his eyes as well, and the last thing he wanted right now was cry in front of the woman tearing his heart to bits. “War would have killed him sooner or later.”

“You’re rather pessimistic. Do you know that only 15% of active duty personnel die within first two years of service?”

“And how many die later?”

The major smiled a tight-lipped smile. “They have more experience, so even less. But that doesn’t matter – your brother didn’t plan to stay for much longer anyway. He could have waited for the end of his contract instead of going AWOL, though.”

“All the senseless violence must have gotten to him.”

“By that time soldiers are already pretty desensitized to it.”

“Not Luke. He was always… compassionate. Too much, even.” Dex remembered Luke’s calls from the army. When parents could see him, he was always smiling, but when he was left alone with Dex, his face always turned grey and tired.

The major smiled. “You’d be surprised at how quickly “compassionate” people forget about it on the battlefield. It’s you or the enemy, and no one chooses the latter… except your brother.”

“You’re talking bullshit. He didn’t defect. I know he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Whatever the reasons, he was found on an enemy territory alone – so, a defector. And we do not stand them in our ranks. Dex, it takes a lot to sentence the soldier to death. We don’t kill our people left and right with no rhyme or reason. But what Luke did was not a simple misbehavior – it was treason.”

“It’s just a convenient excuse to punish those not in line with your views,” Dex croaked. His throat was dry – from medication, surely.

“It’s the army,” Wright said harshly. “Soldiers who act out of line disrupt the service of whole squads. We cannot let that happen.”

“So Luke was just a scapegoat to scare others into obedience.”

“The “scapegoats”, as you call them, eventually reveal themselves with their own actions. Thinking differently is not a sin. Sawing unrest between others is.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dex shook his head. “You killed my brother. Whatever he did, he didn’t deserve death.” Dex was growing tired of this senseless talk. Whatever he said, major Wright always found a reasonable counterargument. He knew she was wrong, but he couldn’t prove it to her – and he feared soon he wouldn’t be able to prove it to himself.

“If you fear the same fate, Dex – you needn’t to,” Wright said unexpectedly softly. “He was an average soldier. You – you are special.”

Dex hated how often he heard that. He never chose a body that could resist a mysterious, 100%-lethal infection that also happened to turn people into supersoldiers. He never wanted that.

“So you will just imprison me for the rest of my life instead of killing?”

“What, are you planning something bad already?” The major smiled dryly. “Just hear me out, alright? And then make up your mind. No pressure.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dex murmured skeptically, but the major didn’t hear him – or pretended to.

“Here’s what we can offer you. Free food and lodging at one of the SF outposts – with personal rooms for every agent, each with a bathroom. Medical and life insurance – any injury, we’ll pay for treatment in full. Your family members are included in the insurance. In case you die, they are paid a significant sum of money. You will keep receiving treatment for your infection – a pill three times a day except before ground operations. And, of course, your salary… starting wage is 50 000 bytes a month.”

Dex couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp. This was more than his family earned in a year. This could pay for 50 of their monthly rent.

The major clearly enjoyed his reaction.

“Sounds compelling?” she said.

Dex ignored her, ashamed that he let his astonishment through. Now she knew how much the sum shook him.

“What about the phages?” he asked after a minute of stunned silence.

“We will keep working on a treatment,” said the major. “But we’ve got no guarantees that we’ll find it – if it’s even possible to create.”

Of course. They were interested in keeping the infection going – to get more supersoldiers into the SF. No matter that they would only last a few months – if someone would be as unlucky as Dex, maybe a year, - they would milk them dry and then silence the family with a fat check and a postcard with condolences.

He could feel the cold touch of her gaze on his skin. She was waiting, convinced of her success.

“I need to think about it,” he finally said – almost whispered.

She didn’t betray her satisfaction by a single gesture, but Dex could see more than other people. She won. Or so she thought.

“Of course,” Wright said. “I will come back tomorrow to hear your answer.”

She got up, waved to the guards and headed to the door. “See you tomorrow, Dex.”

Mike soon came to pick him up.

“How’d it go? You don’t seem too excited.”

“As usual.” Dex shrugged.

“You refused again?”

“Said I’ll think about it.”

“Wow, really?” Mike grinned. “That’s progress. What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t say it changed.”

“Alright, alright, you secretive motherfucker. I’ll find out everything eventually. You know, as much as Dr. Forester tries to stop it, everyone here knows everything about you. All the news spread fast.”

“You are all filthy gossips.”

“And you are our favorite subject to discuss. Now live with it.”

Dex rolled his eyes. “I feel like a micro-celebrity already.”

When they neared the cell, Mike’s face grew serious.

“If you didn’t just say that so they’d leave you alone… give it some thought, really. Being in the army is not as bad as it seems. Pays well too.”

“Indeed it does,” Dex murmured as the cell door closed behind him.

He shuffled over to the bed and lay down on his side facing the wall. He already knew what he had to do. He just needed to wait till night.

***

Eventually he fell asleep, but then awoke abruptly, as if someone yelled in his ear. The lights were out, and only faint light from the hall seeped through the small window in the door, a smidge of white on black tile.

Dex opened the pill drawer and took out the Soother. Swallowed the pill and lay back on the bed, waiting for it to take effect.

This time the phages resisted longer than usual, as if their little brains sensed something. They couldn’t read Dex’s thoughts – he checked – but they knew his body’s reactions to them. Didn’t matter, though – the pill overpowered them at any rate. Eventually their rushing slowed down to bare crawling, and the buzz of their nanomotors grew almost silent.

Time to act. This was his last pill on the trial – whether he would get a refill tomorrow depended on his answer.

He grabbed his mug from the sink, poured water in it and drank anxiously. Cold water slid down his throat and into the stomach. Every cell on its way reveled in its blissful coolness and smoothness. The true pleasures of this world were simple, really.

The mug was ceramic – a gross oversight on the management’s part. It survived multiple collisions with Mike and the ground, so they were kinda justified in not taking it into account. Dex kept it for a vague “occasion” on purpose. And the occasion was now.

He flung it into the floor with all his might. The mug cracked audibly. Then Dex jumped on it. Ceramic broke into large, sharp shards under his bare feet. Pain spiked up his calves, but the Soother quickly blended it in with the rest of the pain it was keeping at bay.

Dex picked up one of the pieces and placed it on the sink, then swept the rest under the bed. He raised his gaze and looked over the silent medassistant hanging over his head.

“Time we check your durability, pal.”

The tendril did not give up easily. When Dex finally tore off the needle, his face was sweaty and his arms hurt. The cruelly dismembered medassistant hung over the bed disapprovingly.

The needle was good three inches long. Just enough for Dex’s plan.

When he picked up the shard again, his hands were shaking. But the phages, sleepy as they were, came to his rescue even now, giving his fingers much needed strength. He pressed the sharp end to his inner arm and unflinchingly dragged it down, tearing the skin.

The gash quickly swelled with blood. Dex licked some off, tasting the copper. The infection changed even the taste of his body. It changed everything in him. There was no real Dex left. Just a host carrying around the most precious virus on earth.

And the military wasn’t gonna get it. At least from Dex.

There were other hosts, of course. The white coats would continue their work using their blood. But it would no longer be Dex’s. His phages will die after 24 hours, and their lifeless bodies would not infect anyone else. Nor will the doctors be able to learn what made Dex so different. No learning – no replicating. No replicating – no long-lasting supersoldiers. And with such a high turnover rate, the SF will dump the idea soon enough.

He sighed and dragged the shard across his right inner arm. The blood from the left arm already stained his clothes. Were Luke here, he would have made a stupid menstruation joke.

Luke wasn’t here, though.

Dex bit his lip, watching the blood run down his arms onto the floor. He waited for a small puddle to gather at his feet. The phages tried to make up for it, of course, but they were slow and sleepy like flies in the hot summer sun. They couldn’t do much about it.

Leveling the shard against his neck, Dex inhaled sharply. He was scared, of course. He never died before. (“You only die once, stupid!” said Luke in his head). Well, everything must happen for the first time.

He pressed the shard into the skin until he felt blood trickle down his neck. This was deep enough, then.

With a sharp, precise movement he cut his own throat.

His mouth filled with the taste of copper, blood streamed down his neck. He could no longer speak; he could barely see, his vision darkening.

But he had to make sure the phages wouldn’t bring him back to life.

With one last desperate move he drove the needle of the medassistant through his eye straight into his brain.

#writers of tumblr #writeblr #sci fi #dystopia #cyberpunk #my writing #bloodeaters #work has been going slow since february so i wrote there when i had nothing to do #and a small sketch turned into...this #please read and tell me what you think. i havent posted a lot of my original writing on here and want to know your opinion

[conspirartist]

Though I should share some of my silly lil headcanons for Twisted since y'all seemed to like the Genshin ones. Today's victim is Crewel, because I have too many thoughts about that man.

As always don't take any of them too seriously, I do those for fun and that means most of the time I just straight up fabricate stuff with little to no regard for canon.

First headcanon comes from a bit of a misunderstanding from my part and lots of my other headcanons come from it. Point is, for the longest time I though Crewel's pointer/cigarette holder thingie was a walking cane. I only realized that wasn't the case when my gf pointed out that I always draw him with a cane despite the fact he doesn't have one in canon.

So yeah headcanon (that I thought was canon for way too long) number one:

- Crewel always has a cane with him, people chalk it up to being a fashion statement (which it is in part), but he does need it for medical reasons.

Expanding on the cane headcanon:

* There are days he doesn't really need it, but he always has it with him in case of having a flare up (he wounded his leg a few years after graduating from NRC, although it healed all right he still experiences pain from time to time)

* He has several different canes so he can coordinate them with his outfits including a few that were enchanted to change color or to let out sparks whenever they touch the floor

* He uses magic to change the grip of the more fashion like canes so they're more comfortable

* Pratical classes almost always mean he'll have to use his cane, since he'll have to stand and walk around class a lot (least he wants to risk someone inhaling fumes they shouldn't or Seven forbid, blowing up a cauldron).

I'll expand on the topic of his leg injury latter on, but for now some headcanons for his classes/teacher career.

- Although he has quite the reputation for his strictness and temper, Crewel is a student favorite

- He has a soft spot for his puppies, even if he's not open about it; the kind of teacher that will ask you to stay after class to check you're ok

- He's very perceptive about his students and he will try to accommodate for them if he notices they're having a hard time

- He will nag his students into taking better care of themselves

* Coming to class looking disvelished? He'll click his tongue and straighten your tie and ask if you had to rush to class

* Looking too drowsy or sleepy? He will tell you to wash your face and will ask you if you're getting enough sleep

* Feeling faint because of low blood pressure? Your assignment will come back with a small note telling you to remember to eat

- I also think he notices students' efforts a lot, be it related to classes or just in general

* You managed to get your marks up after studying even if it's not by a lot? You get a little message congratulating your hard work

* That one quiet student who always comes to class wearing a beaten up hoodie tried something with their hair? They'll get a quiet compliment when handing in their homework

- His first years teaching were particularly tough

* His personal life was in shambles, Trein kinda of coerced him into applying for a teaching position

* He was on his early twenties, barely out of college, the third years were almost his age - he had to fight for their respect (which is why he developed his more 'aggressive' teaching approach)

* It was also around the time he got his leg injury so he was still navigating getting used to his new limitations

* He had a student who upturned their cauldron over themselves during one of his first pratical classes, he had to rush the kid to the infirmary; he was nearly inconsolable once he made to the teachers' lounge

- Crewel takes lab safety very seriously and will put the fear of God on whoever don't follow safety guidelines (basically everyone's lab wear cards, I can heat this man snapping at them 24/7)

- He buts heads with Crowley a lot, over both curriculum and how to deal with the students, it doesn't bear many fruits and generally ends with he doing stuff himself while Crowley remains blissfully unaware (or pretends to anyway) of his own incompetence

* One of such instances was to take love potions out of the pratical curriculum, because he wasn't about to teach the students how to do what are exencially roofies. Since Crowley kept arguing that he couldn't change the silabus. He ended up teaching how to identify love potions; the symptoms they cause; their main antidotes; the current legislation around them and the ethics involved on the production and use of such potion

Now onto some more general stuff and backstory:

- He was afraid of dogs as a child but got over it with time (and a lil exposition, his childhood friend had a very sweet pup)

- He went to NRC the same year his childhood friend Nico (my twisted version of Anita) both were sorted into Pomefiore

- He doesn't have much of a relationship with his parents but he's very close to a maternal aunt

- He has a tendency to depressive episodes but currently (canon time) his symptoms are on remission

- During High School Crewel did very well in Alchemy, but he was also a very skilled summoner (he had a special affinity to hellhounds, known for being temperamental but extremely loyal)

- It was also during his school years that Crewel met Rose (my twisted version of Roger). At first the pair didn't get along, Crewel feeling like she was stealing his best friend from him, but with time the trio grew very close

- Rose taught him how to play the piano, she used to play a little jingle in it to tease Crewel every chance she got (think of a parody of the Cruella song)

- When Nico and Rose got together Crewel was a little afraid of being left out, but it turned out none of them intended to leave him behind, he was the best man at their wedding. They talked about the future as a weird family of three, unconventional but so very happy

- Rose and Nico got into a car accident, a few months after they got married. They both died in the crash. Crewel was devastated by their loss, suddenly he found himself so very alone

- Rose and Nico had familiars of their own, hellhounds, who always seemed to take a liking to their summoner friend. Moved by grief and a wish to hold onto whatever was left of his friends Crewel tried to summon the beasts, to reach someone who knew the pair as closely as him

* That's how he got his leg injury

- Around that time Trein came across Crewel, a little too thin for comfort and way too quiet. Unwilling to let the brilliant young man who was once his pupil dig himself even deeper he contacted Crowley and all but strong armed the young alchemist to NRC

- Crewel has three dogs (all dalmatian of course) a couple, Prometeus and Pandora, and their pup, Panacea. What people don't know is that the trio are actually summons, Prometeus and Pandora were Rose's and Nico's familiars, they forged a new contract with Crewel after a while.

- He has a foster license, although he never had to use it, he keeps an eye on the students he suspects don't have a good home life.

- He gets a lot of notes and trinkets from his pups, I mean students, on fathers day. And he absolutely melts at them, in private, he gushes to the other teachers, he keeps everything in a box in his room, he just loves his students so much

- People called him dad in class so many times he lost count, he doesn't make a big deal out of it but it warms his heart

- He loves when he gets news from graduated students

- My point is he is a proud father and no one will ever convince me otherwise

#ari's random ramblings #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #divus crewel #twst crewel #crewel backstory #crewel headcanons #why i gave him trauma? #well i love the angst #being my favorite is never good folks #i be putting the ficcional peeps on situations #thats a long one

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 24: Sex toys with Eddie Munson

Pairing: Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1448 Warnings: Video call sex, Masturbation, Sex toy use by Reader (Vibrator), Dirty talk. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

You turned the silicon toy over in your hands as you looked at it, relatively small, only a half inch in diameter but long enough to easily reach everything inside you wanted it to.

“That’s a nice one. It’s the same color as the bullet you have too.” He noted with a teasing grin through the phone screen. “Pretty matching set.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled back at him. “Yes, because the color makes such a difference to how it feels.” You joked.

“Have you tried it yet?” He asked, sounding excited and some shifting on the screen shows he’s moving, probably laying back on his hotel bed.

“Not yet. Just got it yesterday, so I needed to wash and charge it…And I may have wanted to wait till my favorite audience of one could watch.” You answered, tilting your head coyly.

“Yeah? That where you hoped this call was going, Baby?” He asked, voice lowering to a seductive purr.

You and Eddie have been apart for going on three months while Corroded Coffin has been on tour, and it’s driving you both insane. You and their manager are currently in the process of planning to have you join them for a portion of the trip, but there’s logistics that have to be worked out first, like plane tickets and lodging.

“Are you saying you don’t want to watch me play with my new toy?” You asked, a showy faux pout on your lips.

“I never said that.” He countered quickly, as if to banish that thought from your mind posthaste.

His response pulled a chuckle from you. “That’s what I thought.”

He rolled his eyes at you but there was no heat to the action, or at least not the annoyed kind, there’s plenty of lust in those dark eyes staring back at you through the phone. “You gonna stop teasing me then? Been damn near giving that thing a handy since you picked it up…” He says, eyeing the vibrator still in your grasp, and to be fair, you had been more or less fondling it this whole time.

You grin and nod before reaching out and repositioning the phone to lean on a spare pillow on the bed so he could see better. From your end you see he does the same. You could already see he was shirtless when you answered the call, but after the change of position you could see he was only wearing a pair of black sweats.

You slipped your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, not in the mood to deal with the fabric getting in the way.

“God, I wish I was there to worship that perfect body…” Came Eddie’s heady voice, thick with lust just from seeing more of you.

“Wish you were here so I could suck that cock.” You answered before performing the awkward shuffle that is removing your pants while sitting on a bed, but once you had, they joined the pile on the floor.

Eddie was already palming himself through his pants as he looked at you, watching as you reached for the vibrator to pull it closer, before laying back against the pillows, knees bent and legs parted, giving him an unobstructed view of your cunt.

“Go on, Baby…Show me what your new toy can do…” He purred, eyes half-lidded and hotter than hell.

You clicked it on the lowest setting before lightly resting it over your clit, body jolting at the sudden sharp pleasure it sent zapping through you, a quiet gasp falling from your lips.

There was a shuffling sound on the phone and when you looked you found he had shoved his sweats down to his thighs, allowing you to see his hand wrapped around that thick cock. He wasn’t fully jacking himself off yet, but rather he was just grazing his hand up and down, a lighter stimulation like the way you were so lightly holding the vibrator to your clit.

“The camera deceiving me or are you already soaked…?” He asked, eyes locked on where pretty pink met magenta.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I started getting wet the moment I saw your caller ID…Think I’ve Pavlov-ed myself to get turned on every time you call…” You said jokingly but you were half serious.

“That’s fucking hot.” He breathed a chuckle of his own. “Give yourself a little more…” He pointed with his chin at your hand, and you nodded.

Keeping the vibrations at the same level you pressed a little harder on your clit, another sharp gasp falling from your lips but you didn’t pull it away, instead you made tight little circles, making sure every nerve-ending got to feel it.

“S-Shit…I think…Think this might be my new f-favorite toy…” You whimpered, eyed screwing shut.

Maybe it was how pent up you’d been, or maybe it was just that ‘new toy feel’, but the pleasure felt heightened somehow, sharper and clearer, yet simultaneously not enough.

Recognizing your body’s ques even through a phone Eddie spoke up. “Turn it up a notch.” He ordered, and you didn’t have to open your eyes to be able to picture the look on his face, that commanding heat he sometimes got when he was really hot for you.

You did as told and this time the sound that punched out of you was a moan, high and needy. “Fuck! Eds…” You whimpered, wishing so much it was him making you feel this good.

“Christ, Sweetheart…Look at you, all flushed pink, and your poor pussy so wet and desperate…” He said with a teasing kind of pity, then there was the sound of him spitting into his hand, and a low moan.

You forced your eyes open and were gifted with the sight of his long neck as his head was thrown back and he was fisting his cock slowly, the tip was bright pink and glistening.

When his gaze returned to you, he looked damn near feral with the way his bang hung just a bit over his hazy eyes, but even through that haziness there was a sharpness, a predatory glint that made your cunt clench around nothing.

Your reaction must have been visible because a grin that matched the rest of that look spread over his face. “Maybe you should stop neglecting that sweet pussy, Sweetheart…She looks awful lonely.” He sounds both clear as a bell and ragged at the same time and it made your belly flipflop.

As if moving on its own your other hand drifted down to your entrance, where you teased yourself with two fingers for only a second before pressing in all the way, then you curled them at just the right angle, recalling how Eddie had showed you to find that elusive sweet spot on your own.

The whole time those brown eyes watched you, looking nearly pitch black on the screen. His hand never stopped, even as his breath grew quicker.

Yours was doing the same as you moved your fingers and the vibrator in tandem with his hand, that tight knot forming in your belly faster and faster telling you that this would be one hell of an orgasm.

Whimpers and gasps quickly turned into moans and cries that melded with the filthy sounds your pussy was making, the sound of his breathing and the wet sounds of his hand would almost be too quiet if you hadn’t turned the volume up on your phone before answering the call.

“God…Eds, close…So close…” You pleaded, earning a low groan in response.

“Let me see you cum, Baby…Let me watch you fall apart…” He growled, clearly close to his own end.

Your back arched as your pussy clamped down on your fingers, legs shaking and half-finished moans of his name on your tongue.

You heard his responding gasp less than a second later and forced your eyes open just in time to watch white spurts of cum shoot from his cock, making a mess on his belly, the head now bright red and swollen as he kept moving his hand to ride it out, the vibrator held to your clit doing the same for you.

Once it started to feel like too much you pulled away and turned it off, making the only sounds in the room you and Eddie’s heavy breathing.

“Christ, Sweetheart…That was…Fuck…I can’t wait to get home so I can fuck you into the mattress…” He panted, a wide grin on his spent face.

“We’ll be together again before you know it…” You promised, little did he know it would much sooner than the end of the tour.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[zeldaelmo]

One Stitch at a Time — An Advent Calendar story by ZeldaElmo

Announcement, posting schedule, and story info for the Advent Calendar 2023

Starting from the 1st of December, I'll publish a modern AU with 24 chapters, posted day by day, to pass the time until Christmas and have fun!

The story is t-rated. It contains minor totk spoilers as it references some characters and some outfits, but otherwise it's spoiler free. The chapters are around 2k words so that reading them daily is doable. The story is set during Christmas time but it's by no means a story with religious connotation, so feel free to tag along even if you don't celebrate. Some chapters contain references to Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, but most is understandable without having read/watched it.

Kindly beta read despite her packed schedule by @silentprincess17!

One Stitch at a Time

Summary: Zelda is taking over the fabric store from her mother and struggles to balance traditions, new ideas, and financial problems. The last thing she needs in her sewing class is a guy who disagrees with her every word and threatens to ruin her favorite time of the year: Christmas.

Teaser from chapter 2:

Zelda turned on her heel, walking with firm steps toward the stack of fabric she had prepared for the class: A selection of pastel colors for the bodies of the sand seals, some earth-colored woven fabrics for the Koroks, and the occasional patterned cut for highlights. 

When she came back, Link angled the pattern in his hands, squinting through the plastic sheet. Then, he raised his hand again. "Ah, Ms. Zelda? This isn't going to work. The sand seal is cute and all, but I really need to sew the dress I mentioned.” 

He put the pattern down and pushed it to the corner of his desk. “This was promoted as a sewing class for beginners, no? So it will surely be no problem to guide me through the process of putting a dress together.”

The nerve of this guy! Annoyed, Zelda sucked at the inside of her cheek and set her fabrics down. She was not going to let him ruin her class. If he needed a dress so badly, he surely knew a designer who could help him out and customize what he wanted. He was the one working for CeCe’s after all! Or he could just order one from Beedle’s like everyone else. Three different styles, colors, whatever. All of them size 6. Click, click, delivered. Skies, he could even have them wrapped in tissue paper if he paid a little extra!

She licked her lips and clasped her hands in front of her. "You booked our 'Sew a plushie class'."

I'm excited to share what I've worked on these last two months with you all! Feel free to follow if you're interested!

#zelink #zeldaelmo writes #legend of zelda #advent calendar #one stitch at a time #fabric store AU #is that even a thing #it's now