#i had to go onto desktop for this

[melonn-soda]

❝ PERSONAL STREAM (A Little Too Personal..) ❞

word count: 1.9k

warnings: subbot! cis male reader, domtop! cis male kamo choso, camboy! choso, slight dumbification?, praise kink, reader referred to as a size queen (term is used for a man), mention of edging (choso), mentions/descriptions of manhandling

prompt: congratulations! you just won a solo fan call with your favorite camboy! hope you have fun watching him getting off to you being just the goodest boy ever :)

notes: a gift for and and idea from @sooniebby I jus made it into a choso fic. I've been holding it off for a while now, I think. this isn't as good as had wanted it to be but it's fine regardless. not beta read, sorry not sorry

fem aligned dni

you can’t believe it.

you actually can’t believe what you’re reading right now.

in your email inbox, something you barely ever check unless needed to, had a message from the user of a porn website (not your proudest moment) that you signed up on just to watch his videos, telling you that you won this month’s drawing. you had to stand up, walk around, eat breakfast, and come back to your computer to see if it was still there. if it was still real. you swore you’ve never felt so excited yet so scared in your life.

to know that, somehow, you won that solo fan call, to know that he’ll be jerking off for you, to know that no one else can see him but you, talking to you, and- shit. you were getting hard. you looked back at your computer screen. the email is still there. you’re not crazy. you feel like you are though.

the roll of the cheap gaming chair you bought from amazon sounded muffled in your ears as you backed away from your computer, getting up to get ready for the day with that email still lingering like an itch on your scalp that you can’t seem to satisfy. you need to get to work.

your co-workers noticed the blank stare in your eyes as you slipped on your chef coat and pants, hands on autopilot as you tucked hair into your hat and tied the apron around your waist. it smelled of fresh detergent since they just washed your uniform. your friend had to even point out that you cut your finger when dicing onions because you were too out of it to even notice. or was it that working in the food industry made your fingers numb to the sensation since it happens so many times? ... huh.

when you got back home, you opened up the email again. it’s still there. it’s still real. did you want it to be fake? part of you says yes but the majority of you hoped not. i mean, you’ve been following this guy for.. what, months now? lord knows how much money you’ve sent to him. he wants to start the call at 7pm on discord.

you thought he might use something else other than that app but he was probably just using an alternative account and he most likely changes his user after every raffle. if you were him, you would do the same thing.

...

you should probably take a shower.

it was 6:40 and your hair was still damp with water, towel resting on your shoulders to catch any stray droplets from getting your shirt wet. you kind of wanted to back out. the fear of being one to one with the camboy you’ve been fantasizing about for a long while now was scaring you a bit.

fingers fidgeting with the paper stars littering your desk and your foot rapidly tapping against the floor, you watched the seconds go by on your desktop. your dominant hand reaches for your mouse and highlights his username to copy it and paste it onto the add user section, sending the friend request to see that he accepts it not even 2 minutes later. ...was he getting ready?

your webcam was sitting on your desk, not properly hooked onto the top of your computer. it was plugged in but you hardly ever use it so it just sits where it is. should you set it up? ..no, you didn’t feel like it. your mic was completely ready though, as always. you and your friends would always play together on call, so it was your most used piece of equipment.

4 minutes.

your stomach twisted in anxiety.

choso sighed as he applied lotion all over his torso, all too used to the way he prepared everything during streams and bonus videos locked behind an even bigger paywall. this sidegig he was doing felt like a chore sometimes but money was money, and by god did this account make him a lot of it.

lots of women flocked to his account, entranced by the way his voice stuttered whenever he close, his hips that instinctively jerked because his hand wasn’t able to move any faster, and the whimpers that teared into the mic when he came all over his hands and milked himself for all that he’s worth. they mostly talked about how perfect his dick looked but that was an average comment in his chat.

he saw the friend request notification pop up on his computer and figured he’d at least get his cock hard before the call even started. he put on some random porno in the background, stroking himself with little care and when he got half-hard, he figured that would’ve been enough. he accepted the friend request and close the tab with the video playing, looking over to see that he had 4 minutes until he would start the call.

fingers moving expertisley across the keyboard, he made sure to tell you that the first 30 minutes of this session was free, any longer and you would have to start paying up. you replied with a very short, “got it.” and left it at that. you seemed to type out something more before it quickly went away, causing choso to raise an eyebrow. were you scared?

35 seconds.

choso was getting tired of waiting, so he began the call. unbeknownst to him, you freaked out when you heard the ringtone rumble through your speakers, hesitating to accept the call. in the end, you did anyway because you didn’t have to pay for this private session for 30 whole minutes.

the half-curse’s hand went back to his dick, stroking it with barely any passion behind his movements. however, he wasn’t expecting to see the face of the winner from the drawing within 5 minutes of the call, teeth biting into his fist as his other hand’s fingers worked himself open. choso swore he was no longer half-hard, dick twitching to life in his hands, pre already leaking from the tip of his cock.

he was used to mostly knowing that women were behind the screen and heavily suspected that you might’ve been one- but fuck, to know that another man was getting off to his voice, his cock, drove him wild.

maybe he’ll get rid of that 30 minute rule.

you didn’t mean to turn your webcam on.

you could feel your stomach sink when you could see yourself on full display for the camboy in the discord call. it was too late to turn it off now. whatever. you only live once.

“aren’t you just the cutest?” you aren’t sure why you flinched but the way his voice carried those words certainly got you feeling things, “how about you turn your mic on too, yeah? wanna hear your pretty voice.”

shakily, the hand you were biting on reaches for your mouse and you click unmute. your fingers that were inside you accidentally pressed against your prostate, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. you don’t want to get a noise complaint from the neighbors... again. the first time having to explain that to an officer was embarrassing enough.

“good boy,” he grunts into the mic, bucking his hips up with a loud smack coming from his end of the call, “jus’ the sweetest little thing, aren’t ya? betcha’d be just absolutely adorable if i were to fuck you stupid. it hasn’t even been 15 minutes and you’re drooling all over your pretty fingers.”

you didn’t even notice that you’ve been panting so much that spit began to run down your chin, too absorbed in the way the camboy’s dick spilled even more pre over his massive hands. fuck, just how strong could he be? could he manhandle you? yank your head back using your hair as a handle while blowing your back out? shove you down on his cock because you simply weren’t riding him fast enough?

“you got a dildo on you, baby?” he asks you, his hand slowing down to a stop. his words pulled you out of your abundance of fantasies to shift your focus back into reality, vision a little blurry from the tears resting on your eyelids.

you managed to fumble out a small, “mhmm..” just loud enough for him to hear and he tells you to grab it. in a slight daze, you reach into one of your many desk drawers to pull out the toy that sat in its box, already cleaned from its prior use.

“do a favor for me, yeah? put it in nice and slow, imagine it’s my cock stuffing you full. how big ‘s your toy? five- six inches?” he sure likes to ask a lot of stuff, you notice.

“‘s seven..” you mutter, wincing when you push the toy inside your hole, stretching you full and your mind goes numb.

he chuckles, deep and breathy and shit- “so you’re a size queen? that’s what they call it, right?” he starts pumping his fist around his cock again, albeit slower than before. you would take a bet that he was edging himself, “that’s it. such a good boy f’me.”

legs quaking in place, you managed to get it all inside you. sitting on it was much harder on your chair than you anticipated, the current position you were holding getting uncomfortable. cautiously, you lifted your hips, wrapping your hand around your own dick and giving it a few strokes while breathy moans left your lips, slamming yourself back down on the dildo. your eyes widened in surprise as the tip of it pressed against your prostate, a loud whimper echoing throughout your room.

“fuck-! you’re so cute, mmph- k-keep going, baby. i’m getting close- ah!” you could see that his hand was moving much faster than when you last looked up at your camera, quick breaths and filthy pleas paired with the desperate thrusts of his hips.

 stumbled cries left your lips when you began to keep up with his pace, fingers getting sticky with pre as you continue to stimulate yourself. through blurred tears, you could see his hips rut one last time before a stifled moan left his throat and his fist was coated with his cum, dripping onto his pants.

he winces at the overstimulation from just shifting his hand to let go of his softening cock, grabbing a tissue to clean himself up while watching you bounce up and down your toy. you could even say he was jealous. even so, he could tell you were pathetically chasing your own orgasm, breathy sighs escaping from the confines of your lips. eyes closed in slight shame yet concentration, your thumb came up to the tip of your dick and rubbed, causing a yelp to slip through and your eyes opened once more.

however, you weren’t expecting to see the gorgeous face behind the creator of all those inappropriate streams you’ve watched the second your hips slammed back down on the dildo. 

“[name]..”

ropes of your own release spilling out of your dick, it finally registered in your head that the camboy was willingly letting you see this. your thighs quaked not only in nervousness but also in fear that you might get a boner again just from how handsome he was. his face was pale although dusted with a bright hue of red covering his cheeks, eyebags signaling a lack of sleep, he had some sort of black line going over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, and slightly messy black hair tied up into short ponytails. if he wasn't attractive to anyone, he was at least attractive to you.

his pretty and slightly plump lips opened to speak once more, “do you.. wanna meet up in person..?”

“h-huh...?”

#x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #dom male character #top male character #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #choso x reader #choso x male reader #jjk choso x reader #jjk choso x male reader #gay #mlm #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[azuremist]

A message to Twitter users coming to tumblr: a message from your local duel-hellsite citizen

So, I’ve seen a ton of Twitter users talking about making and sharing their new tumblr blogs, to escape Elon Musk’s “anti censorship” bullshittery. First of all: welcome! I know it’s looking bleak over there; especially for trans people. But, now that you’re here, I’m here to tell you all about tumblr etiquette, how this website works, and how it’s different from Twitter. Because you can’t come onto here acting like it’s Twitter, lest The Beast get to you.

First, here are a small handful of tips and tumblr facts!

Your likes and who you are following are automatically set to public. You can make them private in your settings!

You can block tags from the settings, too.

There are lots of bots on here. If you’re not careful, you could be mistaken for one! The main way you can avoid this is changing your icon and header from the defaults. Adding a bio helps too!

You can queue and schedule posts so that your account posts throughout the day.

Like Twitter, tumblr has a radical feminist and TERF problem. However, they’re pretty easy to spot. There are lots of guides out there to help you learn how to spot tumblr TERFs!

Tumblr, for the most part, does not have any celebrity or brand accounts.

Your tumblr follower count is private.

You can have multiple accounts with the same email, and they’re very easy to switch between! These are called “sideblogs”.

Your main page is not a “timeline”. It is a “dashboard”!

You can have a custom desktop theme using HTML! Think like ye olde MySpace days. There are tons of pre-made tumblr themes available, if you’re not already proficient in HTML; including free ones!

Now, let’s talk tumblr etiquette and how it’s different from Twitter. You’re a tumblr user now! It’s time to start acting like it!

Don’t just like posts. They don’t increase visibility whatsoever. The way that you can help posts that you like is reblogging them to your blog. Especially for art!

We don’t say “oomfs” or “oomfies”. Just “mutuals” is fine, thanks!

Adding onto a post with pointless comments is frowned upon. If all you have to say is “this is so true,” or something else to that effect, you should put that in the tags of your reblog.

Most people don’t have carrds or rentries on here. Some of us do, but it’s not an obligation like it is for Twitter.

Similarly, we don’t censor words like “die” and “death”. Posts about wanting to brutally murder people in power go viral all the time, and it’s completely allowed. I’m serious! Enjoy your newfound freedom!

Blocking isn’t a big deal here. Get rid of any weird notion you have that morality is linked to blocking certain people.

But lastly, and most importantly:

Drop your discourse at the door.

If you try to post about most of the things that Twitter users discourse about, you will be laughed off the site. Especially Twitter LGBT+ discourse. Posts actively mocking topics of Twitter discourse go viral on here regularly.

Tumblr has mostly healed since its discourse-ridden days, and it’s now much more chill. Of course, discourse still happens, but it is so easy to avoid now. For a lot of us, tumblr is the last pleasant social media site left, so don’t ruin it.

Here is a list of discourse-related things that tumblr users don’t do:

Most of us don’t do callout posts, unless it’s something actually serious (like that one blog that had a human slave).

Everything that you heard on Twitter was “exclusive” to certain LGBT+ groups is used by just about everyone on here. Bi women use the double venus symbol on here. You’ll just have to learn to live with that.

In particular, I want to emphasize how much we don’t do flag discourse. To the point that somebody caring about flag discourse of any kind is how we tend to identify an ex-Twitter user.

On here, you will never have to see another slur discourse post again, unless you actively seek it out.

You’re free.

You’re welcome. And enjoy your time on here! If you have the time, please consider watching StrangeÆons’ Tumblr Etiquette Manual on YouTube, as well.

#elon musk #twitter #tumblr culture #tumblr #azure does a thing

[sluttywoozi]

Something In The Midnight Hours

Rating: T | WC: ~ 4.0k | Pairing: Lee Chan x F!Reader | Genre: besties to lovers, fake relationship, rom com, fluff

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, kissing

Lee Chan is fucked. 

That’s the only way to describe his current situation. He’s fucked.

Royally, epically, astronomically. 

All because of one offhand comment he made six months ago about you being his girlfriend, back when he was still trying to fit into the company. 

Now here he is on his couch, staring at the email invite to the New Year’s Eve party and trying not to freak out, his eyes glued to the subject line. 

BRING HER OR YOU’RE FIRED (JK (OR ARE WE))

He sets his phone down on the coffee table and covers his face with his hands, his palms pressing into his eyes to stave off the growing headache as he goes over options in his head. 

1. He says you broke up.

This is obviously the worst option, both because the thought of you not being around makes him tear up and because then he’d have to stop talking about you, which is virtually impossible for him.

2. He goes and doesn’t bring you. 

This is the second worst option as it would open him up to relentless teasing and might also result in his expulsion from the company, neither of which he would like to happen. 

3. He begs you to pretend to be his girlfriend and you go together.

This is the craziest option, but it’s also the most viable. Sure, you’ve been best friends since you were kids, and sure, he’s almost certain you’re not into him like that, and sure, you’re a terrible liar, but all of that can be overcome! Right? 

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

You stare at him blankly, your face unreadable for once, as he explains the situation. You haven’t stopped him at all and it’s like he can’t stop talking, the words just flowing out of him like water through a strainer. 

“Everyone had a partner, literally everyone, and I was as single as could be, so when Wonwoo asked who my lockscreen was, I might have said you were my girlfriend. And I might have updated my desktop to be a picture of us together at that carnival last year. And I might have continued to lie about it every day since.”

You nod slowly, your eyes narrowed at him in skepticism, before tilting your head and saying, “And telling the truth is out of the question because…?”

“Because they would roast me alive,” he scream-whispers dramatically, imploring you with his eyes to understand his plight. 

“They would, wouldn’t they?” You murmur pensively, fully knowledgeable of how often he’s under fire just for being the youngest in the office. 

He nods emphatically, latching onto your kind, protective side and hoping it’ll carry him through this. 

“They would be so mean to me, Y/n. Please don’t let that happen,” he hates being manipulative but at least he knows you can see right through it, your years of friendship making you familiar with all his tricks. 

“Ugh! Fine!” You throw your hands up and roll your eyes, stifling your smile when he hollers in grateful joy and tugs you into his arms. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

It hits him when the uber is on the way to the hotel, what he’s gotten himself (and you) into. Not only is this the first merging of his work life and social life, but you and him will have to pretend to be a couple until the party is over. 

You’ll probably have to hold hands and smile at each other lovingly and, fuck, you’ll have to disappear before midnight because you already said he can’t kiss you and it’ll be suspicious as all hell if he doesn’t lay one on you when the ball drops. Even worse, you’re barely even affectionate as best friends - you don’t cuddle, you don’t hug, you even sit at opposite ends of the couch for movie night. 

He doesn’t know why, all he knows is that it’s been this way since you first met. The most you ever touch him is to ruffle then fix his hair, or pat him on the back when he’s sad, or pinch his cheek and call him a baby even though you’re only seven months older than him. It’ll be awkward to have so much physical contact with you, to interact with you like a boyfriend does. 

He’s a little… excited, though. It’s exciting to think about all of the guys finally meeting you after six months of him telling story after story. It’s exciting to go to his first ever corporate party, and to have you experience it with him. It’s exciting to think about how the two of you will take full advantage of the open bar and likely giggle yourselves to death in some closet as the clock strikes midnight. 

He can’t tell how you’re feeling beyond knowing you’re nervous. You keep playing with the hem of your dress, and you’ve been looking out the window this whole time, and you haven’t talked much since you got in the car, though he’s made multiple attempts to draw you into a conversation. He decides to make one more, hoping that he can distract you and help you relax before the car pulls up to the hotel. 

“I really like this dress on you. I don’t think I’ve seen it before, is it new?”

You turn to him, your lips quirking in a smile as you smooth your hands over the champagne silk. 

“It is! it’s been a while since I got something nice so I decided to splurge for the party.”

“You bought it for this?” He asks almost incredulously, endeared and grateful you wanted to put so much effort in. You don’t often buy new things as you’re saving up to put a down payment on a house, and before the night is over, he swears he’ll find out how much it costs and send you the full amount. 

“Yeah? I wanted to look nice to meet all your colleagues,” you respond quietly, shrinking under your seatbelt as if you’re self conscious. 

“And you do! You look beautiful,” he scrambles to dispel your anxiety, kicking himself for accidentally bringing attention to something you’re seemingly shy about. You smile brightly and straighten up, replying, “You look good too, I don’t remember this suit.”

“It’s a rental,” he confesses. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“So I can’t go up to one of your coworkers and say, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend, his suit is rented’? Darn.”

He’s too focused on you saying you’re his girlfriend to hear anything else, an unfamiliar fluttering starting up in his belly as he replays the words in his head. He hates to admit it, but he kind of likes the sound of them coming out of your mouth. 

He gathers himself enough to respond, “You can say the first part but not the second.”

“Ahhh, so just, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend,’ then?” You quip back, grinning at him teasingly and reaching up to pinch his cheek. His hand catches yours before you get that far, and while he’d normally let go, he decides to keep holding on, tangling your fingers together and bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back. 

“What’s that for?” You ask shakily, your eyes darting between his face and your entwined hands. 

“Practice,” he says innocently, fully aware that he’s freaking you out and loving it. 

The uber pulls up to the hotel before you can answer, and Chan thanks them before rushing to get out of the car and running around it to open your door and offer you his arm. You climb out as gracefully as you can, a bit unsteady in your heels and clinging to him for stability as you cross through the sliding glass doors into the lobby. 

It’s decorated for the holidays, warm string lights and fresh evergreen covering nearly every surface, and the sight of you spinning in a slow circle to take it all in makes his heart feel too big for his chest. The party is being held in one of the ballrooms, the fanciest one, he was told, and he can’t wait to see your face when you set eyes on the opulence of it all. 

He needs to find it first, and he exhales a sigh of relief when he spots his company’s name printed on signs leading into a grand hallway. He points so you see them too, leading you over and consciously slowing his steps so you don’t have to work to keep up with him. 

You’re letting out oohs and ahhs as you walk, your eyes catching on every shiny statue and gilded candelabra occupying the hall. Chan can’t hold back the grin, he’s always loved to see how you appreciate your surroundings, and he’s so happy he gets to watch you experience this beautiful place. 

The signs lead to a palatial set of doors, the party in full swing and audible behind them, and he stops you before you can reach for one, pulling you to the side and setting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Listen, I know you’re not good at lying, but I don’t want you to be stressed tonight, so just follow my lead and don’t worry too much, okay?” He says in his most reassuring tone of voice, gazing into your eyes and waiting for you to square your shoulders and say, “Okay. And I’m great at lying.”

Literally everything betrays you, the expression on your face, your tense body, the way you’re suddenly avoiding his eyes. 

“Sure, baby. Sure,” he agrees amicably, nodding and taking hold of your hand again. 

He’s never called you that before, only ever refers to you by your name or stinky (you are the greatest smelling person he knows and you’re both aware of that fact), but for a first test, he thinks it goes well. 

Your hand squeezes his, your eyes get brighter, and the corner of your mouth scrunches up in a small, pleased smile. All signs point to you being not only alright with the pet name, but maybe even happy with it, and if he's being honest, for him it felt… easy. Right. 

On that note, he tugs open the door with his free hand and follows you inside. You both stop short, stunned by the magnificence of the ballroom and the amount of faces that greet you. Chan knew he worked at a big company but there’s at least two hundred people here, and only a few that he recognizes. 

They find you quickly, apparently watching the doors for your entrance and agreeing to immediately converge upon you before you can even grab a glass of Dom Perignon. It’s scary, almost, the sight of the twelve friends he’s made so far weaving through the crowd to reach you. 

There’s nowhere to go, to run, to hide. He has no choice but to stand his ground and allow this to happen to him. 

He glances over at you and feels some tension leave his body, knowing that no matter what, you’re here for him and you always will be. That’s what gets him through the next half hour, plus the champagne Jeonghan so considerately brought over. He makes introductions, laughs off the comments about how long it took him to finally bring you to a function, and bites the inside of his lip every time you have to answer a question. 

You manage to tell the truth most of the time. Many of the questions are about you, who you are and what you do and, from Seungkwan, why you’re with Chan. You don’t have to lie until that last one, but he’s impressed by how quickly and smoothly you manage to answer. 

It still makes him grin, thinking about what you said. 

“Because he’s made me happy and taken care of me all my life. It just makes sense.” 

They all softened at your response, and the conversation naturally deviated to their own partners, a few of which are in attendance tonight. He’s not sure why they’re not with his coworkers but he can’t complain about having less people to keep up with. It’s hard enough tracking a conversation between fourteen. 

Eventually, everyone splits off into groups. You and Chan make your way to the bar with Soonyoung, Jun, and Minghao, the rest of his friends disappearing back into the well dressed masses. You’ve both finished your champagne and are ready for a real drink, and it’s shockingly easy to order them even with how crowded the bar is. Even Minghao is drinking tonight, likely because he doesn’t love crowds or parties, but regardless of the reason, he’s more happy and giggly and kind than normal and Chan is entirely delighted he gets to see him like this. 

Jun and Soonyoung are already deep in their cups, and knowing them, they likely pregamed at the apartment they share, forgetting that drinks would be free all night. He just hopes they don’t embarrass themselves, and vows to himself that he’ll make sure they get cut off if they get too crazy. They did the same for him the first night he ever went out with his officemates, when he had a few too many and found himself troublesomely drunk, and he’ll return the favor if need be. 

You seem to fit right in, your humor similar enough to theirs that you have them cracking up at every turn, and it’s not long before they’re begging you to spill all of Chan’s most embarrassing secrets. They seem nearly giddy with the prospect and you seem primed to share, and all he can do is tug you away, shouting, “See you later, we have to go!” over his shoulder as he makes his escape. 

You and Chan finally get to take a breather on the balcony. The chilly night air stings but the view is gorgeous, the city lit up in reds and greens and bright, warm whites, the countdown displayed on a skyscraper across the way. There’s an hour and a half left till midnight, and Chan is starting to wonder if there even is an accessible closet in this hotel for you to hide in when the time comes. 

Maybe you could sneak away to the bathroom, but you wouldn’t be together then and Chan wants to enter the new year with you by his side. There’s always the option of leaving before the ball drops, but everyone would wonder why and they might even be disappointed in him, which he’d like to prevent if possible. 

The consternation must be clear on his face because you reach up to smooth away the wrinkle between his eyebrows and ask gently, “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and takes your hand, swinging it softly and playing with your fingers as he says, “I’m trying to figure out what we should do at midnight.”

“What do you mean?” You sound confused, as if you think there’s nothing to figure out. 

“Well, you said I can't kiss you but it would be suspicious if we didn’t, so I’m trying to think of where we could go to get out of it.”

“Oh, about that, I’ve been thinking-”

“So this is where you snuck off to,” Seungkwan calls from the doorway, with a mischievous smile on his face and Vernon in tow. 

“Just needed some fresh air,” Chan pastes on a smile but internally he’s screaming, raging at them for interrupting you when he thinks you might have been about to say something important. 

Of course, everything you say is important to him, but if he’s following the vein of logic, it’s possible you were going to say he can, in fact, kiss you at midnight, which would honestly rock his world. Both in the life-altering sense and in the wow this is so amazing sense, because, he has to admit, he can’t stop thinking about it. 

When you take a sip of champagne, he’s watching your lips pucker around the edge of the flute. When you’re speaking, he’s thinking about tasting your words. Even when you’re not doing anything, his thoughts are occupied with what it might be like to feel your lips pressed against his and your body in his arms (and don’t get him started about your body, especially in this dress).

He knows that’s not something normal best friends think about, but you’ve always been more than a best friend to him. You’re everything to him, and he’s beginning to think you might even be it for him. You fill so many roles in his life: friend, confidante, protector. Why couldn’t you pick up one more?

It could all be so simple, so neat, and all of those well-meaning but embarrassing inquiries about when you two would finally get together could finally be answered. He thinks the transition would be easy, you seem to have no qualms touching him and being affectionate now, and he’s definitely finding it easy to reciprocate. 

Fuck, but he has no clue how you feel. You’re chatting with Seungkwan while Vernon nods and laughs at the appropriate moments, and he’s thankful you noticed he was elsewhere mentally and took over the conversation. He doesn’t want to seem too deep in thought, but it’s difficult not to be when he’s having the startling realization that he doesn’t want this relationship to be fake, that he actually wants to date his best friend. 

Shit, it’s an hour and fifteen minutes now, and Chan’s no closer to knowing what to do. He might even be further away, might be even more confused with the added layer of knowing he absolutely wants to kiss you. 

Vernon and Seungkwan excuse themselves to grab more champagne and he takes the opportunity to pull you to one of the darker corners of the balcony lest his other coworkers discover your location. He needs to talk about this with you, now. 

It’s just not normal or right for him to hide things from you, the biggest thing he’s actually ever kept being that he told his office you were his girlfriend. He’s not positive he’s ready to lay it all out though, especially when he’s not sure where you’re at. 

“What were you going to say before?” He asks urgently, taking hold of your other hand and holding both of them tight. 

“Ummm, I don’t remember,” you lie, so very obviously, and this time he’s not going to let you get away with it. 

“Yes, you do. Please tell me, I need to know.”

You squint at him in scrutiny, your mouth bunching to the side, and let out a big breath before speaking. 

“I was going to say that I’ve been thinking about it a lot and… I think you should kiss me at midnight,” you say, looking away from him and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in your dress. 

“A lot, you say?” He jokes, only because he knows it’ll make you feel annoyed instead of nervous. 

Predictably, you roll your eyes and scoff, “Of course that’s what you focus on.”

He lets out an easy laugh, tugging you closer with his grip on your hands and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“What was that for?” 

“Practice.”

His lips touch your other cheek softly. He can feel it heat up and breaks into a fond smile, his hands squeezing yours as you breathe, “And that?”

“More practice. And maybe I couldn’t wait until midnight to kiss you at least a little.”

Your eyes dart to his and he catches a flash of vulnerability before you grin it away and glance over your shoulder to check the time. 

“Just forty five more minutes. Do you think you can make it?” You tease, and he feels his own cheeks flush as he realizes that you’re flirting with him. He likes it. Very much. 

He grimaces, sucking in a breath through his teeth and shaking his head, “I don’t know, baby. I really don’t know.”

You just smile and push at his chest with your joint hands before asking, “Should we get some champagne?”

He’s barely tipsy, and he can tell you’re only a little buzzed, so he nods and lets you go, only to offer you his arm. He escorts you to the table of glasses, taking one and offering it to you before grabbing one for himself. You hold your glass up and he clinks it with his, taking a sip and looking around the room. 

He spots some of his friends but they’re all engaged in conversations, which is fine with Chan, honestly. He’s enjoying this time with you, and he’s not ready to share again. 

You pass the next half hour warming up and people watching, waving to his friends when they spot you and narrowly escaping before they start to make their way over. He feels a little bad about avoiding them, but he doubts you want to kiss him for the first time in front of everyone. He needs to find somewhere with a little privacy, looking around for a corner or… 

Or the giant ass column behind you. It’s perfect, still in the ballroom but secluded enough it’ll almost be like it’s just the two of you. He takes your hand again and gently pulls you over, situating you so your back is to the stone just as the ballroom starts to spark with energy. It’s only a few minutes to midnight now, and Chan can already feel his heart racing just at the thought of what that means. 

You seem similarly affected, your lip bitten in nervousness but your eyes full of anticipation. He takes a step into your space and lifts his hand to cup your cheek, murmuring, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, tilting your face into his hand and covering it with yours. A hush comes over the ballroom before the counting begins, and you join in unison as he starts leaning in, “Five, four, three, two, one.”

One is whispered against your lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses his mouth to yours. You taste like champagne and lip gloss and possibilities, and even though other kisses end and cheers erupt, Chan can’t make himself stop kissing you. 

Eventually, it starts to veer into indecent territory, with wandering hands and seeking tongues and sounds not fit for public consumption. He forces himself to pull away, smirking slightly at the way you try to follow him before your eyes blink open. There’s a bright glint to them, and before he knows it, you’re both falling into each other and struggling to contain your giggles.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whisper through your smile.

“Me neither,” he laughs. “Our moms will be so happy.”

“I bet our dads placed bets,” you murmur, winding your arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “Happy New Year, Chan.”

He lets go of your cheek to hug you back, his hand still wrapped up tightly in yours. 

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” 

You’re dozing against Chan in the uber when his phone buzzes in his suit pocket. He opens it to find a message from Wonwoo, one containing three pictures that make Chan’s heart beat so hard he’s scared it’ll wake you up. 

The first is just before he kissed you; you’re staring at him with brand new eyes, and he’s gazing at you with obvious infatuation. 

The second must be just after midnight, he’s still kissing you but he’s got a hand dangerously low on your back and you’ve got one in his hair. 

The third is when you both collapsed into laughter, and he smiles at the joyful tears in your eyes and matching beaming grins before making it his lockscreen.

He’s not sure why Wonwoo was taking pictures of him instead of kissing his wife, but he’s forever grateful, and he tells Wonwoo just that. These are photographs he’ll treasure for the rest of his life, because they document the start of something great, something real, something he hopes will last forever. 

He can’t wait to print them out, they’ll look perfect on your wall (your apartment is nicer than his and he’ll be moving in as soon as you say the word). 

AN: Happy almost new year!! ily all 💖 i wish you light and blessings 💫

My Masterlist

#lee chan fanfic #lee chan x reader #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines #lee chan x you #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #kpop imagine #kpop oneshots #✨emily writes✨

[thestoryofusstan]

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

--

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

--

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request

#harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry #harry styles #boss!harry styles x reader #boss!harry styles #ceorry #ceo!harry styles #ceo!harry styles x reader

[daughter-of-sapph0]

one thing about tumblr that I don't see anyone talk about even with all the discussion about horrible changes is what happens when someone blocks you.

how it used to be is that you could still go to their profile, and would be able to report them or block them back. but you couldn't see any of their posts. and if one of their posts did happen to show up on your dash through reblogs, you couldn't like or reblog it. of course, it wouldn't tell you any of this. it would just give an error message or load indefinitely pretending like something was happening, rather than just saying "hey this person has you blocked, so you can't interact with them"

now it's a lot worse. idk when it was, but some change made it so now you can't even click on their blog at all.

now you might say "what's the big deal? why would anyone even want to go to a blog that had you blocked if you already couldn't see any of their posts in the first place?" and while true, there was at least something you could do on that blank blog. blocking them back and reporting them.

here's how it worked in the past. if someone sent me a rude message or tagged me in a dumb post and then blocked me, I could simply go to their blog (which would be blank for me) and block and report them.

now, if somone does that, I cannot click on their blog. in fact, because I can't block or report them, they can keep sending me horrible things, or even do the same to others without any fear of consequences. in order to actually be free of them, I'd have to go onto the desktop dashboard which a lot of people don't use, go to blog settings, scroll all the way down to blocked accounts, and manually type in their url exactly and add them to my list of blocked accounts.

and also, there is no way to report them. if someone is being racist or antisemitic or homophobic, and they have you blocked, you cannot report them at all.

I'm not going to say that this change was made by the sympathizers on staff specifically to protect terfs and white supremacists who spend all their time harassing and stalking and abusing people online while making it harder for their victims to protect themselves or even make those people face any consequences for their actions at all...

but the fact that this change happened around the same time as the whole "scorched earth / partyjockers" situation where staff entirely disintegrated a post and all it's reblogs because op said that one of the people on staff was a hairy potty fan, it's a bit too suspicious for me to call it a coincidental change.

#dostxt

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 1: Flickering Lights

Chapter (2)

True Form Sukuna x fem!reader

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence!

Tags under the cut and will be updated over the course of writing!

Summary: On a sad friday night, you’re finishing your last email for your job, as suddenly The King of Curses appears through a rip of space in time in your office. A change of everyday life perhaps?

Notes:

Welcome to Flickering Lights!

I hope you will enjoy <3

The -play- cues or underlined texts are linked to the specific songs she’s listening to, however I didn’t time the songs with reading time, since everyone of us reads at a different pace. I hope you’ll have fun anyway. :)

Tags:

_

clack clack clack clack

The harsh sound of your fingers hitting against the keys on your keyboard is reaching your ears, as you’re finishing the last email for the day.

The day, which will end in about 10 minutes. 

It’s friday, 11:50 p.m. and you’re still in the office tower you work in. 

Alone. An odd occasion, since this situation is not unusual in your field of work. Harsh deadlines require overtime. 

Often.

Too often.

But today, your co-workers must have had something better to do. It’s friday after all.

And you wish you had the guts to do that, too.

Flickering lights from the illuminated advertisements from outside the streets are dancing in the corners of your eye. Your only company tonight.

And you blink. With a sigh, you look to the window to your right, having Tokyo looking right back at you.

Sometimes, you wish you would have the time to flee this place, your office, your life. To actually enjoy those lights, to experience something. To not give your life up for your job.

To feel not as lonely. Lonely in this city of millions.

A longing deep in your heart.

But-

I gotta pay my fucking bills, you think, as you sigh another time, before turning back to your computer. The light on your desk makes your eyes tired and before you finish your email, you go into your music library on your phone and put on your headphones. A ritual you almost do on every overtime night. It gives you energy. Almost a prayer to whoever listens. Someday something must happen. 

Right?

-play-

How can you see into my eyes like open doors? 

Leading you down into my core 

Where I've become so numb …

Your blood starts pumping and the hairs on your body stand up, as the song crawls through your veins. 

Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

Until you find it there and lead it back home …

Your body starts moving on its own, you move your head and lips in sync to the song. It gives you energy to finish this last fucking email before the chorus hits. 

And you slam your middle finger on enter.

Send!

(Wake me up) wake me up inside (I can′t wake up), wake me up inside

(Save me) call my name and save me from the dark

Oh my god.

You feel it. The song hits your core so deep and you turn the volume even louder. Singing both parts at the same time in your head, you let yourself go.

(Wake me up) bid my blood to run (I can't wake up) before I come undone

(Save me) save me from the nothing I've become

Flickering lights hit the corners of your eyes, bass in your heart, as you lip sync quietly, but passionately, while you close all your remaining applications on your desktop. 

You would not want to risk someone, anyone, to actually hear you singing.

Suddenly the bass gets unusual heavy, but you love it. You feel the song even harder.

Adios Bitchatchos. See you on monday, you think to yourself, as you notice a glitch on your desktop. 

Another one. 

And another one. 

The light on your desk flickers as well. You frown in confusion, but brush it off as a “monday me” problem and shut down your computer. Standing up, still moving and lipsynching to the song, you lean forward to turn off the monitors, as the bass grows even heavier.

Weird. Those headphones only cost me like 5000 yen-

Wrrrrmmmm!

Suddenly the ground vibrates and your knees give in. You grab yourself onto the desk, as an energy pulls you down. Pulls you down to your knees and almost cuts the air off your lungs and nose. You gasp, as the ground starts to vibrate and jitter even harder. Bring Me To Life still pounds into your ears, so dramatically, as you feel your vision blurring and glitching, as the light on your desk finally says goodbye, leaving you in total darkness of the office space. Looking around you don’t see anyone, start to get scared.

What’s happening?? An earthquake?

The vibrations are sent through your whole body, your blood tingles in your veins, just in time for your favourite part of the song.

Frozen (frozen) inside without your touch, without your love

Darling, only (only) you are the life among the dead …

Just in this moment, the technology of your cheap ass headphones gives in and sends an incredibly loud beep to your ears, distorting the wonderful voice of Amy Lee.

Fuck!

You yell in pain and yank the headphones off your head, just before a loud grunge noise echoes through the room, makes it vibrate even more, makes you push your hands over your ears. All the other monitors are shutting on and off and on and off and glitching and blinking. 

Zschhhh!

Suddenly a blue glowing light crawls into the air in the split of a second, like a lightning strike and it starts to tear apart. A gap ripped into the air of the office space, just a few desks next to yours.

What the fuck?

You don’t believe your eyes, as a tall shadow starts to appear in the gap that just opened, before it steps forward, red eyes glowing through the dark, while the rap part starts to roar through the headphones in the background.

All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see

Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me

I′ve been sleeping a thousand years, it seems

Got to open my eyes to everything

Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul

Don′t let me die here, there must be something more

Br-riing m-m-me t-tt-to l-lifeeee-…

And with this your headphones die, leaving you alone with… 

Who is this?

Tap. 

Tap. Tap.

Feet step into your office and you slide beneath your desk. The vibrations grow harder, the energy heavier, as the gap seems to close back up, almost pulling you completely to the ground.

Whoom!

And suddenly-

it’s all silent.

Quiet.

Calm.

You don’t know what to do. 

Hide? Say something? 

Still on the ground, you let your hands leave your ears and watch below the desks. Two massive feet, covered in tabi socks and wearing ancient looking sandals, quietly walk into your direction. 

Flickering lights dance upon the ground and onto the moving clothes. Your heart is racing and you put your hand upon your mouth to be as silent as possible, as the person walks closer and closer. Another step and they will pass your desk, will see you sitting there like a little baby, not knowing what the fuck just happened. 

And finally he walks into your vision, not even offering you a glance. A tall man, a black cloak around his shoulders, covering his upper arms and parts of his chest. A white hakama sitting on his waist. Pink hair, four red eyes, simple tattooed lines on his face and wrists and chest. A mask is covering the right side of his face. 

Why does he look like a villain? 

Your eyes widen at the man in front of you.

He’s built like a tank.

With a smug smirk, he steps in front of the window facade, looking down onto the streets of Tokyo. 

“Keh Keh Keh.” he giggles.

Such a devious voice.

You watch him suspiciously, watch how the lights illuminate his face, unsure if he’s seen you yet or knows that you’re here.

His eyes roam around the streets and his expression grows excited. So excited.

“What a view.” he quietly smiles, before he taps against the window with his nail.

Tap. Tap.

The glass sounds firm.

He looks up, musters the framing and cocks his eyebrow and pouts his lips. 

You frown at him. Confused, because he looks like he’s never seen a proper window before. 

“It’s shatterproof glass.” you suddenly say quietly, still curled up beneath your desk. He freezes, as his left ear twitches, before his eyes and finally his head slowly move and turn to look at you and your eyes meet.

Silence.

Shit.

He glares at you, looking like an evil villain indeed. His red eyes glow in the dark and pierce right at you, as you feel his demon-like energy reach you, looking right at your soul, so deep and intimidating, as if your eyes are truly only a window to your mind. 

And you’re about to pee your pants.

“You uhm.” you point your trembling finger at the glass. “You can’t fall through it… b-because it’s. You know… shatterproof.” you stumble quietly, before you crawl out from beneath your desk and grab your jacket, phone and dead headphones. “It… doesn’t sh-shatter.” 

He stays silent, so silent, as suddenly a second pair of arms reveal themselves from under his cloak and cross in front of his torso.

And you can’t help but to stare in shock and confusion at his arms, tattooed chest and his flexing muscles, as you’re being hit by his degrading energy at the very same time. You are so overwhelmed by anything and everything, that you can’t help but to think that-

It’s almost as if-

He rolls his eyes and turns his face back to the window. The silence crushes you and the look on his face is still so intimidating, as he suddenly flicks the finger, that previously tapped against the glass.

BrrshhZschinnggg! 

The glass of a window shatters into a thousand pieces and with an incredible force, like an invisible blade, the energy cuts through everything in it’s way, leaving a track of loud destruction and cuts a furrow into the floor, your computer and the wall a few yards behind you. 

Bamm!

So close to you, that you even think you lost some hair. You feel the impact shatter in your bones.

“Is that so?” he grumbles in a deep, unimpressed voice, with his left bottom eye watching you. Your heart almost stops- waiting for the alarm to go off…

but it doesn’t. 

Yup, out we go.

Before he can do anything more your body moves on its own. 

A breeze from outside and the sounds of the street are blowing in through the broken window. You twitch a forced smile at him, before you tipple your way between the desks and out of the office space.

With a racing heart you run to the staircase, as the lights in the dark hallway flicker above your head, fighting to get back on. But they don’t. They die down again, leaving you in utter darkness. With a hitching breath, you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight, as you tipple your way to take the stairs. Not just because the elevator is probably down as well, but to calm down. No elevator ride could soothe the adrenaline in your body right now. 

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap

Down the stairs, five stories, until you arrive at the entry hall, seeing the security guard at the reception table in the dark. Cursing under his breath, his face is illuminated by a flashlight on his desk, while he’s being busy to tap onto his monitors and to smash on the keyboard to get the cameras back on screen.

That creature must’ve caused a total blackout. 

The security guard doesn’t mind or even notice you walking by, so you take the chance to quickly walk to the front door with no air in your lungs and sweat in your armpits. You catch a look onto the still busy streets. 

Did someone from outside notice?

People are walking, no one is looking. 

Sigh. 

Thank god.

You carefully slip through the front door and see a few broken glass pieces onto your left. Quickly, you cross the street, melting into the groups of people, vanishing behind many faces, looking down to your feet and hoping nobody from outside caught you leaving the building. To calm your panic, you first buy yourself a coke on the next vending machine. 

Psssshh.

Sip. Sip. Sip.

Sigh.

Better.

You inhale, before you slowly turn around, looking up to your office on the fifth floor, where you were a few minutes ago, curious what the fuck just happened there. 

Flickering lights and advertisements mirror themselves on the remaining not-so-shatterproof glass, leaving a black hole on the one that indeed shattered. You can’t see him. 

He might be gone. 

But… it wasn’t a dream, was it? 

You put on your headphones and try to connect them back to your phone.

Maybe the building got struck by a lightning, while I was knee deep into feeling Amy Lee’s voice.

No. Nothing.

Dead.

Shit, you think to yourself as another rush of adrenaline flows through your veins. 

That was exciting… 

You bite your lip.

Maybe my prayers were heard.

#flickering lights #writing #nighty fanfic #sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #time travel #comedy #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x reader #flickering lights chapters

[babyjakes]

a diamond's gotta shine.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | toys

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader

warnings | ddlg (daddy!lloyd, little!reader.) super soft!daddy!lloyd, just how we like him! butt plug (and me not knowing shit about luxury brands lol.) reader has an oral fixation; sucking and licking. anal prep/fingering/stretching. clit rubbing <3. mostly praise and encouragement. an orgasm as reward, yay!! implied aftercare. err hints at exhibitionism later? idk just to be safe.

word count | 1,425

an | this wasn't really the plan for this prompt originally, but i woke up today and decided i wanted a fic of lloyd gifting reader a luxury butt plug so we're just rolling with it lol. this one's dedicated to my sweet sweet angel sabby @hansensgirl hope you're well bby, and happy holidays to you!! <33

"C'mon, princess. Up on my desk."

Lloyd was gently nudging you toward the large surface, which he had suspiciously cleared off from its usual state of mild disarray. You lifted a curious brow at the broad man, earning a pearly grin as he gently stepped in to sweep you up in his arms. Lifting you effortlessly onto the desktop, he set you down with care, as if you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. He trailed a playful hand up your thigh, fingertips teasing at your skin through the silky fabric of your nylons. "Daddy," you hummed eagerly, letting out a soft squeak as he gently pinched at your tender flesh.

"Panties off, baby. Lay back for me," Lloyd instructed steadily. And he sure as hell didn't have to ask twice.

As you moved quickly to remove and discard your hose and panties, you couldn't help but try to sneak a peek at what your daddy was up to as he made his way to the other side of the desk, opening up a drawer and pulling something out discreetly. He then strode over to one of the couches in the middle of his office, grabbing a few throw pillows before returning to you. "Here you go, angel. Let's get you nice and comfy," he murmured, propping you up with the pillows supporting your back.

"Daddy," you whined again, a hint of neediness now present in your voice. Lloyd smiled as he brought up the gift to finally show you; the contents of his hands made you gasp. A beautiful plug, shiny gold, with a stunning ring of crystals embedded along the base. "Oh Daddy," you breathed, unable to take your eyes off the glittering piece.

"Genuine Winstons," Lloyd told you proudly, taking a small bottle of lube from his pocket and placing it on the desk beside you. "Only the best for my princess, of course."

"So pretty, Daddy," you remained in awe, earning a loving chuckle from the man as he watched you be entranced by the gift.

"I'm glad you think so, sweetheart. Now be a good girl and open up for Daddy, need you to get this nice and wet for me while I'm prepping you." He teased the tip of the plug against your glossy lips, guiding one of your hands up to hold the base. You sucked and licked happily at the metal's impressive curve as Lloyd got to work between your legs.

He parted your feet, bending your knees up to lie at either side of you as your dress slipped up easily in cooperation with his efforts. Pausing, he took a moment to revel in the sight of you. His gaze fell to your perfect folds as they sat before him on display. With a low hum of approval, he brought a gentle hand up to smear your wetness around teasingly. "Look at you, already getting wet for Daddy. That's my good girl," he smiled as he brought a finger down to begin gently prodding at your tighter little hole.

Still working the toy you'd been given between your pouty lips, you let out a whimper at your daddy's tentative nudges. You gasped softly at the feeling of a cold glob of lube being dripped onto you. Heat rose up through your cheeks in slight humiliation as the slippery mess was worked thoroughly over your puckered rosebud. "Okay baby," Lloyd hummed encouragingly, "time to open up this pretty little hole. Are you gonna be good for Daddy and take it?" You offered the sweetest nod you could manage, earning a beaming grin from the mustached man. "Of course you are. My sweet little girl," he crooned lovingly, giving no further warning before starting to push his first digit past your difficult outer ring.

You squirmed gently, big pleading eyes looking up at Lloyd as you let out a weak whine. "Hmmph... Daddy..." your voice wobbled.

The tall man brought his unused arm up to stroke back your hair in a calming manner. Furrowing his brow in gentle concern, he did his best to soothe you. "Shhh, my love," he cooed as his large finger worked up to the first knuckle, then the second, gradually stretching out your sensitive walls. "That's it, see? Nice and gentle. Look so pretty like this, taking Daddy's fingers up your sweet little bottom. My pretty girl," he kissed your forehead, holding you steady as he began introducing a second finger.

It was a slow, steady process; Lloyd knew that it had to be. He rarely played with you like this, mostly due to how much you struggled to take anything up your poor little ass. But he hoped that getting you a toy like this might help you adjust to the unfamiliar sensations; you had discussed prior that you'd like to do some proper anal training and play. Needless to say, you both felt this was the perfect first step in that endeavor.

Once you were comfortably and confidently taking two fingers, Lloyd finally felt ready to transition you over to your shiny new toy. "That's it, sweetheart. Fuck, so perfect for me," he was chuckling as your hips bucked up to meet his hand, his digits driving steadily into you. Much of the initial discomfort was gone, replaced with the most deliciously sinful burn blooming in the base of your tummy. Your eyes were shining with pride as you looked up hopefully at your daddy. Kissing your forehead again, Lloyd nodded as he slowed his fingers to a stop, retrieving the now-soaking plug from your drooling lips.

"Okay princess. Here we go-" You hummed eagerly as the tip of the gold bulb was rubbed up against your slippery opening. Lloyd surprised you a bit by bringing his free hand up to gently dip into your leaking pussy; much to your daddy's delight, you had made quite the mess during his generous preparation period. He dragged his fingertips up further, liberally smearing your glistening arousal over your clit to coax the tiny pearl out from under its protective hood with his expert touch. Your knees were trembling as he began working the nub in steady circles, while finally beginning to ease the large plug up into your awaiting walls.

"O-oh my- Daddy," you mewled as the warm, slick piece of metal stretched you out across its broad curvature. At its widest circumference, the object's insertion was bordering on painful. Lloyd's eyes never left you as he did his best to rub your clit faster, hoping the added stimulation would help ease the burn.

"Almost there baby, almost there," he promised, letting out a breath of relief in tandem with your own as you finally made it past the peak, the rest of the toy slipping perfectly into its place with little effort. As the glittering base nestled itself between your smooth cheeks, Lloyd looked on in pleasure and pride. "There," he hummed lowly, gently giving the center a few taps, earning the sweetest little whimpers from you. "What do you think, angel? Has someone earned an orgasm?"

His pace was quickening over your clit before you could even process his words. Hands flying down to grip the edges of the desk below you, you nodded desperately. "Y-yes Daddy, please Daddy!"

Your daddy smiled as he continued his steady rubbing, finding your sweet spot with ease. It wasn't long before you were reaching up to cling to his sturdy arm, your breaths stuttering as you chased your release. "That's it, baby. Go ahead and come for me. Been such a brave girl for Daddy," the man allowed, nodding as your high ripped through you.

"Daddy, o-oh Daddy! Aahhh-" you cried, the plug lurching within you as your poor little cunt clenched down on nothing. You were carried lovingly through your high, Lloyd's fingers only slowing as your spasms and contractions finally began to cease.

"That's my girl," he murmured gently, reaching up to brush your hair back out of your face as he gave your pussy and puffy button a few playful pats. "Now what d'you say we get you cleaned up, huh princess?" You were too weak to respond, only managing a lazy nod as you slumped against the pillows behind you, struggling to catch your breath.

He moved from your side momentarily to grab a cloth from one of the desk drawers. "Oh, but sweetheart- the toy stays in," he informed you with a wink. "We're having guests over later; Daddy wants his pretty girl to shine."

#eun's writing #kinkmas 2023 #a diamond's gotta shine #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #daddy!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x little!reader #soft!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen one shot #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen blurb #lloyd hansen drabble #lloyd hansen headcanon #the gray man #the gray man fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

[jenosbigtoe]

i for one would love to see alpha jaem😁

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: superior!alpha!na jaemin x office worker!omega!reader

warnings: office au, abo, jealousy, reader is kinda bratty, fingering, tummy bulge, unprotected sex, creampie

you seriously wanted to throw your entire desktop at her stupid fucking head.

she was the new hire, an omega intern being trained by your superior, alpha na jaemin. she’d only been here for 3 weeks but she was already trying to sink her claws into your alpha. well, he wasn’t officially your alpha but everyone in the office knew the special bond you held with him. and she was sure as hell intent on getting in between that.

he was your superior but he always treated you so special, like you were really his omega. he brought you a coffee and muffin every morning from that coffee shop he knew you loved so much. he walked you to your car every evening, no matter how much longer he had to stay when you were working overtime. and he always spent his lunch breaks with you, sharing his homecooked meals when he felt you didn’t bring enough food for yourself.

you never progressed past more-than-friendly hugs after work or the light hand holding every so often with him but everyone knew he was your alpha. he was still courting you and you were basking in the attention.

until this bitch showed up and stole away all his attention.

it was bearable at first. she would have some sort of dilemma and he wouldn’t be able to eat lunch with you that day because he had to help her. he’d apologize profusely when he had to use his lunch break to go help her with whatever problem she was having that day. you would give him a reassuring smile and rub his back as you told him it was perfectly fine for him to do his job and not worry about you. or she would have to stay after hours because she needed help with a project and jaemin would have to stay with her to show her what to do.

but then she started being all touchy feely with him. with your alpha. she’d call him over to her desk for whatever reason and grab onto his arms as he stood over her desk. she would bring extra lunches “accidentally” and give him the extra lunch she brought, jaemin being too nice to decline. she would bat her stupid fucking eyelashes at him and beg him to do this and do that for her, all while you watched with a murderous look on your face.

she wasn’t stupid. she knew what relationship you had with jaemin. but she wanted him too and was going to milk all the attention she got from him, while rubbing it in your face in the process. sly smirks and pointed looks in your direction when jaemin would come running over to her whenever she had a problem.

jaemin was so busy with training her and doing his other responsibilities as a superior, he barely had any time to spend with you. and you were not happy with that. you could only take so many “sorry, y/n but she-“ before you would lose your mind.

so you coped with the lack of attention from your alpha the best way you knew how—by ignoring him back.

“hey, y/n i got your favorite,” jaemin gave you one of his signature grins and held up a coffee and muffin for you.

you pretended to not see him and brushed past, leaving him to stare in confusion at your passing body.

“y/n, let’s eat lunch together. i made that dish you always love.” he cornered you into a wall to prevent you from escaping again.

you gave him a sour expression and sighed exasperatedly. “no thanks.”

jaemin was so confused. he knows he’s been so busy for the past few weeks but did he do something wrong? why did it seem like you’re upset with him? he missed hanging out with you.

the next day, he tried going over to your cubicle to find out what he did wrong but right as he approached your desk, he was stopped by the intern.

“oh jaemin!! perfect timing i need your help with this document,” she barreled into him and grabbed his arm to yank him away.

jaemin stuttered in protest but she was too determined to get the alpha away from you. you watched that whole interaction and rolled your eyes, a deep frown marring your face.

who needed that stupid alpha anyways, you grumbled to yourself. it’s obvious he’s found his new omega plaything. he doesn’t need me anymore.

and it went like this for the next couple weeks. he would try to talk to you like normal but you would ignore him or find an excuse get away while the stupid intern took him away. you didn’t want to let your heart be vulnerable anymore for this alpha.

he was getting tired of the lack of attention from you. he missed his omega. jaemin didn’t like the cold shoulder you giving him. he knew he’d been so busy lately and you were probably feeling neglected. but now the intern’s training period was finally over so he could finally direct all his attention back to you. right before you were set to clock out, he called you into his office.

you stomped in with an irritated look. “what?” you snapped. “i’m ready to go home, mr. na.”

he raised an eyebrow at your attitude. he leaned forward in his desk. “mr. na?”

the frown on your face deepened. “yes, that’s your name right?”

“baby, you know you don’t call me that. especially when we’re in private.” he got up from his desk chair and walked around to stand closer to you.

you inched away slightly, an action he did not miss. “what do you need, mr. na?” you emphasized the formality.

he crossed his arms over his chest. “i want to know why you’ve been upset with me.”

you sighed and looked anywhere but at him. “can i leave, if it’s not an important issue?”

he walked over to stand just inches away from your body. even in heels he towered over you. you looked up to see his concerned form. “is my omega being upset with me not an important issue?”

you stared hard into his face, eyebrows wrinkled and eyes alight with stubbornness. “your omega? since when?”

“since i’ve been courting you.”

your heart was pounding in your chest. “what are you talking about? i’m not your omega. you’re crazy.”

you started to turn away from him to walk towards the door but he was quick to grab your arm and pull your body against his, trapping you in with his strength. you tried to break from his grasp, wriggling and beating at his chest, but he easily overpowered you. your legs turned to jelly at the contact.

“let me fucking go! stupid alpha get away from me!” you grunted in frustration. it was useless, he was too strong.

“oh you know exactly what i’m talking about, omega. just because i’ve been busy for the past few weeks you want to ignore your alpha? act like you’re brand new?” you could feel the red hot anger start to radiate off of him. you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together.

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself. then you straightened yourself out in his arms and jut your chin out defiantly. “so now you want to act like i’m your omega? when you’ve been prancing around with your new toy for weeks, ignoring me and all we used to do together to be with that new omega bitch?” your eyes watered at your outburst but you stood your ground.

jaemin held you firm against his body, grabbing your chin to force you to look into his eyes. “so that’s what this brattiness is about, huh. you’re jealous?”

you attempted to kick him in the groin and make your escape but he stopped your leg with his. “not fucking jealous! let me go you stupid fucking alpha! i can report you for this!”

jaemin chuckled lowly. “silly omega. i can see right through you.” he used one arm to keep your struggling body pressed against his while his other snaked down to cup your warm cunt. “i’ve been a bad alpha, neglecting my omega. letting her think i wanted someone else. when all i could ever want is right here.”

you stopped fighting against his grip, gasping at the feeling of his big hand on your achy cunt. you whined, lightly bucking your hips against his hand. “oh fuck,” you whimpered.

he caught you in a deep kiss, shutting you up real quick. sucking on your lip and sticking his tongue in your mouth. you whined against his mouth and started to grind against his hand. his fingers crawled up your skirt and pushed past your panties, teasing your wet folds and sliding past your dripping hole.

he broke contact to leave kisses up and down your jaw, fingers rubbing up and down your dripping cunt. “aw, what happened to my fiesty omega now?”

you whimpered. his fingers kept playing with your pussy and left you needing more and more. “stop teasing, jaem.”

he grinned widely at your words. his fingers pushed past your folds. you groaned. he started pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping hole and rubbing up against your sweet spot, slowly increasing his speed.

“ahhhh, alpha!” you whined out.

he suddenly removed his fingers from your hot cunt to stick them in his mouth, licking and sucking on your juices lewdly. you protested at the lack of contact but he quickly shushed you with a hot kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

he unbuckled his slacks and pulled down his boxers to reveal his achy cock, so big and red and veiny and ready to be sheathed inside your warm cunt. you attempted to reach down to stroke him off but he stopped you, lifting you up by the ass and placing you on his desk.

“baby, as much as i would love to let you stroke my cock, if i’m not balls deep in that pussy within the next 10 seconds i might explode.” he spread your legs and placed them on his shoulders. he used his cock to rub against your dripping pussy and gather your juices to spread up and down his length before lining the tip up with your entrance.

he bottomed out with one deep thrust and paused, heavy balls touching your ass. you both groaned at the sudden feeling. “oh fuck, baby you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, gripping your waist tight to prevent you from squirming away. “my perfect omega, made just for this cock.”

he started pounding his hips impossibly fast against yours. your pussy clenched and spasmed around his fat cock dragging against your walls. arousal was dripping down your thighs and onto the desk below as lewd noises filled the tiny office with sex. “oh my god, alpha!! please, harder!” you cried, wriggling around and scratching at his back desperately.

“my omega. mine,” he grunted from above. it felt like he was trying to break you in half from his fat cock’s deep hard thrusts into your tiny pussy. “say you’re mine. say you’re my omega,” he accented his words his a particularly sharp thrust into your cunt, cock so deep his tip kissed your cervix.

you were quickly melting in a pool of putty underneath him, losing your mind from pleasure. “ahhh, alpha! yes, yes, yes!”

if possible, he went even harder with his thrusts. his cock was driving so deep inside he pressed a hand against your lower belly. “feel that, omega? that’s your alpha, deep in your guts. claiming your pussy for his.”

he grabbed one of your hands to place against your tummy and feel where his cock bulged out. you could feel every thrust, every time he bottomed out, all of it.

“say. it. say you’re mine, omega.”

“oh god, i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours!! alpha, i’m your omega, please oh god,” you were shaking like a leaf, tears welling up and rolling down your face. you buried your head into his chest, inhaling his deep intoxicating scent. this was your alpha making you his.

when you left the office that night, hot cum dripped down your legs. panties were missing. you had a strange limp. hair wild. neck littered with marks. and a smirking alpha wrapped around your shoulders.

a/n: i was halfway done with this but lost motivation conveniently when i told everyone it was coming soon☠️mb

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin

[cybiirz]

ೃ⁀➷ INFIRMARY

Wriothesley x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : After the entire incident involving the Fortress, Neuvillette, Chlorinde, Wriothesley etc, it seems you had lost track of time of which to spend with someone. Turns out, he missed you just as much. But maybe next time, find a more private area for such matters?

WC : 784

Warnings : Slightly suggestive at the end I think?

“Sigewinne, would you mind taking a trip to retrieve a package? It’s a box of bandaids since we’re low on supply so I’ve ordered some from the Court along with some more equipment. Bertin’s house should have the supplies,” You informed the young nurse as she listened intently.

After a nod and getting the list of the exact things needed, Sigewinne bid goodbye to you, leaving the infirmary in your care. Once she had left, you let out a deep sigh and stood up from the stool, heading over to a pin board hidden away in the corner of the room. You brought out your notebook and scribbled down a theory before pinning next to your other theories you had come up with.

Right now, you were lost in your thoughts as you went over the notes, eyebrows furrowed. But you were quickly brought back to reality once you felt a pair of bulky arms wrap around your waist, bringing you backwards which caused you to yelp slightly.

“Wriothesley, a warning would be nice before you decide to attempt to kidnap me,” You said to the warden, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You could already have tell it was him with the way he held you. He let out a laugh but continued to hold you.

“I just wanted to surprise my favourite nurse. Can a man not go around showing his love for his own little caretaker,” Wriothesley responded, breath close to your ear. You lifted up your arm and pushed his head away before you released yourself from him.

“You’re a strange man, I must say. And anyway, I highly doubt you should go around hugging random people and labelling them as your favourite. You may kill some with that sentence alone,” You informed him, hinting at his charm that many others knew about. Well, it’s between his charm or people wanting more coupons but either way works.

“Yeah yeah. I saw Sigewinne heading off, presumably to get some supplies. So that just leaves me and you which is rare in itself,” The warden was implying that the two of you had barely gotten some alone time ever since the whole primordial sea water incident.

But you chose to just hum in agreement as you tidied up the desktop sitting against the wall. You heard him approaching you before you felt him rest his chin on top of your head.

“I miss you (name). You haven’t even visited for almost 2 weeks now,” He complained next to your ear, his voice almost sounding whiny. The thing is, the pair of you weren’t necessarily exclusive. This visitation thing was solely known by only you and him. You sighed before responding.

“I know, it’s just that there are so many patients that injured themselves escaping from the whole primordial see water situation so there’s a lot to take care of. I wish we could see each other again, truly, but there’s so much for me to take care of that I've sort of fallen off track,” Your voice was becoming slightly hoarse as you rubbed your temple, the stress beginning to get to you a bit.

Wriothesley lifted his hands and began massaging your shoulders. “It’s alright I understand (name). Honestly, I’ve been busy too, I’ve just missed seeing you frequently. That’s all,” He said in a low tone.

“I get it,” You replied. You then removed his hands off of you before turning around resting on the table top and looking up at him. “Tell you what, we both free up our schedules and have a day dedicated to just us. Sounds fair?” The question tumbled out as you raised your eyebrow.

He gave you a soft smile before gently placing his lips onto yours. The two of you stayed connected that way for a few seconds before he parted for air, his breath still grazing against your lips. “Sounds good to me.”

“Before you go,” You began to add before bringing him closer again and reconnecting with each other. His hands grazed your waist as yours reached up to wrap around his neck, the passion evident between the two of you.

“(Name), I forgot my notebook and I need to take down some—oh…” The high pitched voice rang through your ears as you quickly turned your head to see Sigewinne standing there, still. Her head was cocked slightly as she brought a finger to her chin. “I always suspected it…” She mumbled.

Your face instantly turned red as you buried your face in Wriothesley’s neck to hide the obvious embarrassment. The warden simply chuckled as he stroked your back and held your head before mouthing an apology to Sigewinne on your behalf.

Maybe next time the infirmary should be a place to not show your not-so-secretive love for one another.

A/N : Loving these mini drabbles tbh. Writing them is so easy and not as time consuming, I think i’ll be writing a ton of them when I go visit my family tomorrow since the trip there is long. Feel free to leave any characters + their situations in my ask box!

#genshin x reader #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #i love wriothesley #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x gender neutral reader

[starryhologram]

CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュージカル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cccc #cj soul #cj heart #cj mind #cccc band au #cccc au #cjverse chatroom #starryart #art #drawing #writing #cj whole #band au #trisov #LONG POST

[dduane]

Firefox (for Windows) folks: A Way To Get Back Tabs From A Previously Closed Session

Normally I don't have hundreds of tabs open in a given session, but sometimes I might have ten or twenty or thirty of them open. I use them as a casual to-do list, shutting them down when complete. (shrug)

Sometimes, though—and I bet some of you have been there—Firefox will close down incorrectly, or close down secondary to an update, and all those tabs will be GONE when it restarts. ARGH!! —because these closed sessions aren't easily recoverable by using control-shift-T or whatever the command is.

This happened to me just this last week-and-a-bit. I closed the desk machine down before going to FinnCon, and when I brought it up again... zero tabs. Much cursing ensued.

But then I went hunting for a way to get tabs back from a previously closed session... and WTF? I found one.

So here's what you do. (NB: This presupposes you're working in Windows. I have yet to see whether the file structure we get into below works in a Mac. More on this later.)

First of all, bring Firefox up and load this page. This is a lovely tool called Session History Scrounger. (And all praise to Jefferson Scher who created it.) Its job is to parse the files in which Firefox stores session info—including info about your open and recently closed tabs.

Now: use the search box in W10 or W11 and enter the following:

%APPDATA%\Mozilla\Firefox\Profiles

It'll take you to a directory where you'll see files with names like these.

Find the one that was most recently updated and doubleclick on it. You'll see a directory structure something like the following:

Doubleclick into the sessionstore-backups folder. (Save the contents of this whole directory to some other safe spot: maybe your documents folder or desktop.)

Inside that directory you'll find files that look like this:

You may also find files that look like "recovery.jsonlz4" or "recovery.baklz4", which would be the windows and tabs in your current session, or a backup copy of those windows/tabs, respectively.

What you may have most interest in, though, is previous sessions—and in my case, the one that was running on 21 June, which I knew (though it was an upgrade, as you can see by the name) would have the tabs I was concerned about having lost.

What you then do with that compressed .json file (the "lz4" signals the compression Firefox is using) is drag it onto the empty box on the Scrounger page: or else use the "browse" button in the page's right hand column to find and load it. Then hit the page's "Scrounge URLs" button and let the page process the file. (NB: this process stays "within the page" and does not go to the network.)

It'll then produce you a list of all the tabs you had open, as well as those you'd recently closed. (Here's a bit of mine so you know what it looks like...)

...And that's it! Click on the URLs to bring them up and save them as bookmarks, or just open them as tabs so they register as "new" in your history. Or whatever.

So. If you're a Firefox user and feel inclined, please reblog this so others can find it. (And also, if it helps you and you should feel moved to do so... oh, I don't know: buy me a coffee.)

Cheers, all!

#Firefox #closed sessions #session recovery #get your tabs from previous (closed) sessions back

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick. 

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty. 

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful. 

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased. 

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.” 

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker. 

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.” 

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available. 

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe. 

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not. 

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time. 

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity. 

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.” 

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?” 

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.” 

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache. 

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response. 

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password. 

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind. 

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin. 

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time. 

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.” 

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it. 

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.” 

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin. 

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!” 

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment. 

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest. 

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“ 

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.” 

It’s not. It’s really, really not. 

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her. 

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become. 

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.” 

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television. 

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.” 

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true. 

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning. 

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.” 

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it. 

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight. 

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.” 

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh. 

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.” 

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”  

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess. 

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up. 

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion. 

You don’t. 

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions. 

But then your mind wanders. 

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now. 

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips. 

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!” 

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?” 

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.” 

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?” 

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment. 

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.” 

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class. 

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!” 

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own. 

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement. 

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before. 

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak. 

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?” 

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times. 

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there. 

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.” 

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry. 

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.” 

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with? 

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions. 

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table. 

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind. 

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love. 

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier. 

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on. 

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories. 

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high. 

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool. 

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed. 

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him. 

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him. 

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call. 

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all. 

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink. 

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made. 

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

#maroon #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #lowkey terrified to post this oh god #oh well

[apocalypseornaw]

Love You Better (Pt 2/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

After a successful Djinn hunt Dean starts to pull away from you but you have no idea why and he won't tell you either

Sam had ended up taking the backseat of the impala so you were curled up in the passenger seat, Dean's jacket over you like a blanket as you pretended to sleep so he would continue singing lightly along with the radio. When Dean wasn't being goofy he had an amazing singing voice even if he rarely showed it.

You'd probably been on the road a few hours when you felt the car slow and Dean reached over to tap your leg "Y/N you wanna quit pretending to sleep and walk in the gas station with me?" You opened one eye and grinned "I wasn't pretending" he shook his head but laughed "Next time? Don't smile when I sing along with your favorite songs" you pushed his jacket off then shrugged "Sing more often for me and I wouldn't have to pretend" he rolled his eyes then raised his voice slightly to say "Sammy! Want anything?"

Sam stirred from his sleep and rubbed his eyes "Bottle of water?" You turned to look back at him and laughed, his hair was a little wild "My brush is in the top of my go bag Sam. Feel free to use it"

-----------

Dean watched you as you looked over the water bottles, talking to yourself about the different prices versus the taste of the water. How the hell could you doing something so damn mundane make his heart flip?

He was so damn in love with you but hadn't said those words yet. He hoped you knew, hoped his actions spoke loud enough but knew he needed to tell you he just didn't know how. You stopped mid rant and glanced over at him, a small smile working its way onto your face "Like what ya see Winchester?"

He let his eyes flick across your body appreciatively before smiling himself "Very much sweetheart" you laughed and motioned to the water on the top shelf "Good, so that means you won't pick on me cause I can't reach the top shelf" he laughed and grabbed two of the bottles you pointed to "There ya go beautiful" you smiled "Thank you"

-----------

Once the three of you got back on the road you felt a small knot in your stomach grow. Dean and Jax had always gotten along before so you shouldn't have nothing to worry about but if the roles were reversed and Lisa was a hunter and you were helping her? It'd be awkward as hell.

You shook the nerves off when Sam drew you into talking about a book you'd both read. It would be fine, right?

Normally when the three of you would be meeting another hunter it would be at some cheap motel but instead you were meeting Jax at his garage.

He'd opened the garage a couple years back in Austin and had a small place nearby. He had managed to find a balance not a lot of hunters had, an actual means of income and a normal house while still hunting.

------------

Dean cut his eyes at you as he pulled into the parking lot of the garage. You'd dozed off a few miles back and him nor Sam had wanted to wake you up but now they didn't have a choice. He glanced back at Sam who shrugged so he leaned over and gently shook your arm "Wake up sleeping beauty we're here"

You slowly opened your eyes at smiled at him "How long was I asleep?" He shrugged "An hour or so" you nodded and ran a hand over your hair to smoothe it down. "Ok then. Let's see what Jax has and then get to work"

He watched as you climbed out the impala and stretched. He wasn't jealous, not at all.

----------

Sam walked in first then Dean held the door open for you and walked in behind you. You glanced around at the office area you were in. There was a small desk that had a desktop computer sitting on it and a few filing cabinets. It was a simple area but decorated just enough to make it have personality. It fit Jax well.

You felt Dean's arm slip around your waist about the time you heard Jax's voice. He walked around the corner with his phone to his ear and smiled when he saw the three of you. He was about Dean's height, dark hair that he'd always kept cut short and blue eyes. From the looks of it he hadn't shaved in a few days because the stubble along his jaw was leaning closer to a beard.

He finished the phone call and nodded towards you "Thanks for coming" you smiled "Of course. So what's the case Barlowe?" He motioned towards the door "Let me flip the sign and close for the day then if you want yall can follow me to my place and i can catch ya up" "Sounds good" Dean spoke from behind you and Jax nodded "Give me five"

------------

Dean stood between you and Sam as the three of you looked over the files Jax had on the case at hand. There was about half a dozen missing in Brushy Creek, a town about twenty miles from Austin and Jax had narrowed down the possible locations to about three warehouses.

"Seems simple enough" You spoke glancing from Dean to Jax. Both of them nodded before saying damn near in unison "Yeah but when is hunting ever simple" you cut your eyes at Sam who raised an eyebrow before saying "Should we get the lamb's blood here or there?" Jax tapped a place on the map "Here, there's a Butcher halfway we can get it from"

The plan was that Sam would go with Jax to clear one warehouse, you'd go with Dean then if both proved to be a bust the four of you would check the last one together.

You reached your left hand out to touch Dean's side as the two of you checked the warehouse. So far it had been empty. A part of you had hoped the first two warehouses would be it, kill the damn thing then grab a motel room and rest then head home come morning.

So far Dean hadn't said anything about Jax. You weren't expecting much but a part of you was wondering why. If roles were reversed.. no you couldn't be distracted.

A noise creaked somewhere in the warehouse and you spun towards it only to see a possum run across the floor. You let out a laugh "A freakin possum"

Dean reached out and pulled you closer to him "I think we caught a bust, there's one office left. We'll check it then call Sam and Jax to see how their end is" you nodded, falling in step with him.

---------------

You and Dean had just got there to meet Sam and Jax at the last warehouse. Good news was having four competent hunters, bad news was the last warehouse was absolutely fucking huge. The damn thing had three floors.

You looked over at Dean before getting out of the car. He smiled "Kiss for luck?" You leaned over and when your lips met you damn near melted against him. He always had that damn ability to make you forget your worries. When you pulled back he smiled "Let's get two rooms instead of one" you shook your head with a laugh "Save people first, take me to bed later"

----------

Somehow the four of you had gotten separated. You were on the same floor with Sam while Dean was one floor up and Jax was on the highest floor. Sam cut his eyes at you "You good?" You nodded "Yeah every woman's dream is to be hunting monsters with her boyfriend and her ex" Sam laughed and started to say something but then you heard Jax holler "DEAN LOOK OUT"

You and Sam looked at each other then took off running. By the time you two made it up to the second floor you were met with Dean down with one Djinn touching his face and Jax soon to follow since the other Djinns hand was going towards his face "HEY UGLY!" You hollered and both Djinn looked at you "Fuck, Sam some help?"

------------

Sam ran to stab the Djinn over Jax so you ran towards Dean. The Djinn spun on you and you flipped your knife up "He's mine asshole" You threw the knife and caught him dead in the throat. When he went down you ran over and snatched it out then slammed it down into his heart.

Once he was dead you slid to Dean's side "Come on baby. Please wake up. WAKE UP!" Jax and Sam ran over and Jax handed you a vial "It's smelling salts. It'll bring him around"

You snapped the small vial and held it under Dean's nose. Once he inhaled his eyes flew open. "What the hell?" You let out a sigh of relief and let your head fall over onto his chest "You're ok. Thank God, you're ok" he touched your head gently "They dead?" Jax chuckled behind you "They're dead man"

Sam had gone with Jax to a local bar after the four of you made sure the vics had been taken to the hospital so that left only you and Dean at the motel. You'd been expecting him to want to finish what he started earlier but so far he'd damn near been avoiding touch.

He hadn't gotten in the shower with you and when he got out the shower himself he was awful quiet. You were sitting cross legged in the center of the bed watching him as he messed around in his duffle.

"Dean, are you ok?" You finally asked and he glanced up but his eyes still had that far away look "Yeah sweetheart. I'm just tired" you patted the bed next to you "Come on then"

---------

Dean wanted to talk to you, wanted to tell you the fucking world he'd been thrown into when that Djinn had poisoned him. All in all it was only about twenty minutes real world but with Djinn the timeline was always skewed. The way you looked at him as he climbed into bed next to you, he couldn't start that conversation. He loved you, he really did but fuck did he deserve you?

When you curled up next to him placing a gentle kiss on his chest he smiled despite himself. He wanted you, wanted a future with you but that damn dream world had confirmed what he'd already known. You made a mistake choosing him.

@marimarvelfan @suckitands33 @sushiumex @janineb86 @nix-rose @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @holdingontil-may @freewastelandstrawberry @jackles010378

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #love you better mini series

[kingshovelbug]

im sorry but i need to geek out somewhere and screaming into the void on tumblr is less likely to get me flayed than on twitter, especially if i get terms wrong. plus i can do a read more and yall can click into the tech talk if you want to verse it bombarding your twitter timelines

so idk if i only liked it or if i actually put it in my queue but i saw a post that talked about a few pieces of tech that focus on user repairs and being sustainable (fairphone and frameworks laptop) and after doing some more research into what they have to offer i actually really excited that these products are finely hitting the us market and that people are moving away from the belief that super smooth streamlined glassy = the future. being able to reliably repair and keep what you have alive verse throwing the whole thing away when maybe all you needed to do is add more ram to your current laptop (something that i would do with my laptop to keep using it for a few more years if it wasnt glued shut and i was at risk of cracking the screen) or swap out a fuse.

i know big corporations dont like it but i truly do believe with how much tech we use on a daily basis that the way that we are going to be more environmentally friendly is to move back to tech that we can hang onto for as long as we can and to recycle and then reuse what we cant. like with the frameworks laptop. i saw that they just partnered with coolermaster to create a case specifically so that you can reuse you motherboard, cpu, etc and make a portable workstation. you could dual wield with the laptop you just upgraded if you want to dedicate specific tasks to one or the other. they also specifically mentioned that you could screw it into the back of a monitor and create your own all in one. guys thats cool as shit??? if you had a 3d printer and some time you could even create that yourself

on top of the actual hardware part moving to open source programs when your able. when i update my desktop i plan on running linux. it might have a learning curve compared to windows but in terms of performance??? ive heard that it runs smoother even on older machines, that its more efficient because isnt running stuff in the background that tracks your data and shit. now i understand that not everyone can do that because there are some programs that dont play nice with linux but for my needs at least it does everything i would need it to. and maybe a couple years down the road we do figure out how to run these programs on certain flavors of linux since its open source and people fiddle with it so much. (still looking for alternatives to like word and excel though, i use google docs since its free but i want to move away from them as much as i can too since they laid of their youtube music team (i believe?? it might of been a different branch) for trying to unionize)

if anyone knows of any other smaller companies that actually focus on sustainability and user repairability please let me know. theres certain pieces of tech that i think are now unfortunately behind a software repair paywall, things that used to be just machines and are gaining more bells and whistles like cars and refrigerators if that makes sense. but the more we push for these things to be repairable by us the consumers id hope that would change, or there would at least be options that dont need specific companies to repair them or else they blow up

#personal

[tiyoin]

Tiyoin the voices got to me again. I was scrolling tho tik tok and came across a video ,and it reminded me that you mentioned reader doing a sport before attending twst in the singing au. Wanna give a guess what sport I saw??

It was ✨figure skating✨. Just imagine it for a sec. Do I know anything about skating?? No. But the idea of anxiety reader being one is beautiful. Especially since skating isnt a confrontation sports like soccer and, reader doesn't have to be in contact with someone while performing their act.

I see reader starting the sport when they were young. They may have seen it as a way to put themselves out there while doing something they enjoy and find relaxing. They didn't compete in big contests with thousands of people watching (girlie would not make it). They would only get to county or district level of the contest B4 the nerves got to them. Most likely self sabotages at the end so they wouldn't have to seen and judged by so many. Reader does has a few gold medals tho. Yuu has been their personal cheerleader for a few years now. Going to as many contests as he can to just support reader and know they're not alone.

✨Now✨

What if there is a different competition (w/o a overblot hopefully) which a sport is picked randomly. Whether you want it to be a school vs school, dorm vs dorm or maybe grade vs grade you can decide. I think it could work with any of them. Like they pick a few people to represent their side and to complete. The ones that physically compete get prizes (💰) and the others get bragging rights and a 🍕 pizza party or smth like that idk.

Anyways, Yuu is like *puppy eyes* pls reader 👉👈we poor. And reader knows Yuu is only asking cuz they they really need the money and he would never make them do smth that would harm them. Yuus real motive is maybe this will help reader make friends or less be less anxious around their classmates. And he knows Reader is gonna win cuz none of the others skate.

The only ones in NRC that I can see being able to skate to a degree is Rook, Jade or Ortho maybe Epel too. He probably hated it till his grandma said only strong people could skate cuz it's hard. I think his home town is gets snow right? Can't recall rn.

Depending on which VS is picked the outfit and preforment is gonna be a easy choice or the hardest thing in the whole contest. Maybe a duet gets thrown in there. ➖👄👁️

Overall reader is ✨stressed✨ rightfully so. The creeps are recording, admirers admirering, rivals showing up left and right. Reader gonna need a nap after everything that's happened.

Another 3-5 am ask woooo. Sorry if there is any spelling errors. Why do the best ideas always come when I'm tired 😩. I can send u a tik tok I saw that inspired me if u want. Also I don't mean to mention Rook in every ask he just shows up w/o asking. Like my fav is Malleus and I haven't send a single idea with him.

Maybe it's cuz Rooks a Sagittarius and I'm a Gemini. They are sister signs. That's probably why he lives in my head rent free. I hope a good night.

MEL- I NEED TO KISS YOU BRAIN RIGHT NOW!!

especially with the death of YOI: adolescence... a sad day for anime lovers' everywhere (im on desktop so i can't do any emojis </3)

I actually had a really big skating phase. still do and would love to have prof. lessons. i wanted to do it so. badly. my parents said 'no' and that it was too late for me, so i mourn that. believe it or not, i was in soccer and almost did it in college.

but the ice feeling so freeing whenever reader steps onto it. they're not worried about sweating because of ice, and they can move how the want when they want.

reader would 100 PERCENT self sabotage themselves. filling their head with nonsense and because of all those thoughts (especially) 'dont miss this spin, dont miss this spin' only to miss it because they were focusing on whether they would 'miss the spin or not')

but in their home world, reader is phenomenal!! they're amazing! they got scouted by amazing coaches who wanted to tap into their raw potential, who were impressed by reader's hard work and drive... but reader always finds a away to miss things up for themselves.

OH MY GOD AHHH SPORTING COMPETETIONS WERE ALWAYS MY FAVORITE ARCS IN SHOWS

ITS LIKE THEIR OWN MINI OLYMPICS HAHAHA (reader: wdym you guys dont have olympics?)

ofc there's a pre sign up and auditions. reader is thinking and mulling it over. because trying out for the boys team is very different than the girl's team, is co-ed even allowed?? this is an all boys school after all!

(yuu brings crowley to their audition to convince him to give them student-ship so they can compete and WRECK those snot-nosed princes.)

maybe there's a partner skate? and you know that the admirers of reader that can skate and sign. the. fuck. up.

I WANT SKATER JADE!! I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT!! but home boy would probably not be able to skate at the level of reader just because he's og a fish and if he started skating when he turned human then he'd only have a year of experience </3

but lets just say there's a sports thing they have... not club but dedicated for this event... then i can see jade being somewhat on reader's level. but there's still a difference unfortunately

ROOK HUNT SKATED OUT OF THE WOMB!! ortho could professionally skate sine... 5 minutes ago? like c'mon guys get on his level.

though i can see rook rather being an observer. he also called it 'ice dancing' because that's what it is to him. but if rook trying out for this instead of his usual sweep of archery, all to stop some... he doesn't have a word for the level of disgust he'd have if he saw you dancing with a slimy no name.

plus he will be able to experience your growth! not just as a skater but as a person! he can also get closer to you!

vil. vil can! ice dance. he needed to learn it for a film and he's always liked the feeling of being on the ice. which makes pomefiore the contenders for being on the team / being reader's partner during partner categories.

epel would want ot learn hockey but was forced into ice skating by his grandma HAHAH she'd say that he can learn to play hockey after he's mastered the ice or something. it's something he's NOT proud of- but (if this is the point where him and reader are on good terms) then he'll happily play up him being a skating pro.

i can also see vil forcing epel into skating for the school. like wdym ice skating is for girls? get your ass on the ice NOW

SILVER AND LILIA WOULD ALSO BE ICE SKATERS AHHH. but it's a bit dangerous for silver to be on the ice but if it means helping support his friend then he's gung ho about it! just... please keep an eye on him in case he starts falling (he's usually good about that. making it to the sides before he was able to face plant on the ice. but lilia is always present in case of such emergencies (and if the designated watchers arent able to get to him in time))

lilia has dabbled in a bit of everything. so if you see him whip out a quad (with only a little bit of stumbling, as he complains about his bones again) he'll act like it's not hard (it's not- for him)

BUT IF MALLEUS WANTS TO GET INTO THAT ICE SKATING ACTION THEN HE'LL SPEND HOURS AT IT. the prince bale to do things a bit differently than everyone since he's.. ya knw, thee malleus draconia.

crowley ; you can barly even skate! why are you at the try outs!

malleus :... give me a week (and the mofo MEANS IT)

and dw i get random spouts of 'rook hunter-itis too. I DONT MIND YOU BRINGING HIM UP CAUSE I LOVE HIM- AND MALLEUS AHHHH)

#tiyoin 🔎 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted anxiety 🌀 #mel <3

[loveissupernatural]

···

**read chapter one here** - **read chapter two here**

Morpheus/Dream x fem!reader

In Your Dreams

Chapter 3

“A heart without dreams is like a bird without feathers.”

-Suzy Kassem

You didn’t sleep for the rest of that night. You couldn’t. How could you when a being like that was trapped beneath your feet?

You still weren’t sure if you were frightened by him, or by how much you wanted to be near him.

You rolled onto your side for the millionth time, leaning up to punch your pillow again. You slammed your head back into the normally-comfortable fluff that, for whatever reason, felt hot and scratchy tonight. That ethereal man’s eyes flashed through your brain like a sight you barely caught out of a speeding car window. The sketch of the hauntingly beautiful face flitted through your mind’s eye.

A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on the back of your neck.

You climbed out of bed with a frustrated huff and took a warm shower, trying to wash the night’s events out of your head and off of your skin. By the time you shuffled out of your bathroom the light of dawn was beginning to peek through the foggy grounds. A bird began to chirp outside your bedroom windows.

You tried to doctor the dark circles forming beneath your eyes with a cool eye mask and some concealer, but they were there to stay. You hoped that your obvious exhaustion wouldn’t raise any suspicion with Alex or Paul—after all, how long could jetlag be a viable excuse?

To avoid Paul or Alex getting a good look at your tired eyes that morning, after you prepared their tea you volunteered to give the mansion a good, thorough cleaning. They seemed quite happy that you mentioned it, in fact.

“You’re a godsend, you are,” Paul whispered to you, putting both his and Alex’s teacups in the sink. “If I mistake another dust bunny for a mouse I think I may have a coronary.”

You chuckled as you opened the door to the closet adjacent to the kitchen that contained the cleaning supplies. “Just doing my job.”

While the house actually was in desperate need of another one of your cleaning sprees, you really just wanted an opportunity to go into every room and snoop—especially the library and its adjoining study. There had to be some forgotten book or neglected journal hiding in the crannies of this house that told you more about the man in that basement.

A physical therapist would be coming later in the morning to see to Mr. Burgess, and you knew that Paul was always present for those appointments. That would be the best time for you to look around in their bedroom, something you hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do.

You started in the library just in case you’d missed something in your previous excursions, but you came up emptyhanded. You organized the papers that were strewn across the burned desktop, keeping your eyes on the doorway to the study and your ears peeled for any approaching footsteps.

After giving every wooden corner a thorough rub with your dust rag, you gently pulled open the drawer that you knew housed the only thing of importance you had found. You gave the doorway another glance and pulled out the aging scroll. You spread it across the desk. As it always did, the sketch of the man’s face pulled your gaze. You gingerly stroked the drawing’s cheek with your finger, your chest tightening.

The parchment was covered in faded words, phrases, and chicken scratch that you were still unable to decipher. The crude sigils held no meaning for you. But your eyes settled on the word you first noticed when you originally found the paper.

Dream.

Did the powerful being encased in a prison of glass and magic below your feet have something to do with this word? After a moment, you returned the scroll to its home and ran upstairs to your room. You pulled out your laptop, plopped onto your bed, and waited for your home screen to come to life. When it came to the Burgess house, Google had always been your friend. It was time to see what you could find.

You pulled up the familiar search engine and typed in that fateful word.

Meaningless articles about the purpose of dreams and scientific studies on the subject were all you could find at first, so you searched for the phrase “dream man” instead. Artistic renderings of handsome men lined the top of the page, followed by dating site advertisements for finding the man of your dreams. You rolled your eyes.

You chewed your bottom lip.

Then, slowly, you typed “Roderick Burgess dream man” into your search bar.

Blogs on Roderick Burgess and Aleister Crowley appeared one by one, but you spotted a post that you weren’t familiar with. You clicked on it. The screen went black before pictures and blood red text began to emerge. The blog post was called “Roderick Burgess: Dream or Nightmare?”

The beginning of the post was filled with background information about the Burgesses and their mansion that you already knew and read a thousand times before. A few quotes followed from some of Roderick Burgess’s followers, claiming that they’d seen something unnatural in the home of their beloved leader but were unwilling to divulge more detail. The writer theorized what kinds of creatures Burgess could have trapped to cipher away their powers, including the devil. You groaned, having seen all of this before.

But then, the writer began a new thread.

            I come to you all with newly-acquired information from a former employee of Roderick Burgess’s only surviving son, Alex Burgess. This man claims to be a security guard that was hired to watch over the “entity” that resides within the dark bowels of the Burgess mansion. When I asked why he was sharing this information with me, he divulged that he’d been sacked for getting sleepy on the job.

“So you’re a disgruntled ex-employee, then?” I asked him.

“No, that’s not it,” he told me, shaking his head. “I don’t care that I was sacked. I had a new job lined up with me uncle already.”

“What, then?”

“If your boss gets mad at ya for gettin’ tired on the job, it’s ‘cause they’re pissed you ain’t doin’ your work, right?” he asked me. I nodded. “It was bein’ sleepy that was the problem. They didn’t give two shites about me doin’ anythin’ important while I was there. They didn’t know that my wife just had a little one and we weren’t gettin’ much sleep between the two of us.”

I told him that I still failed to see his point.

“It’s the SLEEPIN’,” he told me again, insistent. “Alex Burgess caught me startin’ to nod off and threw me outta there screamin’ “You can’t sleep around ‘im!””

Your eyes narrowed. No one was allowed to sleep in the being’s presence? Why? What did that mean?

You thought back to the parchment. Dream.

“Not skiving off, are you?”

You jumped. Alex Burgess had rolled into your open bedroom doorway.

“What? N-no, no,” you said quickly, your heart doing its best to rip its way out of your chest. You slammed the lid of your laptop. The old man’s eyes looked at your closed computer then back to you.

“Relax, Y/N, it’s all in jest,” Alex smiled, rolling a foot further into your room. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything. The door was open.”

“Oh,” you faltered, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, right. Sorry. I was just… emailing my, uh, mom.”

“I’m sure you miss her.”

“I do.”

A beat.

“I never really knew my mum.”

You smiled sadly, slipping the locked computer behind you and out of Alex’s field of vision. You weren’t sure what to say.

“I’ll just, um, get back at it,” you grinned awkwardly, grabbing the dust rag and cleaning spray from your nightstand. Alex nodded and backed out of your doorway, giving you room to exit.

“Think you could make me another cuppa before you do?” he asked you.

“Of course.”

_______________________________________

That night was colder.

The pajamas you brought didn’t cover enough skin to keep you warm, so you grabbed a knitted cover off the back of the sitting room couch to wrap around your shoulders before hiding behind the grandfather clock to wait. The guards’ shift change was approaching.

As they always did, Hattie and Randy emerged from the basement at exactly ten o’clock. While Hattie was pulling on her thick coat, Randy groaned.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Randy hissed, shaking the cell phone that he had just pulled from his pocket. “I just got a text from Edwin. He ain’t comin’.”

“At all?!”

“No, he quits.”

“Bugger,” Hattie spat, planting her hands on her wide hips. “Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? I’m not workin’ a double that I’m not gettin’ paid for!”

“They don’t pay us enough to deal with this shite,” Randy agreed, pulling on his coat anyway. He lowered his voice. “It don’t sound like Mr. Burgess is wise. Let’s just pop off and we’ll tell him in the morning.”

“We shouldn’t tell ‘im now?” Hattie asked.

“That old codger’s asleep by now. Anyway, he’d ask us to stay. I don’t wanna give ‘im the opportunity.”

Hattie hesitated, looking at the closed basement door with disdain, then to the front door longingly. She sighed.

“What Mr. Burgess don’t know won’t hurt us, right?” she conceded hopefully. Randy chuckled and followed her to the front door.

You couldn’t believe your luck. Edwin wasn’t coming. You had nearly eight hours before the next shift.

Joy was a new spring flower blossoming in your chest. Could this be the night you helped the man escape? Every moral fiber in your body told you that it had to be done. However, the possibility of sentencing yourself and your employers to almost certain death was holding you back. You certainly weren’t ready to die.

But you knew that if it wasn’t tonight, when would it be? Alex and Paul would know by morning that they needed to hire a new night guard, and there was no guarantee that whoever they hired would run late enough to give you your valuable time window.

Then a horrible thought occurred to you. What if Mr. Burgess changed the security combination every time an employee left? It had taken you weeks to get that code, and you didn’t know when or if you would ever have an opportunity to return to the basement if that happened.

You chose not to think about that now, not yet.

The familiar hum of the mystery man in the bowel of the basement began to strum through your bones, making you sigh. In a strange way, at this distance, it was almost a soothing sensation.

You pressed the carving of the amulet on the nearby wall and the keypad appeared.

Four.

Zero.

Seven.

Three.

Seven.

Four.

As it did the night before, the intensity of the entity’s presence knocked the breath out of you as soon as you opened the basement door. You knew to expect it this time, though. A wall of freezing air hit you as you reached the bottom of the steps, soaking through your thin blanket. Winter had seeped into the ground.

Undeterred, you gently pushed open the glass doors and stepped forward with more confidence than you had the previous night. The vibrations in your chest seemed to hum in approval as your eyes settled on the unnaturally striking man that was curled inside the translucent orb. He was sitting in the middle of it now, upright, chiseled face as stoic as ever.

His gaze was hooded and pierced through yours. Your memories did not do those fathomless eyes justice.

In steps, you were centimeters from the edge of the intricate summoning circle. The pale light of the basement cast his cheekbones in sharp relief. Your nerve endings felt like they were on fire and his relentless stare was making them sear. Goosebumps erupted in a tickle over your skin, but whether it was the cold or his smoldering stare you didn’t know.

“I told you I’d come back,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. It hit you just how much you’d been longing to be in this exact spot all day long.

He rested his forearms on his knees, ankles tactically crossed to cover his manhood. He barely cocked his head, studying you. You again had the suspicion that he was carding through your every thought. You sincerely hoped that he didn’t have the ability to do that, or you were going to be incredibly embarrassed.

Despite the chill, you could feel your cheeks beginning to heat.

“So,” you offered lamely, clutching the thin blanket around your shoulders, “I realized that it wasn’t very fair of me to ask you for your name without telling you mine.”

His chin lifted ever so slightly, looking down at you through his thick curtain of lashes. You took that as a signal that he was listening. You licked your lips.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering a gentle smile.

His intrusive gaze raked from your face to your feet, and back up again. You tightened the blanket around you even more. You felt very exposed, which was ironic, considering that the only naked one here was him. The heat had spread from your nerve endings to your cheeks now. You knew he was noticing.

“I—I still don’t know your name,” you said, doing your best to gulp down your blush, “but I don’t expect you to tell me. I get the feeling you’re not much of a talker.”

At that, the corner of his full lips twitched. It was almost imperceptible but you got a rush from his brief moment of amusement nevertheless.

“I get why you don’t talk,” you continued. “You don’t owe them anything. Especially with… all of this.” You jutted your chin toward the glass orb in question. “But if all you had to do was make a promise to get out of there, I have to admit I’m a little confused as to why you won’t just do it.”

His lips pursed at that. His steely eyes were hard.

“Unless… you know that when you do get out, you’ll hurt them. You want to hurt them.”

It wasn’t a question. The flash of anger across his face confirmed it for you. He was waiting to take his revenge, but was holding onto his honor enough not to lie in order to get it. Fear trickled down your spine when he glowered like that with so much barely-contained rage, even if the fury was for Alex Burgess and not for you.

He’s dangerous, you reminded yourself. You need to remember that.

Even though your logical mind knew this, your heart ached for him nonetheless. You weren’t the one responsible for his imprisonment, but you had the power to end it. If you just stood around and did nothing that made you no better than Roderick Burgess, in your opinion. This being was not meant to be here. Whatever ancient power he possessed was meant to be out in the world, not in the dead Demon King’s basement.

“I may not know who you are, but I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you said, desperate to change the subject and get that furious gleam out of his eyes. You watched the placement of your feet as you began to pace around the golden circle of sigils. His head turned to follow you.

You stopped to watch him.

“I found this old scroll rolled up in Roderick Burgess’s study. I think it’s about you,” you told him. You licked your lips again, always feeling your mouth turn to cotton when you held eye contact with him for too long. “I couldn’t figure out much, but I could still make out one word: Dream.”

His head lifted fully now and his pale body turned to face you. You were on the right track, then.

“Is… is that what you do?” you asked measuredly, beginning to pace again. His unrelenting attention trailed you as you walked. You returned to the front of the circle. “Do you have something to do with dreams?”

His countenance was as stony as ever, like unyielding white marble, but he leaned toward you the same way he had the night before. His face was an inch from the glass. You wished so desperately that you could touch it, that you could get even closer. You wanted to caress his cheek like you had his drawing many times before.

You searched his endless eyes for answers. It seemed like he wanted to give you something but he was waging an internal battle with himself. You leaned toward him, matching his motion, but your toes stayed in place. You hoped that he could see—feel—from you that you were worthy of his trust.

For the first time since you first laid eyes on him, he blinked. There was emotion there. His forehead gently touched the glass with his imploring orbs searching yours. His lips barely twitched open, like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. You could see every dark lash that surrounded his beautiful eyes now.

“You… you control dreams?” you asked, your voice a wisp of its former self. The sheer feeling in those eyes directed at you stoked the searing flames in your gut. That pulsating hum was so very strong now.

His eyes were shining. Pale forehead still against the glass, he nodded. Your connection to him in that moment felt inexplicably intimate.

You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. His unworldly beauty made sense now. You remember thinking that you could only dream up someone like him. It was fitting.

Your eyelids fluttered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill at the intense emotions that were congealing in your throat. His imprisonment was the greatest tragedy you could imagine. Dreams were such an important thing. Dreams made humanity what it was, made people strive to be better.

“How could they do this?” you whispered, a profound hate boiling in your blood for Roderick Burgess. “How could they do this to you?”

Your empathy still seemed to confuse him, but his expression had softened. It occurred to you that very few, if any, people that he saw every day for countless years ever showed him any kindness or care. Alex Burgess, Paul McGuire, the guards… they all regarded him with nothing but contempt, entitlement, or fear. You had eavesdropped on enough conversations to know that.

You doubted that this man wanted your pity, but you felt betrayed by Roderick Burgess. You were betrayed on behalf of humanity for depriving you of him, of this ethereal being—this man of dreams.

Ever since your childhood, you’d had the most vivid of dreams. You always remembered them, but more importantly, they were almost always lucid. You knew that you were dreaming while you were still in the dream, giving you the ability to change things, people, places. You were the master of your own universe.

You slept often and for long periods of time because your dreams were always so much better than your reality. If you’d had it your way, you would have stayed in bed for the rest of your life just to continue your fantastical imaginings. It sparked your curiosity for all things unexplainable. However, when you overheard your parents one day discussing sending you to a sleep specialist, you knew that you had to come back to the real world.

Your most recent dreams had been of this house, of you finding your way to it and walking through dark, candlelit hallways with hooded figures darting in and out of sight. You thought that it was just your obsession for the paranormal history of Roderick Burgess and his ancestral home swimming through your subconscious, but maybe it was something more. The sorcerer and his infamous magic wasn’t why you always felt drawn here, that was clear to you now.

It was him. Maybe you were meant to find him.

Once you made that realization, something inside of you slid together like a puzzle piece. The Burgesses had made their bed, and even though you never wanted harm to come to anyone, your purpose was clear.

“I’m getting you out,” you choked.

The emotion on the dream man’s face was unfathomable, his limitless blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. He breathed a disbelieving sob that made the aching lump in your throat clench. His pale hands pressed desperately against the glass on both sides of his head. A rogue tear slid down his sallow cheek.

You gulped down an empathetic cry that was threatening to tear through your throat and threw the blanket off of your shoulders. You ignored the intense chill that encased your under-clothed body.

“First things first, I have to break this circle,” you murmured. You positioned yourself at the very front center of the golden sigil and pressed your socked foot onto the most outward line. You looked up. The man was standing now with his forehead and hands still glued to the glass. His taut chest was heaving up and down, his tongue darting between his pink lips. His eyes were stirring with an emotion in their depths that you couldn’t name, but whatever it was pulled the fiery blush back to your cheeks.

Slowly, deliberately, you put pressure on your toes and slid your foot backward. The most outward line was broken.

You could tell instantly that the air had changed. The effervescent power that until that point had only thrummed inside your body was overtaking the entire basement. It was like a trembling bass that had been pulsing in your earphones alone was suddenly reverberating through a massive amplifier.

You didn’t stop there. You knelt and rubbed your outstretched hand over the remaining lines and sigils that you could reach.

The summoning circle was broken.

You closed the distance that you’d been longing to close and pressed your hands against the invisible barrier. The dream man dropped to his knees, head thrown back toward the ceiling and arms outstretched. It was like he was a ravenous traveler that had been stranded without water for years, and he was finally getting a drink. His chiseled chest was heaving faster now, his nostrils flaring.

Abruptly, he dropped his head and pressed his face against the glass again, right in front of yours. It was the closest you’d been to him yet and your body was singing. His ghostly palms went as far as they could, thudding against where yours rested on the other side.

You had to tell yourself to breathe.

“Can you break it?” you asked him desperately. He shook his head once, but tilted his chin toward the corner of the basement closest to the door. There was a small guard’s desk there covered in computer screens.

You bolted toward it, sweating palms searching for anything you could use to hammer against the glass. There were papers, two keyboards, and trash leftover from someone’s dinner, but nothing you saw that could be used to break a thick glass prison.

“Fuck it!” you exclaimed. You grabbed one of the wooden chairs and dragged it toward the orb unceremoniously. “You might wanna stand back.”

He didn’t listen to you.

He was unmovable with hands pasted to the barrier and eyes on fire. You lifted the chair, and with all your strength, threw it against the glass. You weren’t surprised when it didn’t break but you tried again. You hurled the chair a third time, but it didn’t even leave the faintest of cracks. You wanted to scream. You were so close!

You took a step back, your chest now heaving as well. Your eyes darted all around the glass prison, looking for a weak point, looking for anything.

“Wait,” you grinned. Your smile was alight with the promise of a new idea. You didn’t know why you hadn’t already thought of it. “I know where they keep their guns.”

For the first time, a true smile tugged at the unearthly man’s lips. You tore yourself away from the addicting sight and ran toward the glass doors. With a speed that surprised you, you were up the stairs and out of the basement door in seconds.

With light but hurried feet, you ran down the dark hallway and toward the study, heart hammering against your ribcage. You stopped underneath a hideously eerie stuffed deer head and swung open the doors of a large wooden cabinet. There, the Burgess family’s old hunting rifles sat behind glass. You didn’t have the key and you had no idea where it was, but this glass looked much thinner than whatever was incasing the being downstairs.

You prayed a quick prayer to whatever god was listening that you wouldn’t wake up the sleeping elderly couple and seized a nearby fire poker in your hands. With one strong swing, you shattered the glass. You dropped the metal tool at your feet and grasped the first rifle you could reach.

You sped toward the basement door, not even bothering to look upstairs to see if you’d woken anyone. There was no time.

Your quick feet trampled down the flight of stairs. Within seconds, you were blowing through the glass doors and toward the last barrier between you and the otherworldly man that overtook your senses.

You hoped against hope that the gun was loaded.

With a deep breath to steel your courage and a whispered prayer, you lifted the gun to your shoulder and slid off the safety. You cocked it, and with relief, you heard the click of a round sliding into the chamber.

“I won’t hurt you, will I?” you asked abruptly, dropping the barrel toward the ground.

The man showed no sign that he heard you. He was bracing against that glass, every muscle tensed, jaw clenched and eyes ablaze with something primal and barely-contained.

You raised the gun back to your shoulder, aimed, braced yourself, and pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

The moment the bullet hit the glass, the entity inside jumped with something that was akin to pleasure. His forceful eyes were dark and zoned in on you, commanding you to do it again. With a fire that licked your innermost soul, you pulled the trigger a second time.

His muscles contracted, his mouth falling open in a way that was sinful as a crack began to snake its way in front of his face. His scorching glare was black with furious expectation, imposing his will upon you once more. Again.

···

BOOM!

You heard it before you saw it.

The glass was shattered.

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**read chapter 4 here

#the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman netflix #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the endless #the dreaming #dream #morpheus #tom sturridge #neil gaiman #slow burn #romance #dream x y/n #morpheus x y/n #reader insert #in your dreams #dream x you #morpheus x you #dream the endless