#I find the whole image amusing leave me alone-

[thegnomelord]

Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.

[pandapetals]

Haircut

Logan's hair has grown out and he wants you to cut it.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

It was just after your last class when Jean and Ororo strolled into your office, both looking far too amused for it to be innocent. Jean was practically buzzing, that familiar glint in her eye that always meant she had something on her mind she probably shouldn’t say out loud.

You set down your stack of papers, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, what’s going on? You’re both looking at me like you have some kind of secret."

Jean tilted her head, feigning confusion. "What? I have no idea what you’re talking about," she replied, though her face betrayed her.

Ororo shook her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Jean, you’re not fooling anyone. Everyone knows that look means you have something you're dying to say."

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. "Come on, Jean. Out with it. What’s got you both so giggly?"

Jean sighed dramatically, leaning in with a conspiratorial smirk, as though she were about to reveal a closely guarded secret. "Have you seriously not noticed how… long Logan’s hair has gotten?"

You blinked, feigning surprise, though a warmth crept into your cheeks. "His hair?" Of course, you’d noticed. You were hoping Logan hadn’t— you liked it long. The way it softened his features, gave him a slightly gentler look, even if he didn’t see himself that way.

Ororo chimed in, folding her arms and smirking. "He’s looking downright fluffy these days. Reminds me of a very grumpy, oversized puppy."

Jean snickered. "I mean, he's practically got movie star hair now. Big, wild, and those white streaks just make him look all the more rugged. Like something out of one of those brooding novels you love."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the mental image was too perfect. "You two are ridiculous. I think he looks… distinguished."

"Right, distinguished ," Jean teased, raising an eyebrow. "I saw Scott nearly choke on his coffee this morning after seeing him in the hallway. He told Logan he looked like he just wandered out of the wilderness."

"I don’t think Logan even realized his hair had gotten so long," Ororo added, shaking her head. "Until, well, everyone started teasing him about it."

You grinned, already imagining the scowl Logan must have given Scott. "Well, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he finds out the whole mansion’s talking about his ‘movie star’ look."

The three of you shared a laugh, but as the door to your office swung open, you froze. Speak of the devil—Logan himself appeared, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. His hair was indeed longer than usual, falling in soft waves around his face, streaked with hints of white that caught the light. He looked somehow younger… and maybe a little self-conscious.

"Are you three done talkin' about me like I’m not standin' right here?" he muttered, eyes narrowing playfully. "Thought I'd come see what all the fuss was about."

Jean and Ororo stifled their laughter, making their excuses as they slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with Logan. You looked up at him, biting back a smile.

"So... you heard all that, huh?" you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. "Enough to know my hair’s apparently got everyone in a tizzy," he grumbled. "Honestly, didn’t even notice how long it’d gotten until Scott gave me grief about it. Figured it was time to have it cut, but… thought I’d get your opinion first."

You sat up a little straighter, looking at him with mock seriousness. "Well, if you want my professional opinion, I think the long hair suits you. It’s got that rugged ‘I live in the woods and don’t care about societal expectations’ charm." You reached up, brushing your fingers through the strands near his ear. "And besides… it’s kind of adorable when it’s all fluffy like this."

Logan scoffed, though there was a slight blush creeping up his neck. "Adorable? You’re always pushin’ it, darlin’."

"I mean it!" you insisted, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness beneath your touch. "It gives you this ‘wise, wild protector’ look. Like something out of one of those old legends."

He groaned, rolling his eyes. "You’re just sayin' that ‘cause you don’t wanna cut it. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s startin’ to get in the way. Gonna end up chewin' on it if it gets much longer."

"Well, if you’re worried about it getting in the way…" You let your fingers linger, brushing the silver strands back from his face, admiring the way they contrasted with his darker hair. "Maybe just a trim?"

Logan held your gaze, a hint of exasperated affection in his eyes. "Sweetheart, you’re tryin’ way too hard to keep this mop on my head."

You sighed dramatically, giving his hair a final fluff. "Fine. If you insist on going back to the short, tough-guy look, I’ll cut it. But just know, I’ll miss all this wild, windswept charm."

Logan smirked, leaning in close. "Pretty sure you’ll still find plenty of charm left," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Now, how about that haircut before I start lookin’ like I belong in a shampoo commercial?"

Later that evening, Logan sat in front of the bathroom mirror, his rugged frame filling the small space as the golden light of the setting sun streamed in through the window. You stood behind him, scissors in hand, combing through his thick, unruly hair with a small, reluctant sigh.

"Alright, Mr. Movie Star, " you teased, raising an eyebrow as you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you absolutely sure you want me to cut this?"

Logan gave a small, exasperated huff, his gaze steady and affectionate. "Yeah, sweetheart. I trust you. Just… don’t go makin' me bald," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled, fingers threading through his dark hair, feeling its softness as you brushed through it. "Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to see that either," you teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of his head before slipping into concentration.

As you worked, Logan watched you through the mirror with a quiet intensity, his eyes softening as he took in the focused look on your face. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes, seemingly surrendering to your touch. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you trimmed, the soft snip of scissors breaking the peaceful silence between you. Every now and then, Logan let out a low hum of approval, as if he were drifting into some rare moment of calm.

When you finally finished, you took a step back, tilting your head as you admired your work. His hair was back to its shorter, rugged cut—the way you remembered it from when you’d first met him—but you’d left just a bit of length to keep that hint of softness you’d grown to love.

Logan opened his eyes and ran a hand through his newly cropped hair, nodding approvingly as he examined his reflection. "Not bad," he murmured, flashing you a small, appreciative smile in the mirror. "I think you missed your calling as a barber."

You grinned, leaning down to drape your arms over his shoulders, resting your chin on top of his head as you looked at him in the mirror. "Well, you make a pretty handsome client," you murmured, ruffling his hair playfully.

Logan chuckled, reaching up to catch one of your hands, his fingers lacing through yours. "Gotta admit," he said, his voice a low rumble, "I kinda like you fussin' over me."

You laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "Oh, I bet you do. Next time, maybe I’ll charge you for it."

He tilted his head, meeting your gaze with that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Think I can handle the payment," he murmured, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck, pulling you into a slow, lingering kiss that left you breathless. His thumb traced gentle circles against your skin, holding you close as the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft, golden light of the evening.

When he finally pulled back, a faint smirk played on his lips, his eyes flickering over your face. "Gotta say… you look a little disappointed, sweetheart."

You shrugged, trying to hide the grin tugging at your mouth. "Well, I was a fan of the fluffy look," you admitted, running your fingers through the shorter strands as if to mourn the loss. "But I guess I can make peace with this new ‘refined’ version of you."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge sparking in his gaze as he tugged you gently toward him, guiding you to stand between his knees. His hands found your hips, fingers warm and steady as they rested on your waist. "Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you somehow," he teased, his voice dropping to that familiar low rumble.

You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "Oh? And just how do you plan on doing that, Mr. Howlett?"

He gave a low chuckle, one that you felt more than heard, as he pulled you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Oh, I’ll think of somethin’, darlin’," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in another deep, lingering kiss.

As his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, you melted into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palms. His hair might’ve been shorter now, but he was still undeniably him —all rugged strength, warmth, and that infuriatingly charming smirk that had stolen your heart.

Pulling back just slightly, you looked down at him with a teasing grin. "You know, you’re lucky I love you for more than just your hair."

He huffed, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the softness out of his gaze. "Yeah, yeah. Good thing, huh? Otherwise, I might’ve been in trouble."

[filmologetica]

I’LL MAKE YOU FORGET YOU’RE GAY — soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x demigod!reader

the one where: the reader tries to make a tiktok with ben.

warnings: +18. soldier boy (y’all know he’s pretty much a warning himself), language, mentions of sex, established relationship, a little bit of grumpy x sunshine.

a/n: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing.

Ben was aware you were awake for quite some time now. He knew that because even from far away in the big apartment he could not only hear your giggles while still in bed, but he could also hear all the Tiktoks you were watching. Which, by the way, he thought was the stupidest thing ever created.

He drank his coffee silently on the couch, trying to focus on the newspaper in hand. The whole supe thing was a lot, but the super hearing was what got him the most. Living in New York was noisy enough for humans, let alone for superheroes. Sometimes it took him quite a while to be able to focus on what he wanted, and you knew exactly how frustrating that could be, after all, being a supe wasn’t easy on anyone you’ve ever seen. Your case was slightly different. You weren’t a supe after all, just a demigod.

“Morning, handsome.” You purred, hugging Ben from behind on the couch and kissing his cheek before hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Bed’s so cold without you.”

“You’re a daughter of Apollo.” He says, without even looking away from the paper.

“So? You’re a different level of hot.” Ben can’t hide the smirk on his face after hearing you. Leaving the cup on the center table and the paper on the couch, he looks at you, pulling you to his lap.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard around.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. He winks at you, nonchalantly. “Thought you were gonna spend all day watching those stupid fucking videos. How are you fucking able to see the same fucking thing over and over again and still find it fucking funny?”

“Dear gods, how can you kiss me with that mouth?!” You playfully push his shoulder with a frown.

“You know I can do so much more with that mouth, Doll.” You could feel his voice getting lower and his hands start to roam over your naked legs. “Need a reminder?”

“Maybe I do.” You moved your hips a little, adjusting your positions making your ass fit perfectly where you could feel his cock. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll grant you the best head you’ve ever had-”

“Deal.”

“Let me finish!” You roll your eyes once again. “I’ll give you the best head you’ve ever had if you make a tiktok with me.”

“Fuck no.” Ben pushed you out of his lap, grabbing the empty cup and taking it to the kitchen.

“Please!”

“No.”

You followed him around like a lost puppy. “It’s a free blowjob!”

“Well, I already get lots of these. Think of something better.” Ben crossed his arms looking at you with no hints of humor.

“Period sex?” You knew how hard it was for him to spend days without fucking you when you had your period.

“Done that.” He slapped your ass before leaving the kitchen unimpressed.

“ANAL!” You yelled and Ben stopped in his tracks. Turning around slowly you regretted the whole conversation. He watched you smirking mischievously. That dirty look on his face making your panties wet.

“Grab your fucking phone, Sunshine.”

Positioning your phone at the center table was easy. The image was good and clear. You were sitting on the couch wearing one of Ben’s big shirts and he had an amused face thinking about how easy it was going to be. But well, you had your tricks.

Pressing the record button, you were fast with your words. “Ok. So, this is a simple trick I’ve learned on Tiktok and it actually works. Ready?”

Ben frowned in his place, moving closer to the camera with full attention and no idea what you were talking about or what was about to happen. “I guess.”

“From the minute I snap my fingers you’ll forget you’re gay.” Snap.

The look on Ben’s face was confused as hell. “What? I’m not gay!”

“IT WORKS!” You laughed amazed with the scene. Maybe dating an old men was really fun after all.

“What works? I’m not fucking gay, Y/N.”

“You really forgot! Oh, gods! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you how gay I am while my fucking cock is deep inside that pretty little ass of yours fucking you raw.”

And you pressed the button to stop.

[silveryclear]

STNAF Coraline AU

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Pairings: Normal Friend/ GN Reader | Other Friend/ GN Reader | Carter/GN Reader

CW: NSFW, manipulation, kidnapping, torture, sexual content, obsessive behavior

A/N: Yes, this is what I’ve been working on for the whole month of October. This is my first long fic and I’ll be posting the chapters daily. I hope y’all enjoy! Happy Halloween!

Around 4-5 chapters, three different endings (for each love interest)

Friend, Carter, Scrim belongs to @stnaf-vn

Art belongs to me

Chapter 1

“So… what do you think?”

Your best friend asks as he looks at you with excitement. You look up at the looming old manor in front of you, trying to find the right words to match his enthusiasm. However, you end up blurting out the first thing that pops into your head. “Pink. Very pink.”

He snorts in amusement. “Is that all?”

“Old.” You add.

Friend rolls his eyes playfully and moves behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Those are some amazing observation skills! Would our resident caveman like to tell us anything else?” He teases.

You laugh, feeling some of your initial uneasiness slowly reaching wash away with Friend’s humor. “Hungry.” You exclaim.

Friend smiles and you feel him gently push you into the large manor. “Then let us get settled in and we’ll order some pizza, my sweet Neanderthal~”

You let yourself get pushed into the manor whilst you do your best to keep your emotions in check, feeling your face heat up. The sweet tone he uses with you along with his soft touch and penchant for nicknames leave your heart beating in the tune of a bittersweet melody.

Friend goes to a lot of trips for his clothing line and sometimes you tag along. For a lot of the time, this is the only way you get to spend any time with your super busy friend. You put up with the long hours of traveling, jet lag and uncomfortable situations because not only is he your best friend since childhood, but you’re also very in love with him and have no way of telling him how you feel. Recently, though, it feels as if the gap between your two worlds has gotten bigger and you have no way of knowing how to close it. It seems like the more you try, the farther he slips from your grasp.

This time, you stay at an old manor called “The Pink Palace”, fairly near the city, but still hidden enough to feel like you have privacy. Friend was always a sucker for old fashioned houses and architecture so this was a way for him to keep his love alive while also doing his job.

You are currently sitting in a classy living room adorned by vintage decor with your best friend by your side, ready to watch a movie on the flat screen TV that looks very out of place.

You manage to take a peek of your best friend beside you and you begin to feel butterflies in your stomach. Moments like this when the two of you are alone are the ones you treasure the most. You feel as if you are the center of his world, with no distractions from his job and the modern world to come between the two of you. You hoped this would be the best time to admit your feelings for your best friend, but every time you tried, you’d get a wave of anxiety and mental images of your best friend rejecting you, making this trip awkward.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes, effectively snapping you out of your inner turmoil.

Carter: I could sense you chickening out from a mile away.

You roll your eyes at your college friend’s ability to know exactly what you are doing. How does he do that??

You: I’m just waiting for the right moment, okay?

Carter: No, you’re waiting for the last possible moment and torturing yourself. Drag this out, and you’ll be the “best man” on his wedding day.

You: …

The thought made your stomach churn and you write back quick.

You: It won’t come to that! I swear I’m telling him this time. No take backs.

Carter: Good. You can do this. 👍

You chuckle.

You: Thanks, Carter. I’ll let you know how it goes.

The movie keeps playing as you work up the courage to finally tell him how you feel. You take a deep breath and open your mouth… and his work phone rings. You sigh. Another confession thwarted.

Friend looks at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m doing this during movie night. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m done with work, okay?” He kisses the top of your head and leaves in a flash, right before you barely have time to register your own fluster.

You sigh. Alone again. You don’t want to get in between him and his work, but it feels like it gets in between the only time the two of you get together. Even now, the reason you both are staying in this palace is because of work. You don’t mean to be ungrateful, but when will you be a priority?

A bolt of lightning strikes near and shakes the manor slightly, making you jump. Rain starts to pour in buckets and you chuckle dryly as you think that even the universe knows what you’re going through.

“This sucks.” You mutter, before getting on your feet and walking around the palace, exploring the multiple rooms available. You try to push your feelings for Friend and your thoughts of loneliness away while you observe your surroundings, taking in the grand building in which you’re currently staying in.

This place would almost seem isolating and scary to you if it wasn’t for the fact that it was very… pink. Or at the very least, tried to include the color in every place that it could. No wonder Friend loved this place so much.

“I wonder if something like this is where he’d like to settle down and have a family.” You blush and shake your head.

You’re getting too ahead of yourself… you haven’t even confessed!

Not paying attention, you walk into a room that looks different from the rest of the house. For one, it doesn’t have an ounce of pink. And the color motif are the primary colors, along with the color black. It sounds strange, but in person, it actually looks cohesive. A jar of buttons sat on the dresser along with many sewing materials. The room seemed to reflect this craft as you noticed that buttons where everywhere around you. Your attention is quickly robbed by the most adorable bunny plushie you have ever seen! It has cute little button eyes and it’s so soft and fluffy to the touch, you can’t help but squeeze and nuzzle into it.

You giggle softly, feeling much better now than you were before. You decide to take the plushie just during this trip since you’re the only person in the palace. No one else will miss it.

You go back to the living room to finish the movie by yourself along with your little plushie. And maybe a bottle of vodka you found in the back of a cupboard. The two of you watch the movie while you drink who knows how much, before you feel yourself begin to drift off.

A loud clap of thunder wakes you up suddenly. Lifting your head off the couch and wiping away some of the drool on your chin, you groan and massage your temples gently, doing your best to ward off the hangover that is slowly creeping up to you. You notice the credits of the movie are playing so you grab the remote and turn it off. You had fallen asleep in the middle of it. You begin to snuggle back into the couch again only to realize your little fluffy friend is missing. You look everywhere around you but it’s nowhere to be found. Strange.

You go back into the strange room and you find the rabbit sticking out from underneath the bed. You must’ve imagined you took it with you and you actually dropped it. When you go to pick it up, you notice something weird on the other wall as you peek from under the bed. You stand up again and walk towards the wall where the wallpaper protruded in some areas, almost as if it was covering up something.

You take some scissors from the desk and you crouch down to cut along the dented areas of the wallpaper. You scoot back and look at what it’s revealed.

A tiny door. Just big enough for you to fit through. You try to pry it open but it’s locked. You rummage through the key drawer that Friend had showed You previously and one caught your eye. A black key with the shape of a button.

And with one flick of your wrist, the door is opened.

You debate whether you should go in alone in the middle of the night, but you’re too curious (and drunk) to ignore this great discovery.

“I hope I don’t find a rat’s nest at the end of this…”

You crawl through the surprisingly clean tunnel, lighting the way with your phone flashlight.

You reach the end and open the door to the other side to find…

The exact same room.

“What the hell? How did I end up in the same place?” You say out loud.

Suddenly, you noticed sounds coming from downstairs. You reach for the bunny plushie and the scissors and take them with you as you slowly stalk down the stairs.

You hear the muffled sounds of people talking and sound effects in the background and you figure the TV must be on. But you distinctly remember turning it off after the movie had ended…

You clutch the scissors tighter.

You walk into the living room, the lights and TV turned on, playing an old western movie. But you barely pay any attention to it as your gaze zeroes on the figure sitting on the couch, eating popcorn. You take a step forward, but to your luck, the wooden floor panel creaks oh so loudly.

The figure stiffens, most likely aware of your presence and you gulp, raising the scissors to attack the intruder. The figure cautiously turns around and every inch of hair on your body stands up.

Once he faces you, you freeze in shock. Is that..?

“Hey sweetheart~ I was just watching this while I waited for you. Ready for movie night~?” Friend smiles sweetly at you.

However, this Friend is dressed very differently from the one you’ve known your whole life. Also, he is blonde? And it looks good on him?? You curse his ability to look good in anything. But the thing that actually made you stop in your tracks and made your skin crawl were his eyes. Gone were the eyes full of life and wonder that often sucked you in when you gazed into them. In their place stood black buttons just like the ones on the plushie you’re clutching. They were piercing and unsettling to stare at. If it weren’t for the fact that the figure was moving and breathing right now, you’d most likely think he was a model made after your best friend. With some changes of course.

Your silence made this “Friend” tilt his head to the side and look at you with concern, or you figured it was. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have no idea what I’m looking at right now…” You murmur, gaze unwavering from this doppelgänger.

“Friend” chuckles in amusement and grins at you. “I’m Friend, silly! You know, your best friend since forever?”

You raise an eyebrow, keeping the scissors clutched tightly in your hand. “I don’t know exactly what you���re playing at, but you are not Friend. Friend is not blonde, he doesn’t own clothes like yours and he definitely doesn’t have buttons for eyes.”

This so-called “Friend” grins wider, unsettling so, but quickly disappears into a charming expression. “What, can’t a person try out a new look without their best friend threatening them with a pair of scissors?” He teases.

You give him a deadpan stare.

He coughs. “What I mean to say is…” He stands up and walks around the couch, approaching you casually. You can only stare in slight fear into his soulless eyes as each step brings him closer to you. He stands in front of you and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m your Other Friend!”

“My Other Friend? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like! I’m your friend from another world. A world filled with wonder where everyone has buttons for eyes!” He says with bright smile and a glint in his button eyes. His voice sounding like a cheery animated character.

You blink. “Oh man, I must’ve drunk more than I thought…”

He laughs in amusement. “Maybe so… but why not try to enjoy this while you can? I’ve got popcorn and your favorite snacks. Aaaand we can watch any movie you want~” He sweetens the deal.

You raise your eyebrow, intrigued. “Is the popcorn extra butter?”

His grin widens. “Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if it wasn’t?”

You narrow your eyes and give him a firm nod. Before he could even attempt to come closer you point a finger at him, your expression full of suspicion. “I’m staying because I’m not fully convinced this isn’t a dream—“ You let out a loud hiccup. “…And I’m too drunk to walk back up the stairs.”

Other Friend giggles. “I understand.”

“I’m keeping the scissors, so don’t try anything funny!” You exclaim, sluggishly making your way towards the couch, slumping down on it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it~” He chuckles before sitting on the couch next to you.

While watching the movie in your drunken haze, you fail to notice your Other Friend’s grin grow possessive as you clutch the plushie he had made just for your arrival~

Chapter 2

[susagnon]

Class 1-A band

One last band reunion... before they're all shipped of to war.

I have wondered about this group’s dynamic:

Kaminari, Jirou, and Yaoyorozu first established a bond through surviving USJ together.

After that, Yaoyorozu and Jirou are often seen together, and the two of them might be each others closest friend in 1-A.

But Kaminari is probably the only one, who's friends with all of the band members:

I don't think I need to elaborate much on Kaminari and his electric bond with Jirou. Semi-canon shipping aside though, they're definitely friends.

Same with Bakugou. To him, Kaminari's probably the second real friend that he made in his life. (Or rather, Kaminari made himself Bakugou's second real friend.)

Tokoyami and Kaminari apparently got closer to each other through the band. Tokoyami's thoughts during Kaminari's big (that should've could've been more elaborated on) badass scene during the Gunga Mountain raid, outright stated, that he views the latter as a very good friend.

In one of my previous posts, I headcanon that Kaminari is one of Class Mom's favourite children. Canonically, Kaminari and Yaoyorozu are actually depicted as laughing with each other in the background more than a few times. I find KamiMomo to be an underrated background friendship, as I can see them being good for each other: Both are sensitive souls and often try to encourage others.

Kaminari also was the one, who immediately interupted Yaoyorozu, when she attempted to give 1-A and 1-B the "you are not obligated to fight against a lethal opponent with me" - speech. He instead assured Yaoyorozu that she would not face off against Gigantomachia alone.

But the rest of them? Aren't really close to each other.

...

Let's move from the most easy-going to the most difficult 1-A band member. In contrast to Kaminari, I feel like Jirou, Yaoyorozu, and Tokoyami would have a more “normal” reaction to the snappy Pomeranian.

As in, backing away and leaving it tf alone.

Because most people can't/ don't want to put up with unwarranted anger and disrespect repeatedly – understandable, especially if there's little to no positive feedback ever.

After the cultural festival arc, Bakugou and Jirou were put into the same team during the joint training arc. In which they were not shown to interact in any manner, that could be interpreted as significant to the relationship between them. No, I don’t count Bakugou saving Jirou by stepping on her, as a sign for a budding friendship.

I headcanon that Bakugou feels slightly uneasy around Yaoyorozu, ever since her assessment of him at the start of the school year. I don’t think that he held a grudge against her for that. But Bakugou is a very proud individual, even after his extensive character development. Having someone - especially someone who’s not a senior but a peer - rip apart that superior self-image he had of himself with such laser-sharp accuracy and soberness, seemed to have been… kinda traumatic to Bakugou and his gargantuan ego. I feel like he would subconsciously avoid being alone with Yaoyorozu. As in, if they happen to find themselves alone with each other in the common areas of their dorms, he will try to leave quickly.

Beyond each other's battle prowess, I don’t see Bakugou and Tokoyami having much respect for each other. Or to put it more mildly: Neither of them has patience for the other's antics.

Tokoyami is not amused. Funnily enough, in the gag comics, Dark Shadow - in the form of a little girl - made a ranking list of who/what she likes the most: Apparently, Bakugou ranks third, just behind Tokoyami himself, and Todoroki.

In short: Kaminari gels with everyone. Bakugou gels with no one... except those, who just blend out the majority of his verbal abuse.

No surprises here.

What about TokoJirou?

These two don't interact a whole lot, but the drama CDs gave us Tokoyami accompanying Jirou to a haunted house alone (Kaminari chickened out). It includes Jirou asking to hold onto the hem of Tokoyami's uniform and him reassuring her fears. (It's all very cute, go look it up on yt!)

Main media-wise, Tokoyami and Jirou had a moment of joint badassery during the final war. From that sole interaction, I’d say his dramatics and her snark go well with each other - be it directed towards each other, or united against the big bad.

Aside from that, we haven’t gotten much of Tokoyami and Jirou together, unfortunately. However, I believe they get along well. Based on the drama CD, it could even be inferred that they are friends, and most of their friendship just never made it on-screen.

What about TokoMomo?

We know that Yaoyorozu's self-confidence took a critical hit, after she lost against Tokoyami in the sports fest at lightening speed. She seemed to have been very shocked about how the match play out. We could assume, that she had been relatively self-confident previously. But we actually don't know, if it used to be more stable. And while Yaoyorozu's match with Todoroki against Aizawa gave her back some self-confidence; from then on, we're privy to more of her thoughts - most of them centered around self-doubt.

So either she'd never encountered a roadblock before losing against Tokoyami, and their match was to her, what her own assessment of Bakugou was to the latter. Or, Yaoyorozu has always been prone to second-guess herself a lot after encountering setbacks.

While he probably didn't pay half as much mind to his quick victory against Yaoyorozu as she did, we know that Tokoyami can be quite observant. I would have find his thoughts about their match, as well as the resulting consequences for Yaoyorozu's self-confidence, interesting.

How would these two interact, if they were to be alone with each other? How could they become closer friends?

During the festival, Tokoyami called Yaoyorozu "Yaomomo", using the affectionate nickname given to her by their classmates. Albeit not close, this might suggest a warm relationship between them.

Tangent: In contrast, Tokoyami still uses "Asui" instead of "Tsu-chan", despite Asui calling him "Tokoyami-chan". On the other hand, "Yaomomo" doesn't sound as intimate as "Tsu-chan". Thus Tokoyami might feel more comfortable using one nickname, but not the other. - Tangent end.

[gaysindistress]

Связи (n.) connections - five

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Pairings: mob!bucky x reader Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.” Word count: 2.5 k Warnings: cursing gaysindistress masterlist | four | series masterlist

He fucking called me by her nickname; Lisichka. 

As if forcing me to marry him, comforting me the way he used to for her, and then trying to lie to me by saying they were never together wasn’t enough. I know I told myself that I could let him love a ghost but this is too much. I can’t be her replacement. 

His eyes flash for a moment before he follows me and has a door slammed in his face. It immediately opens and the sight of him standing in my doorway pisses me off to no end. 

“Get out,” I grit out and my fingers itch for the department issued gun that’s locked in my nightstand drawer. 

Ever the quiet and observing man, he narrows his eyes at me and then scans the room before shouldering even further in. We both know I wouldn’t make it to my nightstand before he could draw his own weapon or tackle me. So I have to let him in even if it makes my stomach rotten at the idea of having him in the same room as me after calling me her pet name. 

“Get the fuck out.”

“Ask nicely.”

“We’re past pleasantries, your royal high-ass.”

“That’s an interesting nickname,” he chuckles. The sound is half mocking and half sinister. How my sister ever put up with him and how I ever had a crush on him is beyond me. 

“I have plenty more where that came from,” I snapped at him and then pointed to the door, “now get out.”

He makes a show of looking over his shoulder at the door before taking another step closer to me, “and I said to ask nicely.” 

“Maybe,” I start and step closer to him as well, “ if you weren’t the world’s biggest fucking asshole, I would but you are and I’m on edge so get the fuck out now.”

Amusement flickers on his face before it fades back into his usual stone cold expression. “Tell me why you stormed off and then I will.”

A sarcastic laugh explodes from me before I can stop it. “Like it really fucking matters to you,” I scoff and turn away to put as much space between us as possible. His cologne, his presence, his fucking stare is too overwhelming. “You can say you weren’t together but we all know that’s a lie. I know that’s a lie. You haven’t had any trouble telling me the truth even when it fucking hurts so what’s different now? Why can’t you just admit that there was something between the two of you and  just… just stop pretending that I’m her.” 

That last word is weaker and much quieter than I meant but he heard me. The whole penthouse could’ve heard me with how eerily silent and echoing it is. 

It's penetrative, the silence. All consuming and forceful as it finds a way into every square inch of the room and leaves nothing left untouched by its cold hands. Before I was adopted, I would pretend the silence and I were friends as I stared into the dark void of night as I laid in bed. The other girls were afraid of me because I wasn’t scared of the dark like them but it was due to their fear that I wasn’t scared. When you’re left alone with nothing but gut wrenching silence and aching isolation, it should be no surprise that you’d make friends with it. 

Now it feels like my old friends have turned their backs on me and taken the side of Bucky. What rotten creatures they all are. 

“You want the truth about nat and I? We were never together because of you. She knew that you had some stupid teenage girl crush on me and she knew that it would break you if we got together. She refused to let some guy, as she put it, get between the two of you. Believe me, I’m not pretending that you’re her.”

I suck in a shuddering breath. It feels like a punch to the face but it shouldn’t. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about this marriage. I shouldn’t care that his harsh tone makes me feel like a child again or that it was me that kept them apart. 

I shouldn’t care. 

“Now tell me why you stormed off.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I mutter under my breath. I drop onto my bed and fiddle with the unraveling end of a blanket, dragging it into my lap as I try to tuck it back into place. The blues, reds, and creams make me think Steve made this one but the shooty handiwork tells me that it was me with his guidance. 

Bucky’s footsteps are silent as he enters my view and crouches in front of me. Thank god he doesn’t touch me but his body still cages me in so if I tried to get up, I’d run right into his chest. 

“Lisichka.”

I try to suppress my flinch but he sees it. The deep sigh he lets out tells me that he was testing me and got the answer he wasn’t hoping for. 

“You can’t treat me like her and then say that you’re not doing just that.” I can’t bring myself to look at him so I stare at the blanket in my lap. “You’ve completely destroyed my life in a matter of weeks. The least you could do is treat me with some respect and leave me alone.”

“Is that what you want? For me to give you space?”

I break my fixation and find him already staring intently at me. 

“No. I want to put a bullet in you and watch you bleed out. Then I want to walk out that door,” I tell him with a shaking voice  as I point to the door behind him, “and never look back because I’d have control over my life again. I want to disappear into the world and have peace of mind knowing that you paid for all of the shit that you’ve done to the world, to my sister, to me.”

My cruel words don’t seem to affect him. “I’ll make you another deal; after all of this is said and done, I’ll let you do that. Tomorrow I’ll have Sam set up a fund for you so that you won’t have to worry about money.” 

I narrow my eyes at him as they dart between him, searching for any hint of his silver tongued ways. 

“I’m going to kill you, James Buchanan Barnes. Whether it be for business or for pleasure, I will kill you.”

He holds my stare as he accepts my promise, “and I’ll be waiting with open arms.”

Wanda is by far the most intimidating woman I’ve met besides my mother and sisters. She commands a room to be silent by simply clearing her throat and makes even the most egotistical of men shrink under her sharp gaze. She’s watching me with unwavering eyes as she hums along with someone on the phone. When she sets the phone back on the receiver, she rolls her eyes and rubs her eyebrow. 

“Why is it that everyone is so damn incompetent? Hm? Why can’t people just do their jobs without having to be babysat? I’m over it, y/n, I’m over it.” She sighs and leans back into her chair. “But you, you’ve always done what I asked and I wouldn’t hear from you until you gave me the report.”

“Why am I here?” I know better than to cut off her monologues but I don’t have the patience anymore. 

“I can’t move Carol off the case but I don’t want her anywhere near you. She’s a loose fucking cannon and I don’t want to deal with her overprotective attitude right now. I’m sending you undercover with minimal contact.”

Shifting in my uncomfortable chair, I furrow my brows at her, “what do you mean undercover?”

“Well obviously you can’t go in under an assumed identity but I’m orchestrating your public termination so you can do a deep dive and get the evidence I need to arrest Alexei.”

“My public termination?” I blink at her with mild surprise. “You're going to ruin my reputation and any chance I have to come back to a normal life after this if you do that.”

Wanda’s eyes harden, “y/n you’re so beautiful but so naive. This operation has been in the works since the moment you stepped foot in America. Every move that you’ve made has been because I made it happen. Every thought you’ve had has been because I’ve planted it there. Everything that’s happened from then to now has been my doing. Ive spent years plucking strings and pulling favors and I will not let you of all people fuck this up for me now. You’re going to be terminated and it will be all over the papers so that no one even bats an eye. You will find me the fucking paper trail that leads to Alexei’s shipments and connects him to Dreykov’s murder and you will do it with a fucking smile.”

I now have four people on my shit list; my father, my husband, my ex girlfriend, and this red headed fed. 

I can’t even be upset by yet another shitty revelation about how my life has been a lie. Just as she put it, I’m over it, Wanda I’m over it. 

A sigh isn’t enough to describe the way I push out all of the air from my lungs. I remind myself of a disappointed dad but then again my father is the disappointment in our relationship. 

“Anything else you want from me? My right lung? My kidney? My heart?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Wanda scoffs lightly and waves me off. “If I wanted those, I would’ve taken them already.”

“Well,” I click my tongue and push out of my chair, “if that’s all, then I’m going to use my savings to buy all the strippers and blow money can buy.”

Wanda gives me a bored and almost annoyed look. “Dont fuck this up and definitely dont do that. I won’t bail you out of jail or let anyone else for that matter.”

“At this point being locked up would be preferable to the shitshow you’ve made out of my life. At least there I could get some fucking peace and quiet.”

With that I walk out of her office and nearly run into the third person on my shit list; Carol. 

“Oh for the love of god,” I mumble under my breath and slide past her. She goes to grab my arm and before I can even realize what I’m doing, I have my gun drawn on her and the entire precinct is on high alert. 

“Y/N stand down.” Tony’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as he approaches from behind. His hands are out in front of me to show he’s not a threat and I immediately drop my stance to hand him the gun. My eyes are still on Carol as I let Tony disarm and cuff me. He goes to pull me away after the tight metal is around my wrists but I hold my position. 

I mumbled “пошла на хуй” before spitting at her feet. Tony gives my bound arms a sharp tug. The disgusted look on Carol’s face satisfies the Shostakov in me and I half stumble over myself to follow after the police captain. 

I catch Wanda’s eye on the way to Tony’s office. She’s pleased but is trying to hide it. 

Good. I just made her job that much easier. 

“You got yourself fired?” 

Rubbing at my sore wrists, I roll my eyes at Sam’s question. “No, I was actually promoted. I’m now the chief of police for all of the NYPD.”

“I could do without the sarcasm, fuck stick,” he grumbles back as he makes a hard left turn, sending me flying around in the backseat. 

“And I could do with the rude names and being thrown around like I’m a pinball.”

“Don’t be an ass to me then.”

“It goes both ways.”

“Enough both of you,” Bucky finally groans from the passenger seat. He twists in his seat enough to point at me, “and you need to cap your anger issues. The last few outbursts may have worked in your favor but it isn't going to go your way every time. Like it or not, you’re expected to be the face of my Bravta as my advisor as well as my wife.”

“пошла на хуй.”

Bucky’s brows furrow at the insult, “пошла на хуй? Seriously Y/N?”

“Oh was I not clear enough the first time? I’ll say it in English then; go fuck yourself.” 

Sam stifles a chuckle and is rewarded with a hard glare from Bucky. 

“Think about it; after being MIA for years, the lost Shostakov daughter turns up in the NYPD with an incredibly successful career and is known for working with the feds but now she wants back in? Doesn't that all seem suspicious to you? Everyone is going to be watching you and looking for a reason to kill you before Antonia does.” 

“I don’t need your advice, Bucky. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you though? Does that fed Wanda or your captain Anthony know what they’re getting themselves into?”

 “There’s a difference,” I spit out while years of unchecked teenage rage that was never released comes to the surface, “Alexei is my father. I know how his mind works. I know his weaknesses and his strengths. I know who he’s going to trust and who he won’t. I know how he likes his morning coffee. I even know when he’s going to shit for god's sake.”

Bucky isn’t impressed by me at all. But then again this is the king of being cold and indifferent we’re talking about here. He’s also single handedly the most attractive yet infuriating man I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as I do him while also wanting to break his nose. It’s truly my worst nightmare. 

“Are you done?” 

My face screws up in shock and pure rage. “What the fuck kind of question is that? ‘Are you done?’ You Козёл, I should cut your fucking…”

Sam can’t contain his laughter anymore and lets it all out. My husband joins in with his own laughter and my jaw drops from their audacity. 

I’ve apparently lost the ability to intimidate people so I cross my arms over my chest and slump back into the seat. 

“I’m glad you two can find the humor in all of this.” 

Their laughter doesn’t stop but it lessens to mere chuckles and Sam even wipes a few tears away. Bucky turns to face me again and is greeted with a death stare to rival Nesta Acheron’s. 

“You called me a goat. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have laughed if the roles were reversed.” He says in a breathy tone. I only hardened my glare. “I’m sorry, okay? It wasn’t right to laugh at that but y/n, you need to watch your back. I need you to watch your back.” 

Quite frankly I don’t care what he wants or needs. I don’t care what anyone else thinks anymore. If I’m expected to play the part of Alexei’s daughter and Bucky’s wife then fine, I’ll do it but it's going to be on my terms.

[cherryjuicegf]

"What's that thing you keep saying to Yarpen everytime you meet?"

Jaskier's face, buried into the crook of her neck, surfaces for a moment to look at her questioningly. Yennefer does not grant him a glance back. Only, her hand continues to stroke at his hair absentmindedly as she stares out the window, at the setting autumn sun.

He knows at once, of course. There are few things that torture him in his life, but few as they are, they leave little room for mercy.

He sighs. "Well," he mutters, somehow unwillingly, "it happens to be my full name."

Yennefer's eyebrows raise in amusement, the corners of her lips slightly twitching. He thinks of kissing them, the way he has done and will do, soon, but perhaps not now, for he has settled warmly in her arms and the curious scrunch of her nose is far too endearing from down here.

"Hm. You're a funny little thing..." Her fingers scratch playfully at his head and he feels himself blushing. Then, finally, she looks at him. Daring. "I want to hear it."

His heart drops to his stomach, just a little, and he suspects she feels its absence under her hand because she keeps on staring, waiting. Her eyes glint with unspoken thirst, gentle like that of a little kid discovering a shell buried underground.

A shell, maybe, of an old self. One that he shies away from now, before her. He shakes his head.

"Ah, it's not important." What's gotten into her now to unearth this, of all things? "It's ugly anyway."

Yennefer rolls her eyes, fond, insistent.

"Come, now," she prompts and her voice is oh, so soft that his heart almost crumbles back to its place, just to feel the sound vibrate on her skin. A cunning smile. "Do I not have the right to know my husband's name? I may even use it."

At once, he laughs. Silent, surrenderring, certain there is no escape and it's so unfair and so, so sweet, the way she forces his own hand to dig inside his chest.

His face returns to its hiding place into her neck.

"Julian," he says, a bitter taste. "Julian Alfred Pankratz."

She hums, satisfied. Now that she's seen it, the relic, she averts her eyes.

"Why use it, then?"

Jaskier muffles a chuckle against her skin, trapped. He considers not answering. But it's not like she will not know anyway. And maybe he has been alone in knowing for too long.

The images of another life flash before his eyes and he winces in distress.

"Perhaps," he swallows, shrugs, "it sounds more imposing." Fraudulent attention, false power, enough to feign importance. Reeking more than royal. He smiles. "At least, I thought so when they called me that. A bit scarier."

He thinks, the name of a flower is not always heavy enough to rock the ears, and this is why he chose it for himself. Only, perhaps other ears are more welcoming to what is heavy to the tongue.

Then, again, it didn't make much of a difference, did it?

Yennefer sighs, brows slightly furrowed as though pensive, working it in her mind. It's almost a relief, the lack of impression it's left on her.

"Julian..." she whispers after a while, not so much calling him by his name as feeling it on her tongue, letting it flood her mouth. His whole body shivers in her arms. Soft, light, like a feather's caress, she feels it, dusts it like she would a rare finding settled between her hands. She squints her eyes, picks apart every sound. "Julian, Julian..."

A lump is suddenly choking his throat, and he can't help but smile, let out a breath that has been weighting on his chest.

"Strange," he breathes, laughs. "It sounds beautiful when you say it. It sounds..."

"Important?" Yennefer smiles faintly and meets his gaze. He smiles back, grateful. Nods. "That's good," she shakes her head, lowers her look just a bit as a thought clouds her eyes. "It's good... to hear your name uttered like it's something precious."

Jaskier parts his lips to say something but forgets it at once. He stays there, still, staring at her face and the way the evening paints her eyes in a deep haze, and makes her look even softer than he could ever have imagined her. Glowing, like a gleaming stone. That's what it is, then.

He grins and sits up to look at her properly, to take her in.

"That's right, Yennefer of Vengerberg," he whispers, slow like a prayer, tender like a poem, and brushes her hair back, finds her eyes.

Then, he holds her face gently in his hands, and she leans into the touch to lay her own name between them in return. And he kisses, at last, the smiling corners of her lips.

"Something precious indeed."

[whispersofalostsoul]

RUNAWAY

Summary: Image if Lando Norris has follen in love for the first time….with a woman that he never thought he could fall for… and when his whole world turns upside down, he finds himself alone…once more...

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(Please leave comments to help me improve my story ! Would also love to hear your opinions ! thank you !)

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Chapter 1 - Encunter --- https://www.tumblr.com/whispersofalostsoul/756913230598815744/runaway?source=share

Chapter2 - Belgium ---https://www.tumblr.com/whispersofalostsoul/757021516150030336/runaway?source=share

Chapter 3 - Dinner --- https://www.tumblr.com/whispersofalostsoul/757096323375824896/runaway?source=share

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Chapter 4 - The fight

the paddock was incredibly busy. People were bustling around in all directions, getting ready for the big race. The sound of engines revving and the smell of fuel filled the air as mechanics worked tirelessly to ensure their cars were in top condition. Drivers could be seen walking around, deep in thought and focus as they mentally prepared for the challenge ahead. The energy was palpable as fans gathered around, eagerly anticipating the thrilling race that was about to unfold. As the sun began to set on the bustling racetrack, Dalia and Noah found themselves surrounded by a sea of famous faces. From actors to musicians to athletes, the star-studded event was a whirlwind of excitement. With so many interviews to conduct, Olivia knew they needed extra help. She quickly hired a temporary cameraman to capture all the action, while Dalia and Noah worked tirelessly to get the scoop from each celebrity. The pressure was on, but they were determined to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Noah shouted out for Dalia, capturing her attention within the bustling crowd. As soon as she turned, she saw him gesturing towards a particular direction, where Oscar was passing through. Dalia acknowledged with a nod and skillfully navigated her way through the people. Oscar was focused on reaching the other side of the track to his garage, but upon seeing Dalia waving to him, he halted with a grin, eagerly anticipating her presence. Despite his initial intention to avoid interactions, he welcomed the unexpected interruption. "Hey Oscar," Dalia gasped, glancing back to check if Noah was with her, "Could I bother you with a few questions? I promise it'll be brief." Her plea was met with a charming smile of agreement. Noah managed to catch up just in time to begin recording with his camera. Dalia pulled out a neatly printed booklet with a set of questions for each driver, specifically prepared by Olivia. She quickly scanned through the pages until she found Oscar's name. Clearing her throat, she glanced back at Noah, indicating that she was prepared. Oscar observed her with amusement, finding her nervousness endearing. Despite being in a hurry, he stood patiently with a smile, waiting for her to begin asking her questions.

Throughout the interview, Oscar spoke eloquently and passionately about his experience on the track, recounting key moments and strategies that had led to his success. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Dalia couldn't help but be drawn in by his genuine love for the sport. With the final question left, she glanced at her sheet, "Are the rumors true about you breaking up with your  girlfriend ?" Dalia was taken aback by her own question as she read it out loud, and glanced at oscar with concern. Despite her surprise, he maintained a calm demeanor and replied nonchalantly, "Yes, it's true. We actually ended things almost three months ago... We tried to keep it under wraps, but I guess word got out." He attempted to lighten the mood with a laugh, and Dalia couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She apologized softly, and Oscar simply nodded in understanding. Wishing him well, she watched as he walked past her towards the garage.

No need to apologize, it's all part of the job to ask questions like that," Noah reassured, taking the camera from his shoulder to give his muscles a break."Come on, let's go watch the race with Olivia," he urged, noticing her frozen stance as she saw Oscar walk away. "Actually, I have a pass to watch from the garage," she explained, handing him the microphone. Noah raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, Lando?" he asked, fixating on her reaction. She nodded. With a chuckle, he remarked, "Imagine the scene - you standing right next to Magui - the girlfriend, and the side chick." Although intended as a joke, Noah's words crossed the line. He always had a way of causing her more pain than comfort with his words. Despite his feelings for her, sometimes his behavior came across as insensitive and rude. It could be jealousy or perhaps his frustration over her avoidance of their conversation since yesterday, but it was clear he was on edge. Dalia angrily stomped away without a word, leaving the tall man staring after her as she ignored his remarks.

The engineers and staff displayed remarkable organization and structure in the cramped garage, effortlessly maneuvering around each other amidst the chaos. Dalia found herself at a loss, until a friendly, tall man in a black shirt and pants, with a badge similar to hers, kindly led her to the back to watch everything unfold. Engaging in conversation with strangers was a favorite pastime of Dalia's, and she thoroughly enjoyed listening to him explain and prepare her for everything that was taking place. A flash of blond hair caught everyone's attention as Magui made her grand entrance. The way she carried herself exuded confidence, as if she believed the whole world revolved around her. Her superficial gracefulness was evident as she greeted Dalia and the man beside her with a smile before retreating to a corner to focus on fixing her hair and makeup. Dalia couldn't stand girls like Magui - superficial, overly feminine, and often arrogant. Her childhood experiences with bullies who resembled Magui had scarred her perception of such women. Despite her efforts to not generalize, Dalia found herself proven wrong time and time again.

Dalia spotted Lando entering the garage a few minutes later. She watched as he adjusted his earphones and headed directly to his race engineer. Even though she disliked how much he affected her, she couldn't deny feeling drawn to him as her heart raced upon seeing him. Abruptly, Lando turned and began scanning the entire garage, seemingly looking for something or someone. When his eyes met Dalia's, a broad smile appeared on his face. Dalia felt a wave of nerves creeping up on her with each step he took. She was at a loss on how to greet him - with a handshake, a simple hi, or a high five. Before she could decide, he wrapped his arms around her, closing the distance and hugging her tightly. Dalia was so shocked that she froze, feeling his embrace tighten slightly as he whispered through her hair, "you came!". After what seemed like an eternity, Lando let go, flashing a wide smile at her before turning to hug the man standing next to her. "Hey dad," he greeted simply.

Dalia was completely caught off guard, unaware that the tall man was Lando's father all along. "Allow me to introduce you to Dalia," Lando said, redirecting his attention towards her. His father kindly explained that they had a chat before. "You never mentioned your dad was joining us," a voice chimed in from behind. "Oh, hello Magui," Lando greeted, offering her a half hug. Dalia found her very annoying, with her fake laugh and the casual touches on Lando's arm despite talking to his father. As she shook her head in disbelief, she felt ridiculous for having such thoughts, after all, that woman was who Lando chose to date. When she looked back at Lando, she found him still staring at her, with an endearing look, as if he was genuinely happy to see her. He approached and whispered to her, "If I win P1 today, I'll take you out to a proper dinner" he winked and walked back to his car, leaving Dalia in a nervous wreck.

And in fact he did. Lando emerged victorious in P1 following an intense race. Hamilton secured P2 while Oscar claimed P3. The team's garage erupted in excitement, with everyone rushing towards the stage to celebrate. Lando's father guided Dalia through the jubilant crowd until they stood right behind the front line of engineers. Anthems were sung, champagne was popped, yet Dalia couldn't shake the twinge of sadness every time the camera shifted from Lando to Magui's joyful expression on the big screen. As the celebrations began to ease, Dalia politely excused herself from Lando's father, explaining that she had to rush off to meet her team. "I'm sure Lando would love to say goodbye before you leave," the kind man suggested. "I'm really sorry, but my boss just messaged me about an urgent meeting we have to attend," she lied. The overwhelming emotions Dalia felt in the presence of Lando and Magui were causing her to feel disoriented. She needed to distance herself in order to regain her composure. The familiar self-critical and self-loathing thoughts were becoming too overwhelming, filling her mind with a powerful mix of anger and sadness.

Dalia hurried through the crowd, desperately searching for the nearest exit, when she accidentally collided with Oscar. Despite her frazzled state, she couldn't help but be uplifted by his beaming smile. "Congratulations!" she exclaimed with the last ounce of energy she had. "Well, thank you, ma'am," he quipped as he drew closer. Oscar noticed that she was clearly in a rush, evident from their brief conversation. Just as she began to walk away, he called out, "Wait, I wanted to invite you..." He paused for a moment before adding, "....a...and your team, to our F1 after party." Dalia was too preoccupied to fully process the offer, so she simply returned his smile on which Oscar took this as a positive response. He then asked her to exchange numbers, and bid her farewell as she hurried towards the exit.

Taking a long, warm shower helped her unwind, spending what felt like an hour under the calming stream of water. Olivia and Noah decided to treat themselves to some pizza, and Dalia found it to be the perfect comfort food for her current mood. Her coworkers were thrilled about Oscar's invitation, but Dalia had completely forgotten about it until she checked her phone and saw two missed calls from Lando. Suddenly, the tension started to build up again as she remembered they were supposed to have dinner. She called him and patiently waited for his response. "Hey!" he said enthusiastically. "Hi, sorry I missed your calls, I was in the shower," she explained. "No worries, when should I pick you up?" he asked. "What about your afterparty?" she inquired. "I don't want to attend it, plus, I'd rather have dinner with you," he chuckled on the other end of the line. Dalia couldn't shake off Magui's image in her mind, and all those dark thoughts flooded back. She recalled Noah's warning about the drivers and her vulnerability. Anger surged within her - how could he even think of dating two women at once? Is he that shallow?..."Hey?" she heard from the other side. "Oh sorry Lando, I won't be able to go out to dinner tonight" She wanted to say more, she wanted to ask for clarifications but she didn't want to seem pitiful, she wanted to scream at him for playing her like this, she wanted to tell him so bad that she liked him but none of these came out of her mouth. "Are you feeling ok ?" he asked worriedly, " No, I'm just tired and need rest that's all" she lied.

Dalia pondered the recent events while sitting on her bed, feeling guilty about her interaction with Lando. She knew he needed to learn a lesson, but she also wondered if it was time for her to move on. Perhaps Noah was correct in saying that her attachment to Lando was based on his fame, and his sweet gestures made her feel important. However, she questioned if that was truly her genuine feeling. Frustrated, she abruptly got up from the bed, craving a drink. Suddenly, she remembered Oscar's invitation and thought it was the perfect opportunity to forget about everything, especially since Lando wasn't going to be there.

And damn, there he was, and Magui too. She spotted him despite the crowd and the flashing lights of the nightclub, dancing next to the DJ with Magui right by his side, like a shadow. Feeling the familiar ache in her chest, she knew she needed a break, the atmosphere was just too much for her, and the two drinks she had didn't make it any easier. She made up her mind to leave that place as soon as possible, little did she know that Lando had already seen her. "Finally," she sighed as she reached the back patio of the club. Closing the metal frame behind her, she sat down on the second step. Suddenly, the door swung open again, and she turned to see a tall figure that followed her.

Oscar tilted his head curiously, "Feeling alright?" he inquired, sitting beside her. "This place isn't really my scene," she admitted, casually tucking her hair behind her ears. "I can never feel comfortable at these fancy parties," Oscar chuckled. After a brief pause, she apologized for asking about the breakup earlier, a concerned look in her eyes. "Don't worry about it, I've moved on," he reassured her with a soft smile. Dalia let out a sigh of relief and leaned her head against her knees. Oscar hesitated internally for a moment, but eventually mustered up the courage to ask, "Is there someone special in your life?" Little did he know, his question hit a sensitive spot. Dalia burst into laughter, the alcohol clearly taking effect, "My special someone is in there, dating that hot Portuguese model Magui something," she teased, turning to face Oscar and catching his astonished expression. "Lando?" he asked incredulously, studying her face intently. Dalia's eyes widened in realization.

"Please don't tell him anything" she panicked and quickly covered his mouth, a gesture she clearly didn't think through. "Um, what's going on?" Lando asked as they both turned to him in surprise. He was puzzled as he witnessed Dalia standing up abruptly, frozen and completely silent. "How long have you been standing there?" Oscar asked. "Were you trying to kiss her?" Lando ignored his question and asked his own. "Of course he wasn't, I was just...just..." Dalia felt her face flush as she struggled to find the words. "It was just a silly game," Oscar explained, coming to her rescue. Once more, Lando paid no attention to his teammate and shifted his focus to Dalia, requesting to have a private conversation with her. Oscar hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to ensure she was comfortable with her decision to stay alone with Lando, before returning back inside the club.

 "How did you manage to get in here?" was Lando's first question to her while she avoided his gaze. Dalia took a deep breath and decided to handle the conversation with confidence. "Oscar invited me," she responded, looking up to meet his eyes with a defiant glare. "And what about you? What brings you here?" she retorted. Lando sarcastically replied, "Oh, I had no intention of showing up until you bailed on our dinner plans." He stepped closer to her, his eyes filled with annoyance. "But I suppose you preferred Oscar's company over mine." She couldn't believe he had the audacity to be annoyed with her. Irritation consumed her as she realized he was the one manipulating her, not the other way around. "I didn't cancel because of Oscar, I canceled because of YOU!" she spitted. Lando shot her a puzzled look. "You think I'm gullible and easy," she accused. "I have never thought that," he quickly responded, but Dalia was too upset to care. "Yes, you do! It's part of your identity and how you live your life!" she argued. "Excuse me ?". "You're an F1 driver, you have money, you spend your time in nightclubs and fancy places, and all you do is hook up with supermodels and women that are easy to get." These words had been weighing on her, but she finally let them out. Dalia thought she would feel better after saying them, but instead, she felt worse - hurt and regretful, especially when she noticed Lando's posture soften with disbelief in his eyes. "Is that how you perceive me?" he softly asked, a pang of pain crossing his face.

Dalia's words hung heavy in the air as Lando processed what she had just said. He had never thought of himself in that way, but hearing it from someone he cared about hurt more than he could have imagined. He had worked hard to get to where he was in his career, and he never wanted to be seen as just another rich playboy. Dalia's perception of him was completely unexpected and he couldn't believe how quickly things had turned sour between them. "Our worlds are different, we are different '' she murmured, running her hand through her hair. Lando realized he needed to clear things up, but before he could make a move, Dalia had already disappeared.

Lando had no more desire to keep celebrating or to drown his thoughts in alcohol, so he decided it was time to call it a night. He summoned his driver and got into the car, eager to leave that place behind as quickly as possible. To his surprise, Oscar joined him in the car, something he rarely did unless it was a trip to the track. Lando didn't mind though, he just gazed out the window as the car slowly pulled away. The events of the evening replayed in his mind, and he debated whether or not to call Dalia as he pulled out his phone. "She thinks you're dating Magui" Oscar's icy words cut through the air and In an instant, clarity washed over Lando's mind. He lifted his head to meet Oscar's intense gaze. "I didn't bother correcting her," his teammate stated firmly. In that moment, no further explanation was necessary for Lando to grasp Oscar's true intentions. As they locked eyes in a silent exchange, it became clear that, in that moment, their rivalry extended far beyond the confines of the racing track.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

It was supposed to be Miles/Hobie/Miles because @pleasetakethis post didn't leave my brain to rest, but Pavitr wanted to be included as well, and now it is not OT3, and not even slash, just pre-slash for an OT4 I've not seen before... Oops.

It was a weird thing to notice. It would have been a weird thing to notice in normal situation as well, but the one Miles was in?

It was more than just "weird".

Might have been disassociation, maybe that would explain why, while noticing the differences between him, and this terrifying version of him, Prowler him, a part of him had to note that of course he had to have the better hairstyle too.

Confident, scary as fuck, and so much more than scared little him, who felt like a bug under the microscope.

"Didn't answer. Why would I care about your father dying?" The other version asked, moving his fist away. Miles inhaled shakily, not finding his words. Seeing how everything changed, seeing that it was-

He was the fault of it.

He just shut down. He couldn't say anything.

"Huh, I guess the cat got your tongue," Miles - Prowler Miles, 42, The Other Miles - smirked. A clawed finger caressed Miles' cheek, more gentle and careful he would have thought it was possible.

"Leave us alone, Uncle Aaron," the Prowler asked, his eyes never leaving Miles'. The Spiderman's heart beat faster and faster, his mind conjuring scarier and scarier possibilities. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't a villain - but he knew what he would go through for something he set his mind on. And if there was one thing he believed all the Miles Moraleses were similar in, it was his determination.

"You sure, kiddo?" Uncle Aaron - not his Uncle Aaron - questioned, but he didn't wait for an answer. He just left the two boys alone.

"Now, kitten, what would you do to convince me to let you go?" The smirk on his face was strange and unfamiliar. The whole outfit, the hair, the confident body language... He couldn't have been farther from being Miles' mirror image.

"Please," he begged. Lightning sparkled from under his fingertips, but he feared that if he would use it on the bondings, he would be the one injured. He couldn't get injured - he had to deal with Spots and had to save his father!

"A-a," Prowler shook his head, his clawed finger digging into Miles' skin. He could feel a drop of blood sliding down his cheek, and he froze. "That's not an answer. Let's start again. What. Would. You. Do. For. Me. To. Let. You. Go?"

Spiderman swallowed, and nodded. "Wh-whatever you wanted. I... Please, let me go. I need to save my d-"

"Whatever, you say?" Other Miles smirked victoriously, and Miles' stomach dropped.

But he didn't back out. "Whatever you wanted."

"Good boy," Prowler growled. His head shot up, as if he was feeling something, but the spider senses didn't react. 42 looked back, his eyes narrowed. He lifted his right hand, and Miles flinched, preparing himself for the hit. Yet, instead of pain, the dangerous claws sliced through the ropes binding Miles to the box bag like they were not strong enough to keep a Spiderman still.

"I want you to get back here, as soon as you save your father." The Other Miles ordered, and as if it was nothing, he stepped back just in time two familiar forms broke through the glass.

"Miles!" Twin shouts came, and the figures rushed to him, one helping him stand, the other ready to defend them.

"It's okay, guys," he said weakly, still not looking away from the other version of him, as 42 didn't look away from him either. "I'm okay."

"Codswallop," Hobie huffed, his protective stance not relaxing.

"Miles, flower, you are not-" Pavitr hoovered over him, like a certified mother hen, and Miles' heart soared. He still had people who cared for him.

"As touching your little reunion is, I was under the belief that you had to hurry," Prowler drawled, amusement shining in his deep, dark eyes.

"He is right. I... I need to go. Please, let me save dad," Miles pleaded.

"Are you sure you are alright? Can you handle it?" Pavi asked, touching the side of Miles where he wasn't full of claw marks.

There was only one possible answer to that. "Yes."

"Good. Leg it, luv!" Hobie shouted, and pulling Miles from Pavi's hands, he lifted the two of them in the air.

"Don't forget your promise," heard Miles, and turning back to his other self, he nodded.

He would not forget. Whatever waited for him, he would come back. Because sure, Pavitr and Hobie would have been able to get him out, but not this quick and easy. He was thankful for Prowler Miles, and he was going to thank him. Properly.

Now, he had Spots to take care, the multiverse to protect, and his dad to save. But until that, he could appreciate the warmth of Hobie's hands around him, and Pavi's overprotective form fluttering around them, ready to get him to his original universe.

[dropout-if]

I saw this on another blog, and I had to ask: ROs response to MC holding their face in MC's hands and saying "Look! I can hold the whole world in my hands". And if you can include the polys! Maybe MC holds a cheek of each RO in one hand lol.

My heart😭

I did include the polys! They deserve more attention and that mental image is adorable.

Ignore the poly banners it's a work in progress.

J's initial reaction is a little snort, then a sly smile, they lean their cheek against the palm of one of your hands, indulging in the moment.

“The whole world, huh?” they say, amused, “Where did that come from?”

Laughter—J’s laughter—is a rare enough sound that it manages to shock you, it fills the space between you warmly. Their hands reach up to gently cover yours.

Softly, J adds, “Well if anyone could hold the world, it would be you.”

Uma’s eyes widen in surprise, though their lips soon quirk into a small smile, processing your words. They chuckle, “World domination, huh? I knew you had it in you.”

As their smile grows, Uma shifts slightly, eyeing you fondly as they play along. You grin, “Well, you know me too well.”

Uma’s smile grows, their fingers tracing an absent-minded pattern on the back of your hand. There's a familiarity in their touch, an undeniable affection despite not being able to take your compliment a hundred percent seriously.

Statler raises an eyebrow, amused—in disbelief—and then you smile, and the sight alone is contagious. Statler’s pupils flickering down to your lips as they answer, “You’re amazing, I hope you know that.”

You grin again—kiss them briefly since Statler seems on the bridge of denying themself—and reply, “You can always tell me.”

“I do. And I will. Every day until you get tired of hearing it,” Statler’s eyes crinkle.

“Look at you!” Wanda gasps playfully “Better not drop it now, Mr./Ms./Mx. Universe!”

You grin at her, squeezing her cheeks together, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a good grip on it.”

Wanda finds herself smiling back, giddy at the prospect of the flirty playfulness, twisting her head until you release your grip on her.

“Well, you better not let go, or else it might just escape,” she teases, voice laced with a mischievous twinkle.

The words leave your lips just as Kai groans louder than loud, cheeks flushed as they squirm away from your grip.

“Don’t be corny. I’m allergic.”

Kai pouts angrily, rubbing their cheeks before they retaliate by pinching your own together—do they miss the implication, or promptly decide to ignore it?

“That’s why I give you affection in small doses,” you tease.

Kai snorts a little. They kiss you for no reason other than feeling like it, “Whatever you say, Doc.”

Travis escapes your grip first, and only then does he answer. He raises an eyebrow, expression remaining stoic as he regards you with a hint of bemusement.

“Interesting observation,” Travis says calmly, his voice even.

You grin back in his stead, “Thought you’d like it.”

He sighs a bit, you can see him blushing.

“I don’t. So quit it, okay?”

You don’t believe Travis, of course, and he almost seems satisfied that’s the case.

Your eyes drift toward J first—if only to save Kai the embarrassment—and you see their sly grin, the way they lean against your hand before addressing Kai.

“They meant me, by the way.”

“What? No, they don’t,” Kai scoffs, tone laced with disbelief.

You pointedly pinch their cheeks, “Don’t fight. I meant both of you.”

“Such bad taste,” J rolls their eyes lightheartedly, only for Kai to mumble a quiet “Dickhead,” under their breath.

“Bad taste or not— I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Travis’ eyes shift toward Uma as if begging for them to answer and spare them from the embarrassment.

“Don’t fight it, honey,” is all the defense Travis gets, much to his disappointment.

Travis grumbles, “Seriously? Come on, Uma.”

You can’t help but smile too.

“Don’t fight it,” you repeat sagely.

It‘s eventually too much, Travis can only twist his head away from your grasp, complaining, “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous or not, it’s very true.”

Uma nods along with a content smile, “Don’t fight it.”

[maelstroms-blog]

Another dabble, this time Hob shows Dream the delights of going to sleep.

The lord of dreams lay wide awake, how ironic. He lay in the, albeit, comfortable double bed, staring up at the ceiling. Though the room was shrouded in darkness, he could clearly make out the pattern in the light fixture above him.

He sighed, glancing over at his partner. Hob lay on his back, shut away from the waking world and fully immersed in the Dreaming. A sudden pang hit Dream in the chest.

Jealousy.

Watching someone else experience his creations filled him with pride but sometimes he wished he could experience it for himself. He had only ever admitted this to Hob.

He smiled that smile of his, the one that crinkled his eyes and said,

'Well, why don't you?'

Dream blinked.

'Sleep like a human.'

As the silence grew, Hob's smile dipped slightly,

'Do you know how?'

Dream let out a scoff,

'I am the embodiment of the collective consciousness, king of Dreams and Nightmares, of course, I know how.'

Hob looked at him,

'But have you?'

Dream's unblinking gaze wavered, only slightly, but Hob noticed. Hob always noticed.

'I thought so, come with me,' he held out a hand, motioning him to follow. Dream looked at it, the way a king would scrutinze an offering.

The king accepted. The pale, slender hand fit nicely into Hob's calloused palm. They made their way towards the bedroom, Dream quirked an eyebrow,

'Again, Hob Gadling? My, your stamina is to be admired.'

The Dream king would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Hob's reaction. His cheeks flushed bright red and he spluttered a bit before speaking.

'No, my darling, dear, not that, we're trying to relax.'

Dream smirked, watching as Hob opened his wardrobe and pulled out pair after pair of pyjamas,

'Take your pick, duck, I have a decade's worth of pyjamas. Everyone seems to give them out at Christmas.'

Dream only half listened, thumbing through each folded set, his frown growing deeper and deeper.

Hob chuckled, 'Not to your liking, huh?'

He pulled out a rainbow pair of joggers,

'Oh, great, I was looking for these,' he shucked the pair he was wearing, much to Dream's amusement. Then, his eyes found a dark pair, navy cuffed joggers, dotted with silver stars. They were soft, like the clouds he hung in the Dreaming, or Hob's hair.

'Oh, if you like those, I have just the shirt to go with them.'

Searching through the pile, he found another dark item. A blue shirt, large, it would have swamped Dream's thin frame, and on the front, a picture of a large, fluffy cat, sprawled on its back.

'Guess why I bought this one,' Hob smiled, Dream accepted the shirt, never taking his eyes off the cute image.

'These will suffice.'

After he changed, and allowed Hob to take a photo on his mobile telephone. He subjected him to a warm bath, complete with overpowering bath bombs. Hob couldn't stop marvelling at his fluffy, towel dried hair. After that, Hob offered a hot chocolate, though Dream claimed it was too sweet, it didn't stop him from drinking the whole thing.

Once they were situated in Hob's bed, and Dream had been buried in every blanket Hob owned. He went through the step by step process of going to sleep. He lay down flat, pulling Dream to his side. They chatted for a while, about nothing, about everything, and then, with a sigh and a snore, Hob entered the Dreaming.

Leaving Dream behind.

He huffed, trying not to take offence, but it was hard not to when he was left alone, with his thoughts. The darkness suddenly didn't feel so comforting. Dream sighed, the weight from the blankets weighed heavier and heavier on his chest. He thought of all his responsibilities, the duties he was neglecting while he lay there, pretending.

This is foolish, Dream thought, he should just leave and return to the Dreaming, he would find Hob there and explain to him.

Just as he shifted, trying to remove the mountain of blankets, a warm hand sneaked around his waist, effectively pinning him there. Hob, still fast asleep, had turned and burrowed into Dream's side. His face nuzzled into his neck, his breath hot against his skin. This close, he could smell all of Hob, the scent of old books, leather and lavender from their bath.

Dream looked at him, memorising every line and wrinkle in his partner's face. He sank back into the blankets, staring at Hob until his eyes closed.

He yawned, all thoughts of escaping vanished from his mind.

[cometcon]

I did it. I wrote fanfic for Helluva Boss. Striker is consuming my mind. XD

So I was looking through the Striker tag on here for more of my favourite bastard snakey boi and found this really neat artwork. :D

And it's a really interesting concept and the artwork is so well done and they've kept just enough of Striker's sinister energy in the images that my brain just wouldn't leave me alone about it. And it got me thinking: Redeemed Striker cuddling up to Moxxie for warmth is definitely cute and even I love it (and I'm aromantic as fuck XD ). But would it be possible to write something with the same basic concept, just making it a different scenario to involve my first impression of Striker instead, without having to redeem and develop Striker first? Can I have my cake and eat it too? XD

I've changed my mind since I first posted this so here's the freshly edited new introductory waffle:

I want to flesh this out a little and write it as a whole oneshot partnered with my Blitz/Striker fic which is also set during Harvest Moon and maybe ending along the lines of the events in the canon episode, but in the meantime my brain churned out about 800 words for the specific prompt. I think I'm leaning for the fic being about Moxxie's perspective of Striker arriving at the farm as in canon. Moxxie dislikes him immediately and since Striker is an egotistical supremacist piece of shit he just doubles down on the dickwad behaviour, but keeps it subtle enough for Blitz and Millie to do their usual thing of overlooking Moxxie's concerns about things they don't see as a problem/threat/red flag (I promise I'm not hating on them; I enjoy their characters but also sometimes it does seem like a fair bit of the shit Moxxie gets dragged into could have been avoided if they'd listened to him. XD Though then we wouldn't have the parts of the show I enjoy, so again, not complaining, just playing with it. Don't kill me lol.) And Moxxie understandably gets sick of Striker's shit and they begin a tit for tat resulting in Moxxie shooting Striker's window 'by accident' and then 'forgetting' to fix it. XD And since they're all sleeping in the farm house, Striker chooses to escalate with a cruel and unusual punishment...

Behold, my first ever attempt at dark fluff. XD

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The sound of the door opening and soft light spilling across the room made Moxxie's eyelids flicker, a low growl of annoyance building in his chest. 

Millie had a bad habit of laughing off their boss' infuriating behaviour, finding it amusing. Cute, even. Moxxie vehemently disagreed, yet his complaints typically fell on deaf ears, so he usually just endured. But these night-time visits were reaching the absolute line and Moxxie had had enough. He didn't care what his wife said, he was going to fucking murder Blitz if he took even one more step toward-

His back tensed in surprise as the covers lifted, the mattress behind him sinking beneath Blitz's weight. The night had finally come. He'd suspected his boss would escalate, but the fact it was really happening took its sweet time trickling through his outraged mind. Moxxie's vicious attempt to slam his elbow into the licentious imp's gut was too slow and easily thwarted as a large hand latched onto his arm, halting its trajectory. 

"Blitz, I swear to fucking Satan, I will claw your eyes out of your skull and feed them to Luna! Get off me," he hissed quietly, hoping not to wake his snoring wife. She might just tell him to move over and give Blitz more space before falling asleep again anyway. 

Before he could do much else however, a long, clammy, lithe body that was decidedly not Blitz pressed into him, strong arms wrapping around his much smaller form and pulling him closer. His heartbeat accelerated and a bolt of fear shot down his spine. 

"Shouldn't make threats you can't follow up on, rodent." 

Striker's breath wafted over Moxxie's ear in a gentle caress. He shuddered, tugging uselessly at the unyielding grip trapping him against the assassin as he felt Striker curl further, moulding himself into every part of Moxxie he could reach. Moxxie's tail twitched, caught between them and unable to find a gap to escape.

"What the fuck?" 

It should have been a shout, but his throat was tense with fright, the words emerging in an embarrassingly pathetic whimper. One hand searched for Millie, desperately praying he could wake her before they were both slaughtered in their sleep. 

"Quit wriggling," Striker rumbled, fingers lacing through Moxxie's to draw the hand back into his chest. 

"Why are you in here? Get out." 

Moxxie still couldn't manage more than a choked whisper, but the fact there seemed to be no intention of actually harming him allowed a rising indignation to take fear's place. He tried kicking, though that only served to annoy Striker, who immediately enveloped the flailing legs between his own. It was like being stuck in a patch of quicksand; the more Moxxie struggled, the deeper he sank.

"Someone hasn't fixed my window yet. It's cold." 

That long, spiked tail snaked across Moxxie's shivering skin, coiling around their tangled limbs and draping itself over his abdomen. The quiet rattle as the tip continued upward and settled by his face sent a chill through him and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"That doesn't mean you get to- mmph!" 

His final, barely audible attempt at protest was swiftly cut off by Striker's free hand covering his mouth. 

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," came the deceptively soft admonishment, arms and tail constricting in a painful warning. Moxxie groaned and went limp, hoping it would be enough to appease, the understanding he really was at his captor's mercy sinking to the base of his stomach like a concrete brick on the ocean floor. Striker chuckled and thankfully granted him the ability to draw breath after a moment, though he remained tightly entwined with the trembling little body in his clutches, chin resting in mock affection atop Moxxie's head as he murmured, "Good boy. Go back to sleep."

This was just another one of Striker's games, he told himself. If he stayed very still and didn't cause a fuss, his tormentor would get bored and leave. 

Any minute now.

The dark outline of Millie's senseless form under the blanket was silhouetted against the window, her peaceful snores the only sound stirring the atmosphere. Striker's breathing had slowed too, apparently content to stay snuggled against him, leaching his warmth and sanity alike. 

Well, fuck.

When several minutes had passed without any further threat, Moxxie forced himself to relax. There was nothing he could do anyway. If Striker wanted him dead he would be already. Staying alert all night would play right into the other's aims, showing him the intimidation tactics were working the second he saw his victim's tired eyes and frazzled demeanour the next morning. 

Moxxie refused to let him win that easily.

He listened for Millie, his breaths steadying as he timed them to match hers and held the image of her beautiful beaming grin in his mind. Striker was bound to slip up eventually and when he did, Moxxie would be prepared for him. A new thought of slicing the trecherous demon's throat with his own knife flashed through Moxxie's head and he smiled, playing it slowly on loop until he managed to drift off again.

[tragicfrabricofdreaming]

Dark Hearts .6

Summary: Cori Douglas has lived a somewhat quiet life in mystic falls. Despite a few slip ups, she has managed to fly under the radar with her best friends. That is, until her junior year when two new mysterious men roll into town and shake everyone up, including her best friend Elena. What will Cori find out about these mysterious men and about herself? Mostly follows the storyline of tvd show but may take some creative liberties.

“She swore vengeance on all men with dark hearts.”

― Lisa Papademetriou, Siren's Storm

True to her word, Cori is pounding on the front door of the Salvatore boarding house bright and early the next morning. She had barely slept after she got home. The paramedics had bandaged her up and told her to get plenty of rest since she had lost so much blood. She could barely stand in the shower due to all of the cuts on her feet but she was so dirty that she forced herself to get all of the grime off. Her dress, now ruined, hung on the back of her bathroom door as she wrapped a towel around herself and limped into bed. 

She spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, the image of Stefan’s horrifying face stuck in her mind. She felt the phantom pain of his attack throughout her whole body, making her toss and turn the whole night. Part of her knew exactly what the explanation was going to be, but she wanted to hear it from the mouths of her friends before she let herself believe it. That’s why she waited for the sun to come up before she pulled herself out of bed, got dressed, tied her pillow-dried hair into a ponytail, and snuck out of the house while her dad and sister were still sleeping. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t be a fan of her going anywhere. 

After thirty seconds of her pounding her fist on the door, Damon finally opens it, smirking at her sarcastically, “It’s okay to not be so literal, Cordelia.” She ignores him, pushing past him and stepping into the home. 

She sees Elena in a living room off to the side of the main entry hall and walks toward her, knowing full well that Damon is following leisurely behind her. She doesn’t dwell on the fact that this was the first time she had been inside the Salvatore boarding house and how grand it all was. She was here on a mission, “I need the truth,” she says, standing between Damon and Elena, looking back and forth at them as she speaks, “I said you owe me an explanation and I mean it.” Damon and Elena share a look with each other and Cori groans, “Don’t do that. Don’t try and come up with some lie to feed me so that I’ll leave you alone.” 

“We aren’t going to lie to you, Cori,” Elena insists, “It’s just…a long story.” she sighs, stepping closer to her friend and placing a hand on her arm, “You should sit down.” 

“You sit down!” Cori snaps at her out of nowhere, almost immediately covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” Damon fails at hiding his amused smile, “I’m really wired right now. I’ll sit down.” She takes a seat in an armchair next to the couch where Elena sits down. 

“Alright,” Damon sighs, sitting in the chair across from Cori, “here’s the truth.” 

/////

Vampires. Actual, real-life, vampires. That’s what Stefan and Damon were. They had been alive for over 100 years–Stefan had just celebrated his 162nd birthday. The original Stefan and Damon Salvatore from Mystic Falls history were the Stefan and Damon Salvatore she had met just two months ago. They were one and the same. All those animal attacks that had been happening were actually….Damon. He had attacked Vicki Donovan. He turned Vicki Donovan and Stefan had ended up killing her because she was so out of control. He had killed Mr. Tanner the night of the football game. He had been….compelling Caroline to bring him around to mess with Stefan because he had promised him a lifetime of misery ever since they turned into vampires. 

All of this was being explained to Cori and she had a hard time processing it all, but not a hard time believing it. In an odd way, it all made sense. Mystic Falls was weird for a lot of reasons and the fact that Vampires and witches had roamed around here since the founding almost made perfect sense. Damon had shown her his fangs and the way his face changed whenever he was going vamp mode. It looked just like Stefan’s had last night with the red eyes and the pulsing veins. She didn’t seem scared when Damon showed her, though, she just looked curious. 

“So, in 1864, the founding families burned down a church full of vampires…” Cori is working through the last bit of information Elena and Damon had given her, “one of those vampires was…Katherine, who you and Stefan were in love with.” Damon nods. “But a witch–Bonnie’s dead ancestor who possessed her at that one sleepover–put a spell on the church so that all of the vampires were sealed in a tomb all these years.” 

“Until we opened it,” Elena adds on. 

Cori nods, “Bonnie and her Grams opened it so that you could get Katherine–” 

“Who wasn’t there,” Damon says through clenched teeth. 

“Glad to see you’ve moved through that,” Cori says sarcastically before she goes on, “and the rest of the vampires from the tomb got out and now they have some centuries-old vendetta on the founding families of our town. Did I get that right?” 

Damon raises his glass of bourbon to her, “Bingo.” 

“And these vampires took Stefan who normally only feeds on animal blood, which led to Elena giving him her blood to heal faster….and he was on a bender which is why he attacked me last night.” 

“But he’s locked up now,” Elena cuts in, “we injected him with vervain last night and locked him in a cell downstairs.” 

“Because a cell is something super casual to have in your basement.” Cori gives Damon a look out of the corner of her eye and he just shrugs, “Vervain is the thing that’s in the bracelet you have me, right?”

Elena nods slowly, “Stefan took it off of you last night, didn’t he?” Cori nods,  her hand instinctively goes to the area of her wrist where Stefan had ripped the bracelet off the night prior. It had burned him but he seemed to ignore it. 

“I think he tried to…what did you call it? Compel me?” She glances at Damon who nods and eyes her suspiciously. “He just looked at me really weird and tried to tell me what to do but it didn’t work. I just went along with it because…” the words fail in her throat. 

“You were scared.” Damon finishes for her. Cori looks at him, surprised at his genuine tone and she nods her head briefly. “I’m not sure why it didn’t work on you. The only other thing is you could have been ingesting vervain but if that were the case he wouldn’t have been able to feed on you.” He keeps staring at her like he’s waiting for the answer to jump out and show itself, but nothing happens and Cori doesn’t magically reveal anything that could explain why compulsion doesn’t work on her. 

“There’s…one more thing.” Elena says, walking over to a book sitting on the coffee table and opening the front cover to retrieve what looked to be a photograph. She walks toward Cori and hands it to her, sharing a nervous look with Damon. 

Cori holds the picture in her hand and stares at it intently. It was an old picture, by the year written at the bottom it was taken in 1864 and included the face of none other than Damon and Stefan’s ex, Katherine. But, if she didn’t know any better, it might has well have been a picture of Elena with a grainy filter over it. Cori looks from the picture to Elena, back down at the picture to Damon, and back to the picture again. “Okay, vampires I can learn to accept but this might be too much.” She says, handing the picture back to Elena like it was on fire. 

“Imagine how I felt when I first found it.” Elena laughs dryly. She places the the picture back on the table, “I’m gonna check on Stefan.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously as she leaves the room and heads toward the basement. 

Cori runs her fingers through her hair and sighs deeply, letting all the information sweep over her. “Need a drink?” Damon offers sarcastically and Cori sends him a glare out of the corner of her eye, “Still angry with me, I see.” 

He may have partially saved her life last night but she was still pissed at him not only for sleeping with his sister and laughing at her behind her back, but for keeping her in the dark and letting Elena be involved in all these dangerous situations. “I can’t believe you’re a freaking vampire…” She trails off her mind wandering to the topic of him and her sister, “Oh my god!” she jumps up from her chair and stares down at him, “Did you–” 

“No, I didn’t feed on your sister or compel her.” Damon rolls her eyes, “I got her into my bed by charm alone.” He smirks at her, feeling a weird sense of pride at the sight of her clenching her fists at her side. Whatever smartass quip she was about to fire back is put on hold as Elena emerges from the basement. “How’s he doing?” Damon asks. 

Elena shakes her head sadly, “Not any better.” She turns to Cori, a hestitance in her stance, “You know, Cori, it might help him a lot if you could go down and talk to him.” she says, “Just to show him that you’re okay and that you forgive him for what happened?’ 

The audacity. The gaul. The sheer disrespect that her best friend had just shown her makes Cori’s jaw drop, “Are you serious, Elena?” She scoffs, “Not only did I just find out that you’ve been lying to me for weeks, but your boyfriend just nearly killed me not even twelve hours ago and you want me to forgive him?” Cori shakes her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe you would ask that of me right now.” 

“You’re right,” Elena sighs, running her fingers through her hair, “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about him. I’m sorry.” 

Cori moves to grab her bag and swings it over her shoulder, “I’m gonna head home and…process all of this.” She says, stepping toward Elena and, despite their exchange, pulls her into a hug, “I’ll call you later.” Elena smiles at her reassuringly and, without sparing Damon another glance, she walks out of the house. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Elena called Cori to tell her about Stefan’s recovery and to ask her to bring some clothes to the Salvatore house, Cori was hesitant at first. She wasn’t exactly keen on seeing either of the Salvatore brothers and it did seem like Elena could have called literally anyone else–but on second thought she was trying to keep Damon far away from Damon and her and Bonnie weren’t exactly on speaking terms since her grams died. Turns out Cori was kind of the only person for the job. 

That didn’t stop her heart from pounding and her palms from sweating as she rang the doorbell of the boarding house and waited anxiously for an answer. Her hopes of Elena answering and a quick drop-off of the bag she had brought her were crushed when Stefan opened the front door, his kind smile coated in matching anxiety to her own. “Hi, Cori.” 

She swallows thickly, the wound on her neck throbbing underneath her bandage. “Hi, Stefan.” She says quietly. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “Elena just got into the shower..did you…did you want to come in and wait?” 

She didn’t know why–every animal instinct bread into her bloodline was screaming at her to throw the bag at him and run but she finds herself nodding and saying, “Sure,” before following him inside. The pounding of her heart is temporarily drowned out by the large door closing behind her. She consciously tries to quiet it when it dawns on her that Stefan can probably hear it. 

“Look, Cori, I–” Cori cuts Stefan off. 

“Stefan, I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She says, the speech she had built up in her head flowing freely before she can think twice, “But, I’d like the chance to forgive you. I want the chance to understand you better, to know why you…did what you did. And if you do something drastic like step out in the sun without your fancy little ring pop there, I won’t get that chance.” She had been told that the Stefan in the woods wasn’t the real one. She wanted to say that she believed that, but the truth was that she still needed time to do that, “Don’t take it away from me, Stefan.” 

“Thank you, Cori,” He says, smiling at her genuinely, “it means a lot.” He takes the bag of Elena’s clothes from her and motions up the steps, “I’m gonna take these upstairs, I’ll tell Elena you’re here.” 

Cori mutters a quick thanks and as soon as Stefan moves toward the stairs, Damon is in her line of site–standing in the living room, holding a glass of bourbon and smirking at her like he usually is. She scoffs in disgust and rolls her eyes, “I hate that you live here.” 

“Hello to you too, kid,” He moves toward her, walking up the steps to join her in standing in the foyer, “I see you made peace with my brother,” he says, “want to try doing the same with another Salvatore?” He motions to himself. Cori just stares at him blankly, her face unchanging, “Oh, come on, Cori, you’ve gotta be over this by now. I’m sorry I slept with your sister when I knew you had a crush on me.” Her face stays the same, “Is that better? Did that fix your emotional boo-boo?” Damon sticks his bottom lip out mockingly and before he knows what is happening, Cori is gripping his shoulders tightly and ramming her knee into his crotch, causing him to keel over in pain and drop his glass of bourbon on the floor. 

Cori raises an eyebrow, “You may be immortal, but you’re still just a man, Damon.” She shakes her head, almost in disappointment. Cori leans down to whisper in the groaning man’s ear, “I believe I’ve said this to you before but, just in case your supernatural hearing didn’t catch it last time; stay. The hell. Away from me.” She stands up straight and turns on her heel, heading towards the door, “Tell Elena I had to run and I’ll see her tomorrow!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cori is getting ready for bed a few nights later when she notices a figure standing on her balcony. She shrieks and then lets our only a slight sigh of relief when she realizes it’s Damon. “Everything okay?” Her dad calls from down the hall. 

 Not taking her eyes off of the vampire standing just outside her room, Cori calls back, “yeah, just thought I saw a spider but it was a piece of lint.” She lies and moves slowly toward her balcony doors, opening them and stepping out into the cold night air. Due to her only being in a large t shirt and pajamas shorts, her skin is covered in goosebumps immediately but she counteracts it with a fire filled glare at the Salvatore in front of her, “What the hell are you doing here?” She asks as she closes the door behind her. 

“I’m sorry.” Damon says, a look of sincerity in his eyes that Cori wasn’t sure she had ever seen before, “I’m sorry for betraying your trust by doing what I did with your sister. Not just by sleeping with her but by saying what I did,” She frowns at him but doesn’t cut him off so he continues, “I don’t know why I did it I just know that I’m sorry and I wish I could take it back. I don’t like that you won’t talk to me.” He admits with his hand held out to her like he’s pleading, “I’m used to people getting angry at me and shutting me out for the things that I’ve done. It’s never bothered me before but for some reason when you do it it drives me insane, Cori.” 

“I think it’s because you’re the first person in a long time that I could relate to and I ruined it. I’m not laughing at you behind your back, Cori. I’m not like other people in this town and I just…” he sighs and looks off to the side like he’s searching for his words, “I’m not saying I won’t mess up again. This probably isn’t the last time I’ll make you mad, I’m just asking for another chance to prove you wrong.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which they just stare at each other. Damon listens to her heartbeat and it’s steady, unwavering. Just like her face. He hadn’t opened up like that to anyone in so long, let alone beg for their forgiveness. But something about this random girl in this godforsaken town was making him lose sleep at night and he hated it. She was annoying, a pest. She talked back and was a smart aleck but he wanted her to just talk to him again. Which she wasn’t doing right now. She was just staring 

After staring at him for so long that Damon debated throwing himself off of her balcony, she finally opens her mouth and says, “I’ll think about it.” Before opening her balcony doors and stepping back into her room, locking eyes with him for one more moment before she yanked her curtains closed. Damon waited another moment until the light in her room went off and he heard her climb under her covers before he moved to jump down from her balcony. 

It was better than nothing. 

[mac-lilly]

JATP fic ideas that live rent-free in my head

A compilation post to keep track of all the jatp stories that I will never write ...

Stuff I've actually written

Juke:

Juke Kitchen

Alone Together

Strumming the Soul

Beautiful

Heartbeat

Willex:

Hotdog and Cold dog

Cross my heart and hope to die (again)

A night to remember:

Just one more night (Luke)

Tomorrow (Reggie)

Ghostwriter:

Snippet 1

Snippet 2

Snippet 3

Hamster!Luke

Doodle

Canon-Compliant (kinda)

The inevitabilities of (after)life

(Boys coming back to life but without memories - Juke)

After their performance at The Orpheum, the guys suddenly start seeing a magical light, and they figure it's time to cross over. Before they leave, however, Julie and Luke accidentally seal a magical pact with unfathomable consequences. (And they kiss.) And then the boys are gone.

However, a year later, just after coming to terms with the guys' departure, Julie's world is turned upside-down (again) when a very alive Luke suddenly reenters her life. And it's not just him -- Alex and Reggie are back too. But to Julie's horror and agony, all three have lost their memories. (And not just them. With the exception of Bobby, nobody remembers them.)

And so, Julie has to make a decision: Fight to unseal their memories or let them live their new-found lives without her?

It's an easy choice, really. Plus, she has to make her resurrected Phantoms stay alive. Because there's a series of uncanny and nearly fatal accidents that always involve her boys and, weirdly, Nick.

(There are 1.75 chapters of this on my PC.)

Ghost license

(inspired by the movie "Hui Buh" - no focus on romance)

The boys get tasked to obtain a ghost license for the Molina house. Otherwise, they have to leave the place and become wayward ghosts (and have to return to Caleb.) And thus, the Phantoms are forced to attend a school for ghosts -- exams included.

Random character stuff:

Julie's doodling

Luke's room

AUs

Songwriting Journal of Fate

(A Kimi no Na Wa AU - Juke)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Snippet 1

Snippet 2

Show me how to be whole again

An arranged marriage/enemies-to-reluctant-allies-to-friends-to-lovers Juke AU

Plot

BAM! I'm actually writing this one.

AO3 Link

Image Board

Sweet Home Alabama AU

Yet another enemies-to-friends-to-almost-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends&lovers Juke AU.

Teaser

First & Last Scene

"Life with Derek"-inspired AU

Teaser/Prologue

Rivers of London AU

Julie, a witch in training, and Luke, a ghost

Snippet 1

Snippet 2

Snippet 3

Phantom Thieves

(A Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne AU (without the religious stuff) - Juke)

Julie makes a deal with Caleb: She helps him collect/steal possessed artifacts, and in exchange, he'll grant her a chance to talk to her mom again.

At first, it goes pretty well. She steals the objects and hands them over to Caleb. But soon, she gets a rival. Another thief shows up, who is way too cheeky and attractive, and he starts snatching those items Julie is supposed to steal from under her nose. Julie is not amused by his attitude, and Caleb tells her that he probably wants to use these magical items for evil.

At the same time, Julie makes acquaintance with three guys who just transferred to her school, and she may or may not develop a crush on one of them. (And Julie can't help but see certain similarities between Luke and her new-found thievish rival ... but surely that's just a coincidence, right?)

Mind the Gap

(A Neverwhere AU - Willex & (minor) Juke)

Alex lives a pretty normal life. Sure, after he came out to his parents, he's become an outcast. But he's willing to put up with this shit anyway. (What are the alternatives?)

Then he encounters Willie, an extremely weird but also handsome guy who tells him that he is being hunted. Confused, Alex helps him hide. The next day, Willie is gone, and suddenly his life seems to vanish. His parents, his peers -- everyone seems to forget that he exists.

Determined to set things right, Alex sets out to find Willie, hoping that he (or the person he's running away from) has the power to give him his life back. He enters the World Below -- the place where all the people who've all fallen through the cracks stand. However, as he keeps gathering a group of unlikely and way too cheerful acquaintances who quickly become his friends (and more), he starts questioning his desire to return to the normal world.

[zorkaya-moved]

It was a wonder what someone like Zarina could possibly want given how she seemed to have everything she could want for herself, attained by herself. It wasn't a conundrum that baffled him for long, though, as she'd soon find herself with a necklace consisting of droplets of resin wherein small flowers were preserved, glowing like moonstone. He wasn't innately an artisan, but he could try now and then.

@al-hazen

If Zarina were honest, she didn’t have anything planned nor was she thinking of doing anything that wasn’t more homey and calm. With one she loved so much, there was no need for people to hear all about it. When it came to love, she could be more private regarding celebrations. Not only that, but Zarina also saw Haytham as someone who wouldn’t pay attention to such holidays or celebrations. Thus, she never pushed, nor was she interested in celebrating it when she could give him gifts or make him a wonderful meal every single day. It was peaceful, it was calm, it was comfortable. It reminded her of how her parents were acting when they were back home: it was safe, it felt safe, it felt warm. The Scribe may not think himself a warm person, but he certainly made her feel warmer on the inside. Serotonin certainly always rose up whenever she could see his headset, him reading a book, him relaxing after work was done. He was a busy man, no matter what others thought. 

Then why does she find herself wearing this beautiful necklace? Simple yet elegant, the beauty of the necklace made her momentarily lose her words. Eyes gleaming as she looks at herself in the mirror, gently touching the beautiful jewelry with her gloved hand. It was beautiful. It was beautiful beyond any language. But it wasn’t what touched her the most, it was the fact that Al-Haytham went ahead to do this for her. On this day. Even if she didn’t speak of this celebration nor was showing that he needed to do anything. Well, she did plan a dinner and asked him to free his evening so they can spend it together. This holiday was just an excuse to ask Kaveh to stay somewhere else for them to relax together. The artist would have a grand time at Zarina’s house, she made sure to leave some bottles of wine with food out for him to indulge. 

It would be her new treasure. She wouldn’t want to take it off, ever. Her chest felt warm, her whole being felt warm and happy. The bubbly sensation caused her to smile sweetly as she turned to face the Scribe. A grateful smile was shown to him. He didn’t have to, but he still did. The thought alone meant everything to her. Sokolova was indeed someone who could get anything she wanted, but there were things that only Haytham could do and gift to her. His time, his attention, his thoughts, his love, his heart. She was a lover of simpler things and gifts that had a thought/meaning behind it more than any price tag. Luxury was a lie, a tool needed to build a specific image. 

“Does it look good on me?” She asks, knowing the answer already. No matter what he says, she loves it. She loves the look of the moonstone, the tiny flowers inside, the beauty, and the elegance of this necklace. It will forever be a reminder of his love for her, his attention, and his presence. So even if miles will separate them, Zarina will have a piece of his warmth right by her side. Her heart won’t freeze over, her humanity and her bond won’t be shattered. After all, a part of her beloved will always stay with her. “Thank you, Haytham. It’s beautiful. I love it, I really do. I’ll always treasure it.”

And Zarina meant it. Every single word. Every single meaning. Even when the truth will be found out, the necklace will be in her possession and never lost. A treasure she’ll hold onto for as long as she’s alive. 

“I’m surprised; I thought you would ignore the meaning of today,” Sokolova chuckles, an amused yet loving smile crossing her feminine features so elegantly as the necklace itself. There was no need to be dramatic or act before him, right? Thus, she would remain how she’d be. “I didn’t wish to push any meaning on just one day, but I did want to spend the dinner together. I prepared your favorites. Padisarah pudding included. Oh, and wine, of course. Boss was quite generous.” 

A comfortable and calm evening. A peaceful time spent together. An intimate evening without any need for any bright and grandiose showcases of affection. Hah, and here everyone thought that Sokolova Zarina would be screaming about her love life to everyone and making sure everyone knew to whom her heart belonged to. How wrong they were. How wrong those impressions were. No, her only wish was to spend a peaceful time with Al-Haytham and see his smile or receive a compliment for her cooking. Some would say it’s uneventful, but none would understand the simple comfort and beauty of them being together in that comforting atmosphere.

[toehwa6]

Do you ever feel bad talking about hentai to your therapist

Cause I don’t

I fucking love hentai

FUCK

I really liked 177013 and keep it a secret from your mother

This stupid bitch kept texting me pictures of her stupid fucking family

And after being cool i was like yo wrong number thank you bye cya whatever right

Totally cool

But then she kept fucking hitting me

And it pissed me the fuck off

So I sent her a screenshot of the girls face from metamorphosis and was like

This is a screenshot from my favorite hentai

It’s about sexual assault and drug addiction

Then I was like

It’s really cool they kill her baby in the end

BOOM

No more fucking messages from this dumb bitch

That’s the fucking answer

Just send people hentai recommendations and they’ll fuck off

Fuck people

Leave me the fuck alone

I don’t know you

Leave me alone

This other stupid bitch

I didn’t do this because I told my therapist about my meme and he didn’t seem very amused

Plus I thought it could be a client I worked with and I was like if I do this I’ll get fucked

Anyway

I get sent this random photo of a bitches hand holding a wine bottle

I’m like

Here we fuckin go again

SOOOOOOOO

I come up with this great idea

Here’s my response

“Hello, I think you have the wrong number, but could you please refrain from sending me images of alcoholic beverages. I’m currently in recovery and these things trigger the problems I have with addiction.”

Fucking hilarious right?

Lol yeah therapist didn’t think so

Fuck it I thought it was funny

Stupid fucking bitch

Leave me alone

Next you’ll be getting hentais !!

Fucking stupid bitch I hate you leave me alone

I fucking hate this shit

I hate being alive

Gotta find pleasure in the little things right?

Like fucking with the randos who text the wrong numbers?

Like fuck them right?

I’m not going to hell for bullying randos am I?

Fuck that

Fuck them

I fucking hate them

I fucking hate this

I hate being alive

I fucking hate myself

I wish I was dead

I fucking hurt myself again the other day

After my therapist tried to make me cry by doing the opposite of being empathetic

Fuck her too

I paid $50 to get fucked up and come home and fucking hurt myself again

I felt fucking awful

And not that bullshit like omg I talked about something I didn’t like and it hurt me

That is completely valid btw

ANYWAY

I poured my fucking heart out to this bitch cause the whole fucking point was that I cry in front of her

Because of this dumb fuck masking shit I do because I’m autistic

She was like

I want you to be yourself around me

Like bitch

You did a horrible job of being a person

I might as well have just talked to the fucking wall

I DID JUST TALK TO THE FUCKING WALL

I fucking hate this

I hate being alive

Fuck her

My gf keeps pushing me to see her cause she says it’s helping me but it makes me feel like shit

She just tells me to ground myself

And this time she just kept telling me “it sounds like you’re exhausted and you have a hard life”

Like no fucking shit bitch I’m in pain every second of the day and my life fucking sucks

I fucking hate being alive

At least she got me doing this dumb shit again

I fucking hate being alive

I wish I was dead

I wish I could stay asleep forever

That’s the only time I feel okay

All I have is fucking nightmares and I’d rather be there

Even when it’s fucked and I’m scared it’s better than this

The fucking dread of here’s another day

Just another day

Just another day

Over and over and over again

Fucking trudging through the motherfucking mud

Every fucking day

I fucking hate my life

I hate being alive

I wish I was dead

I hate being alive

I wish everyone would just leave me alone

I wish I could go to sleep forever

Today was supposed to be a good day and look where the fuck I’m at

What the fuck is wrong with me

I don’t give a fuck about anything good

The only things that matter are the bad things

I bought my special ring today and I don’t give a fuck

Fuck it

Fuck being alive

Fuck my job

Fuck my life

Fuck being alive

Fuck grounding over and over and over again

I fucking hate this

I fucking hate everyone

I want to say I wish they would die but I don’t want to

I’m so confused

What the fuck do I even want

I hate this shit

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Just fucking KILL ME GOD

PLEASE

END MY FUCKING SUFFERING

CAR CRASH OR CANCER I DONT CARE

JUST GIVE ME AN END

LET ME BE FREE OF ALL THIS

FUCK THIS

I HATE BEING ALIVE

At least I love my gf

She’s the only thing that makes me happy

Her and these stupid fucking puzzles

Who gives a fuck

Why care about fucking anything

I guess it’s my depression talking

I’m not depressed my fucking life sucks

Every fucking day

Over and over again

Please god just make it stop

Please

Who am I even talking to anymore

I hate myself

Fuck this

I hate being alive

At least I’m not hurting myself

Just being a moany groany bitch online

I talked to someone on heroin today

I really didn’t like it

It made me sad

I feel like I couldn’t help him

But it wasn’t my place to, so it didn’t matter anyway

Nothing matters to everyone

You just die alone

You know what’s funny

My gf the other day goes

You know what’s stupid? That dying alone stuff. Like, if you got you’re kids next to you, you’re not dying alone.

Like lol bitch I love you for saying that but you’re missing the point lol

I love my gf so much

I love her so much she’s my everything I swear

She’s amazing

Look where she draws me to

I feel better already

Am I fucking crazy?

I think I’m just some whiny bitch

Who gives a fuck

I think people love me

That’s nice to think about sometimes

I tell myself it feels nice but I don’t feel anything

I try really hard to though. I just can’t.

I’m sorry

For other people but myself too

I just can’t

I don’t know what’s real

I’m fucking insane

I thought all this shit was supposed to make me happy

I’m never happy

That’s what my gf says all the time

She wants me to be happy

Like bitch I’m fuckin tryin fr I swear

I just can’t feel happy idk

I’m only sad or angry

I hate being alive

I’m so scared all the time

I’m fucking terrified for my life

I just put on a show for the people around me

I don’t want them to know how crazy I am

Or how normal I am

I don’t know what I am

Idk

I’m fucked fr

And holy fuck I’m eXhAuStEd

Fuck that stupid bitch

Haven’t hurt myself in like two fucking months

GONE

HERE WE GO AGAIN

It wasn’t that bad

I feel bad talking about it

I’m sorry

It just wasn’t that bad this time

I burn myself with cigarettes

Which apparently you’re not supposed to do

Like obviously but from a sh perspective cause it’s bad it can give you infections or some shit

Every time I do it I always do it twice

I’m building something on my arm

Idk what it is

At first it was just a triangle

But it spread the way you draw flower petals

Now I’m just drawing this long stem that flows down a vein on my arm

I tried to wrap it around my forearm like a bracelet but the burns weren’t enough

The bad ones are still there tho

Is it bad if I like them

Is that part of the problem

Idk why I like doing it

I didn’t even feel good last time

I just like doing it anyway

What the fuck is wrong with me

I guess I’ll just keep trailing or whatever

The voice in my head told me it’s going to be a long journey

Everyone is really nice to me about it

Like really supportive and they tell me to stop and shit

It’s really nice

It’s so weird

Idk why they care

Who am I

I’m just some fucking piece of shit

My gf tells me I’m the nicest person she knows

I don’t see it though

I think I’m horrible

Even though I can’t really see why

I think I just have the opportunity in my mind to be a bad person, so I am a bad person

That’s so fucking stupid

Just reading that right now

But it won’t make a difference

I still hate myself

Still think I’m a bad person

I hate myself so much

Even though I don’t do bad things

It feels like I do bad things

I don’t even do anything

All I do is play with puzzles and hangout with my gf

Idk I just feel like a piece of shit

I’m glad I’m doing this

I don’t have anyone to talk to

It feels like I can be myself rn

But miserable moapy self

I fucking hate being alive

Phones gonna die soon

Thanks for listening

Love you lots

I promise