#WAVES AND WIRES MY BELOVED

[spirngakawening]

Obligatory spotify wrapped top songs

1: バイバイ YESTERDAY – 3年E組うた担(渚&茅野&業&磯貝&前原)

2: Waves and Wires – How to Dance in Ohio (Original Broadway Cast Recording) – Liam Pearce, Imani Russell, Amelia Fei, Ashley Wool, Conor Tague, Madison Kopec, Desmond Luis Edwards, Cristina Sastre, Darlesia Cearcy, Nick Gaswirth, Carlos L. Encinias, Haven Burton, Melina Kalomas, Caesar Samayoa

3: Good Kid – The Lightning Thief (Original Cast Recording) – Chris McCarrel, The Lightning Thief Company, Rob Rokicki

4: Nightmare Time – Original StarKid Cast of Nightmare Time

5: No.7 – Jibaku Shonen Band

[deansbeer]

★ soup, snuggles, and mr. wiggles // beau arlen.

synopsis. you're sick during a visit to montana, but your dad, comes to the rescue with chicken star soup, snacks, and your old childhood stuffed bear, reminding you that you're never too old to be cared for.

warning(s). fluffy fluff fluff | older daughter!reader | caregiving dad beau | mild illness (stomach bug) | nausea | fatigue | father-daughter bonding | nostalgia | childhood memories (beloved stuffed bear & favorite soup).

kari yaps. i love my pretty cowboy sheriff sososo much && literally don't have anything written for him + this idea was perfect for beau, because one im an older sister / daughter myself & two my brain was wired up @ 2am ???? n i took that opportunity to write. but i only got halfway & BARELY got to finishing it 2day.

you knew it was a bad idea the second you bit into the chicken sandwich. something about it tasted... off, but you hadn't eaten at all during your flight from houston to montana, and your stomach didn't give you much of a choice. by the time you arrived at the airbnb you rented, you were already feeling the first signs of regret—your stomach twisting uncomfortably, your body heavy with fatigue. you chalked it up to exhaustion from the drive, but when you woke up the next morning, nausea hit you like a freight train.

you'd planned today for weeks—just you and your dad, a father-daughter day he'd been talking about nonstop since you told him you were visiting. he'd even promised emily she'd get her turn after you left because, as he put it, "this one's special. just me and my girl." and now, lying on the couch of your airbnb, wrapped in a blanket, you felt guilt gnawing at you because there was no way you could keep those plans. your stomach rolled again, and you groaned, reaching for your phone to call him.

"hey, sweetheart," he answered on the first ring, his voice bright with excitement. "you ready for me to pick you up? i've got the whole day mapped out—breakfast, a little fishing, and maybe we can stop by that trail you liked last time."

you winced, both at the enthusiasm in his voice and the wave of nausea that hit you. "uh, about that…"

he instantly picked up on your tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you said quickly, even though your voice was weak. "i just… i don't think i can make it today. i'm not feeling great."

"not feeling great how?" his voice lost its lightness, replaced by concern.

"it's nothing, dad. probably just something i ate. i just need to rest, that's all."

there was a pause, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "where are you staying again? that little airbnb by the creek?"

"dad, no, you don't have to—"

"i'll be there in twenty," he said firmly, already moving. "and don't even think about arguing with me."

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. "fine. okay, dad."

"what kind of dad would i be if i didn’t take care of my girl when she's sick?" he said, his voice softening. "sit tight, sweetheart. i'll be there soon."

true to his word, twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway. you managed to shuffle to the door, opening it just as he walked up, two large grocery bags in his hands and a determined look on his face.

"you look terrible," he said bluntly, though the warmth in his eyes softened the blow. "not that you're not still the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

"thanks, dad," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "just what every girl wants to hear."

he set the bags on the counter and turned to you, his hands on his hips. "all right, let's see what we've got here. crackers, ginger ale, that soup you used to love when you were little—chicken and stars, remember that?—and some popsicles, because you'd always ask for those when you were sick. oh, and a heating pad, in case you've got chills."

you felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched him unpack everything, his movements quick and efficient. he was always like this when you were a kid—hands-on, attentive, making sure you had everything you needed even when life got chaotic. and now, standing in your little airbnb kitchen, he looked just the same, though his beard was a little grayer and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

"dad, you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

he glanced at you, his expression softening. "yeah, i did. you're my kid, darlin'. it doesn't matter if you're five or twenty-five, i'm always gonna take care of you."

you blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. "i suppose you're right."

he gave you a small smile before turning back to the bags. "and because i know you're gonna get crabby—don't deny it, you've always been a little bear when you're under the weather—I brought backup.” he pulled out a small stuffed bear, its brown fur worn and familiar. "found this guy in one of the storage boxes last week and figured you might need him."

you let out a surprised laugh, reaching for the bear. "oh my god, is this… is this mr. wiggles?"

"the one and only," he said, grinning. "thought he'd been retired, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

you hugged the bear to your chest, shaking your head. "you're ridiculous."

"and you love me for it," he said, nudging your shoulder gently. "now, go lie down. i'll heat up the soup and put on a movie."

you didn't argue, too tired and too grateful to protest. you curled up on the couch again, the blanket pulled snug around you and mr. wiggles tucked under your arm. a few minutes later, your dad appeared with a tray—soup, crackers, and a glass of ginger ale—and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"all right, what's it gonna be?" he asked, grabbing the remote. "something funny? or one of those sappy movies you always make me watch?"

you smiled faintly. "sappy. but you're not allowed to complain."

"wouldn't dream of it," he said, settling into the recliner next to you. "though if i start crying, you're not allowed to tell anyone."

"deal," you said, your smile widening.

as the movie played, you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day. your dad stayed by your side, occasionally cracking jokes or making comments about the characters, his presence a constant comfort. and even though you felt awful, you couldn't help but feel a little better knowing he was there.

"thanks for coming, dad," you said softly as the credits rolled.

he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "always, sweetheart. you're stuck with your old man, whether you like it or not."

and in that moment, with the warmth of the blanket, the faint taste of ginger ale on your tongue, and your dad sitting nearby, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbite @deanswidow @jasvtsc @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @lacydollette @lustagel @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @ostaramoon @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @bluestrd @jackleslvr @fallbhind . . . ૮っ ̫ _ ྀིა

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 13 - I can't tell one from another

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Just a lil aggro and intimidation

Bonjour lovelies! Here we go...heating up now. Reader is living her best life (or trying to). As always, your reblogs and comments mean the world! Thank you!

Bucky was working on an old Camaro down at the auto shop when Steve called.

He hit the accept call button and put it on speaker as he set the phone down and began to wipe the grease off hands with a rag. Before he could even get a greeting out, Steve was talking.

“Don’t get mad,” Steve warned sternly.

Bucky frowned, “Hello to you too…”

“Don’t get mad,” he repeated.

Bucky’s frown deepened, “Don’t open a call like that, you know that’s only going to rile me up. What’s going on? Did Parker fuck up the delivery?”

“No”, replied Steve. “Work is fine. I’m in town picking up those parts from Pym…”

“And? Spit it out, Steve,” Bucky huffed.

Steve let out a deep sigh, “I just saw…you know who. She’s here. She’s out on a date, with that guy from the plant who asked her out at the bar”.

Bucky froze and Steve momentarily thought the line had dropped. “Buck? Look I’m not telling you this to be a dick. I just thought you should know. In case you see them around town”.

“Alright…thanks for telling me”, Bucky uttered quietly. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Did she look…happy?”

The long pause from Steve already told Bucky everything he needed to know.

“Uh…yeah, Buck. Yeah she did”.

Bucky hung up, taking a moment as he stood perfectly still in the middle of the garage.

He picked up a wrench and flung it full force into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Gritting his teeth, he then smashed a toolbox with his metal arm - sending it flying off the workbench and crashing into to the floor as its contents scattered across the room.

Bucky took a deep breath.

*

It was a few weeks later when Peter checked his phone as he walked out of the plant. Another tiring shift, but a message from you made him smirk and his fingers got to work responding as he headed to his car.

He hummed along to his earphones and waved to a few of his colleagues as he walked across the parking lot.

Looking down at his phone screen, he didn’t initially notice the broad figure leaning against his car.

He flinched as he peered up, car keys in hand. The man who had taken up residence across his driver’s door was burly and tall, sleek brown hair to his ears and a toothpick between his teeth, framed by a sneer. Peter didn’t miss the leather kutte, and the very recognisable patch attached to it. Parked up just a few feet away was a very large motorcycle.

Peter swallowed as two very intense blue eyes studied him. He knew who this was. Everybody did.

“Can I help you…bro?” He asked tentatively, keeping his tone light.

“I’m sure you can bro”, the man jeered.

Peter waited for him to elaborate, but the man continued to stare him down for a little longer.

“I’m just here to tell you that I’ve got my eye on you”, the man warned sinisterly.

Peter squared his shoulders, refusing to look intimidated, “Okay…and why would that be?” he asked.

But he already knew. He remembered the bar. He remembered that same look then, too.

“Just be good to her”, the man hissed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Be good to her. Treat her right. I’ll find out if you don’t,” the man threatened.

Peter tilted his head, unable to stay quiet, “what? Treat her right? Like you did?” he spat.

Bucky surged forward, squaring up to Peter. They were practically nose-to-nose as they stared at each other. Bucky’s breathing was heavy and restrained.

He pressed his finger hard into Peter’s shoulder, pushing him back a couple of steps as Peter scrambled to keep his footing. Bucky reached over and yanked on the earphone wire, pulling them out of Peter’s ears and sending them to the ground. He threateningly raised a gloved finger in front of Peter’s eyes.

“Just remember what I told you”, His voice was quiet, but menacing.

Bucky moved to his bike, shooting Peter one final glare as he mounted the seat and began to rev the engine. Seconds later he shot out of the parking lot, as Peter bent over to pick up the dropped earphones.

He exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

*

“So, I know this a nice place but you didn’t have to embarrass me by looking that good, yknow”, Peter hummed as he peered over the menu at you and took a sip of his wine.

You giggled, feeling the heat at your cheeks as you shook your head, “Oh, shut up”, you said shyly as you looked at your own menu.

This was the nicest restaurant in town, so you’d made an effort. You’d worn your favourite dress and a pair of heels, taken time with your hair and make-up. You felt good. Pretty. And Peter’s compliments made you feel like a teenager again.

You’d actually been out a few times since that coffee date. A few dinners, a trip to the movies, drinks (at a bar outside of town, you weren’t stupid). It was nice being with him. It was easy…uncomplicated. You’d settled into a routine together, texting and hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. You didn’t really think about what happened when you left town. You were just taking it day by day. You knew Peter probably wasn’t the love of your life, but he didn’t need to be.

Still radio silence from Bucky, although you’d seen him once.

You and Peter were buying groceries for a movie night, he’d gone to fetch the popcorn and you were getting a bottle of wine from the liquor section. Bucky had turned into the aisle just as you were leaving it, and the two of you both froze and stared at one another for a few seconds. It had been weeks, almost months. It felt weird to see him there of all places, after all the drama and the heightened emotions of how things were left between you both, seeing him in for the first time somewhere so mundane and normal was…strangely anticlimactic. Although your heart beating at the speed it was suggested otherwise.

He grabbed a six pack of beer from the shelf and gave you a nod, and you nodded back. Your feet were suddenly glued to the ground. He ran his hand through his hair and you had a brief flashback to yourself tugging on those strands as he pushed you deep into the mattress…

The tension lay thick, stifling. It was strange to feel a pang of longing for him, yet still angry at the same time. The hurt he’d caused you was still there, simmering under the surface.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m okay. How are you?” You replied awkwardly, your voice quiet.

“Okay. Yeah”, he nodded.

“And uh…How’s the bar? And the MC?”

“Alright. We had to get a new pool table after Thor got drunk and fell through the last one…”

You smirked at that, instantly chastising yourself for allowing him to make you smile. You could just picture it so clearly…

His eyes seemed to sparkle as you smiled, and you ignored whatever seemed to be stirring in the depths of your heart.

“How’s the house? Nearly ready?” He asked.

“Nearly,” you nodded.

“Did you do the fence yet?”

You scowled, “No…I will I just…I’ll probably pay somebody or something”, you muttered, annoyed at being called out, “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just functional”, you shrugged unconvincingly.

He smiled as if seeing through your nonchalance, “Well…don’t just pay some shitty handyman to butcher it or whatever”, he said plainly, “That place means a lot to you, I know. Anyone could see that home was built on love. Give it the care it deserves”.

“Right”, you nodded dumbly, a little taken aback by his almost poetic insight as you just stared back at him.

“Well…I’d better…”, he flicked his head to show he had to get going.

“Right, yeah. See you”, you replied hastily, your trance broken.

He smiled at you and then disappeared down one of the other aisles as you stood in his wake. It was odd…that awkwardness between you. You’d never really had that with him. He felt like a stranger now. Someone from another life. Although that was probably for the best. It was what you had wanted.

Right?

Peter had appeared a few moments later, brandishing ice cream and popcorn and slipping them into your shopping basket as he chatted away about some jerky he’d seen. You’d nodded in the right places and followed him as you lugged the basket alongside him, trying to silently exorcise the ghosts that haunted you.

*

And now you were having dinner. Nice restaurant, a few glasses of wine, dating for some weeks now…You were acutely aware of what Peter might be expecting tonight…

You’d had a few heavy make-out sessions, but you hadn’t…gone all the way yet.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t particularly prudish or shy about sex. You knew it was normal and healthy. Your general view was that if it was between consensual adults, people could do whatever they wanted in the bedroom - and that included you. You had no time for people who branded women sluts for enjoying sex or had strange rules about how long you should wait with someone.

You were fully aware Peter was keen from the way he touched you and how his breathing deepened when you kissed him, although he’d never pushed or pressurised you into anything further. You just seemed to have this strange mental barrier you couldn’t get beyond, every time things got heated with him, you’d find yourself anxious and suddenly unable to continue - a mental block you couldn’t explain or shift. You found him attractive, you liked being with him – so, what gives? Was it a hangover from Bucky hurting you? Stress from sorting out the house? You couldn’t find the answer, you just knew that moving forward with Peter hadn’t felt ‘right’, yet.

Usually if things looked like they might be heading that way, you’d find yourself panicking. You’d apologise and say you had to get home. You’d insist on driving yourself to your dates so you could leave if you had one of these mini freak-outs. At no point did Peter make any comments or seem disparaging, he seemed happy enough to go at your pace.

But maybe enough was enough. Maybe it was time.

As you toyed with the idea of finally going further with him, Peter finished his glass of wine and poured himself another, topping up yours as well.

“So what’s the latest with the house?”, he asked, “You gotta be nearly there right?”

You nodded as you took a sip. “Almost. I’ve got the realtors coming next week to take pictures for the listing, and we’re going to start putting together a schedule for viewings. I just need to fix the fence first”.

Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re always going on about that fence. Just get it done already”, he said dismissively.

You scowled, slightly taken aback by his brusqueness.

He must’ve seen the change on your face as he held up a wary hand, “Sorry, I just meant...isn’t it better just to get it done?”, he asked softly as he took your hand from across the table, “Then you can finally get that weight off your shoulders and move on”.

“It’s not a weight…”

“I know, sorry, bad choice of words - I just mean so you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Look…I have a buddy at the plant who can fix it for you. He’s not a professional or anything but he’s cheap and he’s fast, he’ll probably do it in an hour or two for a six pack of beer and a bag of Doritos. It won’t be perfect or anything but it’ll look okay in the photographs. Then you can sell up fast and do your thing,” he explained matter-of-factly as he drank his wine. “Then your buyers can figure it out…”

You nodded. Getting it done quickly was appealing. But you couldn’t help but remember Bucky’s words, give it the care it deserves. It was weird thinking about strangers traipsing around Granny’s house, changing things, knocking down walls and making it theirs…

You shook off the thought and turned your attention back to Peter. You smiled, doing your best to lighten the mood, “Sell up fast, huh? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He laughed, and you forced a smile behind your wine glass.

[pricegouge]

how we feel about call of duty kaiju horror?

(I’m watching a Godzilla movie tonight so✨)

-🫀

it's the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing with each keystroke that's killing me here

vibrating at a speed imperceptible to the human eye: i feel pretty normal about it.

okay i'm at a low point mental-health-slash-hope-in-the-world wise rn which means ofc i've been thinking about my sweet baby puppy, godzilla, a lot recently. just something about a larger than life monster of our own making come to visit hell upon us that's rather apt, you know?

so originally i was just gonna ramble about that as a response to this - and how easily you could plug an elite squad of soldiers into that formula, make them the focus as they fight back against the kaiju. do it kinda like shin godzilla, maybe, where it's more a procedural than anything to highlight the incompetence of their orders - the us versus them, versus it; where the pieces are government/military officials, civilians, and of course the kaiju. and then bring it back around to what they have to resort to to actually get the job done. trusting the people most effected by the actions of their overhead, and all that. which i'm super into, but knew wouldn't necessarily have made for a good fic. and then beloved @stellewriites did what she does best and seduced me into writing a little snippet after suggesting the focus be more on the after-effects, like a cloverfield situation.

and she was fucking right, but unfortunately that's not what i ended up doing here because i saw kaiju horror and blanked out a bit writing an action scene lmao.

shelling, active fire, hand to hand combat. nothing prepares you for something like this.

hell, even falling out of a hele hadn't been this bad - hadn't instilled within him this fear, just before drop, all kitted out and ready for action. as if anything on their persons could actually defend them from the screeching behemoth below. offense had been unofficially deemed hopeless. not even the stealth bombers had done any good, their blast zones only succeeding in creating more debris, more shrapnel. more rubble to bury the first wave of casualties.

they'd been assured there wouldn't be any more bombing, not while there were boots on the ground trying to minimize the growing death toll, guiding the frantic packs of terrified civilians looking for refuge.

gaz was fairly sure they had told the first deployment the same thing.

it's a struggle not to assess his team, so he doesn't fight it. takes in their expressions as they hang out the open side of the blackhawk, faces underlit by flame and heat. they look grim, worse than he's ever seen them. but cap's voice is still his standard surly growl over the comms when he tells nik to bring them closer to the… thing.

ghost is the only one brave enough to question him. "price?"

"just want a better look," the captain grumbles, as if the scale of it could even allow for some sort of misunderstanding.

"it's a big ass lizard, cap," gaz supplies, unable to hold his tongue as the creature looms closer, nik's steady hand bringing the hele up and over its head, outside of the range of its relatively short arms. "what more do you need to see?"

price eyes him, chill of his gaze turned gunmetal in the thin light. a warning. "don't know enough about it to be fightin' it."

"are we fightin' it then, cap?" soap, borderline hopeful. like he thinks he can save the world with a well-placed sticky bomb, even after everything he's seen.

"you saw what it did in pari -!"

price cuts him off. "might have to. should know more about it."

like it's got an achilles' heel they'll be able to spot while dropping, their flare lights casting a grim red glow over the mountainous mass of plates and scales. they ring it as best they can - a valiant effort to keep their paracords untangled. from each other, from the mess of wires clinging to the skeleton frames still standing. from it. gaz lucks out, manages to draw its head. his flare light casts eerie shadows on the smoke behind it, jagged cuts of spiny bone that reach like fingers skyward, as if to pluck the circling hele from the air like no more than a noisome fly hanging over head. there's a gradual slope across a heavy brow, its face wide-set and surprisingly flat, as if evolution knew it wouldn't be snuffling around in the dirt for food no matter what hellish recesses of the earth it had crawled out of. he sees the teeth first, blanched and deadly in a mouth that gapes slightly, soft pink tissue glinting with drool in the wan, flickering light. the shape of it seems to shift in the smoke, disorienting in its incomprehensibility. gaz tracks the nose - up, in, across -

the eye rolls, a ring of sclera giving it an unexpected humanity. it's beady, the iris the same dark, muddy sort of gray that blends with the rest of its plating. defensive evolutionary traits. against what, gaz did not want to know. it flickers red and orange in the light. alive, wary. a thick nictitating membrane draws back, reveals a depth of color which can't quite hide the pupil - nor the way it dilates, trained on him.

it ducks his head as he falls, assessing just as much as gaz is. he reaches for his gun, automatic, and the ridge of brow above its eyes twitches, lowers. there's a series of pops, loud enough to hear even above the thunder of air in his ears, and then a light flickers to life in its gullet, electric blue and feeble in its infancy.

debrief hadn't mentioned bioluminescence. he decides he does not want to be the first one to find out what that's about.

tipping himself forward, he propels himself faster. his angle widens, brings him around the creature's side a bit, out of its field of view. he follows along its broad flank, dipping past huge, clawed hands which curl as if in disgust as he passes. he pulls his chute somewhere around its hip, tries to plot his land despite his general lack of visibility. he's just settled on a gap in the buildings up ahead when the air stirs, a quick updraft that rocks him where he hangs, sending smoke swirling as something slices through it, maybe twenty meters above the ground. he keeps his eyes peeled for another jumper, cautious about mixed lines even though he should still be well away from soap's position.

but it's not another jumper. he sees it first in the reflection of a busted window, shatter-proof glass left hanging concave in its frame. light catches in it, a sporadic wisp refracting through the crumple points, pulsing with movement. electric blue.

he casts about for its source, finds it off to his right. it slips through the air like a knife, smooth and deadly enough to have him running through a list possible drone types he may have run afoul of. he comes up short, though he wouldn't be surprised to learn they'd resorted to test tech. last thing he needs, though he doesn't start to seriously worry until another one appears, just slightly larger, moving in sync with the first. they arch out and around to his left just as another flickers to light directly before them. again, slightly larger than the last - though maybe a little bit closer to it as well.

the next one is heralded by a quiet humming, low enough he thinks he's imagining things until his feed starts crackling with static. he pulls his cords so he can face it more fully, and the chain of lights whip away from him, circle back behind the creature with enough force to shift the air again, unexpected draft pulling him up, up.

the beast faces him, turned fully with a deadly kind of silence kyle hadn't expected. its mouth hangs agape, faint blue light leaking from between its teeth, painting the surrounding smoke blue until it looks like xenon breath, just as fatal. the aura seems to build around it, and it takes gaz much too long to realize its being backlit, the strange lights gathering behind it until the smoke all around glows blue and white and it bows, sinks to his level with an open maw. the light in its throat crystallizes into a cold white while building in intensity, lock step with the intimidation display climbing over its shoulders, the massive plates there flickering to life, veined with phosphorescence.

he'd be nowhere in life if he hadn't learned to listen - when needed, at least.

suspended as he is, his options are limited. he yanks at cords that do nothing, the air gone so still in the creature's deadly silence that it won't even let him fall. like a vacuum, just waiting for the collapse.

"fuck. shit," he hisses, panic building.

the thing shakes its head, an audible rumble building alongside the deafening hum of static. gaz pulls his emergency release and feels his stomach fall before he does, tumbling away after it with flailing limbs, unable to even right himself into a controlled dive before he's catching his full weight on his shoulder, the composite hull of a hele groaning under his mass before the world tilts sideways once more, flops him onto his stomach where his cheek grinds into dirt and metal runners.

"flare!" a thick accent calls from over head, and kyle has just enough wits about him to recognize that the thick trail of red crawling along the floor of the hele is coming from him. he draws a knee up, hands swatting uselessly at himself in search of the strap that keeps the flare tied to his ankle, smoke filtering through his mask until he's -

it's hard to tell what happens first, the blinding light or the g-force which crashes into the hele from above - pushes it down even as he stays in place, colliding with the ceiling hard enough to knock the remaining wind out of him. alarms erupt all over the dash, the noise of them blotted out by a stillness in his ears, as if they'd been submerged - an immense pressure against his eardrum which stifles even his own pulse.

until it didn't, sound rushing back in a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, the creature's roar only drown out by the dull sound of impact and the sudden build of force that follows, glass shattering as buildings shook and crumbled. nik curses, something in russian. flare smoke builds in the cab but it doesn't even matter, not when the debris outside the windshield is so thick nik can't even see the approaching church until he's almost gone through the belfry. he banks right, hard, and gaz has a panicked moment of free fall as the open door he'd already fallen through twice today rolls to meet him and he slips through it once more, fingers barely even managing to catch on the frame before he's falling again, a two story drop into the blessedly bare church courtyard with a winded huff, vision tunneling as he stares up uncomprehendingly at the streak of light that's pierced the sky, the burning after-image of a gale force he simply has no framework for.

when he wakes up, it's to a world on fire.

if anyone is interested in that kinda post apocalyptic world, lmk. i don't wanna do any sort of series here but kaiju are my lifelong hyperfixation so i'm always happy to ramble about this sort of setting :)

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

A/N: I got this request and decided to break it into three parts! Part one is Alastor’s version, this part is Vox’s version, the next will be Husks!

Warnings: Vox trying to be sneaky but failing

Navigation! // Alastor’s Version!!

Void

Vox didn’t take an interest in people easily. His attention was usually monopolized by his beloved tech—saturating screens, commanding networks, spreading his influence like a virus through Hell’s sprawling digital web. People? They were predictable. Boring. But you? You were different.

He couldn’t pinpoint what intrigued him at first. Maybe it was the strange, quiet confidence you carried, the way your presence seemed to bend reality ever so slightly even when you weren’t using your powers. Or maybe it was how your abilities—those of a living black hole—had the potential to be the most powerful force in Hell, if properly utilized.

And Vox loved power.

From the moment he saw you collapse into that swirling, incomprehensible void, reality fracturing and trembling as your form dissolved, Vox was hooked. Not in the charming, lovestruck way; no, his interest was colder, calculated.

“Fascinating,” he murmured as he watched from the safety of a nearby screen. “Absolutely fascinating.”

When you reformed, dazed and exhausted, he appeared before you, stepping out of the static with his signature smug grin.

“Well, well,” he said, his mechanical voice buzzing faintly. “A walking singularity. And here I thought I’d seen everything Hell had to offer.”

You frowned at him, not sure what to make of the tall, screen-headed demon. “Do I know you?”

“Name’s Vox,” he said, extending a hand that buzzed faintly with static. “I run things around here. Networks, data, communications—if it’s on a screen, it’s mine.”

You hesitated but shook his hand anyway. His grip was surprisingly warm, but there was something about him that felt… off. “Nice to meet you, I guess,” you said cautiously.

His grin widened, his screen flickering slightly. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine,” he purred. “You and I are going to get along just fine.”

From that day on, Vox made it his mission to befriend you—or, more accurately, to gain your trust. He was charming, charismatic, and just manipulative enough to keep you guessing about his true intentions.

He’d show up unexpectedly, claiming he was “just in the neighborhood,” and offer to help you control your powers.

“Your abilities are incredible,” he’d say, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “But you’re not using them to their full potential. You could do so much more with a little… guidance.”

“What kind of guidance?” you asked, eyeing him warily.

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, waving a hand. “Channeling your energy, focusing your pull. You’d be unstoppable. You just need someone to show you how.”

It was tempting, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. You’d struggled to control your powers for as long as you could remember, and Vox seemed to know what he was talking about.

Reluctantly, you agreed to let him help.

At first, Vox’s guidance seemed harmless, even helpful. He taught you techniques to focus your energy, to direct your gravitational pull in specific ways. With his help, you learned to collapse objects into the void without letting it spiral out of control.

But it didn’t take long for his true motives to surface.

One day, he brought you to a massive, abandoned industrial complex on the outskirts of Hell. The building was filled with ancient, malfunctioning machinery, wires sparking and screens flickering.

“What is this place?” you asked, your voice echoing in the cavernous space.

“My latest project,” Vox said, his grin widening. “With your powers, we can turn this outdated junk into something revolutionary. Imagine it—a network powered by the energy of a black hole. Limitless potential. Infinite connectivity. Hell would never be the same.”

You hesitated, a pit forming in your stomach. “I don’t know… this feels dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Vox laughed, the sound sharp and buzzing. “Come on, [Y/N]. This is progress. You’ve got the power to change everything, and I’m giving you the chance to do it.”

Against your better judgment, you agreed to help.

At first, everything seemed fine. Vox guided you through the process, teaching you how to harness your energy to power the massive machinery. The complex came to life under your touch, screens flickering and wires sparking as your gravitational pull fed the network.

But it wasn’t long before the strain began to show.

Every session left you more exhausted than the last, your body trembling with the effort of maintaining control. The void inside you grew louder, its pull stronger, and you began to feel like you were losing yourself.

“Vox,” you said one day, your voice weak and trembling. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

He waved you off, his attention focused on a screen displaying the network’s progress. “You’re fine,” he said dismissively. “Just a little more, and we’ll be done.”

But you weren’t fine. The pull of the void was becoming unbearable, and you could feel yourself slipping closer to the edge with each passing moment.

One day, as you powered the network, you lost control. The void surged outward, consuming everything in its path. Machinery collapsed, screens shattered, and Vox barely managed to pull you back before the entire complex was swallowed.

When you reformed, trembling and barely conscious, he knelt beside you, his usual smugness replaced by something almost like concern.

“[Y/N],” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t do this anymore, Vox. It’s killing me.”

For the first time, his grin faltered. He stared at you, the realization of what he’d done hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Vox wasn’t used to feeling guilt, but as he looked at you—exhausted, broken, and barely holding yourself together—he felt something twist in his chest. He had pushed you too far, all for his own gain, and now you were paying the price.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Why did you do it, Vox?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his screen flickering with static. “At first? It was about the power. Your abilities… they’re incredible, and I wanted to see how far we could push them. But somewhere along the way…” He trailed off, his screen dimming slightly. “Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

He met your gaze, his crimson eyes unusually soft. “I mean I care about you, [Y/N]. More than I realized. And I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

From that day on, Vox changed. He stopped pushing you to use your powers for his projects, instead focusing on helping you recover. He still had his sharp tongue and cocky demeanor, but there was a gentleness to him now, a willingness to put your well-being above his ambitions.

“Guess I’m not such a heartless bastard after all,” he joked one day, his screen flickering with a sheepish grin.

You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Guess not.”

Though it wasn’t easy, the two of you began to rebuild—your trust in him, his understanding of you, and the strange, unexpected bond you shared.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t facing the void alone.

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 10)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: sexual content, language, angst, etc. Poppins has come to an end my lovelies, but I’ve an epilogue in store for you, so don’t despair. Also, I’m so sorry for the wait, your patience and understanding means so much to me and I appreciate and adore you all xoxo❤️

“Just ignore him,” Josh breathes unsteadily, lapping against your neck like he can’t stand to exist another second without the essence of you blazing a languid path over his tongue. “He’ll go away.”

A louder, more insistent knock sounds out, as if in argument. As if to say, ‘that’s what you think! I’m not going anywhere!’.

“Oh my god,” you squirm beneath him, but not in the way he would like, not the way you were just moments ago. “It’s like you two have some sort of bat signal for interruption.”

A sharp laugh sounds out of him, open and honest. Beautiful, and so very Josh. “I can assure you, sweetheart, the last thing in the world I want right now, is my fucking brother at the door. Lemme get rid of him.”

He rises reluctantly and walks backwards, fingers fumbling to fasten his pants and adjust himself, eyes on you while you slide up into a more presentable position and attempt to smooth your hair.

“It’s no use, love…” he flashes that blinding grin of his, pairing it with a wicked wink, “he’s going to know you’re wet and up to no good. You look gorgeously desperate.”

You feel your cheeks color further as you contemplate running off to hide in the kitchen. He’s obscene, and the effect that it has on you is concerning. Your entire body is wired up tight and thrumming. You’d crawl to him, should he hook a finger in your direction.

Your traitorous brain conjures that image - you, on your hands and knees, making your way closer to him, to his cock. You want him in your mouth. You want him to press into your throat, to make you gag, to shape you into something filthy for him. Something pretty on her knees ready to give without thought, should he ask.

The knock sounds out again, snapping you out of your salacious daydream. You’re reluctant to leave it, but bid farewell anyway.

“Shut up!” Josh shouts, slipping effortlessly into sibling mode as he twists the locks and cracks open the door.

He’s gearing up to tell his twin to fuck off, it’s evident in his stance and by the way he wedges his foot against the wood, like Jake might decide to push his way in - but in a breath, he swings the door open wide.

“Hey, baby,” the affectionate greeting tells you all you need to know - Jacob isn’t alone. “What are you doing up so late?”

Jake saunters in, winding around Josh, with a wide awake Lily on his hip - who is barefoot, dressed in a frilly, purple princess nightgown, and clinging to her beloved uncle. She shrugs and drops her head to his shoulder.

“Mom told me not to let her fall asleep on me,” Jake runs a soothing palm up and down her tiny back. “Said she’d wake up as soon as I tried to put her in bed. I’m tired of that woman constantly being right about everything.”

“Wanted to come home.” Lil hushes in her soft little girl voice, “I didn’t want you to be all by yourself.”

“Ah,” Josh waves off her concern and leans in to sweep a kiss onto the crown of her head, “you don’t have to worry about daddy, Lily-bit. I’m tough as nails.”

Jake’s eyes are locked in on you over their exchange, flashing with gleeful accusations. Josh is as right as his mother always seems to be - Jake knows exactly what he’s walked in on, and he is delighted to have stopped it in its tracks.

“And just look, lil…” he grins, clearly enjoying himself, as well as your furious blushing, a great deal. “Daddy’s not all by himself, Poppins is here to keep him company!”

She swivels her head around lightening fast, eyes thrilled and round with surprise.

“Hi!” Her greeting comes as a squealing chirp as she scrambles down out of Jake’s grasp in order to hustle into yours.

“Hi, Lil,” you gather her up into your lap and finger comb her tangles, while she settles in, smelling of no tear shampoo and sleep. “What are you doing out on the town at this hour, you little party animal?”

“Jakey drove me,” suddenly her face is close to yours, nose to nose, as she confides, “he turned the radio up loud like I like ‘cause I promised not to tell Daddy.”

You’ve yet to meet a child who possesses the ability to properly whisper, and Lily is no different.

“Jake,” comes Josh’s stern admonishment.

His brother cuts him off at the pass, “The Shining, man, you let my angelic, perfectly innocent niece watch the Shining.”

“I didn’t let her, I—“ he interrupts himself with a huff of irritation. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

At the faint hint of a goodbye, Lily is clambering off your lap as quickly as she arrived. “No, uncle Jakey, stay stay stay!”

When her tiny hand tucks itself away within his own, every heart in the room knows the battle has been lost.

“Alright, girly,” he crouches down and cups her chipmunk cheek. “I’ll stay, but you have to promise to go to bed. You need your sleep so you can rest that big, bright brain and wake up ready to learn brand new things tomorrow.”

He could have so easily reminded her of ‘beauty sleep’, but he chose to emphasize her insatiable thirst for knowledge instead, and you love him for it.

“I’ll try,” she shakes her head solemnly, “but I dunno, I’m pretty awake. Feels like morning.”

Your eyes have wandered to Josh, watching him as he watches them. There is that completely laid bare devotion that you’ve always seen, but also, something new…or at least, something you’ve never noticed before.

Wistful indebtedness is the only way to describe it, though even that seems to fall short. He is beholden to them both - unflinchingly, and for very different reasons.

Likely, it isn’t new at all…maybe you’ve just never looked hard enough.

He has told you as much before, but now you are seeing it unmasked for the very first time; he would lay down his life for his brother, without thought. He looks at Jake as though he blazed the sun to life with his own calloused hands - and when you think about it, that is exactly what he did for Josh all those nights ago, when they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring through the nursery window. Jake had given Lily to Josh, and lit up his whole world, bright as the sun.

Tears are clutching at your throat, but you shake them off and extend a hand out to Lily to make her an offer she can’t refuse “How about a princess bath, Lily-bit?”

Jake is forgotten in an instant at the promise of a princess bath, and she scurries over to grab your hand with the ardor only a child flying high on their second wind seems to be capable of. “Can I have bubbles and flower water?”

“Of course,” you promise, as though it should have been a given, silently praying that the little amber bottle that lives in the medicine cabinet is full of the lavender drops that will turn ordinary tap water into flower water.

A princess bath is reserved for very special occasions, and certainly, being awake so late into the night after an unexpected drive through the sleeping streets of town with the radio cranked up way too loud, ranks a special occasion.

“C’mon, daddy,” she grabs his hand as well, trudging through the room, on a mission to be pampered…and you catch sight of Jake settling down onto the couch to wait, over your shoulder.

It feels like abandonment somehow, leaving him like this. Alone.

But Lily is chattering on, and your attention is quickly refocused as you work alongside Josh to make her happy. More importantly, to relax her enough to wrangle her into bed and lull her to sleep with a story.

~

It takes less effort than you had originally feared it might, and soon you’re creeping from her wildly chaotic bedroom while he quietly reads her a story - complete with changing character voices and much enthusiasm - stepping carefully over dinosaurs that rest, reptilian feet and winding tails stretching toward the ceiling, next to half dressed baby dolls and toppled towers of blocks.

Josh is adamant about instilling responsibility, and while she is given regular tasks and age appropriate chores, he insists her space is her own, and has never once, in your presence, ordered her to pick up her toys from her own floor. The living room floor? Daily. But he never dictates her space.

The way he sees her as a person is one of your most beloved ways to watch him parent. So many forget that children are people with thoughts and feelings, who are lacking the skill set to navigate the world properly…that they need guidance, not policing. Josh never forgets that. Josh sees Lily.

There is a soft smile ghosting over your lips listening to him read to her when you step into the hall to find Jake leaned against the wall like some long-haired James Dean minus the popped collar and casual cigarette.

He cocks his chin in the direction of the backyard and then pushes off with the heel of his boot to swagger down the hallway “Come have a look at the stars with me, babe.”

You follow behind him, feeling a little like a lost puppy, but damned if you know how to do anything but follow these two men - so beautifully alike, yet so achingly different.

“What were you smiling about back there, pretty girl?” He asks, rasping words into the night the second the two of you settle onto the framed porch swing that graces the deck.

“He’s so good with her,” you’re smiling again, remembering. “I don’t know, it makes me smile. I want her to be happy and loved. Strong and fierce. He’s going to make sure that happens. It just…” you offer a little shrug as his hand finds yours in the dark, “it makes me smile, that’s all.”

His head lulls to the side in your peripheral vision, watching you “You love her.”

“I do.” You confirm with a slight nod, not trusting yourself to look at him. “Very much.”

“I love her, too.” He whispers, and finally, you turn to catch his eye.

“I know, Jake.

“You love him.” He’s no longer whispering, his words come fainter .

Your response squeezes painfully out of your tightened throat, “I love you, too.”

His reply mirrors yours that came before, “I know, poppins.”

It is silent for a long stretch before he breaks it, “Did he tell you? How all this came to be?” A soft chuckle precedes the joke he makes to lighten the heavy, “the tale of the Kiszka Twins and the fucked up ways we fuck up?”

You ignore his joke, and address it for what it was: something serious masked as frivolity “Do you think you fucked up, Jake? What you did? Do you regret it?”

Again, there is a pause, and you allow him all the time he needs.

“Sometimes.” He takes a deep breath. “I love her so much it feels like something separate from myself. Some sort of being in and of itself. Like there’s me over here, and then my love for that little girl over there. Because it’s just so great that there isn’t room inside my body for it all, you know? Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Yeah, sometimes I get selfish and regret it a little. Sometimes she looks at me with such adoration, such fucking complete devotion and all of a sudden, I want her all to myself. I want to grab her up and run away with her in my arms. But it always goes away just as fast as it comes, that selfishness…he’ll walk in the room and her eyes will light up. Or they’ll share some silly inside joke that I don’t get. Or she’ll ask a question and he’ll see it as a moment to teach her, where I would’ve just answered it…he’s her father and that’s the way it should be. He was always meant to be her dad.”

You’re cradling his hand in both of yours now, soothing your thumbs across his knuckles “You think? Like an everything happens for a reason kind of thing?”

“You look at those two together and tell me what happened didn’t happen for a reason.”

You raise his hand and press a kiss to the back of it, before sweeping your cheek against the knob of his wrist, “I don’t know how to handle all of this. Or what to do with you two. It’s like I can’t separate you in my head. I don’t want to choose. I won’t.”

“Now who’s selfish?” He laughs lightly, wiggling his fingers that are still laced and wound around yours.

“I’m sorry.” A gentle sob shakes your shoulders, and for a moment you wonder how you ended up here. How strange.

“Don’t be sorry, Mary Poppins,” his foot kicks out, swinging you both back and forth in the moonlight, “I’m not sorry, and I won’t make you choose. Can I tell you a secret?”

Lifting your head away from his hand, there is reluctance - his skin feels right pressed against your own, and you hate to part from it “I don’t know that I can handle any more Kiszka secrets.”

A laugh, much too loud for the hour, bubbles out of him “Sure you can, babe. I’ve already decided for you. I won’t leave tonight, because I promised girly I’d stay, but I’m gone in the morning, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What?” Is it that you really don’t understand his meaning, or that you don’t want to understand it?

He hums a little tune and rests his head on your shoulder, hushing soft lyrics into the air as he swings gently, “Bye bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love…”

“Jake—“

“Isn’t that what you called me? Free bird?” His beautiful face tilts up and then there is his nose, nuzzling your cheek tenderly, his touch far more innocent than you’ve ever known it to be before. “It’s time for me to go, and it’s time for you to stay.”

You’re prepared to fight, but for what, you’re unsure, “I know what you’re doing. You’re choosing for him just like you did with that goddamned band you guys had.”

Now it’s his turn for confusion. He sits up in order to get a good look at your face and prods you along with raised eyebrows.

“Your mom told me. What you did for Josh because you knew music wasn’t what he wanted. How you gave it up to make him happy.” You’re spinning out of control just a little, but you can’t be sure why. Isn’t this what you wanted? An easy solution?

It just suddenly so seems tragic. He’s given so much to Josh, and here he sits, giving still.

“Fuckin’ Karen,” his laughter is quieter still, and blurred sadly around the edges. “She’s got a big mouth, that one. She’s right though, I did give it up for him. You, on the other hand, are wrong.”

You so badly want to reach out and stroke your fingers through his hair, he feels like mist, like a ghost who is already gone. A memory who sits before you. But you think it’s best to let him speak, and so you do.

“I’m not leaving for him. I’m leaving for her.” As if he can read your thoughts, his fingers card through your hair. “You love me and you love him and both of us love you back and it’s this convoluted fucking disaster, but none of that matters. She matters. And honestly, babe, it’s not even that hard to walk away because it’s for her. She deserves someone who thinks of shit like princess baths, and someone to fix her hair pretty for her first day of school. Someone who’s going to know what to say to her when she doesn’t feel good enough, or smart enough. Someone who won’t get flustered and weird when she starts her period, or needs her first bra,” he shudders a little at that and it makes you smile. “Someone who will know how to make her heart hurt a little less the first time some idiot boy makes her cry. Someone who will know what to do in a million other moments that I can’t even name because I’ll never be that person for her, and neither will he. She needs a mom. She needs you.”

“Don’t you think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Jacob?” You ask, though you don’t feel the conviction you’re desperately trying to color your words with.

“No, I don’t.” He’s never sounded so sure of himself, and that is a feat, as Jake is almost always sure of himself. “Not at all. You belong here. With her. With him. And I belong god knows where, playing for pretty girls who will never be you.”

“I love you, Jake.” You’ve said it already tonight, out here amongst the crickets and the dewy grass that could use a trim, but this devotional feels like the last.

His arm stretches out to pull you in “But you love him, too, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes,” And that is the truth…

He presses a kiss against your temple “And you love her?”

“More than both of you combined. More than myself.” And that is the truth, too.

“Well, then, Mary Poppins,” he sighs as you sway in the swing, the muted creak of its chains keeping time. “It seems we’re on the same page.”

“Will it really be so easy for you to walk away?” You can’t help but hope there will be at least a hint of melancholy in his tone…but there is nothing but content in his reply.

“For Lily? Yes. The easiest thing in the world.”

~

When you wake, it is with Josh curled up warm and snug around you. He soothes your soul like a security blanket. And even given the events just hours before, you feel serene…like you’re floating through calm, perfumed waters with tranquil skies overhead.

You hear him, of course you do, his voice will always perk your ears, you suspect - and maybe that’s okay.

Yes, you hear him. Speaking to her gently, giggling with her, singing to her, telling fanciful stories of what he’ll get up to on the road.

You listen to him remind her of how smart she is, how grand her heart is. He makes her promise to call him all the time, and to give uncle Sammy grief every chance she gets.

He says, “Listen to your daddy, girly, and make Poppins laugh at least once a day, just for me.”

…and then, with a click of the front door, he is gone.

Tears threaten in your eyes, but then there she is, climbing up onto the bed with Josh’s mangled maroon shirt clutched dutifully at her side.

“Can you make me pancakes?” She asks, crawling through the sea of blankets…and you smile, because you can make her pancakes. Of course you can.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @gvfpal @gretavangroupie @starcatcher-jake @demolitionndann @hugorobinson @jaketlove

[pjisskullourful]

𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵

🔒 Thomas × reader [sequel to DISTANTLY LONGING]

NSFW 🔥 filth& feels smutty play

° Thomas Raggi/female reader insert ✨ cameo by: Damiano David

wordcount::: 5,369

° you're hanging out with måneskin on tour for a few days, but somethings got thomas feeling territorial over you

° commissioned by my absolute most beloved jace(@punk-gremlin)💋[requests are open but commissions get priority- there are 2 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° [ITA:] cucciolo: puppy - principessa: princess

“What do you mean that you don’t know how to whistle?” Damiano asked, extra animated. You didn’t know why this would matter so much to him.

But you weren’t about to dismiss someone so important to your boyfriend. This time joining Måneskin’s tour was the time to bond with Thomas’ closest friends. You had spent plenty of time with them before but you couldn’t turn down an opportunity to make a good impression.

“I can never do it right.” You said.

You and the lead singer were sitting on separate sofas, chatting to kill time before the band were due to begin their set for this festival. Elsewhere in this common area, Thomas was playing pinball. You thought he was within earshot, but he wasn’t going out of his way to include himself in your conversation, he didn’t need to.

Damiano’s feet were planted on the ground, his arms rested on his legs as he leaned in toward you. He was wearing a friendly smile as he had been the entire time you had been talking.

“Come on, you must know how- you just put your lips together and blow.” He said.

The smile was still splashed across his features as he formed his mouth into a tight circle. It wasn’t a pout as if he were about to pose for a photo. As you started to copy him, Thomas came into your field of vision - standing instead of sitting with you.

“Yeah, I know what I’m supposed to do, but the wires in my brain are crossed or something. ‘Cause I don’t blow the air out, I suck.” You earnestly explained and Damiano’s eyes lit up. You further made your point by demonstrating your lacklustre whistling skills.

It sounded so terrible that it looked like he was about to start laughing, a reaction that didn’t surprise you. Your whistling was quiet and breathy, you didn’t know how to adjust the pitch. You ran out of air too fast to be able to carry a tune. You knew it was silly to hear.

“Wow. I hope you’re better at sucking than you are at blowing.” He joked, still smiling in that non-condescending way.

Suddenly and unprompted, Thomas offered you his hand to hold. It was automatic for you to put your hand in his, even though you didn’t get up immediately. You still had something to say to Damiano.

“Yeah, I can blow up a balloon. Unlike this guy.” You said and you pointed to Thomas. “It’s only whistling that-”

He cleared his throat rather loudly. “Can I please talk to you for a moment?”

You looked away from Damiano and found a strange expression on your boyfriend’s face. You began getting to your feet, none too worried about this conversation coming to an end.

“Of course.” You said and he didn’t wait to start walking, heading towards the door to his dressing room with you in tow.

“See ya later.” Damiano sang out after you and you waved to him over your shoulder.

It appeared that Thomas was displeased, annoyed even. It wasn’t often that you saw him like this. It was a palpable attitude that surrounded him and his shoulders appeared broader at this moment.

You tried to think quickly, were you being oblivious to something that everyone else had picked up on? You had spent the whole day with him and you hadn’t noticed this mood at any earlier point. According to your recollection, there were no causes for concern.

The door to his private dressing room stood mostly open. You followed him into the unoccupied space with him letting go of your hand so that he could shut the door entirely.

You didn’t feel comfortable enough to sit down on the sofa, or even lean against a wall. “Is something wrong, cucciolo?”

He wasn’t quite making eye contact as he stood separate from you. He rested his ass against the vanity table and held his arms folded over his chest. “Why haven’t you called Damiano out, or told him to knock it off? He’s been unbearable all day, but you have just been letting him get away with it.”

Your throat felt thick because here it was: the evidence that you were ignorant to a fault. You were beginning to get embarrassed because you didn’t know what he was talking about, even though it seemed like you should.

“Get away with what?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“Flirting with you. Basically everything he’s said to you today has been innuendo and you haven’t tried to discourage him, not even a little bit.” Thomas said.

You paused, your brow furrowed as you attempted to assess the day from this new perspective. No clear examples came to your mind. “He’s been flirting with me?”

“Yes. You didn’t notice that comment he made about not caring if you accidentally saw all of the nudes on his phone?” Thomas asked.

You could remember that joke but you had laughed it off, before being distracted by the photos and videos of his cats, that was the reason his phone had been in your hand to begin with.

“Why would he flirt with me?” You asked, feeling strange and unsettled now.

“‘Cause he thinks it’s funny, especially if it bugs me.” He said.

“I thought that’s all he was doing: trying to be funny and that’s why he was smiling at me so much. But I didn’t think anything he was saying was all that funny. But I wasn’t gonna be rude and tell him that he shouldn’t quit his day job to become a stand-up comic.” You explained.

As you were talking, the look on your boyfriend’s face had started to change. You were less sure which emotion he was feeling now, but he was meeting your eye more.

“You didn’t know?” He asked.

“No, I really thought that his sense of humour was a little weird, just different to mine, which has happened to me before.” You said.

“I thought you had been playing along this whole time.” He said, you were positive that his bad mood had run its course. Now he just seemed deflated, maybe a little embarrassed - like you.

“I was just trying to be friendly.” You said.

“And you were, you were being really nice and social.” He said, starting to cross the floor over to you. “I’m sorry for this, my whole reaction.” You offered your hand to hold this time and he took it. “I’m sorry if I sounded like- if you thought I was angry at you. I never want to be angry at you, principessa.”

You placed your other hand to his cheek, cupping it as you looked into his light eyes. “I never want to make you angry. I don’t know what I did, but I wish I could take it back.”

“No, no, you did nothing wrong.” He said then he moved in closer to give you a kiss just beside your lips. “You were just having a conversation, you didn’t know he was teasing me.” He kissed you on the cheek. “It’s my fault for assuming you were in on the joke.”

“I didn’t even know there was a joke.” You said.

He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “That’s nothing you have to apologise for, okay?” He wrapped an arm around your waist, you were pleased to feel the physical connection growing. “I’m the one who needs to apologise. And Damiano, I should make him apologise.”

You looked at him with your brow furrowed. “Was he making fun of me?”

“No, no, no.” He said, giving you a couple of kisses on the cheek. “He was teasing me. He knew it would annoy me if he flirted with my girlfriend.”

You still didn’t fully understand this situation, but it didn’t seem like it would give you reason to be upset now that the two of you were talking it out. “I don’t need Damiano to flirt with me, I don’t need anyone to flirt with me. I’m yours.” You initiated the kiss this time, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into you and your mouth parted a little for him. “You know that, don’t you?”

He kept his forehead resting against yours, the distance between the two of you dwindling. “Yeah, I know it. But sometimes logic gets lost and these stupid insecurities happen, I-”

You cut him off by placing a firm kiss onto his mouth. He didn’t resist, not needing to finish making that point. As he kissed you back, he wrapped both of his arms around you, his hands gripping your lower back. The earlier worry was transforming into a different kind of energy: adrenaline. If he wasn’t already feeling it with you, you wanted to get him there.

“You don’t need to be, but…” As you talked, you dragged your fingers up the nape of his neck. “It’s hot when you get jealous.”

“Hot?” He repeated, eyebrows lifting in intrigue, rather than judgement.

“Yeah, you can be territorial about me anytime.” You said as you twirled his hair around your finger.

He was smiling as he started to kiss you more. You could have said more - you could have spoken about knowing exactly how jealousy felt. You could have told him how flattering it was that he thought you were worth any jealousy.

But you didn’t stop kissing him. This seemed like the most direct way for the two of you to get in sync with one another again.

The hem of your loose dress was lifted when he moved both of his hands under the material. You gave his top lip a suck as he began moving his hands up your back. On the path down again, he applied his fingernails to your skin. They weren’t sharp or especially long, but as he used the right amount of pressure, you felt a pleasant stinging. Keen tingles moved through you and you sucked harder on his lip.

He dragged his nails up your back and you couldn’t help thinking back to instances when he had left scratch marks on your skin. You had savoured wearing his marks, carrying the signs of his lust on your body for days. You would be flattered to have more - the ultimate, personalised accessories. 

As your heart consistently picked up speed, you applied your teeth to his lip. It was firm without being an actual bite, enough to show him the hunger coursing through your veins. Even though you liked the idea of being the reason his lip got swollen.

“I love you.” He said between kisses.

“I love you too, cucciolo.” You said.

You tightened your arm around him and tilted your head to allow for a deeper kiss. You moved your tongue forward, touching his as you invaded his mouth.

He raked his nails down your back, then kept going lower, just using a firm caress. He passed his hands over your butt, moving down to reach the backs of your thighs.

When he squeezed, you felt a new burst of endorphins. This time it came from pain because he had just grabbed you over a fresh bruise. It had been spotted by him this morning when you had been dressing, getting ready to leave the hotel.

It had been easy to figure out the cause: the chest of draws that he had guided you to instantly upon getting to your hotel suite. The two of you had embraced your new privacy with him pushing you onto the top of this furniture, fucking you there.

You quietly hissed as you drew back from him slightly. “You’re right on the bruise there.”

“I know.” He said, showing you a smile before he kissed you again.

“You’re just admiring your handiwork, are you?”

“Something like that.”

You tightened your arms around his neck, arching your back into him as he continued to press his fingers into the bruise.

“We have time.” You told him, referring to the hours left before their set started.

“We have time and I have a need.” He said.

“I’ve got a need, too.” You said.

“What’s your need?” He asked, his voice huskier than usual.

“To prove to you how much, totally and completely, I’m yours.”

You further emphasised your point by eagerly pushing your lips against his. Instantly he matched the energy of this kiss. It was swiftly followed by more, until you were getting short on breath.

“Please tell me you have a condom.” He said.

“Yeah, in my purse.” 

“I’ll check that I did actually lock the door.” He said, releasing you from his secure hold.

While he went to the door, you retrieved your bag from beneath the vanity table. You tended to carry a lot with you, packing things into the bag with the mentality of I might need this. Amongst the rest of your thorough inventory, you found the wrapped condom.

You turned around to see him sitting on the sofa, having already shed his T-shirt, shoes and jeans. You handed over the condom and, with a smile, you reached for the bottom of your dress. You pulled it up and over your head, not hesitating to remove your bra too.

He beckoned you closer with a curling of his index finger. “Get over here, I wanna enjoy that body that was made for me.”

You held his cheeks in your hands as you moved in to kiss him. He grabbed you firmly, bringing you to where your chests could be pressed together as he wrapped his arms around you.

He used his hold to move you, redirecting you closer to the sofa, the side of your leg bumping into this soft surface. You didn’t need to part from his lips for him to tell you what he wanted, you knew what to do. You climbed onto the couch, planting your knees on the pillow as you remained in his embrace for a few more wonderful moments.

He twisted his body around so that he could face you as he brought the kiss to a gradual end. “Lay down for me, on your back.”

You readjusted and laid back, finding the lounge to be comfortable. It wasn’t covered in leather that made horrendous sounds with every movement, nor was the soft material itchy against so much of your bare skin. With your head at the opposite end of the sofa to his current position, you could keep him in your sights. You watched him remove his dick from his underwear and take the condom out of its wrapper.

“Look at that wet patch.” He said, his eyes on your purple panties. “You weren’t lying about that whole jealousy thing turning you on.”

You kept your legs parted, your knees raised, because you didn’t want to hide something that he deemed worthy of admiration. “It’s not just the jealousy, it’s so much more than that. It’s the way that you do stuff like scratching my back and I don’t even have to ask, you just know to do it.” You watched him covering his erection with the latex. “I don’t need- I would never want anyone but you, Tommy. You’re the only one who can make me feel so good.”

Once the condom was in place, he started to move toward you. On top of your body, he crawled closer. As he did this you noticed that there was something changed in his smile, it looked slyer now, this wasn’t the way he would smile when posing for a photo. You knew that this smile was just for you.

You also knew that he could never sneak innuendo past you. With all of the time you had spent looking at him and getting to know his facial expressions, you were able to read him well enough that you could tell when he was building up to something sexual.

“I can make you feel so good right now.” He said, settling his body on top of yours as your faces got to the same height.

“Yes, please.” You quietly moaned as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m yours and that’s the only way I want it. I don’t want anyone else.”

He began pulling your underwear down. “Not even pretty boy singers?”

Immediately you remembered Damiano saying that of himself a few hours earlier. It had been while you were mucking around with filters on Snapchat and you had found one that claimed (with just a face scan) it could reveal the compatibility of two people. You and Thomas had been rated only 35% on this scale.

Damiano had wanted to see what results he could get. Holding his cheek to Thomas’, they had gotten 50%. Then he had sat beside you, and what you knew had to be randomly generated numbers appeared on the screen: 92%. And he had been ready to remark that perhaps you would be better suited to a ‘pretty boy singer’. You had joked about the scientific accuracy of anything coming from Snapchat, moving on without much thought.

Seemingly it had earned more thought from Thomas, and you would love to help lay the whole thing to rest. Then the two of you could move on together, neither left behind.

“Definitely not pretty boy singers.” You assured him.

He was pulling your panties down your legs as he started to kiss you again. You moved one of your feet from out of its leghole, then the other. He pushed his body firmer on yours, the increase in pressure delighting you. You held your arms tighter around him, wanting to feel every part of him on you.

“Gimme your leg. Where’s that bruise?” He asked.

You smiled as you lifted your leg for him. At the same time you were now feeling his hips on yours and his cock lined up with your ready pussy.

He grabbed your thigh, he didn’t actually need to be reminded of the spot. His fingers created indents in the soft area as he held on, his digits on top of the minor injury.

As he gripped you experienced refreshed stinging and you arched your back, revelling in it. He didn’t ease off and you loved it, loved getting to enjoy more of it. Settling into the sensation, you found that the pain dulled out everything else. You could let go of earlier thought cycles, taking this situation at face value that he was no longer upset. At once you were given clear and impactful intensity.

“You like that, principessa? Yeah, I know you do.” He said and you felt a new pressure at your entrance, his head in exactly the right spot. “You fucking love it.”

He pushed into your wet cunt, gradually letting his inches disappear inside of you. You parted your legs further for him, appreciatively moaning as you felt him going deeper.

Your chest rapidly rose-and-fell and you could feel his cock twitching within you. The excitement climbed even higher and you were grateful to reaffirm your connection to him in this way.

You moved your hand up into his hair, gripping the shaggy locks between your fingers as he grinded forward. At this depth, he began to work his hips, plunging into your pussy.

He found a rhythm, consistently stroking his length into you. He released his hold on your leg and you let out a shaky sigh, feeling the intensity in different (but equally pleasing) places now.

He moved his hand to your hip, gripping you here as you moved to begin matching him. You copied his speed, dedicating your energy to this synergy. The extra movements encouraged more tingles into your body, the lust swelling up, demanding almost all of your attention.

“Claim me.” You said, the current effort made your voice strained, but your words carried the intended determination. He looked at you, focused even though his lids appeared heavier than usual. “Fuck me hard, Thomas.”

His next rut into you came with more power, the impact having greater effect. He didn’t hesitate to follow this up with a second one, letting you feel even more of his strength. He continued at this vigorous speed, going faster than you as you were feeling the marvellous aroused heat spreading through your entire system.

Your hold on his hair had gotten so tight that it was pulling a little. But you didn’t release it, relaxing anything right now didn’t feel like an option.

“Your princess needs it.” You told him.

He maintained this new impassioned tempo and you started to think that you could match him again. Your body was full of tension as you resumed your movements, snapping your hips in time with him, quick and excited. You shut your eyes as you clung to him, not needing to know anything beyond the collisions of your bodies.

Endorphins rushed you and you were desperate to keep going. Your inner-walls clenched around him as your sensitivities increased, making each jerk from his cock feel better than the last. The effects were only getting grander, building to something that could surely ruin you.

In addition to how he didn’t stop driving into you, he gave your clit some attention too. This came in the form of him slapping his fingers against the swollen hood. You jolted, unprepared and a little daunted by this sudden intensity.

You buried your face into the curve of his neck as you struggled to cope with the way these new sensations rocked you right to the core of your being. They were incredible, only adding to the ecstasy inside.

There was no opportunity to regulate yourself because he was soon applying more spanks to your clit. Your breath stalled and you wondered how much more you could truly take. You pressed hurried kisses onto the side of his neck, but it didn’t take long for this to progress to sucking at one spot. Your whimpers became muffled by his skin as you attempted to brace yourself.

“Are you trying to leave a mark of your own? Is my princess wanting to mark her territory now, hm?” He asked.

That sounded enough like encouragement to you. You sucked on this section of his skin harder, even briefly letting your teeth press against what was in your mouth. He continued to allow this, just moaning as he kept fucking into you with the same strength.

“You can give me a nasty hickey as I claim you- yes, you can, yes, yeh-mm.” He said.

As you kept sucking, he slapped your clitoral hood more. It didn’t sync up with his thrusting and so you were left at the mercy of surprise. The adrenaline continued to rule you.

You released his skin from your mouth as you felt a new peak achieved - one that really daunted you. “Ah, I’m- you’re getting me so close.”

He sounded cocky as he replied. “Yeah, it was starting to feel that way.”

He gave your clitoral hood another series of firm taps, making you feel like you could burst. You let out your loudest whimper, riding too high to feel even a hint of self-consciousness.

“You can come, princess.” He said, his voice so sweet. “You don’t have to wait for me. You can- oh, I want you to come.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” You repeated under your breath as your grinding against him got truly desperate.

All that you wanted to do was surrender and let the pleasure totally take you over. This urge only got stronger with each powerful pump from his body.

When he spanked your clitoris a few more times, all of your effort went to jerking up into him. You lost your synchronisation with him. But you gained his tip crashing into your g-spot and it was so perfect that your fate was almost instantly sealed. You let out little cries as you held on.

The hot tension gripped your entire body as you stayed levitating above the sofa, remaining so close to him. You writhed as his every pump ended at your g-spot, taking you further than what you had known before.

You grinded until you captured your orgasm. The tension burst all through you while your pussy wildly spasmed, drawing out these sensations.

“Thomas… ah… mm’migod…” It was a jumble of sound until you altogether let go.

It was a total overload to your system, everything else entirely over-shadowed. He was all that you knew, the few coherent thoughts that you had were about only him.

It was a lovely way to exist, so you didn’t feel any need to rush back to reality.

The way he was still thrusting into you kept you riding your high. You rocked your hips with less vigour, but wanting him to get more of that pleasing friction. You dragged your fingernails over his scalp, steadily beginning to get your breath back. His remained consistently short, his energy going to the more important task at hand.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as you heard him quietly repeating your name. It was as if this was the only word that he knew. You murmured your encouragement, louder than him to ensure that you were heard because you were so eager to watch him come undone.

It wasn’t long before his movements began to lose their style. It wasn’t about maintaining a tempo, now it was about keeping his dick stimulated. He had his mouth hanging open, but that wasn’t helping him catch his breath, not even a little.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whined.

His eyes flashed open, seemingly facing his own surprise. Looking into his wide eyes, you didn’t think there was a single thought plaguing his mind, no concerns to slow him down as the orgasm thoroughly took him down.

He tossed his head back and you got to watch the muscles in his neck as he remained buried deep in you. The after effects of your climax continued to play through you, your cunt still fluttering and spasming around him. It was something that he didn’t want to stop enjoying, making no adjustments to pull out of you.

He exhaled heavily as he planted both hands on the couch, bracing himself as he rocked his body weight back slightly. You licked your lips, watching his ongoing effort to get his lungs back to full. You were fascinated by how he settled himself after the climax. You made mental notes, wanting a clear image for when he was so far away that phone sex was the only option.

He gently rocked toward you again, looking down. The first thing that you noticed was his smile and it made you smile too. Then you saw the way his eyes appeared to be half shut, the lids so heavy again. He was a sight that you loved to behold, seeing him with absolute clarity.

“My princess…” He said as he gazed down at you.

“I love you.” You said, lifting yourself up so that you could secure a kiss from him.

As he kissed you back, he drew in closer to you, filling your pussy a little more. Gradually he rocked back and a steady tempo was introduced for him to get in some more strokes. You were content to stay so close to him, your tongue gliding into his mouth.

You felt your orgasm slowly fade out as you continued to bask in this intimacy. The tremors lost their power until they could no longer be noticed at all. There were less moans and whines coming from him, now it was mostly sighs as he went on with his lazy back-and-forth.

He broke the kiss to coo out your name. At the same time he aimed for maximum proximity, rubbing the front of his body on yours. His eyes studied your expression and you studied his face as well.

“That’s hotter than jealousy.” You said.

“What is?” He asked.

“When you’re all happy and calm and pleased with yourself after sex. Just stay like this for as long as you like and I’ll keep admiring you.” You said.

“Stay like this?” He asked, he was getting even slower without fully stopping yet.

“Yes, it’s actually perfect ‘cause being in a hotel and on the road, I don’t have my weighted blanket. I miss it, not so terribly. But now it’s like I have an even better weighted blanket.” You said.

He brushed your hair back from your forehead. “I love being exactly what you need, and if what you need right now is a weighted blanket then here I am…”

You felt extra cosy when he let all of his body weight rest on top of you, not holding back or trying to support himself in other ways. Beneath this pressure, you were wonderfully grounded. He stopped his rocking, now just lying with you. You felt like there was no unwinding left to do as he got comfortable, laying his head next to yours on the sofa.

It was quite simple how good everything felt, your deep breathing falling into time with his. You didn’t need to speak, you could tell that he knew how you felt.

When you looked at him, he would show you a natural smile. There were a few kisses exchanged, but they didn’t need to build to anything more.

“Couldn’t you just stay like this forever?” He asked.

“Yeah. Except I, um, I have to go to the bathroom.” You said and it was almost laughable how one sentence could ruin the mood. But the calm in your mind had given you time to recognise the beginnings of a discomfort. “Sorry, Tom.”

He readjusted, lifting his body away from yours, his cock finally coming out of your cunt. He pushed himself against the sofa’s backrest, giving you the necessary space to get up. “That’s okay. I literally could have fallen asleep like that, which would be a bad idea.”

You kissed him before getting up. “Do you want me to get you a Red Bull from that other room?”

“Yes please, principessa.”

As you pulled your clothes back on, he remained on the couch, laying out flat and looking comfortable. You knew he wouldn’t rush to get himself covered up, so you grabbed your own jacket. You laid this over his butt, giving him a bit of modesty if someone checked in here while you were gone.

Before heading for the door, you checked yourself quickly in the mirror. You were pleased with your earlier decision to not apply lipstick. So far as you could tell, your appearance wasn’t too different from when you and Thomas had come in here. You didn’t carry any obvious signs of being dishevelled.

You opened the door and stepped out of the privacy. Everything seemed exactly the same and you could quickly go toward the bathroom. There weren’t many people around, and those who were hardly paid attention to you passing by.

Then you went to the fridge, starting to feel like you were going to get away with this secret. You grabbed a can of energy drink, ready to rejoin your boyfriend.

When you turned around you found that Damiano was now standing in the room with you. His eyes were wide as he looked at you and it didn’t appear that he was on the verge of making a comment, as he typically would.

You remained where you were, heart beating a little faster because you worried what he might say if given the chance. You were getting the sense that he knew. He could probably see the clues and put it together that you were freshly fucked. There was something different about how he was looking at you, as if he was seeing something different.

You didn’t give him the chance to say something cheeky, or something that could magnify this awkwardness. You didn’t give him an excuse to pick apart. You just walked away, not saying anything.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

The secret remained secure, until you reached for the dressing room door and he broke the silence. “Hey, don’t use up all of his energy. He needs at least a little for the set later.”

PART THREE HERE

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[spell-cleaver]

Portrait of an Empire

Angstober

Day 24: Dark Sunrise

Sheev awoke in the night to the steady rasp of a respirator over his bed. It was the Force, accelerating around him, that brought his hand up to halt the lightsaber driving down at him. The blade warped and spasmed, blindingly bright, inches from his face.

It was so like Vader to not even give him the dignity of a good death. He could have aimed for his neck and been just as deadly. Instead, he sought to carve his face up and split his skull while he was at it.

Sheev rolled to the side, kicking up the covers of his bed as he did to disguise where, exactly, he was. Vader’s roar when he realised his attempt had failed was too much for his vocoder to express, and it shorted out with the fury of it. But by now Sheev was on his feet, his own lightsaber in hand.

He didn’t light it. Not yet.

“Assassination in my sleep?” he mocked. “That is not your style, Lord Vader.”

Vader didn’t rise to his bait. He slashed out, his motion wide and graceless. Sheev stepped back before it sank into his chest. His nightgown smouldered slightly, a few threads on his chest caught in the heat.

Before Vader could recover, Sheev stepped forward and jabbed his saber at Vader’s armour, his weak points—the chest, the joints, the groin. Vader blocked each blow and snarled, lashing out right back. Sheev had to retreat, until he was away from the bed and into the centre of his bedroom.

It was pitch dark in the room; it was the middle of the night. Vader had night vision in his mask, and Sheev refused to give him that advantage, so he waved his hand and the curtains on his broad windows flew open with a squeal. Coruscant was never dark. The city lights streamed in, revealing the lay of the land. His large bedroom. The four-poster bed with the carvings on the wood. The ensuite refresher just behind his bed, and the thick carpet under his feet. His bare toes sank into it, steadying himself.

Vader stood tall. He loomed among it all like a statue. And though Sheev could not see his eyes behind the mask, the Coruscanti lights glittered on his eye plates and gave them a malicious gleam.

“You are desperate,” Sheev realised, disguised his own shock with disdain. “You are truly desperate to sink this low.”

“I will not allow you to harm my son!”

Strange words. Not new ones, but—“What makes you think I will?” Sheev slowly circled away from Vader. He could defeat him. Probably. But he didn’t like to fight fair when there was any doubt involved. “He is my beloved grandson.”

“I traced the assassin who failed to kill him. You ordered it.” Vader raised his lightsaber. “You won’t get another chance!”

Sheev blocked his next few blows, thinking hard. This was problematic. He thought he’d buried that evidence deep. Vader was going to kill him.

A quick survey in the Force revealed that all his red guards were gone. Vader had slaughtered them first. There was no one coming to help him.

“You’re mistaken,” he said evenly. Vader, despite all his power, still could not tell when he was being lied to. “I would never do that. Luke is too important to me—to my plans.”

He had to add that last part. Vader would never believe sentiment. Not now.

His response was another attack. Sheev backed away farther, heart racing. Panic set in.

“Luke loves me,” he said. “Why would I waste that, you fool?”

“You are the fool!” Vader thundered. “Luke has not loved you for a long time. When you are dead, I will tell him all I have learned. He will hate you as you deserve.”

With a shout, Sheev unleashed his lightning on him. The anger that coursed through him was nothing like he’d ever felt. Vader flew back, not expecting it, and hit the wall.

Luke didn’t know, yet. So it wasn’t too late.

He ran forward with a roar of his own and, striking down, took off Vader’s right hand at the wrist. The wires sparked and hissed. His lightsaber rolled away. Sheev doubled his effort on the lightning, until he heard Vader’s vocoder fritz and give out, until the flicker of lights in his eye plates betrayed the thousand warnings he was receiving, until his life support was on edge.

He would kill him. He would kill him before he took Luke away—

But how would Luke react to his father’s death?

Sheev stopped. The lightning fizzled out.

What would he tell him? Vader was right that Luke distrusted him more and more. What would he think of this?

Sheev summoned a comm to his hand from his bedside table. “Medic. My quarters. Now.”

Vader would stay loyal. An attack dog who’d been kicked too hard. He knew how to pull his strings, and he would find a way to keep him in line. Even if he would always yank at his lead. Even if one day he would kill the hand that fed him.

He needed time. Time to solve this. Time to decide how he wanted this to go.

“Be swift,” he reiterated. “Or it will be one of you who dies.”

[bonnymori]

Captain's food rolls

A/N: This is me trying out writing again, seeing the scene where Kid and Luffy eat a bunch of mochi in Udon gave me an idea. This work feels very goofy for me lol, this whole post is silly, including the pics, I think I'm gonna use this format for now

Word count: 1,3k

Contents/Warnings: Silliness ahead, two lovers being silly. Next up is a law draft ig, either law or killer or heat

The sand under your boots is a comforting contrast from the crass waves of the sea, rumbling and coming near your feet - but not reaching quite yet.

It's unusual, but today is a great day, after a great battle against many marine ships, that you honestly wouldn't dare count, the Kidd pirates share a feast and drinks in a pacific island (even though Kidd scored the secluded place with no 'pacific' methods).

What is unusual, you would ask? Well, normally on the day-to-day of the Kidd pirates, meals are fulfilling, but not so much as to be bloated after eating. Of course, the massacre soldier – and crew's chef – Killer goes great lengths to make sure every member eats well and has a chance of asking for more, but still, in the sea you can ever eat so much, food needs to be watched so the ship doesn't run out again.

In a banquet, though, it's highly different.

The other pirates were kind – terrified – enough to make the beach look very presentable, placing up lighting upon the coconut trees and laying out tables for your friends to enjoy. It looks like some sort of luau, an illuminated beach next to the pitch black ocean, with lots of barbecued meat and endless pitchers of beer. The crew is scattered over the place, most of them are still eating, a few went down the city to find a pretty face to sleep with, and some of them who've had enough of eating are busy playing cards, such as Heat and Wire – you can always observe how they finish eating together, and go kill time together, it's a heartwarming friendship (or more?) between pirates, very similar to the captain and his right hand man.

Speaking of which, during these celebrations, the captain's table is always at the center, a big round table where he can lay down plates and food to scarf down as the night goes on. You observe the captain, aka your lover, fill his belly with delicious meat and booze, a small smile forming on your lips as you know what to expect when the party ends.

It's when something unusual happens, and you can't help but feel giddy.

"Your social energy has ended already, Y/N?" A pair of crewmates join your table, more specifically Hip and Emma, who also seem to huddle together whether to dance or eat during the feasts.

"I guess yes, you always come to a more far away table when you get tired of partying around." Emma answers Hip's query herself, bringing her beer mug to toast with yours, which differently than hers, is almost empty. She observes the small grin plastered on your face and chuckles, "I bet you were looking at the captain just now."

"My, you caught me red-handed." They both giggle at your comment, and you prop your chin on your hand, thinking of a good response, "You know I can't help it, he always looks pretty cute and round after eating so much."

"Yeah, when that happens he can't be rough around the edges anymore, afterall he won't have any edges!" Hip exclaims then covers her mouth to laugh, pulling Emma with her to Wire's table, "We're gonna gamble too, see you Y/N!"

You wave bye-bye to the duo, they are so very sweet.

As they walk away, you glance yet again at your beloved Kidd only to see that he has given up eating to chug on a few pitches of beer, excitedly talking to Killer in the process. Since you don't like approaching while he's eating – it's so messy he's akin to a piggy – you decide to go see him now, just because you'd like to kiss him bye-bye before you retire to the ship.

He doesn't seem to notice when you appear, planting a kiss on his goggles-free forehead, "Hi Kiddo, having fun so far?"

"Heck yes babe, I'm stuffed, and not even done yet." The redhead doesn't even mind the affection, too buzzed and full to protest. You look down, and it looks like he's already displaying a little belly.

You gasp lightly when his arm loops around your waist, your own arms embracing his shoulders and bringing his head closer to give him another kiss, this time in the top of his head – which he happily leans into, after all his hair is a soft spot.

To think about it, from this angle above, his hair really looks like a tulip.

He seems to indulge in your kisses, the alcohol making him loose to public displays of affection.

"Okay okay," You say while pulling him off from you, his arm is bulky but he's weaker from the beer, "I came to tell you I'm heading to the ship to take a short nap. See you later lov."

His eyes blink open, staring at you for a short moment where he lets you go with a 'okey' – you think he got the memo just fine.

Your trek to the ship is quickened by your jumpy strut.

Nap well taken, you've decided to wait for your lover on the deck, knowing very well most of the crew must be passed out on the beach, whether it be the sand or upon the tables or chairs, some would even sleep over the grill so as not to lay on the ground – you can think of a few that would be laying on the tables as well. The point is, nobody really could bother you both at this moment.

Oh lawd he's coming, is your first thought, spotting a big red dot far from the ship, walking with no difficulty yet swaying nonetheless, you just know Kidd is going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.

It's unusual, only happening during the days he feels famished enough to eat for three people in one sitting, his tough muscles disappearing under the new gained weight, how he does it, you cannot know.

But every time you think, he looks so cute.

Your big, angry boyfriend now turned into a big, round boyfriend climbs the plank ladder that leads up on the deck, stopping only once he is a few steps away from you.

There, he flops on the floor, sitting as he looks at you expectantly, knowing damn well that you like his softness when he's chubby like this.

"It's fucking weird the fact you think I look… nice like this." Eustass is the first to break the silence, avoiding the word 'cute' as he huffs at you. It seems his angry act is back, now that he might be a little sober.

Kid groans at your giggle of amusement.

"You look so squishy and soft, I can't help but love your rolls." You walk over to him and make yourself comfortable at his side, resting your head on him but not your weight, or else gastric reflux could a bitch about it at any moment.

He rolls his eyes and looks away with a small blush, his arm looping over your waist much like in the party – at this point, this action feels so familiar to you, you can almost feel it when it comes next. "Satisfied?"

"Very much." You chuckle at him, and silently, sneak your hand up to squeeze one of his chubs.

The big red lets out a yelp caused by the unexpected action, glaring angrily at you. "Hey!"

Even though his tough act, on the inside, Kidd was actually happy to receive free affection, being the selfish bastard he is. At the same time, he couldn't be more relieved, knowing that you could have reacted the opposite of this, and thankfully, you had not. And he loved you for it. But of course, he'd never say that even in a million years.

Eventually, the both of you stilled, the playful bicker coming to an end as the sea waves filled in the silence.

Now there are only two lovers, sleeping soundly side to side.

And content smiles on their faces.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 23: Alexander's Purchase

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, human auction

Oliver regained his senses to the sound of chaos and commotion all around him. He was bouncing in midair, and it took him a moment to realize that he was being carried by Miss Lily. They had left the stage and were headed down a hallway filled with auction patrons.

His head was still reeling. He'd been bought by Lord Alexander. Lord Alexander had bought him for twenty thousand dollars. How could he possibly be worth that much? He'd just been sold. He had an owner. What would Lord Alexander be like? What happened --

"Ooh, you did so well, you beautiful perfect dear!" Miss Lily was singing happily. "You have made me so much money."

"I have, sir?" said Oliver, dazed.

"That's right! Colette took you, so she gets fifty percent, but since I was your primary handler and conditioner, I get twenty five. That's five thousand, if that rat Colette doesn't try to cheat me out of it," she explained eagerly. "And I conditioned a lot of the other merchandise, and get a cut from each one. I'm going to get that new phonograph I've had my eye on, and, ooh, a new fur coat, maybe silver mink..." She trailed off, lost in her daydream.

"Do you... do you deliver me to Lord Alexander now, sir?"

"Oh, no," she said, the question snapping her back to reality. "Not usually. We'll have to wait for the check to clear or the money wire to come through or what have you, and then we'll deliver you. Eager to see your new owner, are you?"

New owner. He wasn't sure if he was or not. "I was merely wondering, sir."

Miss Lily carried Oliver into a small room that held little more than a desk and a few chairs, kicking the door shut behind her. "We do need to complete the transaction first. Colette will bring him here so we can finalize everything." She set Oliver back on his feet, her hands hovering nearby in a way that indicated she was ready to catch him again if he fainted. "So, my dear, did things turn out how you wanted?"

An image flashed through his mind of the life he thought he might have, of cultivating his little bookshop, of visiting local cafes and museums, of growing old with the city. And then it was gone. "Yes, sir, that was what I wanted," he said. "Will Lord Alexander treat me well, sir?"

"Oh, absolutely. I've known him for ages. He's a grumpy sort, but a real peach with a soft spot for humans. His last thrall lived better than most vampires do."

"Last thrall, sir?" said Oliver with a twinge of fear.

"Alexander has a number of enemies," said Miss Lily. "But it's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about. He'll be extra protective with you, I'm sure."

Oliver nodded, processing this new source of terror that he hadn't previously considered. And Alexander, who had warned him of the auction, had known Lily all along...

The door swung open, and Oliver immediately recognized Miss Colette, the vampire who had kidnapped him on his last night of freedom. A cold, panicky sensation settled in his gut as he recalled how scared and helpless he'd been when she'd frozen him to the spot and carried him out of his beloved bookstore, and he retreated behind Miss Lily slightly, as though she were some kind of ally here.

"There's the prize sow!" said Miss Colette, turning Oliver's stomach. "And the lady of the hour. You really outdid yourself with this one, Lily."

"I trust I'll be receiving my full pay, then. Twenty five," Miss Lily said with a fake smile.

"Of course! Wouldn't dream of anything else," said Miss Colette dismissively. She opened the door and peeked out, waving someone in. "This way, gentleman."

Lord Alexander entered the room. Their eyes met. And Oliver was frozen to the spot more surely than he'd been the night he'd been kidnapped.

"Now, then, to business," said Miss Colette. "Twenty thousand, and if you could sign this paperwork..."

Lord Alexander took the clipboard from her, skimming down each page before signing it. 

"And if you require any additional services, any conditioning or training --"

"That won't be necessary." He then took out a wallet, filling out a check and handing it to Miss Colette. "Here's your money. I'll be taking my thrall, now," he said. "Excellent job, Lily. We need to catch up sometime. It's been too long."

"Now, hold on, Lord Alexander," said Miss Colette. "We can't release your thrall to you until the check has cleared. It shouldn't take more than a few nights, and then we'll deliver him right away."

Lord Alexander scowled. "You're not keeping my thrall." His tone of voice, the way he practically growled the words "my thrall," sent shivers down Oliver's spine.

"He'll be returned to our secure holding facility, where he'll be --"

"I won't have my thrall kept in some nasty prison cell, guarded by half-witted newborn vampires that pass for security guards," said Lord Alexander. "If a single hair on his head is harmed -- "

Colette bristled. "Our facilities are safe --"

"Like hell I'll --"

"I'll take him, Lex," said Miss Lily, before the argument could escalate. "It's hardly any trouble, considering I'm lining my pockets with so much of your fortune, and I'll be staying at the auction house until the thralls have all been cleared out anyway."

Lord Alexander relaxed a bit. "You'll keep him safe, then?"

"I'll keep him locked away with Miriam. They'll get along well, and you know I wouldn't let anything happen to my Miriam," she said reassuringly. "Besides, I've grown a bit fond of him."

Lord Alexander took a long, hard look at Oliver, an unmistakably possessive look, and Oliver felt his mind bend.

His new owner.

"Fine, fine, if that's how it must be," said Alexander, breaking his gaze, "I'd far prefer him with you -- even with the tight spot you put me in."

"Then it's settled!" Collette clapped her hands together. "If you'd like to do any final inspection of your merchandise, Lord Alexander..."

"Just one word to him," he said, approaching Oliver. 

He was close. Oliver could smell a faint whiff of lavender soap, or perhaps perfume. "You'll be under my protection, Oliver, such as I can manage," he said. "I'll do my level best to be a good master."

Master. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for buying me."

He truly meant that, given the alternative. If Lord Alexander hadn't known him, hadn't taken such an interest in him, he would have surely ended up in an animal pen.

"You needn't thank me for that. I bought you primarily for my own pleasure," he said. 

He took Oliver's chin in his hand, oh so gently, and tilted his head back and forth, gazing on his neck. Oliver could feel his mind flooding with submission as Alexander brushed a spot on his neck, just a little above his left shoulder. That must be the place -- the place where he would drink.

"If there's any mistreatment of you before you're delivered to me, remember it. I wish to hear of it," he said sternly. "But you can trust Lily. It shouldn't be difficult for you to be obedient for her, will it?"

"Not at all... sir..." He was so eager to please.

"Is there anything in particular you would like procured for you before you arrive? Anything you can't live without."

"...Books... sir..."

There was a moment of silence, and then Lord Alexander snapped his fingers near Oliver's face. "Wake, Oliver."

Oliver startled out of the hypnosis he'd slipped into. "Sorry, sir. Did I say something wrong?"

"I asked if you needed me to procure something for you, and you told me books. I have books. Quite a few of them. And you know this," he said. "You really are quite easily entranced, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am, sir."

"Well, that's not a problem. I'l have to be mindful of it, though," he said. "Anything apart from books that you'd like?"

This time, Oliver actually considered the question. "May I have coffee, sir?"

"Of course. I drink it myself," he said. "Anything else?"

"I'm... not sure... sir. Food?" His head was still too fuzzy to think, already exhausted from the auction house, and he wasn't sure what it would be okay to ask for. Could he ever fetch his possessions from the bookshop, or were they lost for good?

"That's fine. I'll provide you with all of the basics -- food, toiletries, sundries. We'll make a list of your favorites. And if there's anything else you think of, we'll simply get it when you've arrived."

"That sounds very agreeable, sir."

"Good. Then if everything's settled here, I had better take my leave. I need to make it back to the city before the sun rises."

"Yes, sir."

Lord Alexander wasn't moving. He was looking at Oliver. Looking at his eyes. His face. And especially that spot on his neck. Oliver felt trapped in his gaze.

"Are you finished here, Lord Alexander?" said Miss Colette shortly.

"Yes, I am. Farewell, Oliver, Lily," he said, sweeping out the door, Colette following after.

"Well, it looks as if you're stuck with me for a little while," said Miss Lily jovially. "But you needn't worry. If I treat you wrong, Alexander will have my head -- if he isn't already inclined to drive a stake through my heart. Is there anything special you'd like to eat? Anything at all. You've certainly earned your keep, and I'd like to get something nice for Miriam as well."

"Roast chicken, sir?" he said, hoping he wasn't asking for too much.

"Splendid idea! I'll catch a servant and order up a whole roast chicken and whatever side dishes they have in the kitchen. And cake. And a bottle of dry white wine." She hooked an arm around Oliver's and led him from the room. "We should celebrate, don't you think?"

"I don't see why not, sir."

Part 22 >> Masterlist >> Part 24

Thank you for reading this story about an emotionally significant financial transaction.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

[queenendless]

❤️‍🩹Lost in a Moment (AU!Adult!Gojo Satoru x Adult!Geto Suguru)❤️‍🩹

A/N: Listening to Lost In A Moment from Stray Gods the Role Playing Musical helped put me in an emotionally wrecked state.

Yet watching yesterday's new episode ... that topped it. 😢🤧

CW: DEFINITE ANIME SPOILERS; UP TO S2 E9 NOW! AND YEAH IMPLIED MANGA SPOILERS BUT NOT IN MUCH DETAIL! Angst, hurt/comfort, reincarnation into modern age AU with retained memories of canon lives, cliche corny cheesy sappy lovey dovey feels, and yes Imma make more for this AU with the rest of my JJK babies ... and put in some x Reader soon. When the next episode drops... cause God that's gonna be a ride. OF FEELS! 😭

Credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite all the madness they've put our babies through!

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

More JJK content coming as daily as this season runs. I hope you enjoy.

So much blood shed.

So many lives lost.

Panic and disgust at all that carnage yet enjoyment enacting violence against those special grades.

Roughly a thousand transfigured heads rippled through the blood-soaked station, trapped in his Infinite Void, within two tenths of a second.

Then came the Prison Realm.

The cube swishing open to take its true form.

Its wrinkly red skin stretched out into an X, wires stretching out its shrunken warm colored eye dripping with blood.

His instincts screamed to turn tail and get away.

"Yo Satoru."

That waving, closed eye smile sent unsettling, too trusting tremors through him.

"Huh?"

"Long time no see."

A fake?

A transformation technique?

No … the Six Eyes burned it onto his brain.

It all came flowing into him.

Three years' worth of his youth.

Smiling at that face.

Eyes full of hope.

Taking a minute to unfold in his head.

Enough time for the Prison Realm to merge with him, jutting out of him, keeping him hanging and pinned.

"You shouldn't lose yourself in thought, in the midst of battle, Satoru."

I can't sense any cursed energy. I can't get my body to move, either. This is checkmate, huh?

"So, who the hell are you?"

"I'm Suguru Geto. Don't you remember me? How sad."

"Your body, your cursed energy … all the information provided by these eyes is telling me you're Suguru Geto. But … my soul is rejecting all that! Now answer me already! Who the hell are you!?"

"Creepy." Pulling on that near invisible thread. Lifting the top half of his head off. Revealing the mouthed alien brain; juices dripping down his face, his wide ass toothy smile pissing him off. "How could you tell?"

"That's my technique you see. I can pass from one body to another by replacing its brain with myself. Of course, I'm also able to use that technique etched into the body I inhabit. I really wanted this man's Curse Manipulation and this situation, too. You didn't have Shoko Ieiri handle the disposal of Suguru Geto's body that day, did you?"

He couldn't … he just couldn't bear it.

Watching his one and only best friend being buried … or even cremated … after all those years spent apart on opposite sides … his selfish grieving heart had to keep him.

Plopping that head cap back on, squelched noises were made, it all churned Gojo's guts.

"That was an odd time for you to show consideration. But thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body with ease."

Pulling the thread to hold its creped hold back in place.

"You needn't worry. I'll release your seal eventually. A hundred… no … maybe a thousand years from now? You're just too strong. And you're in the way of my plans."

"Hah! Have you forgotten? Who was it that beat the crap out of that body before I killed him?" His stubborn pride and confidence in his distant relative turned aspiring pupil knew no bounds.

"Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I just don't see as much appeal in that boy as you do. Copying techniques without any conditions, and a bottomless well of cursed energy … both of those were just effects obtained from binding the soul of his most beloved with a pact. Sorry to say this, but Yuta Okkotsu can never replace you."

False Geto …

No ….

Kenjaku.

Damn him.

"Goodnight, Satoru Gojo. We'll meet again in the new world."

His pleading hopes that his one great weakness – his greatest strength – would respond to his desperate cries to come back and end the madness were all dashed.

Betting all his hopes that Suguru was still in there somewhere, trying to break free like himself, and that someway, somehow, something blessed would arrive amiss all this cursed madness.

Yet, even as the instincts of keeping him safe ingrained in the overtaken body of his best friend surfaced just to choke his hijacked being, it was a lost cause.

Lost in the moments of the times he missed most of all.

Lost in the song of their laughter, their fights, their banter, when they could be kids and nothing else.

Being each other's strength.

Making up for what the other lacked.

Each other's missing piece.

And to have that cursed Kenjaku make him relive the hell of a life failing Suguru. Tainting his entire being. Not even in death could the suffering end for his lost and lonely other half; matching Gojo's inner suffering for over a decade long in a world without Geto.

The strongest one, the honored one, defeated by the greatest curse that is love.

Failing his moral compass, his one and only friend, who needed someone in his time of need when he fell apart over his struggling morals after witnessing the cruel truth of their world. Expected to protect those that don't deserve it. Losing those that are too pure for that horrific reality.

Unable to protect his students, allies, and friends from the onslaught of hell that came for them that bloody Halloween night.

Unable to resist the moment that monster greeted him in Suguru's voice.

Unable to save the one he loved most of all.

Three years spent trapped.

Trapped in isolating hell.

Swallowed whole in suffocating, soul crushing darkness.

The muffled voice of someone pulled him out of the murky pulls of deep slumber. The jostling shake in his being, the solid digging of fingers in his shoulders, the overwhelming heat shoving back the freezing sunken teeth of the nightmare.

The muffled sound became clear out in the open as the most familiar voice of all was yelling out his name desperately.

"Satoru!? Wake up! Come on, please!"

Rescuing him from that insufferable reality.

Awakening him in a new one.

Blinking his eyes up several times, heaving and catching his breath as he broke out into a sweat.

Non vibrant eyes darting all over as he took in everything. Late at night. The AC humming in the background. Streams of moonlight creeping in through the skinny gap of the curtains. Trickling along the hunched form of Geto over him in their shared bed, wearing a long-sleeved charcoal sleeping shirt, an all-knowing concern written all over his face.

"What was it this time?"

No stitched-up forehead.

No more lies.

Looking into those enriching, trusting eyes.

Gojo shakily breathed out, draping an arm over his eyes. "Me being sealed away."

It is him.

Really, truly, his Suguru.

Breathing.

Safe.

Free.

Gojo felt his walls collapsing.

His vulnerability surfacing.

"The price a do over gives us." Geto murmured somberly.

"Yeah." His throat constricted, his eyes watered up, gritting wrecked grunts left him as his hand enclosed in a shaking veiny fist. Trying to keep it all in, not wanting Suguru to see him falling apart over a bad dream. But the contents of said dream made him want to behold to hold Suguru and never let him go again.

Alarmed by panic, Geto leaned down immediately to lay right atop him, embracing his emotional love with his own tightening grip, shushing him insistently as his hand brushed through those lovely white locks. "It's okay. I'm here. We're both here."

Recollections of their past lives flaring up in dreams is but one of the few downsides to reincarnation in this new modern age. But shouldering that burden with another makes it less of a struggle.

"This better not be a dream." Gojo lifted his arm, revealing the pain flashing in those emotionally teary blue eyes which tore at Geto's heartstrings. "Or I swear to God," Gojo sobbingly hiccupped as he clawed at Geto's clothed back, distraught battling relief within himself as his face nuzzled into Geto's strong neck.

"It's real. All of it. And this." Geto's tender, warm firm lips pressing to his cheek felt too good to be true. "I'm real, Satoru. As are you."

Breathing in Suguru's scent to calm his irrational state of mind, easing down just hearing his name spoken in that cozy voice from the genuine article. "This is real." Whispering that mantra over and over slowly kept Gojo grounded in the here and now as it did with Geto.

Gojo's next words struck a chord within them both. "I … I'm sorry Suguru."

"What?" Geto pulled back enough to look into those normal yet breathtaking blue eyes.

"For everything. For ignoring your pain all those years. For not letting you go when I … I killed you. If it weren't for me, that bastard wouldn't have taken it over and everyone … everything … wouldn't have turned out so wrong. I ... I was never the same without you." Gojo's voice cracked, braving himself to look him right in the eye even in this harried sorry state, when a gentle peck to his lips halted his words.

Geto's almond eyes narrowed as they became murky with lament. "Don't blame yourself. I'm … sorry too. For leaving you. For not divulging all my troubles to you. I just … the weight of the world was already on your shoulders. I believed I alone could find a solution to my problems … and that of our world … even if it meant becoming the worst curse user of our age. Yet after all that time …" His smile had Gojo at a loss of breath as Geto's other hand cradled his tear-stained cheek, rubbing calming circles with his thumb. "You still trusted me to the very end. After all the damage I had caused. After I hurt you … envying your power over seeing you for the person I always knew you to be deep down inside." Geto shut his eyes, letting his own tears trail down freely, sparking from the sliver of moon beams hitting them, mesmerizing Gojo.

To him, Geto Suguru never looked more radiant.

Gojo dug his fingers in Geto's back to pull himself up enough for their faces to be a mere inch or so apart, wiping away his tears in kind. "We've both suffered. All of us did. Doomed in that world from the start. Trying to change it all our own way. Prepared to lay our lives down for that dream. And yet, here we are."

Geto chuckled in wry amusement, resting his forehead against Gojo's. "The irony of it all."

Both ready to welcome death when their times came. On the same day. Their anniversary. Only to reawaken in a whole new world, one with no cursed energy at all. No cursed spirits, no sorcerers, nothing. With everyone else coming along for the ride. And all the memories attained from their past lives. Whatever higher power intervened to bring it all to fruition, neither knew at the time whether to be thankful or resentful.

And yet … finding their grown-up selves seeing each other again in the flesh … instinctually running to each other, collapsing in each other's arms, heart ruled over reason ever since.

Such as now.

Sitting up on their legs and calves, their embrace was as cathartic as the first one shared in the pure light of a new venture. Looking into each other's eyes, the sparks of hope reigniting.

"I forgive you, Satoru." Geto gently rubbed his nose against Gojo's.

"I forgive you too, Suguru … my one and only." Gojo's endearing grin had Geto laughing softly.

"Same old Satoru."

"Of course. It's still me, after all." That cheeky smirk says it all.

"How I have missed that sight …" Geto's gaze gleamed with amour that made Gojo's heart soar. "We have a second chance. We all do."

"Let's not waste it, then." Gojo's sculpted strong hand weaved through those silky raven locks, cradling the back of Geto's head. "I'm willing to fight for this life if you are. Nightmares, memories, and all." The conviction rose to meet his newfound dream.

"I'm not going anywhere. If I must live again, I'd rather live a long life worth living … as long as it's with you." Geto's own firm resolve gave him the urge to just come out and say it.

"We are the strongest duo, after all~!"

Geto's free hand playfully wacked Gojo's white long-sleeved shoulder, chortling, "Idiot."

"You love it, though." That drawn out kiss lingered between them as their half-lidded eyes stayed connected. "Admit it."

"I do." Geto's warm breath made Gojo want to kiss him again, longer, deeper, relishing his taste.

Drowning in the overwhelming pleasure as he pulled Geto even closer by the head, wrapping an arm around his body, meshing perfectly together.

As their tongues battled for dominance, Geto pushed Gojo to lay fully down in their big welcoming bed, laying down atop him once more, parting their panting mouths, connected by a line of their saliva, burning puffs hitting each other's mouths. "I love you, Gojo Satoru. All of you."

His soul told it to be true.

"And I love you Geto Suguru … I always have. In our old life… in this one …. if it's with you, that's the only place I want to be."

"So sappy. Even for you." Geto teased.

"Hey, you're stuck with me for life. Deal with it." Gojo stuck his tongue out, feigning annoyance.

"Like I have any other choice," Geto sighed, resigning to his fate, but his smitten grin displayed how fine he is to it all. The loud yawn released from his taller lover had him cup his cheeks to give a goodnight smooch, moving to lay on his side, cozying up to Gojo. "Good dreams should await you now."

"Having you here with me is a dream come true~" Gojo purred, intertwining their legs together as he wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders.

Geto rolled his eyes, exasperated. "God the corniness."

Gojo laughed mirthfully before kissing Geto repeatedly, speaking in between the breaks. "I mean it. I do."

Wrapping his own arms around him, Geto could relax completely knowing his dear Satoru was so happy. Thanks to him. Because of him. Return those kisses in kind, humming at how good it felt. "Well, I do too."

Embracing each other under the sheets, lulled by each other's warmth, their even breathing and synchronized heartbeats became the telltale signs that they both fell fast asleep.

The catharsis was profound.

For that night would be followed by many others.

Where dreams come to fruition.

When living peacefully was possible.

Waking up to the early morning sunrise and seeing themselves in each other's arms brought sleepy smiles to their faces, kissing soundly before snuggling even closer to each other, falling straight back to dreamland.

Lost in a moment.

Lost in a song.

Their moment.

Their song.

Of a new beginning.

Together.

[squishy-squishy]

Hey can you do a toh tickle fanfiction for me please you know about watching and dreaming with Luz's nightmare instead of Amity, Gus, Hunter and Willow fighting Luz thay tickle Luz.

I FINISHED IT! I apologize for such a long wait, I am so bad at getting things done, but ITS HERE! This was a fun write, even though I could only get it done chunk by chunk over a long amount of time. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request!

Summary: Luz realizes she’s having a nightmare and the Collector is not happy about it. He decides to take his anger out in a childish way.

Luz could feel her heart hammering in her ears as she stood on the bridge outside the Emperor’s palace. This couldn’t be happening! This wasn’t right!

Dressed in Belos’s clothing, she stood before her friends. Their eyes were empty, devoid of any sympathy or care for her. Willow, Gus, Hunter, and her beloved Amity. They all hated her. Luz was certain of it, and she was certain she deserved it.

“I’m sorry.” She said simply, lacking any real sorrow. “But for the sake of everyone you hurt,”

“Please, no!” Hot tears welled in Luz’s eyes like lava. She couldn’t even bring herself to say that it wasn’t her fault. She took a step back and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to be hit by a glob of abomination goo, or a spiked vine.

“I challenge you to a witch’s battle!” Witch’s battle?

Luz peeked one eye open. “W-wait… say that again?”

“I said, I challenge you to a witch’s battle!”

Amity’s tone didn’t change at all when she repeated the phrase. It was robotic, as if the response had been programmed into her to say it exactly the same every time. She didn’t move from her defensive, fighting stance. 

“Witch’s… battle?”

She hesitantly approached her girlfriend, then gingerly squished her pretty face in her hands. “Bep.” She playfully flicked her ears. “Boop.”

She observed how Amity didn’t respond, and her fears began to melt away and were quickly replaced by a fuzzy feeling. She lifted up Amity’s arm and poked her, like she was a doll she could position and pose.

“You look like Amity, you feel like Amity, but you’re not Amity, are you?”

Luz’s face broke into a smile as she stepped back. Of course something was weird! 

“Ha! You’re not her! None of you are you!”

“How dare you? Of course we’re us!” Willow spoke, but she barely moved.

“It’s, ‘I challenge you to a witch’s duel,’ not battle!” She waved her finger at them, her confidence quickly returning. “And the Amity I know would never misquote The Good Witch Azura!”

She took a step back and smiled, Stringbean formed a staff in her hands.

“So come on, attack me. I know what’s going on now.” She watched as her friends readied themselves, charging right at her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the first hit, and- “No, no NO!” A childish voice echoed around the bridge. Luz opened her eyes, and her friends were frozen in place. Glowing wires were wrapped around their wrists and ankles, like they were little puppets. Floating above them all, was a very grumpy looking Collector. He had his arms crossed and was glaring down at the group with a pout. “You weren’t supposed to figure it out! This isn’t fair!”

“Collector?!”

“What am I supposed to do now?! Oh, you’re probably so angry with me!” They floated in circles and flipped himself upside down while clutching his hat. 

Luz’s eyes wandered from the Collector to her friends. They were starting to come out of their trance, and their eyes were shining again.

Suddenly, he was right next to Luz. He dramatically flopped onto her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “You aren’t angry with me, right? For trying to scare you?”

“Uhm…” She quickly glanced at her friends, who were all giving her very hesitant looks. “No?”

“Really?” The Collector’s eyes lit up. Then they scowled. “Cause I’m still pretty mad at you for screwing up my fun!” “W-well, there’s other ways to have fun!” Luz stammered. She backed away from him, in between all her friends. “Like, um, maybe instead of scaring people, you should try making them laugh!”

The Collector tapped his finger to his chin a couple times. Then slowly, his lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Hm… y’know what, human? I think you’re right!” He snapped his fingers, and Luz’s friends went limp. The light in their eyes faded along with the glowing wires. The Collector giggled rather deviously and clapped his hands a few times. Luz’s friends sprang to attention, and grabbed her all at once.

“H-Huh?! What are you-”

“And I’ve got the perfect way to do it! Get her!”

Luz wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to happen, but feeling the skittering, tickling fingers of all four of her friends definitely wasn’t it! She made a noise that was akin to a startled seagull, which quickly dissolved into confused giggling.

“What in the wohohorld?! Collector! Cuhuhuhit out!”

“Man, you mortals can never make up your minds, huh?” The Collector floated over to her, hovering inches away from her face. Personal space wasn’t much of a concern for a child of the stars. “First you want me to make you laugh, then you want me to stop? Come on, we’re having so much fun! You’re laughing aren’t you?”

Those dang fingers were everywhere! Poking at her sides and belly, scribbling up and down her neck and around her ears, Luz could barely focus on just one spot! Every time she’d flail in an attempt to protect herself, they’d just get her somewhere else. 

“This- this isn’t whahahat I meant whehehen I said- EEK! NOHOHO!”

Nails that unmistakably belonged to Amity made Luz’s sentence crumble when they spidered up her sides and into the hollows of her underarms. If it weren’t for her friends all holding her steady, she was certain her legs would’ve just given up.

The Collector just laughed right along with her. “Man, you were right! Making people laugh is way more fun than scaring them! Just listen to all the silly noises you make!” “COLLEHEHECTOR!” “That’s meeee! Hey! I should try this on your other friends, too! I’ll be back!” They clapped their hands, and they vanished in a puff of sparkly purple smoke. Luz was much too busy laughing her head off to even realize where he had gone, or what he had meant by that. It wasn’t like the feeling was bad, she’d always enjoyed tickle fights as a way of bonding or cheering someone up, but this was ridiculous! And not to mention the fact that it was turning her mind to mush! It couldn’t get much worse than this-

“Your laugh is just so sweet, I could listen to it forever!”

Nevermind. It could.

Amity had leaned over to coo teasing compliments in her ear. It had caught Luz so off guard her knees buckled and her friends all shifted to keep her up. 

“WAIHAIT! Nohoho, Amity, please! You know I cahahan’t take it-” “But it’s true!” Man, the Collector had really gotten her friends' personalities down. And it only became more abundant when the rest of them started teasing too. “Come on, Luz! I know you’re tougher than that!” Willow giggled as she kneaded Luz’s side at a steady rythm, making her squeal “You can take it!” Gus had a different tactic, constantly switching spots and jumping around so Luz could never tell where he was going to strike next. “Where’s the spot that makes her laugh the most again? Is it here- or here- or maybe heeeere?” “Man, if only I had known about this little weakness of yours when we were still enemies.” Hunter had a smug mischief in his voice that just dripped with the cockiness of an older brother messing with his younger sister. It reminded Luz of how he acted when they first met. “You would have been done for! Would’ve made our fights go by a lot faster, huh?”

That was really about all Luz could take. Her loud laughter was starting to turn into wheezes, and her friends finally let up. She sunk to the ground and curled up in a ball, still tingling with phantom tickles. “Collector… thahat… phew…” She looked up when she felt Amity’s comforting hand on her shoulder, and realized something she hadn’t before.

They had that light in their eyes. They had it since the Collector had disappeared!

“H-hey wait a minute! You’re you! Really you! You were tickling me on PURPOSE!” “Sorry…” Amity said with a giggle “I couldn’t help it, you’ve just been so down recently, we haven’t heard you laugh like that in so long.”

“You really needed it.” Willow said, crouching down next to her. “Seriously. And you better believe the nice things we said about you, or else.” Hunter tazed her side, earning him a loud squeak.“You guys are-”

But there wasn’t much time for Luz to finish. Her friends gasped when the puppet strings seized them again, jerking their limbs away from her.

“There’s no time to waste!” Shouted Gus. “You need to stop the Collector, you need to wake up!”

“Wait, but how?!”

Amity used the last of her strength to press a familiar glyph into Luz’s hand and offer her a warm smile.

“You turn on the light.”

[vladdyissues]

Fair Catch

Sequel to We Have A Problem

A pair of powerful white headlights bored through the November night, illuminating the way for a glossy black Aston Martin to prowl up the mile-long driveway. The house at the end hardly fit the appellation; it was a castle, pennants waving from the towers, the front façade illuminated by a battalion of landscaping spotlights.

The car pulled into a detached garage, and moments later Vlad Masters strolled into his domicile, still decked in Packers green and gold and toting a foam cheesehead under his arm.

“What a game!” he crowed for the hundredth time. He tossed his keys into a bowl on a side table and moved into the kitchen, offloading some of his accoutrements. Merrily humming the Packers fight song, he flounced to the fridge and grabbed a 12-ounce longneck of Wisconsin King. He popped the top with a metallic clink and knocked back a mouthful of premium Grade A milk as if it were beer.

“Thirty-four to thirty one!” He danced a little jig. Mercifully, no one was present to see it. “What a game!”

And it had been. Green Bay facing off against the Vikings at Lambeau Stadium. The teams tied in the fourth quarter, 31 and 31, with just two minutes left, until Ryan Longwell made a 33-yard field goal with just three seconds to spare. Perched in his own private VIP lounge overlooking the field, Vlad Masters erupted like a green and yellow volcano, cheering and howling and throwing popcorn and furniture and any of his staff unfortunate enough to be within arm’s reach. His mania endured on the drive home and would likely keep him wired for the next twelve hours. Now came the almost onanistic ritual of basking in the triumphant postgame afterglow. A fine finish to a fine evening.

Bottle in hand, Vlad sauntered to his foyer and flipped on the lights. There it was, his extensive collection of Packers memorabilia, all neatly organized behind glass in special humidity-controlled display cases. He strode by, gazing upon his possessions with the air of a hedonistic king inspecting his coffers: vintage jerseys, photographs, limited edition cheeseheads and scarves, rare items of sports history that rightly belonged in a museum instead of a selfish billionaire’s private collection. And sitting front and center on a pedestal, the most treasured item in his hoard, his beloved, irreplaceable—

Vlad abruptly choked. Milk sprayed from his mouth and nose.

The football autographed by the legendary Ray Nitschke, his most prized possession, was nowhere to be seen.

The bottle slipped from Vlad’s limp fingers and shattered on the stone floor. Hysteria clutched his heart. His stomach dropped to the bottoms of his ugly green oxfords, now spattered with milk. His mind raced through possibilities with the frantic fervor of a mother discovering one of her children missing.

“Did the maids—? No. No, and I didn’t…” The color drained from his face. “I can’t have been robbed. It’s impossible.”

And it was; no one could get through his security system. He’d built it himself using the most advanced tomographic and photoelectric beam technology, and tested it extensively before deploying it over every inch of his property. He checked it regularly and performed scheduled diagnostics and upgrades to keep it cutting-edge. Even if the power were to go out, a generator array would keep the system running independently for months.

At that moment he finally noticed the canary-yellow sticky note planted in the middle of the display stand’s empty prongs. He darted close and leaned over it with wide eyes.

Dear Fruit Loop,

Don’t worry, your ball is safe. FOR NOW. I’m going to hang onto it until you get someone else to narate Knowing Universe. All of it. I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want to hear your dumb stupid ugly snotty voice on ANY of my shows ever again, got it? If you ever want to see your prescious ball again, you’ll get on this STAT.

Sincerely,

You know who

Vlad clenched his fists—and his jaw, his toes, every muscle in his quivering body. His eyes flared red, the left one twitching spastically. When he exhaled, twin jets of smoke whooshed from his nostrils.

“Daniellllllll!”

Read on AO3

[redfurrycat]

🐓🤠Hangster Fic-on-Tumblr Recs🤠🐓

🐓🤠Hangster Goodies to Read! 🐓🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Tumblr Authors: allbark-no-bite, film-in-my-soul, green-socks, hangster-hangout, icemavs, natashatrace, norabrice1701, ravens-words, semperhuggs, tgmsunmontue, the-sun-and-the-sky.

(Use this post to let me know about your works, it’s easier for me to keep track!)

(Reminder to come here in case Our Beloved is Down.

*True Story of why I wanted to do this specific recs list*)

TGMSUNMONTUE (AO3 – SunMonTue)

Tgmsunmontue’s Masterlist, including:

Another Time ➡️ 14 Chapters | M | BodySwap | Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

Bird on a Wire ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Meet-cute | Jake tries to make a good impression on one of the servers at a restaurant. Except he turns out to be the head chef. Who in turn tries make a good impression. Their families try and help.

He remembers ➡️ 1 Chapter | Bradley remembers key points in his life as he faces starting at the USNA. IceMav feels.

It's all academic darlin' ➡️ 9 Chapters | E | Academic Professor AU | Bradley is a professor but living his best well-adjusted life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again.

Lonely Nights ➡️ 4 Chapters | E | Smut | Rooster really needs to get laid.                                                                                       

ICEMAVS (Ao3 – Sreshaw)

Avery’s Masterlist, including:

Planes, trains, and gay people ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Planes, Trains, and Automobiles AU | Bradley just wanted to get home for Thanksgiving to see him mom and uncles. What he ended up with was three days with a hot stranger who happened to annoy the shit out of him.

Springsteen ➡️ 2 Chapters | M | High School | Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.

Whiskey and Rye ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Only One Bed | The Dagger Crew got turned into a real-deal instructor squadron after the mission. They get sent on missions and demos to teach new pilots how to do what they do. On this trip to Florida, the WSOs are staying with their pilots, but Jake and Bradley, since they are WSO-less, have to room together. And the hotel fucked up.

NORABRICE1701 (Ao3 – MidnightBlast)

Twist My Heart ➡️ 6 Chapters | Twister AU | E | The hope of anything with Jake is a fool’s hope. Bradley has understood that from the first minute Jake waltzed into the lab with his dazzlingly brilliant smile, sun-kissed skin, and grass-green eyes gleaming with dangerous red flags. Yet still Bradley let the man get under his skin, burrow in his chest, and take root in his heart. 

GREEN-SOCKS (Ao3 – Aprilfoolish)

(Do You) Share My Affection ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Bradley and Jake end up on a date with each other through an anonymous dating app (because they are just a little bit idiots about each other). The date is the wakeup call they needed.

RAVENS-WORDS (Ao3 – Ravens_Words)

been you all along ➡️ 5 Chapters | T | Kid Fic | Somehow, in a truly horrifying twist of fate, Bradley's mortal enemy became his daughter's favorite person. Or, Five times Jake was his daughter's favorite person, and the one time he was Bradley's too. (🐈 Note: +1 on Ao3!)

THE-SUN-AND-THE-SKY

The Joke's On You ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.

FILM-IN-MY-SOUL (Ao3 – ReformedTsundere)

Ficlet Bingo Soulmates ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The time between getting shot down and reuniting with Maverick, Rooster isn’t alone. First Kiss ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The night before the rest of Bradley’s life he gets pretty drunk and a little lucky. Whump ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | Jake is hurt. But it’s alright. Bradley is there. A/B/O ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Between waves of Jake’s heat, he and Bradley have a domestic moment. Epistolary ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | In a box, there lives two letters that the writers never want read.

NSFW Alphabet S = Stamina ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | The thing is, Jake hadn't really thought Bradley was serious when they'd made The Bet. He'd laughed when Bradley had stated his terms ( "I want to fuck you til sun up.") It had sounded like a cheesy line, like he'd never left that pre-twenties stage of sex-based hubris. And then Jake had lost. Y = Yearning ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | He’s paying the piper for the gift he’d been given: shockingly easy submission, a slack, wet mouth, a freely offered place to rest his need and have it soothed with tongue and sex.

HANGSTER-HANGOUT

The Love Chicken ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | My dad said he knew my mom was the one over a bottle of wine and the best roast chicken he ever had.” “And now you’re making it for Hangman. So he can figure out that you’re the one.” “Something like that.” Bradley cooks for Jake. It goes even better than expected. 

NATASHATRACE (Ao3 – crueltether)

first I love you/bronco conversations under the stars ➡️ 1 Chapter

daily create challenge (2/365) ➡️ 1 Chapter | something something Jake thrives in chaos but craves peace, something something Bradley thrives in peace but craves chaos

Restraint ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Smut | “What was it you said, Jake? Something about being snug on my perch?”

ALLBARK-NO-BITE

mr. iceman, sir ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | they called him Iceman for a couple of reasons. Jake is sweating under his stare. a snippet of Jake asking Ice to marry Bradley

SEMPERHUGGS (Ao3 – Semeprhuggs)

Slider's Matchmaking Again? ➡️ 3 Chapters | Present day Christmas with the Daggers and the Flyboys.

Proposal ➡️ 1 Chapter

[dr-carmillas-failed-clone]

“I won't be puppeteered”

Brutally awakened from my death Slumber i was, by force they brought me back, i screamed i think, seeing these peopel i almost remember, seeing bright lights and feeling cold Creeping in, cables sticking out of me like snakes, my neck bears a golden seal where my throat was cut, not a drop of blood to be seen-it was a spotless reanimation, but in my mind everything was covered in blood and dripping!

I'm not your little dress up dolly, not your propaganda Poster- you may think i am , you nay parade me around, but not for long. Woth every step i take, i plan my escape, with every smile i fake, i plan my revenge, i wont be puppetered For long!

They dressed me up in new clothes, i sit there, as stiff and unmoving as a porcelain doll, my skin as pale and cold as one, i watched them put a new dress on me, its blue-blue for innocence, but is it for me or for them? I look in the mirror and dont recognize whos looking back, my eyes are clear like blue glass marbles, they are without a soul! On my dress, theres a blue heart with silver chains over it- a morbid decor, i think, but a reflection of my insides. But a chained heart is still a heart, It just learnt to beat slower

I'm not your little dress up dolly, not your propaganda Poster- you may think i am , you nay parade me around, but not for long. With every step i take, i plan my escape, with every smile I fake, i plan my revenge, I wont be puppetered for long!

They tell me how to behave, pose me to show me off, it still feels like a bad dream, but i know i wont ever wake up! I walk With them, i dont feel warmth or Cold, just emptiness and as they parade me on the streets, ny Smile is frozen, i wave mechanically-The people clap and cheer and i am appalled-how can they cheer for sömething like this? With wires coming out of my shoulders to keep me at bay with electroshocks, ive learnt that-but they dont seem to notice, they just like seeing Their beloved princess again! Tears shimmer in my ears, tears that wont ever fall or be spilled-lest they break the illusion of wonder

I'm not your little dress up dolly, not your propaganda Poster- you may think i am , you may parade me around, but not for long. With every step I take, i plan my escape, with every smile I fake, i plan my revenge, i wont be puppetered for long! Nooo, not for long! Soon ill be free from your grasp, ill escape and flee this place! Ill be on my own, but free- and Ill never forget what you did to me, oh no-when the right day comes, ill have my revenge!

So, one night, my plan is set in motion-these fools should've guarded me better, because wires can be easily cut and ripped out, painkillers prevent me from screaming. I gather my few belongings, from hiding places i had even before the revolution, one of these tihngs is a silver dagger, i intend to use it-on The maid thats sleeping in the armchair, what a faulty guard! Her throat is cut easily and i make sure she looks at me so she knows it was me! A escape through the window is easier said then done, luckily its not deep and the snow is thick, so off i go! As i land, i get up, quickly and run, run into the catacombs-theyll never find me there!.

I'm not your little dress up dolly, not your propaganda Poster- you may think i am , you may parade me around, but not for long. Woth every step i take, i plan my escape, with every smile i fake, i plan my revenge, i wont be puppeteer fooor long!!

[Spoken: so thats how the escape was made-the doctors looked dumbfounded as they found a Empty room with a dead maid and blood splatters- and no sign of the princess. Emily laughed down below, knowing how to navigate her way through-her goal was a town-there, she'd need a new Look and new name, aswell as a job to earn money…..but for now, she enjoyed her freedom…]

AIGHT FELLAS, NEW SONG LEAKED!!