#and suddenly I feel like I am.. running out of time

[shepherds-of-haven]

wish it was cool and acceptable to write fanfiction of your own work, especially before the original work is actually done 😂

[wchswift]

ଓ LAP OF (DIS)COMFORT

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: during movie night, the only available seat is on logan's lap.

word count: 727

ℒogan masterlist !

── english isn't my first language :)

mdni 𖤐 18+

Deadpool had a habit of... Well, once a thought settled in his mind, he wouldn't fucking drop it. And ever since Logan became a part of your lives, Deadpool has been obsessed with hosting a movie night every week.

Now each week, without exception, he would gather everyone in the living room to watch a movie and keep Logan up to date. Though the grumpy man would never openly admit it, there was a flicker of enjoyment in him.

Today, however, this crazy slacker had put you in charge of making the popcorn. Something you did after little complaint, but as you returned to the living room, balancing several buckets of freshly popped popcorn, your ungrateful friends had claimed every available seat, leaving you without a seat and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

You glance around, hands on your hips. “Okay, where the hell am I supposed to sit?”

“Lap dance roulette,” Wade announces, sprawled across half the couch like some kind of human starfish. “Winner gets Logan.”

Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck before you can shove it down. You’re not looking at Logan. But you feel his eyes on you like he already knows where this is going. You fucking hated Wade.

"Not happening," Logan grunts, beer in hand, shoulders tense where he sits in the only available armchair.

You fold your arms. "Alright, then where am I sitting?"

“Floor’s right there,”

You glare. “Yeah? Maybe I should make you sit on the floor.”

His lips twitch—almost a smirk—but he takes a long sip of beer instead like he’s enjoying your irritation.

“Oh for f—just sit in his lap,” Vanessa replies, impatient but with a mischievous smile appearing on her lips, throwing popcorn at Wade when he starts waggling his eyebrows. “We don’t have all night.” Great, everyone was against you today.

"Come on, guys! If you all sit down properly, I can easily sit on the couch too," You said, mainly to Wade, who was taking up practically half the couch by himself. When no one answered and carried on talking and complaining, you let out a sigh.

You run your hand over your face, your jaw clenched, but you weigh your options. One: stand for two hours. Two: sit on the floor uncomfortable like an outcast. Or three—

Logan exhales sharply, like he’s already regretting this. "Just sit, sweetheart. Get it over with."

Sweetheart.

Your pulse stutters for a fraction of a second. Logan rarely calls you that—not in that tone, not in front of other people.

But if he’s not making a big deal out of it, then neither are you.

So, ignoring the way your palms suddenly feel a little too warm, you lower yourself onto his lap.

His thighs are solid. That’s your first thought. The second is that you probably should’ve just picked the floor, because now you’re fully aware of everything. The way his chest moves when he breathes. The slow curl of his fingers against his beer bottle. The warmth of his body against yours.

You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable spot—

A muscle in Logan’s jaw jumps. His hand finds your hip. “Jesus, would you quit moving?”

Your breath catches. His voice is low, rough—gravel and tension rolled into one. And his fingers? Just the barest bit possessive where they tighten against your side.

Wade whistles. "Well, someone’s having a great time. Logan, buddy, is that a blush?"

Logan flips him off but doesn't move his hand.

Doesn’t let go; he actually lets his hand settle loosely on your waist as if to keep you steady. To keep you there.

Your throat feels dry. This was supposed to be nothing—just a seat. But now? The air’s buzzing. Your heart’s drumming. And you swear, swear, that Logan’s grip lingers just a second too long to be innocent.

You don’t say anything about it.

Neither does he.

But as the movie plays, his hand moves to your hip and stays firm. And when you shift—just once—his fingers twitch, like he wants to pull you closer but won’t.

Tension crackles between you like a live wire.

Yeah. You’re definitely not paying attention to the movie tonight.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @namikyento (if you want to be added let me know <3)

[littlelamy]

req!! reader always have a hard time sleeping and is always sleepy and rafe’s trying all the methods in the books despite humself being sleepy as hell :3

lamy's note: hope you like it!

the bedside clock glared 3:47 a.m. in bold red digits, mocking you as you laid tangled in the sheets. your eyes burned from exhaustion, yet sleep clung just out of reach like a cruel tease. every time you closed your eyes, your mind whirled—memories, worries, stray thoughts—spinning in circles that left you breathless.

rafe stirred beside you, his usual heavy, even breaths now disrupted by your tossing and turning. despite the darkness, you could feel the concern radiating from him.

“still can’t sleep?” his voice was low, gravelly from fatigue, but soft, like he didn’t want to startle you.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “no. it’s like… my brain doesn’t know how to shut up.”

rafe shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. the moonlight filtering through the curtains caught the edges of his messy hair, casting shadows on his face. “what if i read to you? isn’t that supposed to help or something?”

“you hate reading,” you pointed out, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the exhaustion.

“yeah, well, i’ll do it for you,” he said, already reaching for the book on your nightstand—one of those random novels you’d been meaning to finish for months. he flipped it open, squinting at the tiny text. “fuck, why is the font so small? what is this, a book for ants?”

you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

“no, no, i got this,” he insisted, clearing his throat dramatically before reading aloud. his voice was monotone, the kind of flat, over-enunciated reading that made it impossible to focus on the story. still, you appreciated the effort, the way he stumbled over words but kept going anyway.

it lasted about five minutes before he groaned, slamming the book shut. “all right, new plan.”

“what now?” you asked, rolling onto your side to face him.

“heard somewhere that, like, breathing exercises help,” he said, mimicking slow, exaggerated breaths like he was leading a yoga class. “you know, in through your nose, out through your mouth. all that zen shit.”

you raised an eyebrow. “are you seriously going to sit here and make me do breathing exercises?”

“hell yeah, i am,” he replied, determined. “come on, follow me. in…” he inhaled deeply, shoulders rising dramatically, “and out.”

you tried to mimic him, but halfway through, his exaggerated exhale turned into a ridiculous wheezing noise, and you both dissolved into laughter.

“okay, that’s definitely not working,” you said, clutching your stomach as the laughter subsided.

rafe flopped back onto the bed, running a hand down his face. “shit, you’re right. i’m running out of ideas here.”

“you don’t have to do this,” you said softly, guilt tugging at your chest. “you’re tired too.”

he turned his head to look at you, his expression serious. “yeah, but it kills me seeing you like this. i just… i want to help.”

the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. “i know. and it means a lot.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the room settling around you like a blanket. then rafe sat up suddenly, snapping his fingers. “got it. i’m making you tea.”

“tea?” you echoed, watching as he climbed out of bed, his movements sluggish but determined. “it’s the middle of the night.”

“yeah, and tea fixes everything. ask anyone.”

you chuckled, sitting up as he disappeared into the kitchen. a few minutes later, he returned, a steaming mug in hand. “hot tea, freshly made by yours truly. careful, it’s probably hot as hell.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you said, but you took the mug anyway, the warmth seeping into your fingers. “thank you.”

he sat back down beside you, watching as you sipped cautiously. “so? does it taste like sleep?”

you smiled. “not yet. but it’s nice.”

he nodded, leaning back against the headboard. “good. because if this doesn’t work, i’m out of ideas. unless you want me to, like, sing you a lullaby or something.”

the thought of rafe singing was enough to make you laugh again, the sound soft and unguarded. “i think i’ll pass on that.”

“your loss,” he teased, but his smile was gentle, his eyes warm as he watched you.

eventually, the tea and the quiet began to work their magic. your eyelids grew heavy, your body sinking into the mattress as sleep finally crept in. rafe stayed beside you, his hand brushing lightly against yours as he whispered, “just close your eyes. i’m here.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[rhiannonsknife]

hii!! i know you are busy with the but im a cheerleader nat fic, but do you think you might maybe write more for Lottie?

also thoughts on meangirl Lottie.. i feel like when she first meets someone she can be a little guarded, wanting to keep her image so when you call her out on her bs she feels attacked and then starts a rivalry between the two.. anyways to summarise meanlottie tension with the new girl on the team when Lottie takes it too far and says something really mean at a party and new girl storms off but Lottie finds her and shows her how much she DOESNT hate her because shes actually a softie but she kind of treats new girl as a punching bag bc shes new and called her out

Im genuinely so sorry if this doesnt make sense i am so bad at explaining but i have a vision i swear😔

🫎 anon :)

i love this idea so much 🫎 anon!! hopefully i got your vision here!!

lottie matthews, you should’ve realized sooner, is untouchable.

at least, that’s how she wants people to perceive her.

everyone on the team knows better than to test lottie; even jackie, the whs’ golden girl in her own right, lets her have her moments.

you, on the other hand? you’re new. maybe that’s why you didn’t seem to get the memo right from the beginning.

it starts small enough: a subtle jab at practice, a teasing remark about your form, the kind of thing that could be dismissed as playful banter if not for the smug tone in lottie’s voice. and then there are the looks: the way her dark eyes flick over you during drills, sizing you up for reasons you can’t seem to wrap your head around.

it doesn’t take long for you to call her out.

“got something to say, matthews?” you ask one day, sharp enough to draw a few surprised glances from your teammates.

for a second, lottie looks genuinely caught off guard. and then her mask slips back into place, her lips curving into that insufferably confident smile. “i’m just looking out for the team,” she says. “can’t have the new girl slowing us down.”

from that moment on, it’s war between you.

lottie calls you out for each fumbled pass in practice. in the locker room, she’s leaning against the row of lockers closest to yours, waiting for you to pass to call out a snarky comment. and even during team meetings, when you make a suggestion about changing up a play, lottie scoffs. “sure,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “let’s just toss out what’s been working because you think you know better!”

things only reach a breaking point weeks later, at one of the parties.

you don’t even remember what starts it: some offhand comment about your outfit, maybe, or the way you’ve been talking to nat a little too long for lottie’s liking. either way, her words hit harder this time, meaner than usual.

“god, you’re so desperate to fit in,” she says suddenly “it’s pathetic!”

the words land like a slap, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

for a second, all you can do is stare at her, your chest tight and your pulse pounding in your ears. lottie doesn’t look away. she stands her ground, her arms still crossed over her chest.

nat shifts beside you, clearly uncomfortable, but she doesn’t intervene. no one does.

you don’t trust yourself to speak, not when your voice feels like it might crack and give her the satisfaction she’s so clearly looking for. instead, you turn on your heel and push through the crowd, ignoring the whispers as you walk out.

lottie finds you a little while later, sitting on the back steps of the house with your head in your hands. you don’t hear her approach until she’s right beside you and says: “i shouldn’t have said that,”

you flinch, whipping around to face her. “what do you want, lottie?” you snap. “haven’t you done enough for one night?”

her usually upright posture falters as she stuffs her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her gaze flicking between you and the ground. “i didn’t mean it,” lottie says, quieter this time. “i just…i don’t know.” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “you get under my skin!”

you let out a bitter laugh. “glad i could be of service then”

“that’s not-” lottie cuts herself off. “i’m not good at this, okay? you called me out, and i didn’t know how to deal with it, so i pushed back. too hard. i know that.”

when you look up, you’re surprised to see something raw in her expression. regret.

“i don’t hate you,” she says finally, her voice soft but insistent. “i don’t even think i dislike you, if i’m being honest. i just…i don’t know how to handle you!”

before you can respond, lottie crouches in front of you, close enough that you can see the faint flush on her cheeks. “you’re not pathetic,” she murmurs. “far from it. and i’m sorry if i made you feel like you were!”

you’re unsure how to process the vulnerability she’s laying bare. this isn’t the untouchable, put-together lottie you’ve come to know. this is someone softer, someone who’s trying, even if she doesn’t quite know how.

lottie seems to take your lack of an answer as a bad sign, her lips pressing into a thin line. “let me make it up to you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “please.”

[kkuzushi]

જ Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby. . .ᐟ

˚𖦹 ‘ Chapter 25 : Running away.. from you or with you? ִ ࣪𖤐

— PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

“Yn? Where are you–” You didn’t hear the end of Lumine’s question as you dashed out of the cafeteria as soon as Scaramouche stopped responding.

You almost didn’t wonder why you felt the need to save him. He’s Scaramouche, he’s not some damsel in distress that needs saving. It was already too late to question it all as you found yourself searching for him in every hall.

It wasn’t difficult to spot him. A large crowd screaming, asking for both autographs and selfies was an enough sign you’ve succeeded in your search.

Your first instinct was to turn around and walk the other way. Maybe even pretend you never saw him in this mess. After all, Scaramouche was a grown man, perfectly capable of handling himself—except, well…

“Don’t touch my hair,” he snapped, swatting away a grabby hand. His usual scowl was in place, but you could tell he was just barely holding back from shoving the whole crowd away. His pen was trapped in someone else’s grip, his jacket was being tugged at from multiple directions, and his face screamed get me out of here.

And, somehow, you were the only one who could.

“Ugh,” you muttered under your breath before sighing and stepping forward. “Alright, move, move—give the man some space.” You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the surprised glances thrown your way.

Then, before Scaramouche could say anything, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the chaos. “Come on, superstar. Time to go.”

You didn’t even get the chance to process how fast things escalated. One second, you were pulling Scaramouche out of the crowd, and the next, you were running.

Full speed, weaving through hallways, dodging students, dragging a very annoyed model behind you.

“Are you even still in college?!” you huffed, barely looking over your shoulder. “I swear, everyone just lost their minds over one guy talking!”

Scaramouche huffed, but before you were about to argue again, he yanked you back.

You barely had a second to react before he pulled you toward a door you hadn’t even noticed—the janitor’s closet.

“What the—”

Before you could finish, the door shut behind you with a soft click.

Dark. Cramped. Too close.

You inhaled sharply, back pressed against shelves of cleaning supplies, and Scaramouche was right there—so close his breath fanned against your cheek.

“…Seriously?” you muttered, shifting slightly. “Out of all places?”

“Would you rather get trampled?” he shot back, his voice low.

Your breaths mingled in the darkness, ragged from the sprint, but it wasn’t just that anymore.

Scaramouche had you pinned. One arm braced against the shelf above your head, the other still gripping your wrist, keeping you right where he wanted you. Not that there was anywhere else to go.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, the way his breath ghosted over your skin—shaky and uneven.

“…Move back,” you muttered, voice lower than intended.

“I can’t,” Scaramouche shot back, but he didn’t even try.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, neither of you daring to move. Every shallow breath felt like a spark in the dark—a charge waiting to explode.

Scaramouche's grip on your wrist didn’t loosen, but his fingers twitched, as if he just realized how tightly he was holding on. You felt it too.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, almost teasing—almost.

He scoffed, but the usual sharpness in his voice was missing. “What else am I supposed to do? The lights are off.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how every inch of him was pressed against you. The heat of his body, the way his breath fanned against your skin—it was too much.

The door rattled as someone jiggled the handle from the outside.

“Locked?” A muffled voice grumbled. “Damn janitors..”

You and Scaramouche froze. The last thing either of you needed was to be found like this.

A few seconds passed before the footsteps faded, leaving you in the dark once more.

“…We’re leaving,” you said first, reaching for the handle.

Scaramouche grabbed your wrist again. Not stopping you. Just.. holding.

Your heart lurched.

Then, after a beat, he let go.

The two of you let out a heavy sigh of relief. Two awkward situations after the other, it felt impossible to recover from that.

“You are to never speak about that with anyone,” you finally turned to face him, narrowing your eyes to his.

He grinned, “How about a few friends?”

You shot him a glare that could freeze water. “Scaramouche, I swear to—”

“I’m kidding.” He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender, though his smirk was still there, the same smug, infuriating one that made your blood boil.

— ꒰꒰﹒The forced proximity wasn’t planned at all but I realized how much it’d fit since this chapter didn’t have any actual ending in my outline. I hope you enjoyed these two new chapters, I made sure they’re both lengthy. <3

— ꒰꒰﹒TAGLIST : @raineyun @hayamie @sketcheeee @wraithisd3adinside @heusalettle @liuaneee @yevurin @mywillt0live @kaikaidenkai @alatusorrow @shrimplyasleep @minstarrs @reivelmin @scaraenthusiast1 @girlbesofr2814 @yawn-zi @eternallykira-143 @theintruder1000 @bittersweetmiko @kangyeonie @qt-yhuji @midnightfiction143 @cinnamonroll-lover @iloveescara @meowmewow7

— ꒰꒰﹒OPEN. [ 25/50 ]

© kkuzushi | Please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize my work. This AU is posted in Tumblr only unless stated otherwise by yours truly.

[snazzynacho]

— Emperor of Time

Chapter 2/?: Diana

Emperor Geta x female oc

Chapter 1 Read on ao3. Masterlist. Words: 2.8k

A/N: btw I am trying to keep fmc’s appearance as vague as possible so you can imagine her as whoever, even yourself. Words in bold mean they are in Latin.

Geta stirs from his sleep, draped in the softest blanket he has ever felt in his life and a soothing cold flannel on his forehead. What a comfort to wake up to after that awful dream...He reminds himself to thank his servants once he's fully awake. It is not protocol but after that fright, he does not care.

His eyes are still closed, basking in the nicety of the blanket, but his nose twitches at something. A sweet aroma.

He groans sleepily, turning over on his side slightly. That’s when he’s met with a wet tongue licking his nose. He snaps his eyes open, blinking away the blurry remnants of slumber. He is ready to scream at her and bellow all sorts of derogatory terms at her for…licking his nose!?

But then his eyes are met with huge round black ones, set above a cute button nose. The adorable sight finishes with floppy orange ears. It is a dog. Geta’s anger slowly diminishes, as the dog continues to stare at him, sniffing his scent. Geta resists the urge to pet it.

As Geta’s eyes wonder around the room, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.

The unfamiliar furniture and interior design hits him. That was no dream…that was real life…

Geta proceeds to sit up, just as the woman is walking back over to him. He eyes her suspiciously. In her hands is a cup of sorts, similar to the shape of a goblet, only smaller with a handle on the side. It's filled with a warm light brown liquid. That must be the cause of the sweet smell. He watches the steam flutter away in the air.

She shoos the dog away gently, slightly agitated at it, and motions for Geta to take the cup…but he's sceptical. What if it is poisoned? He has no way of knowing until it is too late.

Sensing his distrust, she sighs and gulps a bit of the drink. At the sight of her foreign mouth on his cup, his nose scrunches up in disgust. She says something, out of annoyance, and shoves the cup in his hand. He tuts out of irritation. It’s hot and he feels the heat tingle his fingers as it burns his hand. He quickly moves his hand to hold the handle instead.

She sits in the chair across from the plump lounge seat he is on, eyeing him. The tawny dog happily perches by her feet. Geta ignores her stare as he sniffs the drink, before taking the tiniest sip.

Bleh.

He does not like that.

His face sours as he places the cup down on the low table in between them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He wants to spit out the liquid but stops himself. Instead, he swallows the liquid and swallows down more saliva to try to rid the awful taste.

He can't help but glare at her. Her mouth opens and more grating noise comes out of it. Has she not realised from his shouting earlier that he clearly doesn't speak her language?

“Imbecile,” He counteracts, muttering under his breath bitterly. His eyes glance around the room again. Eyeing objects which feel alien to him. From where he’s sitting there’s perfect view of a flat black box standing on a chest of sorts. There’s also a dining area, but not in a separate room like usual. It’s just a table and chairs, out in the open, in the living room. Peasant style, he thinks. “What is this place?” He asks.

She suddenly jumps up and he grimaces at her…happiness? She races past him, to a different room—the dog perks up and runs with her—and runs back with something in her hands. It's a book with a picture of a set of three blocks of colours, in order of green, white and red. She sits back down in font of Geta and clears her throat, eyeing him with a slight smugness. The dog lies by her feet again. She flips through the pages, landing on one, and begins to say a word.

A word he does not know.

Her eyebrows shoot up, expectantly. As if he should know what to say next.

Geta looks at her, confused, and becomes more irate by the second, as his voice raises. “You will answer to your Emperor. Where am I? Where have you taken me?”

She looks shocked at his anger, staring back at him like he’s a monster. Geta knows that looks well. She furrows her brows, propping the book on her legs, and grabs the rectangular device from earlier. She holds it up right in her hands, the bottom resting on her pinkie-fingers. Light emits from the device, brightening her face. He details her features. The light reflects on the glass circles in front of her eyes. He suppresses a giggle until his anger comes flooding back. “Where is my brother?”

She glances up at him while her thumbs tap on the device faster. His brows furrow in thought. What is she doing?

A few seconds later, an autonomous voice sounds from the device. He grips his robes in horror. “What is your name?”

It's a voice speaking his language. His heart beats hard in his chest. Is this a god speaking to him?

He takes a deep breath, wanting to make sure he has a steady voice for the god. “Publius Septimius Geta,” he utters but his voice wavers slightly. Damn, nerves.

She blinks at him. He cannot read her expression. Though, since she speaks a different language he assumes her foreign intellect does not know where to begin with how to repeat his name. Ha. He finds this amusing yet does not let it show. He keeps his face stone-cold, waiting for a reply.

Her thumbs resume tapping on the device, the quiet noises of her soft thumb pads tapping oddly calm him down.

The voice from the device speak again. “My name is Diana,”

She smiles at him for the first time. Three things flutter in his stomach. One is that the voice emitting miraculously from the device sounds like it belongs to a male’s voice, and by appearance and from the words she has spoken in her foreign language, Geta gathers the woman is…well, a woman. So, the voice from the device is not her own and would not be named a feminine name like Diana. The voice must be speaking for her. This leads him to a second realisation seizing him—why on earth is this woman named Diana—after the goddess of hunting and wild animals? It perplexes him greatly. It casts a shame on the goddess. This Diana cannot even fight him with a broom! A broom, for god’s sake!

Thirdly, Diana is a Roman name. Besides the shame it brings to the real Diana, the great goddess, the familiarity of it makes his heart lurch. Does this mean that his home is close? He worries about Rome and Caracalla. His brother must be frightened out of his fragile mind.

She leans over. He instinctively cranes his neck back. Did he permit her from moving closer to him? He looks down, seeing her arm outstretched, holding the device out for him. She wants him to take it. Geta clears his throat, he is not going to be scared of a silly device the size of his hand. His hand goes to grab it. He stares at it for a moment, not knowing what to do. There seems to be glass on it like a mirror but instead of his reflection staring back at him, it is lit up, showing three boxes—the two on top of each other are blank but the one of the bottom is filled with three rows of letters he recognises. He then remembers that all she was doing was tapping her finger on it. It can't be that hard.

He gathers that she must have been selecting each letter with her thumbs to form words that the device spoke aloud for her. He is extremely taken aback by the extraordinary device. He has never seen anything like it. He relates it to a wax tablet, except smaller, yet more powerful. It is a work of sorcery, and he questions whether it is safe. But, he believes this voice in the device is akin to a household god to her, and he must treat this device with respect. And if that means using it as she wants him to, then he shall oblige.

He warily points his index finger. He’s hesitant to touch it at first, glancing up at her for some sort of approval, even though he emperor and will do as he pleases.

She gives a nod, the corners of her mouth curling upwards slightly. He stares back at the device. The light bothers him, unaccustomed to a device so bright with white light. With the dream, or whatever it was earlier, with the mysterious glowing lady who sent him here still fresh in his mind, this white light reminds him of the blinding light he experienced. Uninvited, a shiver runs down his spine and his stomach churns a bit. He blinks, willing the fear that still lingers away.

His index finger touches one of the letters. It magically appears in the box at the top. He doesn’t realise he is grinning in awe. He continues to spell out what he wants to communicate.

“Where am I?” It speaks aloud when he is finished. He then passes the device back to her.

“My flat,”

He rolls his eyes. Can she be any more vague? “Am I in Rome?” He makes the communicatory-device-god ask.

At the question, she looks completely confused. “I wish,” it answers for her and she laughs.

Geta is not amused.

She realises her joke did not land, and makes the device reply again. “Britannia,”

His eyes widen. It cannot be. Britannia looks nothing like…like this!? His breath quickens, his anger returning. She must be playing a trick on him.

“Are you okay?” comes in another reply from her. Her question tips him over the edge.

He grabs the device from her, angrily tapping the letters. “Are you jesting with me? Because I assure you, I, your emperor, will not hesitate to use force.” his nostrils flare in vexation.

The colour drains from her face. Even in this uncertain environment, he still has what it takes to be intimidating. He feels smug, eyeing her with a smirk.

“Emperor?” she places the device on the table instead of handing it to him this time.

“Do I look like a Plebeian?!”

She winces and seems to shrug her shoulders. Geta’s eyes bore into hers. He snatches the device and he is about to start tapping at it again vehemently when the unexpected happens.

In a blink of an eye, the lit-up picture on the device changes, displaying a word he does not know and two circles at the bottom—one green circle and one red. Not only that, but the device starts to quiver in his grip—making his hand feel like a buzzing nest of angry bees—and emits a loud obnoxious sound of…ducks quacking?! Geta jumps out of skin at the shock of it all. The device practically flies in the air, out of his hand. He's about ready to go insane. This day is beyond bizarre.

Geta puts a hand to his beating heart, holding onto his robe. This sorcery… He eyes his other hand, the one that was holding the quivering device which made it feel like it was fist-deep in a furious bee nest. His hand seems to be unharmed, only a slight tingle lingers. He clenches it into a fist, alleviating the strange prickling.

She shoots up from her seat—the dog moving with her as if they are attached at the hip—and bends down to retrieve the device off the floor. When she stands back up, her face is very displeased. Her small gasp grabs Geta’s attention as she stares at the device. She quickly taps the screen and holds the device to her ear. The quacking stops.

He watches in curiosity. She wanders off, talking, but not to Geta. There is no one in front of her. Geta’s hearing just about picks up a muffled voice produced from the device, talking back to her. She must be conversing with the communicatory device god.

Geta sits tight, watching as she so easily speaks to a god. How is she able to get into verbal contact with a god? It is not like she is the real goddess, Diana! Look at her! He is an emperor, why has he never been contacted by a god?—verbally, for that matter.

Slouching back, he crosses his arms together. He gazes away arrogantly, his nose in the air, trying to convey an unbothered attitude to the whole debacle—but he can't help getting re-invested when she becomes increasingly agitated, pacing the length of the room. She pulls the device away from her ear with a stiff sigh, raking a hand through her hair.

She looks over at him, uncertainty written in her eyes. She comes back over to him, holding her device in her hand. It is not lit-up anymore, but there’s a huge crack, a bit like when Caracalla smashed his mirror. Geta’s body fills with dread—has he killed the communicatory god?! Was that his final farewell to her?! Geta reaches his finger to feel along the crack, detailing the tiny crystals of glass, but she shoves it in her pocket before he can, muttering something laced with resentment.

She then begins rushing around, pulling her shoes on and picking up a black odd-shaped case. She then removes something from the wall and turns to him, holding some sort of circular dial with symbols all around it and two thin black arrows. One is shorter staying pointed at the “3” shaped symbol on the top right. The other is longer and ticks, moving by the second.

He stares at it for a moment, mesmerised by the ticking sound and the moving arrow.

He presumes it is a timepiece—but it is unlike one he has seen before. He knows of sundials and even the klepsydra and obelisk, which rely on the sun or water, but this piece of technology seems to calculate the time on its own. He has no idea how, yet. He also notes it is using a different numbering system instead of the Roman Numerals he is familiar with. Another work of sorcery… He worries if she is trying to cast a spell on him or hypnotise him, the ticking and ever-moving arrow pulling him into a trance. That is, until her finger appears on the dial, pointing to another symbol, snapping him out of his daze.

Her finger taps the “3” symbol where the smaller arrow is and then her finger points down to the ground—as if signalling that is the time now—and then points to the door to her home. Geta gathers she's trying to tell him that is the time now and she must leave. He nods his head. She then points to the “6” symbol several times. That must be when she will be back. He nods again. She hands him the timepiece, holding it in his hands. Before she leaves, she offers him a smile.

Now he is left with…a dog. Whatever it’s name is, he does not care, right now.

He sighs, a long irate sigh. He has never been fond of…pets. Caracalla has a pet monkey for God’s sake. Geta has always found it ridiculous, but even now, he cannot deny the truth—that monkey, though it annoys Geta,—does wonders in calming Caracalla down.

He hopes the monkey can do so now, with Geta himself being…gone…Lost? Dead? Reborn? Geta is still unsure.

A/N: Geta being confused by her glasses this entire fanfic and thinking her phone is a god are my favourite jokes so far. 😭 btw this is what the iPhone duck quacking ringtone sounds like.

Oh, and the way he would pronounce Diana in Latin is so hot (Latin is so hot idc). Basically, it's like “Dee-ah-nuh”.

I also have dyscalculia so I don't know why I made myself explain how a clock works in a Roman’s mind. Ffs😭. I hope it makes sense.

Taglist for this fanfic (comment if you want to be added/removed): @minamoomoo @silpiisoverrated @gorbo-longstocking @cokepowder55

[yourlovelywriter]

Mine to have (Yandere Agatha harkness x reader) part one.

Idek man… I hope yall like it. :)

I don’t prof read cause idc. Good luck understanding you might need it. 🙏

(Warnings— yandere behavior, rough handling, blood, jealousy, unusual gifts, sexual behavior, Lustful intent… kidnapping.)

Also sorry for the long beginning.:(

It was late at night when you were organizing the books at the library. It was unfortunately your average evening. Not that you hated being a librarian, I mean you loved the silence and the ambiance, but when night hits it’s like a whole other world, a weird one.

Up until now the night shift has been fine, no problems or issues. But for the past few days it’s like someone has been watching you, you feel eyes on you when your back is turned, you see shadows out of the corner of your eye, and you hear noises.

Overall it’s creepy as hell. And the non working lights in the library don’t help.

When you hear a noise you jump. You freeze a moment before turning to look in the direction of the sound. Seeing nothing you grab your phone for a light and you slowly walk down the aisle of bookshelves.

Looking down you see a book on the floor, “What the hell?” You mumble and bend down to pick it up. “I am watching you…” you whisper as you read the cover. Totally not creepy.

You look around for where the book fell of the shelve but there’s no empty space. Confused you look around the area but nothing. You walk back to your desk and set the book down with a sigh. The good thing is you’d only have to be there for another hour.

Surly enough, nothing else happened during the hour and you finally locked up and left.

The next day you wake up to a text.

Emily/boss: hey, I know you just worked night shift but Caroline never came in this morning and I need help. Can you come?

You groan and throw yourself into your pillow. Of course you wanted to stay home and sleep. But you sort of have a crush on Emily and you don’t want to disappoint her.

Y/n: yeah sure, not a problem. I’ll see you there! :)

Throwing your phone down you sigh annoyed. Looking around you realize you haven’t really done laundry. You walk to your dresser and see a cute knee length dress. You pair it with some colorful tights, boots, a scarf, and your jewelry of course.

Making your way to the door you throw on a coat and grab your phone and keys.

Once at the little library you set your stuff down and see Emily. “Emily! I’m here. I can see why you needed some help. There’s a lot of people in here today.” You say as you look around. There really is a lot of people. It’s weird really.

“I know right, we hardly ever have one person walk in, let alone 20 people…” Emily laughs and looks around. “Right, well, I’ll go to the counter to check people out if needed.” You say and move over to your chair. As you turn on your computer you notice the book from last night still on your desk.

A shiver runs down your spine as you stare at it. Suddenly a voice draws you out of your trance and you look up quickly. It’s a tall woman, dark brown hair, piercing eyes, and a grin on her face.

“Hello dove, I’m not interrupting am I?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming even. “O-oh of course not, I was just.. looking at something- it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you?” You stamper out quickly, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, dove, I’m trying to grow my knowledge, if you will, expand my horizons. But I just don’t know where to start.” She practically purrs out. He voice sends a shiver down your spine but you try not to lead into it.

“Of course what books are you interested in?” You question and she smirks. “Well I was thinking romance maybe.. do you have anything that’s worth my time?” Her eyes scan you up and down, committing it all to memory. You clear your throat before responding

“Of course there’s some in the back if you’d like me to show you, Mrs…”

“Oh! Agatha, Agatha Harkness… and it’s Ms. Not Mrs, dove.” She responds and you blush.

“Of course, my apologies. But if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to the back.” You say standing. Leaving your phone and wallet behind. “We have a variety of romantic novels. We have cliche romances, hallmark style, hmm.. we also have some more on the obsessive style if that’s more your thing.”

“Oh you have no idea” Agatha reply’s with a smug grin. “I like this one.., it looks like a good book. Don’t you think Y/n ?” She asks and picks up a dark romance book. One about a young woman who’s taken hostage by her boss and falls in love.

“Oh, yeah sure.. I haven’t read it but it’s got great reviews.” You say shyly. Then your brows furrow. “How do you know my name?” You question. Agatha passes for a moment but then laughs, “it was on your name tag silly.” Calming down a bit you blush. “Oh sorry..”

Agatha’s eyes look at your body with an intensity that could only be described as hunger. She swallows hard before moving closer to whisper something.

“Hey Y/n there’s a line at the counter!” Emily yells suddenly. Stopping Agatha in her tracks. She scowls before composing herself.

“I’m so sorry, if you’d wait a second I’ll come help you..” you whisper to Agatha and rush to the front counter. Emily smiles at you and rubs your shoulder as you sit down.

Agatha takes note of this and doesn’t like it one bit. How dare she, how dare that insignificant being lay their hands on something that was hers?! It was anarchy.

After dealing with the line Emily asks you to go for lunch. Completely forgetting Agatha you agree. “Sure I’ll come. Let me just grab my phone and wallet.” You rush to grab your stuff but your phones gone. “Huh… I could have sworn I placed it here somewhere…” you mumble.

“Looking for something?” A low voice comes from behind you. You jump slightly and cover your mouth. “Oh gosh, you scared me..” you cover your heart.

“Oh I’m sorry dove, I didn’t mean to” Agatha rubs your cheek with her finger. Her eyes look down to your lips and she smiles slightly. “I’m looking for my phone yeah..” you respond slightly nervous and you back up a bit.

Agatha’s smile fades at your move and her hands start to reach for you but she clinches her fists. “It wouldn’t happen to be this one would it?” She asks and holds up your phone. You look surprised.

“Yeah it is where did you find it?” You let her set it in your hands.

“Oh it was on the bookshelf where we were talking dove, you set it there before we were..” she paused for a moment then her voice hardens a bit, “rudely interrupted” she finishes.

“Right well… thanks for bringing it back. But we’re closing for lunch so..” as you walk to the door and open it for her to leave she doesn’t move.

Her smile is thin and doesn’t reach her eyes, “we? Whose we” she asks sort of demandingly. You stand confused a bit but you soon reply. “Me and the manager. But I’ll open back later if you wanna stop by.” You stand waiting for her to follow you out. She smiles at your words then walks out.

“Of course I’ll come by then.. but what restaurant are you going to…” Agatha says suddenly. You look up at her.

“I don’t know.. whatever Emily chooses i guess.” Her face hardens again. “Ah Emily yes.. she’s the object of your affection I suppose” her voice holding back venom. She quickly puts on a smile and leaves, “I’ll see you later dove.” You finally sigh and shut and lock the doors. “How unusual” you mummer as you walk to Emily’s car.

“Sorry, a customer was holding me up..”

At the restaurant you and Emily hit it off. You really do like her. Her smile, her laugh, personality… she has it all.

“Im so glad you came with me. I’m having a wonderful time” Emily says tenderly as she places her hand onto yours rubbing gently. You blush.

Agatha never did come to the library later that night. But you didn’t think about that much. Only the fact Emily was acting interested.

At your apartment you walk in and throw your stuff down. “Fuck that’s heavy” you grunt as it hits the floor. You walk into the kitchen and realize the light is on. “Shit i must have left it on.. now the light bills gonna be high. Just what I need.” Switching it off you grab a cookie off the counter and go sit in the living room with the tv on.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Who is texting at this time of night?” You whisper annoyed, though secretly hope it’s Emily.

Unknown: why would you do this to me.

Your brow furrows and you look confused.

Y/n: who is this and how did you get my number?!

You type quickly.

Unknown: you dare let another woman touch you, to laugh with you when you know what that does to me!

“What the fuck..” you mutter.

Y/n: look if this is a joke it isn’t funny.

Unknown: I love you Y/n, I really do, and it pains me to know you would see another woman. Which is why I have to do what I needed to do a year ago.

You stare at your screen shocked. Who the hell was this?! And what were they talking about?!

Y/n: what do you mean?!?

Y/n: hello!?!

No reply, nothing. You set your phone down and decide you need to calm down.. you start to worry about what this person meant by, “do what I needed to do a year ago.”

You lay in bed and start to relax a bit. Not wanting to think about it. And just as soon as you close your eyes the door creaks. Your eyed shooting open. A tall figure is standing in your door.

Okay so… this is a part 1 I guess. I don’t want to leave it like this but do you guys want me to add more?

[swappedman]

The Fratty Jacksons Final Part

For Ryan, Jake, Connor, Matt, Brad, and Luke, their annual “brocation” was supposed to be a week of sun, surf, and no responsibilities. Exchange Island sounded like the perfect spot—a tropical getaway with a bizarre twist. The idea of swapping bodies with someone else for a week sounded hilarious, especially after a few beers. They all figured it would be a fun prank to pull on each other, but none of them were prepared for what actually happened.

When they stepped into the transition pods, they were full of jokes. “What if I get stuck in the body of some old dude?” Brad laughed, flexing his muscles. Moments later, a flash of light overtook them, and the world went white.

Ryan was the first to come to. He blinked, confused by how low the pod suddenly felt. “What the—?” he mumbled, his voice high-pitched and unfamiliar. He glanced down and froze. His arms were short, his legs even shorter, and his hands were tiny. He was wearing a collared shirt, tucked neatly into little shorts.

“Guys?” he called out, his voice cracking. He stumbled out of the pod and saw five other small figures. Jake, now with blond curls and a freckled face, was staring at his hands in horror. “Bro, I’m a kid! What happened?”

Connor, who was now barely four feet tall and missing a front tooth, looked at his reflection in the polished pod. “No way. This can’t be real.”

Matt, in the body of a sandy-haired, wide-eyed six-year-old, clutched his sides. “I feel so small. And weak. This is a nightmare.”

The realization hit all of them at once: they were in the bodies of a family. Not just any family—a picture-perfect, matching-outfits-on-vacation family.

“Dude, look at us!” Brad exclaimed, now in the body of the dad. He patted his chest and groaned. “I’ve got dad vibes.”

Luke, who was now the mom, ran his fingers through his long hair in disbelief. “This… this is too much. How do I even—?” He froze, looking at the kids. “Wait, am I their mom now? Oh, no. Nope. Nope.”

They were all so distracted by their predicament that they barely noticed the real Jackson family—now in their athletic, toned bodies—cheering and running off down the beach, whooping at their new physiques.

The frat boys, meanwhile, were left to figure out how to navigate their new reality.

Day one was a disaster. Luke, still in denial about being in a mom’s body, accidentally burned dinner while trying to figure out how to cook. Ryan and Connor—now the younger boys—were forced to endure naptime because none of them could figure out how to avoid the overly attentive resort staff. Jake, who was now in the body of the 14-year-old daughter, spent most of the day sulking.

“I can’t believe I’m a teenage girl,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well, I’m your mom,” Luke snapped, adjusting his sundress with a scowl.

By day three, the group started to adapt—kind of. They realized that no one took them seriously, which made it nearly impossible to enjoy any of the resort’s adult activities. “Hey, we’ll just act like kids,” Connor suggested.

“Works for me,” Ryan said with a shrug.

The next day, they went all in. They built sandcastles, splashed in the shallow waves, and even entered the resort’s limbo contest. Brad, stuck as the dad, tried to win over the other parents by talking about lawn care and barbecue techniques, but it didn’t go well.

By the time the week ended, the frat boys had developed an odd respect for the family lifestyle. “Dude,” Brad said, lounging in the family cabana, “this dad life is exhausting.”

“No kidding,” Luke said, sipping on his mocktail. “Moms are superheroes. I don’t know how they do this every day.”

Ryan, meanwhile, found himself surprisingly attached to the carefree world of a six-year-old. “I kind of get why kids have so much fun,” he said, digging his toes into the sand. “No responsibilities. Just, like… living.”

When the day came to step back into the transition pods, they were more than ready to reclaim their original bodies. As the flash of light restored them to their tall, athletic selves, they couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the week.

“That was insane,” Jake said, flexing his arms. “But… kind of fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Brad agreed, grinning. “Maybe next year, we try something a little less… humbling.”

And with that, they left Exchange Island with a new appreciation for both their own lives and the chaos of family vacations.

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 11

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)

Masterlist

“Happy birthday!”

“Bloody hell!” Pedri yells when he walks into the kitchen.

“Oh my God, did you see his face?” Fer laughs. 

“We all did” their dad says, also laughing.

“My sweet boy” Pedri's mum says, hugging him. “I'm sorry we scared you.”

“It's ok, don't worry. But what is that thing in your heads?”

“Birthday hats!” Fer says. “Inés’ idea.”

“What?” Pedri says, looking at me.

“I saw them yesterday while running some errands and thought it would be cute” I shrug.

“Spider-Man birthday hats?” he smirks, knowing perfectly well why I had picked them.

“Yeah” I shrug again, trying really hard to hide my smile.

“She also bought this for you” Fer says, putting an “it's my birthday” crown on his head. 

“Seriously, Inés?”

“We are a family. We all have to look ridiculous” Fer says. “Now come here. Let's take a photo with the birthday boy before we start eating, have to leave to open the bar and forget about it.”

“I am the one who won't forget about this” Pedri whispers in my ear when I move to stand next to him, his arm around my waist.

“Oh, stop complaining. You look cute.”

“No one can look cute with this in their heads, Inés.”

“You do” I smile. 

“Lovebirds, I need you to look at the camera” Fer says while setting his phone on the table, suddenly making me very aware of the fact that we are in front of their parents. “Perfect” he says before moving to where we all are standing. “Say, Pepi!”

“Pepi!” we all repeat before Fer’s phone takes a bunch of photos.

“I'm killing him” Pedri whispers again.

“Can you please stop complaining? It's your birthday… Pepi” I say with a teasing smile.

“You know, when you say it it actually sounds better” he says while squeezing my waist, the feeling sending a wave of heat through my body that should not be allowed this early in the morning.

“Ok, let's sit down. We don't want our breakfast to get cold” his mum says. “Inés, here” she says, moving a chair for me.

“Thank you” I manage to say, Pedri giving my side one last squeeze before letting go of me. For now. Because he sits (or his mum makes him sit) next to me, his hand moving under the table from time to time and resting on my thigh, sometimes just staying there and others squeezing it, making staying still almost impossible. 

“Inés, are you ok?” his mum had said after the first squeeze and my little jump, one that made me kick the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hit the table while crossing my legs” I had smiled, slapping Pedri's hand under the table and making him laugh.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Presents time!” Fer announces once we have finished having breakfast. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will. This is from me and dad” their mum says, giving Pedri a big package.

“Thank you” he smiles while opening it. “Mum, is this…”

“It isn't my photo album, don't worry” she chuckles. “I found this one doing some cleaning a few weeks ago, turns out that I had bought the same one twice. And I thought, why don't I fill it with the same photos the other one has so Pedri can take it to Barcelona with him and check it every time he misses us?”

“Mum, I… This… You even wrote the same things under each photo!”

“My comments are the best part, they had to be there.”

“I love it, mum” Pedri says, getting up from his chair and hugging her. “I love you. And you too, dad.”

“We love you too” he smiles. 

“God, mum. Now my present and Inés’ are gonna look like shit” Fer says.

“Sorry” she shrugs.

“Ok, my turn” he says. “This isn't something as cute as mum and dad's present, but I think you will like it.”

“We'll see…” Pedri says, unwrapping the box I went to pick up yesterday. “Fer!” he gasps. “Did you… Oh my God, Fer!” 

“Were saying?” their mum chuckles while Pedri inspects the sneakers Fer has gotten him, the biggest smile ever on his face. I think I had never seen anyone smile like that because of a pair of shoes. Not even Carla, and she loves shoes. 

“Do you like them?”

“I love them. How did you manage to find them? I've been looking for them everywhere” Pedri says.

“One has his contacts” he smirks.

“I freaking love them, Fer. Thank you” Pedri says, getting up again and hugging his brother.

“Then I guess my present is the one that will look like shit” I sigh.

“Inés, you've given me the best present ever by allowing me to be here today with my family” Pedri says, taking my hand on his and giving it a squeeze.

“Yeah, well…” I say, feeling my cheeks on fire. “I still got you something” I say, giving him my present. Or presents since there were two.

“Which one do I open first?” 

“The one with the blue wrapping paper.”

“Ok” he smiles, carefully opening it to not ruin it. “No way!” he laughs.

“More Spider-Man?” Fer says. “What do you two have going on with that? First the hats, and now… an apron?”

“I saw it yesterday and couldn't help myself.”

“I love it, Inés” Pedri laughs again. “What do you think, mum? Should I wear this at the bar?”

“Yeah… no” she says, making everyone laugh.

“I'll keep it for special occasions, then” Pedri says before opening his other present. “What… Inés.”

“Another one?” Fer asks with an even more confused look than before. 

“This is the nice apron. One you can wear when you come over to my place and cook for me, for example” I say.

“Oh, so this gift also is for you” Pedri smirks. “You want me to properly look like a chef.”

“Maybe” I shrug, my cheeks back to being on fire.

“She even got your name embroidered on it” his mum points out. 

“I love it, Inés” Pedri says. “I love both of them. I can't wait to be back in Barcelona and wear them while making you dinner after a game.”

“That sounds like a date” Fer giggles.

“Oh, shut up!” Pedri says, giving him a little push before moving to where I am. “Thank you, Inés.”

“You're welcome” I smile as I stand up and hug him. 

“Looking forward to our date” he whispers in my ear. 

“Same” I whisper back.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“But wait, if Inés is a football player… Does that make you a wag?”

“Oh my God!” one of Pedri's friends laughs.

“What? Isn't that how they call the footballers’ partners?”

“Wag stands for wives and girlfriends. Pedri is a boyfriend. So he would be a…”

“Bah” he says.

“What?”

“Boyfriends and husbands. Bah” he shrugs, making everyone laugh.

After having breakfast with his parents and Fer, we met with his childhood friends, and I honestly don't know who was more nervous about it, me or him. But we actually had nothing to worry about, because the moment he introduced us, we instantly clicked and it felt as if we had known each other for as long as he has known them. And even though we tried to explain to them many times that we weren't dating, that we were just friends, it was like talking to a wall like had happened with his family the day before.

“You don't know how many times we've teased him about you having a crush on him, Inés” one of his friends said. “All those Instagram likes? You couldn't be any louder.”

“And we knew he fancied you too” another one added. “He has always liked football, but I have never seen him so invested in it as when you play.”

“So we just knew it was bound to happen. He just had to see the light and say goodbye to Barbie nurse.”

Barbie nurse was the nickname they had for Nerea. A couple of them had met her while visiting him in Barcelona, and neither of them had liked the other.

So here we are now after an amazing meal they organized to celebrate Pedri's birthday (birthday cake with candles included), laughing and chatting while playing card games, the people at the restaurant definitely wondering when the hell we are going to leave.

“Both sound bad, but I think I'm sticking to calling you Inés’ wag” his friend says.

“Should we drink to that?” another one asks.

“I think we'll have to save that drink for my next visit” Pedri says.

“What? Why?”

“Inés and I are leaving tomorrow morning, and there is a place I haven't shown her yet.”

“A place? What place?” I ask.

“A very special one” he winks. Why does he have to do that in front of people who will notice my face turning bright red? Why? Aaahhh!

“Oh, I know where he is taking you!” one of his friends giggles. “Sunset?” she asks him.

“Sunset” he smiles.

“Urgh, you are gonna love it, Inés. You'll see.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And?”

“I love it” I smile. 

I've seen many sunsets over the years, Barcelona has some of the best. But none of them compares to this one. It is like someone has painted it, the colours being so vibrant despite being almost winter that they don't feel real. 

“I can tell” Pedri chuckles.

“What?”

“Your face, Inés. You have it written all over it.”

“That I'm loving this?” I laugh.

“Yep. Here it says I” he says, writing the letter on my cheek with his finger, my skin burning where he has touched me. “Here love” he continues, now writing the word on my forehead. “And here it” he says, moving his finger over my other cheek. “I love it.”

“Uhm.” That's the only thing I'm able to say. Uhm. 

“This has been an almost perfect birthday, you know?”

“Almost?” I manage to say, my face still trying to recover from his touch.

“Almost. Because for it to be perfect, there is one thing that needs to happen, and it can't without your permission.”

“My… what?” 

“May I kiss you, Inés?” Pedri says, moving his whole body to face me, his fingers back to caressing my cheek.

“You… I…” I'm collapsing. My brain has shut down. My body has forgotten how to move, what it has to do. 

Because Pedri has just asked me if he can kiss me. 

Oh… my God.

“That's all I need for this birthday to be perfect, Inés. To finally kiss you.”

To finally kiss you. Finally. He's said finally, which means he has wanted to kiss me before and…

“May I?” he whispers, moving closer. “I'm gonna need you to say it, Inés. A nod isn't enough” he smirks when that's the only thing I'm able to do. Just nod. Because he wants to kiss me in case you hadn't heard. Pedri wants to kiss me.

“Yes” I whisper, my voice sounding so low I can barely hear it myself.

“Louder, Inés” he says, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes. Kiss me, Pedri” I say. How have those words left my mouth? I wish I knew. 

“My pleasure” he smiles before kissing me. 

Finally.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Wait, let me… There we go” Pedri says after closing the door of his house with his foot while I just giggle. “Where were we? Oh, yes. Kissing” he smirks before pushing me against the wardrobe and more than kissing me… devouring me.

Back at the spot where we watched the sunset it had all been soft and kind of shy kisses, but the moment we made it to his building and the doors of the lift closed, the kisses turned into fire, passion, need. And bloody hell. 

“Pedri… Pedri!” I gasp when he bites my neck. “I have training tomorrow when we make it back to Barcelona, behave yourself.”

“Sorry” he says against my skin, sending waves of heat everywhere. “But I can't help myself, Inés. I can't” he says, pushing me a bit more against the wardrobe. That wardrobe.

“Aren't you scared?”

“Scared of what? Of being caught? I already told you my parents and Fer won't be home until midnight at least, today they close late. But if you want to stop...”

“No, no. I meant if you aren't scared of what is behind me.”

“What?” he says, lifting his head from my neck to look at me. 

“The wardrobe, Pedri” I say, trying really hard to not smile… and failing.

“The… Fer?” 

“Yep.”

“I'm killing him. I swear I am.”

“Don't be mad at him” I say, moving my fingers up and down his neck. “I think it's cute.”

“Yeah, well. Cute isn't what I want you to be thinking about right now.”

“Then what do you want me to think about?”

“My lips on yours” he says before kissing me. “And my hands all over you. Touching you, caressing you… or doing this” he says before lifting me in the air.

“Pedri!” I giggle again as I wrap my legs around him.

“What? Thought I couldn't carry you because I'm on the small side?” he smirks as he walks us to his room.

“I've seen your arms. I knew you were able to do it” I smirk back.

“And this is just the beginning of all the things I can do” he says, the way he looks at me when he says it making me melt in his arms. 

Once in his room he doesn't bother to close the door. He just walks straight into his bed, letting me fall on it before taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt all in one go since they get tangled together. Though I don't mind it, because it allows me to see him properly and… Dear lord. I had not noticed he had those V shaped things on his hips that have always driven me crazy when I see them on a man and…

“Liking what you see?” he smirks before joining me in the bed.

“Very…” much. That's what I would have liked to say if he hadn't stopped me with a kiss, one that almost leaves me out of breath.

“So many clothes…” he says as he moves his hands under my jumper. “We must do something about it.”

“What… Pedri!” I laugh when he lifts me up, sitting me on his lap. 

“Arms up… Good girl” he smirks when I do as he says. “This is so nice…” he says, his finger following the shape of my bra. “Did you pick it thinking of me?”

“You wish” I reply with a teasing smile. Oh, wow. Who is this woman? Though maybe I did pack my best underwear for this trip, the one that is all lace and that according to Carla leaves no room for imagination. 

“Rude” Pedri says before pushing me down on the bed again and going back to his kisses. First it is my jaw, then my neck, one shoulder, the other… And then he starts moving down on my chest until he is kissing me between my boobs, the feeling making me gasp. But he doesn't stop there. He keeps going down, taking his time until he makes it to the hem of my jeans. “Again, Inés, too many clothes. May I?” he asks, his chin resting under my belly button.

“You may” I manage to say.

“Then bottoms up” he says, making me laugh as I lift my hips, allowing him to easily get rid of my jeans and shoes. “You are so beautiful, Inés.”

“Thank you” I whisper. He is now kneeling at the end of the bed, his eyes slowly scanning my body while I try to remember how you are supposed to breathe.

“Beautiful” he repeats, lifting one of my legs and starting to kiss my ankle, my calf, the inside of my knee. “Every inch of you is beautiful, Inés.”

And every inch of me is burning because of him. For him.

“Pedri” I gasp when he moves to my other leg and doesn't stop at my knee, as he keeps kissing my inner thigh all the way up. And when I think he is going to kiss me there… He suddenly moves and is back to devouring my mouth, now one of his hands being the one that goes down, his thumb caressing my nipple through the fabric before squeezing my boob and making me moan. And he keeps moving down, caressing my stomach while still kissing me, and then…

“Inés…”

“Yes, you can” I say, not allowing him to ask for permission. I need him to touch me there. 

“Thank you” he smirks. “But first…”

“Pedri!” I complain when he moves his hand to rest next to my head. 

“Patience, Inés. Patience” he says, kissing my nose before lifting me up again and sitting me on his lap. “I'm going back there, but first we need to get rid of this” he says, nodding towards my bra.

“Fine” I sigh. But as I move to unclasp it…

“No” he says, stopping me. “Let me do it.”

“You will do it slowly.”

“I will” he smirks.

“I don't want you to go slow.”

“Are you sure?” he says, moving his hands up my back, his fingers easily unclasping my bra before caressing my shoulder blades. “Doesn't this feel good?”

“It does, but…”

“And this?” he continues, kissing my shoulder and slowly pulling down one strap.

“That too. But Pedri…”

“Shh” he says, doing the same on the other side, my bra leaving my body as he pushes me down on the bed again. 

And the moment I touch the mattress, the gentleness is gone. 

His mouth and tongue are on one of my nipples, his fingers doing the same on the other, and I find myself moaning his name, my body arching against him. 

“Does this feel good, Inés?” he says against my skin as he moves his mouth to my other nipple.

“So good.”

“Told you moving back here would be worth it” he smirks as we lock eyes. And what does he do? He winks. He fucking dares to wink before going back to torturing me. And in response, what do I do? Grab his hair, maybe pulling a bit too hard judging by the way he grunts. But I don't let go. I keep running my hands through it, sometimes pulling a bit. Like when his hand lets go of my boob and starts moving down to where I wanted him earlier.

“Pedri” I gasp when he finally touches me.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, moving until we are face to face.

“Uhm” I nod.

“Use your words, Inés” he teases me.

“Yes. That's what I… fuck” I moan in his mouth when he kisses me again, his fingers still touching me, my hands tangled on his hair as my body stars to lose control. 

“Let me make this be even better” he whispers in my ear, his hands moving to my hips, pulling down what was left of my underwear until I am completely naked in front of him. I'm… holy shit. 

But I don't have too much time to freak out. He's back to being on top of me, to touching me like I wanted him too. Though this time he's adding something else. One of his fingers is going inside me, another following not long after.

“Pedri… Fuck, Pedri.” 

I'm close. I am so close. I can feel it in every single fiber of my body... until I can't take it anymore.

“Are you ok?” he whispers.

“Yeah” I manage to say while catching my breath. That was… Woah. And it was just his fingers. Like… Woah. 

“Do we keep going, then?” he says, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Yes.” 

“Good” he smiles before kissing me again, this time more gently, kind of allowing me to relax before the torture starts again. Though it really doesn't happen. The torture, I mean. This time he is all about caressing my skin and leaving soft kisses, about touching and feeling each other. And when he gets up from the bed to get rid of his joggers and his underwear… “You can look, Inés” he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I just…”

“Gone shy now?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Yep” I reply, my face burning as I try to focus just on his hands, on how they are looking for a condom on his bedside table. But then I start thinking about what those hands and those fingers just did to me and… Bloody hell. If I didn't look too lame by doing it, I would cover myself with the bed sheets and hide from him. 

“It's ok, don't worry” he says once he's finished and has moved back to the bed. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, Inés” he says again, kissing me one last time before his hand goes down to…

“Pedri, wait” I stop him.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just… I…” C'mon, Inés. You know you can tell him. You know you can. “I… I've never done this and I… I…”

“Inés. Inés, look at me” he says, gently grabbing my chin and making me look him in the eyes, the thing that I was avoiding to do. I know I can trust him, that he isn't a jerk. But he also is a man and… “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Inés.”

“What?”

“It's ok if you've never had sex before. It is nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don't want to do it, if you want me to stop…”

“No!” Woah, that sounded way too eager. “No, I mean… I want to do it, Pedri. With you. I want my first time to be with you.”

“Are you sure?” he says, caressing my chin, my cheek. “I don't mind stopping now, we have all the time in the world to do it.”

“No. I want it. I do. With you.”

“Ok” he smiles. “But you have to use your words, Inés. If you don't like something, or are uncomfortable, or…”

“I will let you know.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” I nod.

“Good girl” he smirks before kissing me.

A kiss that is the opposite of that smile that is all playfulness and cheekiness. A kiss that is the softest and most caring one we have shared yet. 

[deformedcat]

happy birthday୨ৎ (drabble) ── .✦pairing: artist male y/n x childhood friend oc —warnings: this author have not written anything other than his uni essays for months ^^!, v rushed, not proof read, hyeon being a red flag lowk harhar, y/n developing stockholm syndrome, manipulative/yandere behavior (i do not condone irl!! all is fictional, please be safe.) —sequel ? to this! ; Lee Hyeon

7th November 2023, 11:32 PM The ticking of the clock annoyed y/n, each tick was too loud, or too sharp. Its as if it is mocking him, counting every minute of his misery. He could feel every tick like a small puncture to his already frayed nerves, his heartbeat syncing with its rhythm. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the sound only grew louder, more suffocating. He sat on the bed, one of his legs shackled to the wall, while the other wrapped in bandages, a small reminder of what had happened the day he tried to escape from the mansion. He glanced at the clock on the wall, ..it was a few minutes before his birthday, Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he bothered to keep track of the dates,, but it should be more than half a year since he's been isolated from the world. y/n let out a bitter laugh, hyeon- his supposed savior, his childhood friend, also, his captor, had gone to a quote on quote business trip after he tried to flee the mansion again. Hyeon had been gone for days, maybe even a week.. his stomach suddenly twist from hunger, the.. food hyeon had left for him (a packet of cheap instant cup noodles that lasted about 3 days or so. though, no hot water was even given to cook it.) were long gone. He misses hyeon’s home cooking. But even as the emptiness clawed at him, there was something else—something darker. A sense of longing. For Hyeon. A strange attachment that twisted inside him like a knot in his chest.

He cares about me, Y/N thought, though he had no idea where this feeling came from. It was hard to fight when his mind was fogged by exhaustion, but somewhere deep down, he felt like the pull toward Hyeon was the only thing left.

Hyeon was there during his worst, he was there the time his parents kicked him out for wanting to pursue an artistic career. He was there to lend his shoulder when y/n was dumped during their college years. (guess what happened to the person dumping y/n lolol) When is he going to come home? Did hyeon finally get bored of him? What if he never comes back? Will y/n die by himself in this stupidly large mansion in the middle of nowhere? It terrified him. As if right one cue, y/n heard a faint footstep right outside the door. His heart skipped, is his mind playing with him? Is the lack of food finally catching up to him..? And then, the door creaked open. 7th November 2023, 11:56 PM Hyeon stepped inside the dark room, carrying a box of cake along with a few shopping bags.. He looked.. calm. yet, he didnt say anything but let out a small sigh when he saw y/n’s condition. He put the stuff away before kneeling down in front y/n, his eyes softening slightly. Hyeon’s hand reached up, gently brushing the other’s hair away from his face. “You’ve been so good.” he murmured, his voice like silk., his hand sliding to cup y/n’s cheek. y/n didnt pull away, instead he leaned into hyeon’s toucj, his eyes fluttering closed as the warmth of hyeon’s hand.. was comforting compared how cold the room is. He hated it. Hes not supposed to like his captor. Hyeon’s other hand came up, tilting Y/N’s chin upward to meet his gaze. The affection in his eyes was gone, replaced by something that made shivers run down his spine. “I’ll never leave you.” he whispered, smile was gentle, as if trying to reassure his beloved. “You won’t leave me, will you?” Y/N’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, too weak to protest, too desperate to care. Hyeon’s touch was the only thing that made him feel alive again,, 8th November 2023, 12:00 AM Hyeon leaned in, his lips pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s forehead, a gentle gesture that felt almost like a promise. “Happy birthday, y/n.”

a/n: omg a ghost is talkimg,, haha. v rushed, (as u can see) been trying to write something since idk, august? but i dont think the school excuse is gon' work,,, in all honesty i had no motivation to write, like at all. i couldnt think of a single idea (hence this sequel),, though i have a bunch of draft with what i want to write thats not even 50% completed lol i hope i can post them in the future! forgive me for going MIA ^^ i hope you enjoyed this,, will probably edit this once i wake up (currently 2:34 am) goodbye ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

[utopiastri]

okay so you Know i would eat up literally any single one of these with any pairing bcos you’re crazy stupid talented and literally create my favourite mini universes but if you are taking suggestions i would diee for your take on a galex timeloop so i respectfully beg for 2 for galex from the put that guy in a situoatiin list pls if u are inclined 🫡🫡🫡

-🦎

(ps i almost corrected my spelling but i thought it would help u figure out who it is lol)

i love you for thinking i wouldn't know who this was based off the request alone but PLEASE know the lizard emoji brought me such delight - i hope you enjoy some galex!!!

“I’ve lived this day before.”

Alex blinks at George. “What? What does that even mean?"

George huffs. “Have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day?”

The first movie that comes to Alex’s mind when he thinks of groundhogs is the one with the singing troupe of chipmunks and he’s guessing George isn’t talking about that one.

“Uh…?”

George rolls his eyes. “Alex, are you kidding? Bill Murray? Andie MacDowell? It's a 90s classic.”

“Wait, wait, Bill Murray rings a bell…hang on. Is it that one where like, the guy gets trapped in a town and he keeps reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Yes,” George says emphatically.

“And that’s happening…”

“To me, yes.”

Alex frowns at him. “Hang on. Isn't this the thing where you're meant to know what I’m gonna say before I say it? Isn’t that how you prove you’re in a time loop?” George stays silent. “George?”

“So, possibly this is technically the first time I’ve told you that I’m in a time loop.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d believe me!” George suddenly narrows his eyes at him, “You…you don’t believe me, right? Like, you’re being sensible and not just taking me at my word, right?”

“I’m being sensible and not just taking you at your word,” Alex lies. Well, half-lies. He’s a little suspicious George is pranking him but…

Well.

He’d rather run the risk of looking like an idiot than refuse to help George on the off-chance he’s not talking complete and utter bullshit.

“Do you know what you need to do to stop the time loop?” Alex falters when George gives him a glare. “The time loop that is hypothetically happening because I am definitely not just believing you straight away with no proof because I would never do that.”

“Alex.”

“Do you want me to believe you or not, George? This feels like you’re fighting against something you want!”

George groans. “Fine, ok, believe me!”

“Wonderful. So.”

“So?”

“What do you need to do to get out of the time loop?”

George flushes pink.

“Um. Well. Based on the evidence I’ve collected–”

“George, please tell me the evidence is not just you watching Groundhog Day.”

“Based on the evidence I’ve collected,” George repeats, cheeks somehow going an even darker pink, “I need to fall in love with someone and get them to fall in love with me.”

Alex's stomach drops. He tries his best to keep his voice level as he says, “And do you…have someone…in mind?”

“Ah, I, um, so the problem is…”

“Come on, Georgie, spit it out.”

“I’m already in love with someone.”

Alex swallows. “Have you…have you been in the time loop that long? That you've fallen in love with someone already?”

“No! I’ve been in it for three days, I was just, I was in love with this person before the time loop.”

“So now you just need to get them to fall in love with you, right.” Alex takes a deep breath and pastes a smile on his face, “So, who’s the lucky person you've gotta win over?”

George looks pained. “It’s…um…” He takes a deep breath. “Fuck it, it’s a time loop, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Alex barely has a second to ponder what that could mean before George has placed his hands on either side of Alex’s face and pulled him into a soft kiss. Alex freezes and George seems to take that as rejection. He starts pulling backwards and Alex panics, managing to move his hands to George's neck and desperately try to keep him in place, to bring him back into the kiss.

After a moment, Alex pulls away but stays close enough to lean his forehead against George’s.

“George?”

“Hm,” he answers, a little dreamily.

“If this wasn’t enough to break the time loop, and you wake up tomorrow and the day has reset, and I don’t remember this, you’d better fucking kiss me again, got it?”

George smiles softly. “Got it,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Alex's once more.

[freakynote]

Can you do L comforting y/n who has depression and self confidence issues? <33

here you go!! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

L comforting y/n who has depression and struggles with self confident

TW: mention of depression

L Notices Everything

He may seem emotionally detached to others, but L is incredibly observant, especially when it comes to y/n. He notices whenever y/n feels down. He won’t ask about it right away ,but he will subtly adjust his behavior to support her

Y/n tried to hide how drained she felt ,but L catches the way she avoids eye contact and fidgets with her sleeves every time. Instead of pushing her to talk, he simply placed a sweet treat next to her and sat close. When she glanced at him, he’s was already looking at her, his expression unreadable. “You seem off today,” he said ,voice quiet but certain. “I will not force you to speak, but I am here if you want to.“

Silent but Present Comfort

L isn’t one for big speeches, but his presence alone is reassuring. He will sit next to y/n, offering her sweets, and keeps her close without forcing her to talk. His way of comforting y/n is through quiet actions rather than excessive words

Y/n sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the floor. L walked into the room, carrying his usual sweets and without a word, he took a place next to her. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t try to fix it—he just stays, occasionally offering y/n a bite of cake. He leaned gently against her ,his warmth grounding her. “You don’t have to be alone in this,” he murmured ,almost like a little reminder.

Blunt but Sincere Reassurance

Whenever y/n express self-doubt, L’s response is straightforward but heartfelt. He won’t sugarcoat things, but he will tell the truth: “Your worth is not determined by your perception of yourself, but rather by the undeniable fact that you exist and matter. I have analyzed you Y/N and I can confirm: you are irreplaceable.”

Y/n mumbled something self-deprecating under her breath, not expecting L to hear it or respond ,but he does. “That statement is factually incorrect,” he said, looking directly at her. “You contribute more than you realize, and your perception of yourself is skewed. I would not keep someone around if they were as insignificant as you claim.”

Physical Comfort in His Own Way

L isn’t big on physical affection, but if he senses y/n needs it, he’ll let her lean against him while he works, slightly running a thumb over her knuckles or tucking a strand of hair behind her ear

Y/n was sitting besides L, her head heavy with exhaustion, when he suddenly shifted. She barely processed it before he gently pulled her hand into his, his thumb tracing slow circles over her skin. He did not say anything, but his touch was deliberate, careful. When she squeezed his hand back, he nods as if confirming something. And he never lets go.

Encouraging Small Achievements

He knows from experience that depression makes even the simplest things feel overwhelming. If y/n manages to do something—even something small like getting out of bed—he acknowledges it: “I see you’re making an effort, Y/N. That’s commendable.”

Y/n managed to get out of bed ,even though it felt impossible. L obviously noticed, though he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, as he sets down his teacup, he casually remarks, “You are making progress. That is great.” She blinked at him, surprised by the acknowledgment and for the first time that day, she felt just a little lighter. He doesn’t push, but y/n catches the way he watches her. He’s genuinely proud.

requests are open! <3

[the--highlanders]

what do you think jamie does after he's sent back to scotland without his memories?

i think he's always been torn between loving his home, the house he grew up in and the river he played in as a child and the hills he knows like the back of his hand, and yet still deeply longing to leave his little world behind, because he never quite fit right. (and he did! he got out!) but then suddenly he's right back there. he goes back to his childhood home but it's not home anymore and he doesn't know why.

so would he stay and try to fit again, even though he's grown out of his place there? or would he leave, and go looking for whatever had changed him?

YESSS I am so 100% on board with everything you said here. jamie really feels to me like he's someone who's so deeply rooted in his place and his culture, and yet someone who's been battling off this sense of isolation his whole life, and it's all tangled up and complicated inside him. in part he knows his home like the back of his hand /because/ he was somewhat isolated and spent a bunch of time wandering around on his own, and connects to his culture so much because he was chasing a sense of belonging. and on the other hand he had friends and was probably well-liked! but the isolation is still there. maybe even worse for the fact that he wasn't entirely alone.

I do think the crucial point to what jamie does when he's back in scotland is. why exactly he stepped on board the tardis in the first place. which is something I still don't feel like I've fully been able to express even after literal years of trying, maybe because it works best as an impulse borne of him having a deeply traumatic turned deeply strange day. I hc that while jamie's father, brother, and best friend have now died, his mother is still alive and at home, along with other relatives and much of the rest of his community. he /has somewhere to go back to/. he chooses not to go to france and to try his luck with making it home instead, and then all of a sudden he's stepping onto the tardis. sure, he's somewhat confused, and certainly doesn't know what's happening or that he won't be able to get back - but he does still go with them. in that moment, some part of him wanted /out/. going with people he knew to france didn't tempt him, but running off with basically total strangers did. he wanted an entirely fresh start, a blank slate.

on the flip side, the jamie who gets sent back after the war games is /different/, even subconsciously. somewhere buried in there is a person who's more mature, has had three more years of experience, has dealt with so much more and stepped up in ways he probably couldn't have dreamt of when he first left scotland. he's dropped back on drumossie moor, apparently in daylight, presumably with something implanted in his head telling him that the doctor and ben and polly left, he waved them off and turned towards home. so I think that's what he'd do - he'd go home, and try to pick up the pieces as best he could.

at this point, and as he realises more and more that something's /not right/ and he's missing something, I think his sense of isolation is worse than ever. he's so, so close to snapping. but his whole world is holding on by a thread, now - his own family has been decimated, many others are in the same position, they're close enough to culloden and inverness to be subject to a few reprisals and raids from the government - and oddly enough I think that holds him together. he steps up, because somewhere deep inside he knows how to do that now. he's grown up. maybe everyone else just puts it down to the war. it's not like they know any better. and if we know anything about jamie, it's that he can hold himself together if someone else needs him. is it good for him? certainly not. but he's hanging in there.

in my timeline for things he does settle down somewhat once he starts to regain his memories and understand what's happened to him. it /is/ just another thing that sets him apart, and that always hurts, but he's also more confident and understands more about himself than he did growing up, so it rattles him less. he's probably easy to talk to and go to with problems, and friendly enough that you never really realise he doesn't open up about himself. he grows into a bit of a leadership position in his village, and it's good for him, in a way. he's also his own person, not his father's son, and I think that's a sick sort of relief for him. marrying kirsty also helps, because she's a fellow misfit and a great friend, and someone who he can share the truth with. their 'more children than there are days of the week' are lost and orphaned kids they collect, because he's not going to let anyone else grow up alone. it's a weird sort of limbo where he's waiting for the doctor but also has no certainty that he'll ever see him again, where he's made a life he's proud of with people he loves and yet there's always parts of him that are desperately unhappy - but he's getting by. he's good. he's got good things that get him through.

if he /didn't/ get his memories back, though, if he was just caught in that confusion forever... that's where I could really see him leaving. at some point he /does/ snap, and he just. heads off on his own, looking for something he can't remember. it feels good, to always be on the road, maybe to help people where he can as he passes through. he's not tied to anyone, doesn't have to be who anyone else wants him to be, and there's freedom in that. but he always feels like he /shouldn't/ be alone in this, that he should be wandering with someone.

[blueosman]

Stepping outside of her apartment, Blue suddenly felt jolted into another world. Conwill was lively, but she had never quite seen it like this; every inch decorated, gold adornments glittering, paper ornaments swaying in the light breeze, and everyone seemingly outside of their apartments. It isn’t very early, and somewhere beneath her indignation she understands that 11 am is a reasonable hour where most are already going about their days. It is, however, much earlier than she'd dare get out of bed. The hours she works are late and long, and normally the sun is making its decent by the time her eyes open. But, It is clear that the fanfare that had initially woken her up won't be stopping any time soon, so she decides to leave. She can't shake the tenseness she feels moving through the city. She is offered many momentos that she refuses, not quite understanding what is happening. A small flag with some sort of symbol painted on it waves high in the air, gripped tightly in the fist of a small boy who almost knocks into Blue as he runs past. Too many people around, all of them smiling. She wonders if she should smile too. Maybe it would be nice to play along? She decides that it is simply too early, that she isn't getting paid to play right now. Her feet guide her to one of the few places she feels comfortable. Paloma city itself felt shiny and hard, everyone in it reminding her of dolls or sellos. But the Small Talk felt like reprieve, a release of breath she didn't know she was holding, a soft spot amongst the jagged edges. Approaching the front of the shop slightly hazy, her eyes flicker to the bright sign above the cart. “Coronado Day”. Now she understands. She almost scoffs, a bitter taste suddenly on her tongue. Something didn’t feel right about these people celebrating this place. It doesn't feel right to see them so.... so exultant, but she pushes the thought out of her mind. She supposes now is the time to play along. "I need the strongest thing you've got," she says brightly. She is only slightly earnest, more so repeating what she says every time she comes into the café, a form of greeting. She offers the other girl a smile. "And,” she starts, pointing around their general area, “What are those pastries that everyone's got? Do you have one of those too? Should I?"

TITLE: Oral Tradition as History LOCATION: Small Talk Café, Paloma City TIME & DATE: TBA, January 25 PARTNER: OPEN

It was the same as it had always been for the last however many years. Truthfully, she doesn’t keep track anymore. It may very well be a tradition, but it isn’t hers. Coronado Day. Although it’s a “non-working” holiday, that never mattered much to her. She’d still wake up at 6 AM, gussy up, take the train, and set up shop. Josephine is in that kind of business. But this time, it’s for a festive reason. A fun reason. And, at the end of the day, she liked to give back. That’s why she had the mobile cart stationed at the storefront, with a Happy Coronado Day! banner hoisted on its front—and a smaller From Small Talk Café printed below. “Everything’s half-off!” she chirped, “Coffee, pastries—and free taste tests!”

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

My mom always complaining about how I never spend time with her.... ma'am the last time we had a serious conversation you told me you thought i was making traumatic memories of my childhood up just to demonize you