#i WISH it was me

[benzendrine-nosebleed]

"Sing Me To Sleep."

Guys!! I wrote a one shot based on Schlatt's most recent Drunk Driving stream after hearing him sing bits and pieces. I haven't proof read this (mostly because I'm not in any sober editing mood to) but I wanted to share this quick little bit.

1111 Words, Fluff, Schlatt X Reader

“I love hearing you sing like that,” I spoke softly. Jay was taking a quick break from his drunk driving stream, moving from his office to the kitchen. He has been streaming for a few hours now, and I could smell herbal liqueur on his breath. He grazed past, marching straight to the refrigerator with padded “thuds” from his socked feet.

“Do ya?” Schlatt asked, plucking a snacking cheese from the drawer inside. “Was it on stream?” He asked, unwrapping and popping creamy gouda snack cheese between his lips.

“Yeah, your mic picked it up, and I do, I love hearing you sing Jay, I wish you’d do it when you were sober. You have a wonderful voice,” I smiled, “I mean, your fans loved the album right? That should be enough motivation for you to sing like a canary,” I reached out to hold him for a second before he went back into his office. His mustache shifted on his upper lip as he chewed away. “Have fun with your stream Handsome, I’ve got to go to bed soon. I’m gonna get ready to crawl in. I’ll turn your side of the blanket on so when you make it back it’ll be warm for you too.”

Schlatt smiled and reached out, setting the wrapper on the counter beside me and wrapping his arms around me in a soft embrace. “Of course toots, I don’t know when I’ll end the stream, but I’ll be ready to climb into bed wit-cha.” He pulled me close into his arms, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “If I’m not back in there before you fall asleep, I hope you get some good rest in, I love ya,” he chirped. He pulled away, striding with a confidence he put up as a front for his audience. He entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As he moved back into his room, I strolled across our home to the master bathroom and began drawing up a shower. I had a long enough day working at my own conventional job, that a Friday night was the night to relax. It was winter though, which meant I was in the busy season. I had to help shovel snow across the city, while in New York was enough of a task on its own, and brainstorm funding for public park systems and come up with plans for new designs. I climbed in, letting the hot water warm my bones, and I listened to Schlatt scornfully yell at his computer screen. As I continued, I could hear his agitation and laughs come in waves. He was thoroughly enjoying streaming again, and I was more than happy to let him enjoy it.

I climbed out of the shower and threw on some pajamas, in “Jay’s” style as I had begun to call it. I had taken one of his sweatshirts, which was baggy on myself, and threw it over a pair of my shorts. Once I finished brushing my teeth, I walked to the bedroom, careful as to not disturb Schlatt in his element on Twitch. His cats, Jambo and Soup, were sitting on the preheated bed, leaving me to shuffle in between them as not to disturb their own slumber. I plugged my phone in, and scrolled through TikTok until I began to drift off. I could feel myself nodding in between videos, so I made the choice to set my phone down, and sleep until I felt my lovely drunk boyfriend slam into bed.

This was somewhat of a common occurrence, since he used to film Chuckle Sandwich late into the evenings, we held this dynamic. I would end up in bed early, and sometimes I would wake up to him crawling in, or cuddling up to me. Sometimes I wouldn’t wake up at all and I’d hear my alarm, and feel Schlatt’s arm wrapped around my stomach anchoring me down. After the week that I had though, I was too tired to try and stay up until he was done streaming. I set my phone down on the bed next to me, and nodded off.

I woke up to Schlatt crawling into bed gently, not to disturb me. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the room was still dark, and the lamp on my side of the bed was still on. He reached over me softly and shut it off, slowly letting the room fill in with a darkness. I didn’t move too much, it was more of my subconscious running my body at this point more than my own mental state. My eyes fluttered closed again, only squinting shut as soon as I felt his hand wrap around my shoulders. He shuffled closer to me, pulling the blanket from between us, and spooning into me.

“Sleep Warm, sleep tight, once you turn off the light,”

He softly lulled. His fingers slowly drifted into my hair, stroking through the strands softly. I recognized the song, being one Schlatt would throw on sometimes in the evening as the night came to a close. He slurred softly, his tone was indicative that he had been drinking most of the evening, but reached his most inebriated state before climbing into bed. He softly sang more, my mind came to life realizing he wasn’t just singing along to a song, he was singing to me.

“Let dreams within you dwell, sweet dreams of me my love,”

He continued softly, his fingernails tracing softly on my scalp. A smile had formed on my face hearing him singing so sweetly, softly into my ears as his lips pressed to the back of my neck with each verse. I still hadn’t moved an inch, hoping to not spook him out of continuing his warbling.

“Close your eyes now, and kiss me, and whisper you miss me,”

He pressed his lips to my neck with a soft kiss. His soft mustache tickled my neck, his fluffed brown hair pressed to mine, it was almost overwhelming how much I adored him like this. I scooted backwards into his body, pressing myself against him as his singing ended a moment later. His hand wandered under my sweatshirt, gently cupping my bare torso. I would normally feel a tad self conscious whenever he would do this, but tonight I basked in the feeling. His hand slid itself between the mattress and my skin, securing his place next to me.

“G’night sweetheart, I love you,” He whispered softly between another set of kisses on my neck.

“Good night Jay, I love you too,” I mumbled back, still flush from his lull.

[konchitsya-leto]

Neil solving his problems:

[dnpgiggle]

the sheer fact that some phannies just saw the vegas vlog is so so unreal 💀💀

[wondrousmay]

Yor and her head pats 🥹

[lyss-sketchbox]

Question, but what is the most crazy build you've either made or seen someone use?

Gorou machine gun, ive met one in a raiden boss co-op once. It was a sight to behold.

[amid-fandoms]

dan sleeping on two pillows so he can be taller than phil even when unconscious he’s so real

[arthurhastingislovely]

A very lucky gal I would say...

[joes-sha-la-la-la-girl]

Ohhh…🥵🤭

[the-epitome-of-sin]

I would do bad, bad things to be in the middle of a Diesel and Garret sandwich 👀

[sconeflowers]

Me if you even care

Do you even care

I don’t think you even care 💔🙁

[010mikova]

Chapter One: The Hollow Brew

DISCLAIMER!!!!!

This is a fictional work and is not intended to represent any real persons, places, or events. All characters, organizations, and locations in this story are purely a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or individuals is entirely coincidental.

Ravenwood was a town steeped in perpetual twilight. The sun never fully committed to rising, leaving the streets bathed in a muted glow that seemed to stretch endlessly between dusk and dawn. The skies above were always a faint purple hue, as though the world itself had forgotten the warmth of midday. Its cobblestone paths, uneven and cracked with age, twisted through the town like veins, leading both locals and travelers alike in endless loops. The town’s peculiar layout was whispered to be the result of some ancient design, though no one could quite agree on its purpose. Some said it was a spell gone wrong, others believed it was the work of a long-forgotten architect who had a penchant for confusion. Whatever the cause, Ravenwood’s streets had a way of pulling you in and never quite letting you go.

The town’s buildings, old and weathered, leaned toward one another, as if they were in constant conversation. They were clustered in odd configurations, their faded paint and cracked stone facades telling stories of a time long past. Most people who came to Ravenwood for the first time found themselves disoriented, unable to remember the way they had come or how to get back. It was as though the town had a mind of its own, one that didn’t particularly care for visitors.

At the corner of Main Street, nestled between a derelict bookshop with windows that had not seen light in years and an abandoned tailor’s whose faded sign still swayed in the wind, stood The Hollow Brew. It was one of Ravenwood’s oldest establishments, its history as murky as the strong black coffee it served. The café’s stone façade was draped in thick ivy, the green tendrils creeping up toward a roof patched with moss. The windows, though perpetually fogged, emitted a golden glow that spilled onto the street like a warm invitation. For those wandering the town’s labyrinthine streets, The Hollow Brew offered a sense of refuge—a place to escape the endless twilight and the feeling that the world outside was just a little too distant.

Clara had been working at the café for three months, though it felt both longer and shorter than that, as if time itself moved differently within its walls. The job was ordinary enough: taking orders, pulling espresso shots, cleaning tables, but there was an odd rhythm to the place that made every day feel like a repeat of the last. The tasks never seemed to change, yet the air felt heavier with each passing moment, as though the café itself was holding its breath, waiting for something. Perhaps it was the unspoken rules of the place—the unhurried pace of life that felt both comforting and suffocating at the same time. In Ravenwood, nothing seemed to hurry, not even the hands of the clock.

From the moment she first stepped through the café’s heavy oak door, Clara had felt a distinct sensation that the place was hiding something, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She didn’t know if it was the quiet murmurs of the regulars, the way they always sat in the same spots, or the constant low hum of the place that made her feel as though she were caught in some kind of loop. It wasn’t that she felt threatened, but there was a certain dissonance in the way time seemed to stretch out here, as though the café existed outside the usual rules of the world.

She’d quickly learned that the café had its own peculiarities. The old clock above the register never seemed to tick in rhythm. Its hands moved in fits and starts, jerking forward or backward at random intervals, as though it had forgotten the passage of time altogether. The storeroom in the back was colder than the rest of the café, even on the hottest days of summer. The chill was so persistent that Clara often wore a sweater, even though the air outside was sweltering. She had tried to rationalize it, attributing it to old pipes or a malfunctioning air conditioner, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t quite that simple.

And then there were the whispers. It started slowly, just a faint murmur in the background during the quieter hours of the morning, when the café was nearly empty and the sun hadn’t quite managed to rise. At first, Clara thought it was just the sound of old pipes, or the wind pushing through the cracks in the building. But the more she listened, the more she was convinced that there were voices, low and indistinct, coming from somewhere deep within the walls. She tried to ignore it, telling herself that it was nothing, but the sensation of being watched, of hearing voices that shouldn’t be there, never quite left her.

“Clara, you’re daydreaming again,” Elias’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and direct. He stood a few feet away, holding a tray of dirty mugs, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her feel like she had been caught in the act of something.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, grabbing the tray and heading for the sink.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “Just… stay focused.”

Clara paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at him. For a split second, she thought she saw something in his expression—concern, maybe, or a fleeting softness. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual impassive stare. He didn’t look at her with kindness or warmth, but there was something in the way his eyes lingered on her, as if he were watching for something—waiting for her to do something, to prove herself. She couldn’t tell if it was frustration or something else entirely.

Elias was another mystery of The Hollow Brew. He was cold, distant, and often dismissive, but there was something about him that intrigued Clara. He had an old-fashioned, almost aristocratic look about him, with his silver-white hair, sharp gray eyes, and angular features. He moved with an eerie grace, as though he was more of a shadow than a man. His silence was often more unsettling than any words he might have spoken. He didn’t speak much, and when he did, his words were often cutting, sharp, like blades that sliced through the air with a precision that left no room for interpretation.

“Your latte art looks like a crime scene,” he remarked one morning, his voice as cold as the fog outside.

Clara scowled, snatching a dishcloth to wipe the counter. “Maybe because I have a manager who just hovers and criticizes instead of teaching,” she shot back, her voice thick with frustration.

Elias smirked, leaning lazily against the counter. “If I did all the work for you, you’d never learn. You’re welcome.”

Clara rolled her eyes and turned back to the espresso machine, muttering under her breath. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t deny there was something about Elias that kept her attention. Beneath his icy exterior, there was something more—a hidden depth that she couldn’t quite understand. She would catch fleeting glimpses of it: the softening of his gaze when he thought no one was looking, the way his shoulders seemed to sag when he thought he was alone. There was a weariness to him, something heavy that seemed to cling to his every movement. She had no idea what it was, but it was always there, lingering just beneath the surface.

The Hollow Brew, for all its charm, seemed to echo Elias’s aura. There was something about the place that felt both timeless and trapped in time, as if it existed in a state of suspended animation. The same regulars came in each day, ordering the same drinks, sitting in the same seats. They never strayed from their routines, never deviated from the script. Clara had tried to strike up casual conversations with them, but their responses were always polite, brief, and superficial. There was a rhythm to their lives, a rhythm that seemed to pulse through the very walls of The Hollow Brew.

Clara didn’t know what it was about this place that unsettled her. She wasn’t sure if it was the constant sense of repetition, the way everything seemed to stay the same no matter how much time passed, or if it was something more. It wasn’t just the customers, or Elias, or the strange way time seemed to bend in the café. It was the feeling that she was part of something bigger, something that she didn’t quite understand. She had come to Ravenwood to escape the chaos of her past, but now, in The Hollow Brew, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the town—and the café—were becoming a part of her in ways she didn’t want.

The longer she stayed, the more she felt herself being drawn into its orbit, the more she felt the pull of Ravenwood’s strange rhythm. She didn’t know if it was the town, the café, or Elias himself, but something about Ravenwood was slowly changing her. And though she couldn’t yet say how or why, she knew that she was no longer the same person who had walked into The Hollow Brew three months ago. Something was shifting inside her, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it meant for her future.

[miss-americana-reputation]

(on a trip rn but until i can do back off bitch pt. 2, here’s this)

Klaus Mikealson x Reader

A/N: smut 18+, jealous!klaus, fingering without finishing, hair pulling, throat fucking, a bit of degrading and praise (i couldn’t help myself), aftercare

reader is a female, uses she/her, and has female anatomy

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i was mainly following rebekah around the dance floor as she talked to people while i just stayed behind. i’m in a dark blue, almost black velvet dress that highlights my best features and shows the perfect amount of cleavage.

“my brother slash your watchdog is here.” she tells me, motioning up to where klaus is standing, a fierce look in his eyes. he’s not looking at us, but past us, to a group of guys staring me and rebekah down.

i shake it off and go grab myself another drink. “let me buy you one.” i turn to see one of the guys sitting beside me. “i’m okay, but thanks.” i send him a small smile.

“what’s your name?” he smiles. “it’s y/n.” i answer. “beautiful name.” he smiles. “thanks.” i take a sip of my drink, trying to find klaus. “you here alone?” he asks. “no, she’s not.” i hear klaus from behind us.

i turn my head to see him with a small smirk on his lips. “who the fuck are you?” the guy asks. “the owner of this,” he motions around the compound, “this gorgeous lady’s boyfriend, and i basically own this city.” he explains and gets up, moving between me and the guy.

“listen, you will leave the party, only remembering you met a pretty girl, but she turned you down.” he compels him, the guy quickly leaving. “come.” he drags me upstairs to our room by my wrist.

he practically tosses me in the room, following me, shutting and locking the door behind us. he doesn’t give me a change to talk before he’s hungrily kissing me. “klaus.” i softly moan into it while his hands are roaming my body. i feel my panties dampen as his hand slowly moves against my hips.

“please.” i whine. “hm?” he hums as he moves his lips down my neck. “touch me.” i whine. “angel, i am.” he smirks. “klaus, i need you.” i whine and grind my hips against his. “aw, you poor thing.” he fake pouts. “please.” i whine. “okay.” he smirks and lowers his fingers so they barely touch my clothed cunt.

he pushes my panties to the left and teases me. “please.” i whine. “patience.” he coos. he curls his middle and ring into me. “klaus.” i moan as he speeds them up. “oh fuck.” i whine as he positions his hand so his thumb is playing with my clit.

“please.” i moan as he speeds up his fingers and pushes harder onto my clit. “fu-uck.” i moan. “such a beautiful scene.” he smiles. “you close darling?” he smirks. “mhm.” i nod.

“oh.” he pulls out his fingers. “klaus.” i whine. “knees.” he demands and i follow. i’m kneeling in front of him while he looks up at me, the tent in his pants make my mouth water.

“help me.” he looks at his harden cock. i nod and undo his pants and pull him out. i start stroking him and kissing his salty tip. “shit.” he sucks in a sharp breath. “can i fuck your pretty little throat?” he asks. “mhm.” i nod.

his hands hold onto the side of my face as he rams his cock down my throat, giving me no time to adjust. i choke around his length and that just pushes him further.

“fuck.” he tangles his hands in my hair and guides me against him. the stretch he’s giving my mouth is making my eyes water. “take it, slut.” he degrades me. i continue to let him fuck my mouth like it’s nothing but a hole.

i can sense him almost finishing before he’s pulling away and giving me a small chance to catch my breath. by now tears are staining my cheek along with streaks of mascara and drool is dripping down my chin. “you look beautiful my love.” he coos.

“now bend over the edge the bed.” he demands. i get up on sore knees and follow his directions. “fuck.” he says and pushes my dress up around my waist. “look at you.” he smirks. he pulls down my underwear so they drop down around my ankles.

“ready?” he asks as he lines himself up. “mhm.” i whine. he thrusts into me and i let out a loud moan. he smiles and wraps my hair around his fist to control me. his pace is supernatural, how fitting. i moan louder while he continues.

“klaus.” i moan. “yeah?” he presses one hand onto my back as he continues to rail me. “fuck.” i moan. “mhm.” he nods. “like that, don’t you? you’re sucking my cock in.” he adds. “nik.” i moan. “fuck.” he gasps. “you’re so fucking tight.” he pants.

“i’m close.” the wind up in my stomach is making more tears fall. “hold it.” he grits out. “klaus!” i scream. “please.” i beg. “hold it.” he demands as he continues.

he speeds up his hips as they slam into me. “oh klaus.” i moan. “come, fuck, come.” he grits, barely holding on. i let the knot snap in my stomach as i finish around him. it’s a string of curses and his name as i do.

i come back down panting as he finishes inside me. “fuck.” he sighs. i softly nod as he pulls himself out. i feel like jello and it’s a surprise i can hold myself up. he tucks himself back in and i move up. “here, let me clean you up.” he offers.

he pulls the zipper on my dress down. “come on.” he says softly as he delicately pulls it off. he tosses in on a chair in the corner of his room. “want one of my shirts?” he asks and i nod. “okay.” he smiles.

he gets me dressed in one of his henley’s and a pair of my shorts. “makeup wipes are in the bathroom.” he reminds himself and walks there. he comes back with a wipe. “want me to do it?” he asks and i softly nod and sit up.

he softly wipes off my makeup, making me smile while he does it. “it’s cold.” i smile. “wanna do it yourself?” he asks. “yeah, you’re too slow.” i smile and take it from him. “rude.” he says as i get up. i don’t respond as i head to the bathroom and wipe off the rest.

i finish getting ready for bed and join him in our bed. he’s just in his underwear, with the only light being the lamp on his nightstand, while i join him. “you look sexy as ever.” he smiles. “thanks.” i blush and join him. he pulls me against his side and he softly plays with my hair.

“every second of tonight, you looked stunning.” he softly whispers. “klaus.” i softly giggle. “i think you looked stunning every second of your life.” he smiles. “stop.” i try to turn to not face him anymore. “it’s the truth.” he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers. “i love you.” i smile back, softly kissing him. “that guy was an idiot for trying to go after you.” he smiles. “yeah, like i’d ever leave you.” i smile.

the next day was spent with me sore and clinging onto klaus. there was a point where i thought i was being too clingy but he just shushed me and pulled me closer to him. every time i tried to hid the marks on my neck, he just moved the hair out of my way and told me that they looked beautiful.

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[peonyblossom]

hnnggg i wanna be rich so i can donate money to all the cool places and organizations i like

[ytcomments-archive]