#i will try to do a better job catching up with drafts

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.1 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 wordcount: 1378

Flo's voice filled the room as she scrolled through her phone, her excitement palpable.

"I'm telling you, this is perfect for you," Flo said, thrusting her phone in your direction.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the email she was showing you. "A job at Quadrant? Flo, I’m studying fashion design, not... whatever that is."

Flo looked up, her brows furrowed as if you’d just said something ridiculous. "What do you mean? It can be. Look at Tommy Hilfiger. Or Lewis Hamilton—his fashion work, hosting the Met Gala, working with big brands. F1’s bigger than you think, and it’s not just about cars."

"Haha, Flo, what are you talking about?" you said, shaking your head at the idea. "F1 is not really the place I want to be for my fashion stuff."

You paused, realizing you hadn’t really thought about it like that before. You’d never paid much attention to Formula 1, aside from the occasional updates Flo gave you about Lando. It had been years since you'd spent any real time with him. As kids, you'd catch fleeting glimpses of each other whenever he wasn’t off karting or, later, racing. But you knew Lewis Hamilton. He had enormous influence. He’d collaborated with brands you admired and pushed boundaries in the fashion world.

"Maybe not," Flo said, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "But there could be great opportunities"

"And trust me, Quadrant desperately needs someone like you. You’ve seen their merch, right? It’s..." She continued.

"Basic?" you offered, arching an eyebrow, Flo had already showed you the designs before in an attempt for you to improve them.

"Exactly! They’re looking for someone to revamp their designs. You’re always talking about how things could be better.''

You sipped your coffee, considering her words. It wasn’t your dream job, but the thought of improving a brand and the opportunities that came with it was oddly tempting.

"Fine," you said, setting your mug down. "I’ll think about it."

Flo grinned like she'd won the lottery. "You’ll kill it. Trust me."

-

The buzz around Quadrant’s new merch started slowly but picked up pace when a few photos of Lando wearing your designs at the paddock made their way online. Suddenly, it wasn’t just fans buying hoodies and tees, people in the fashion and sports world were taking notice, and journalists started to make comparisons you weren’t sure anyone expected.

“Is Lando Norris the next Lewis Hamilton?” one article headline read.

Another went deeper: “From driver to brand icon: How Lando Norris and Quadrant are reshaping athlete influence.”

It had been surreal to watch the shift, you had worked hard. Max had been supportive from the start, seeing the vision. Keegan had actually become a reliable creative partner, having similar styles and taste. Lando had been the same as when you were kids, you had barely seen him, too busy racing, handling his CEO duties from afar.

And now, after months of hard work, it was all leading to something bigger.

-

The first time at the paddock was overwhelming. The heat, the constant movement, the blur of media, mechanics, and drivers navigating their way through the chaos—it was a world you still didn’t quite belong to. Even though it did bid a uncanny resemblance to the chaos of the fashion world, which intrigued you.

You watched as the photographers snapped pictures of Lando and the team in their latest Quadrant pieces. The collection had taken months to finalize, and the response had been overwhelming—more press than usual, more attention, more recognition.

“You’re the one behind all this, aren’t you?”

You turned at the voice, surprised to find yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton. He was dressed effortlessly, a silk LV shirt under an unbuttoned suit vest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You blinked. “I—uh. Sorry?”

Lewis smiled knowingly. “The Quadrant collection. It’s you.”

You hesitated. “I mean… it’s a team effort.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But I know talent when I see it.”

Her stomach flipped. Compliments were one thing, but this—coming from him—felt different.

“I’ve been following your work,” Lewis continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got a fresh perspective. Louis Vuitton is partnering with F1. They want to bring in new talent, I tipped you.” Your breath caught. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You stared at him, waiting for the catch, but there wasn’t one. He was just… offering this. Just like that.

“I—” You glanced over at the Quadrant shoot, where Lando was laughing with the guys, completely unaware of the conversation happening across the paddock. “Thank you so much.”

Lewis smiled. “You’ll be hearing from them soon. Excited to work together.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the paddock like he hadn’t just cracked your entire world open in a two-minute conversation. Flo had turned to be right after all.

-

Louis Vuitton had officially announced their F1 partnership, and with it, their campaign featuring a select group of drivers. The second she saw Lando’s name on the list, you knew there was no avoiding it. You hadn’t expected it, even though it made sense after Quadrant’s succes and having already worked together. Still, you hadn’t expected to be working with him again, especially not like this. He hadn't shown too much emotion when you left Quadrant, but you knew he wasn't happy about it.

Now, standing in the Louis Vuitton studio, flipping through the fitting schedule, you could feel his glare when the door opened before looking up.

"From Quadrant to Louis V," Lando mused, his voice light but edged with something unreadable. "Look at us."

You finally glanced up. He walked around inspecting the room, sunglasses perched on his head, fingers brushing against the fabric of a tailored jacket. His expression was casual, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he’d just said. Like it was just an observation.

You gave a small shrug. "Who would've thought."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward the fitting area. "Thought you could get rid of me, huh?"

“Alright, first look,” you said, flipping through your notes without looking up.

Lando sighed dramatically. “Do I really need to try all of these on?”

You shot him a look. “Unless you suddenly developed a sense of style overnight, yes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, grabbing the set from the rack.

You turned you back as he changed, focusing on adjusting the pins on one of the outfits. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a fitting with Lando, but this was different. The Louis Vuitton studio was quieter than Quadrant HQ, the lighting softer, there was no Max, no Keegan, no distractions.

“Okay,” Lando said, stepping forward. “What do you think?”

You turned—and fuck.

The suit fit him unfairly well. The sharp tailoring, the way the fabric moved with him—it was annoyingly perfect. Which meant you had done a great job.

You forced yourself to be professional, stepping closer to fix his collar. “Hold still.”

Lando stayed quiet as you smoothed the lapels, fingers brushing against his chest. The silence felt thick, aware of how close you were.

“Looks good,” you said, voice even. “But the pants need adjusting.”

You knelt down, reaching for the hem.

You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted the fabric, fingers skimming his ankle, making sure the length was right. You refused to look up, but you could hear him breathe in, then exhale slowly.

“Comfortable down there?” he asked, voice casual, but you could hear his smirk.

You rolled your eyes, unable for him to see. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, but when you did glance up—just for a second—his jaw was tight. Like he was the one struggling.

You stood, smoothing out the jacket. “Alright,” you said, stepping back, regaining distance. “I think we’re done here.”

Lando tilted his head. “You sure? Thought you liked bossing me around now.”

You smirked. “If I really wanted to boss you around, Lando, you’d know it.”

He blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

Then he grinned. “Noted.”

WN: new storyyyy wooooop, literally already had this fashion job at quadrant in my drafts and then the LV partnership was announced i had to implement that and post it

[jacaeryslover]

KING OF MY HEART: a jacaerys targaryen one-shot.

SUMMARY: jace sits the iron throne, his children want to play with him but he's busy being a good king! reader explains and plays with them.

the ends of your deep blue dress slips against the cold floor of the red keep, you are looking for two little brown haired heads, your children. when you finally arrive to the nursing room, you see lydia trying to play with your eldest son, lucerys, she seems like she's trying really hard to make him feel better.

today is that day of the week, jace is supposed to spend some quality time with his heir, they use that time to play, read or even have lectures about the importance of his father's job, and in the future, it will also be his.

"luke, is everything alright?" you ask tenderly, you knew what happened, but you wanted your own son to tell you, or at least his sweet sister.

lucerys was a lot like you, he was bold but sweet, he had a strong sense of duty. his hair was brown like his father and his cheeks and nose were adorned with tainted freckles, your daughter rhaegan on the other hand was just like her father, she was sweet and caring.

"yes" he mutters quietly, almost like a whisper, but it was enough for you to hear it. his eyes dancing between the wooden carved horses and fishes that lydia swung in the air, in the attempt of making the child play with her.

rhaegan on the other hand, was busy drawing. she had a taste of drawing every type of things, bugs, spiders, castles, and people. she once said that portraits were her specialty.

"rhaegan, do you care to tell me why your brother is sulking?"

the quiet girl finally speaks, lifting her head from her drawing to look at her mother's sweet eyes. "he is sad because father couldn't play with him".

jacaerys never missed the opportunities to play with his children, everyone knew that. so something important had to come up for him to do so.

"well, luke. your father must be very busy, you know he loves to play with you" you say, trying to make your son a little bit happier.

"you know your father works very hard for the people of the realm, his job is of very importance"

"i know, but i miss him" luke says, and it breaks your heart. you knew it was going to be hard, balancing family and the realms duties, but it has to be done nonetheless. and you were proud of your husbands work so far.

and just as he appeared in your thoughts, he stepped into the room with a big smile, ready to dedicate the rest of the day with his children. his apologetic look did not go unnoticed by you.

"i'm sorry, my children. i had some important business to attent to. it will not happen again" he said, taking a place next to you, catching his son's hard gaze "i'm sorry luke, please forgive me" his soft voice directed just to his older son, while bringing his right hand to play with luke's brown hair. a mirage of his own brother.

okay i apologize for this, it's awful but it's been sitting in my drafts for months now and im just letting it go

[forever-rogue]

Hi Bee!! Idk if you’ve heard Hozier’s new song Too Sweet but it’s giving our grumpy man Joel trying to keep his distance from r cause he thinks she’s too sweet for him and he’d hurt her, idk if you’re taking requests but if you could write something along those lines ugh that would be so great 😭💗

AN | Hi, hello, this has been sitting in my inbox for literal ages, and it’s been drafted for a while, and here we are. It’s time to get back on my Joel bs (not that it ever left). Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He liked to watch you.

That revelation alone made him feel like a creep. He quickly chugged the rest of his strong, black coffee in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner as he looked around to make sure nobody had caught onto him. He didn’t want the local gossip mill to start spreading rumors; it wasn’t like there was a ton else to do. 

When nobody appeared to be staring at him or offering him judgmental looks, he relaxed slightly and sunk further down in his spot in the small booth. It was moments like these that made him thankful for the small semblance of his life; it allowed him to get away with just being himself.

A plate of pancakes smothered in syrup was in front of him, half eaten and half forgotten as he drank his way through several cups of coffee. If Ellie was here, she’d chide him for both the sugary breakfast and caffeine overload. He always encouraged her to have a well balanced meal and she’d never let him live it down. Especially in what was his old age as she liked to remind him 

When you turned around, something else having caught your attention, he quickly shifted his gaze back to his plate. An ancient crossword book was next to him, a hobby he’d picked up over the last couple of years and he gave it his full attention. Or maybe he was willing it to come alive and swallow him whole. That sounded like a better option than having you catching him staring at you. Again. As usual. 

He didn’t dare to look up, making up his mind to keep his gaze down for the time being. Maybe for the rest of eternity. He wasn’t sure.

“Hey there,” he froze at the sound of your voice, heart thrumming in his chest and his blood practically singing. When Joel didn’t respond at first, a small frown tugged down the corners of your mouth, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he tore his gaze from the aging wood of the sticky table to find you watching him with bright, curious eyes and a smile he loved more than he cared to admit, “‘m alright.”

You relaxed slightly as you smiled at him, his big, brown eyes looking at you nervously, “cool. Listen, there’s a few of us that are going apple picking later, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me - us?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, mind racing as he tried to figure out what the best response was. From the expectant look on your mind, he wanted to say yes, wanted to make sure you had the best time apple picking ever, but instead he said, “sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a few things that need to be taken care of ‘round here.”

“Oh,” your smile faltered slightly before you recovered, taking a small step back. Joel wished he could take it back but knew that he had to stick to his guns, “that’s fine. I just…thought I’d ask. Well, I’ll see you around, Joel. Take care.”

With a soft smile and even more shy wave, you walked away and back to the table with your friends, refusing to spare him another glance. Joel groaned internally, wishing he’d something different or that you had had a different reaction. If you hated him, things would have been much easier.

But life rarely worked out that way. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed out the horse's mane. It wasn't the worst job in the world and at the very least you had some company. Even if it wasn't the most talkative company imaginable. But then again, half the people around you weren’t very talkative anyway.

“You have been looking very shiny, Kiri,” you told her, and she made a small sound as you softly played with a few locks of her shiny mane. When you pulled out a carrot and fed it to her as you petted her, she nuzzled closer to you, causing you to laugh sweetly, “and I see your love can still be bought so easily.”

Joel watched from the entrance to the stables, almost frozen as the scene unfolded. It felt wrong in a way, like he’d stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have, intruding on a private moment. Marin eventually sensed his presence as directed her inky gaze towards him, huffing in acknowledgment. You followed her gaze and locked eyes with Joel, your heart skipping a few beats as you stood there. Eventually you caught yourself and cleared your throat awkwardly, “h-hey Joel. Everything alright?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat as he nodded, slowly taking a few steps in your direction. He truly wasn’t a talkative man, especially not in the morning hours as you’d found over the time since you’d met him. After a few moments of nothing but the sound of blood rushing in your ears and Kiri’s soft breaths, he was at your side, gently reaching over and petting Kiri. She immediately took to him, neighing softly as she leaned into him for more petting.

“Such a traitor,” your voice was much too sweet to hold any venom as you watched the two of them. Joel had a tender way about him, and you wondered how many other people saw that side of him. He was gruff, sure, but he was a lot more than what simply met the eye. 

“She and I go way back,” he said eventually, his voice warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine, “took a while to get her to trust me though. But she’s a good old girl.”

“She wasn’t a big fan of me either,” you whispered as you put your hand on her neck right next to Joel’s. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, mesmerized by how much larger his hand was compared to yours, “I think we’re working up to being friends.”

“She’s a good judge of character,” you could have sworn he moved his hand closer to yours as you looked anywhere but him. He had a way of making you feel a million different ways all at once. The two of you stood there in contemplative silence for a few moments before you came to your senses and took a step back, immediately sticking your hands into pockets of your jacket. 

“I-I, ugh,” you shrugged your shoulders lightly, allowing yourself a quick look at his honey brown eyes. His expression was questioning, searching yours to try and find out how you were really feeling, “I should get going. I promised Maritza I’d help chop some firewood for the big bonfire tomorrow.”

The last time you had left the ball in his court, waiting to see how he would respond to your invitation. This time it was your turn. He was giving you the option of either staying there with him or walking away. You felt so torn; part of you wanted to stay there and be with him, in whatever capacity that entailed.  The other part of you wanted to walk far away and leave him alone. He was trouble they said, and although he hadn’t done anything to support that theory, he hadn’t tried to deny it either.

Whatever he was, Joel Miller was something. And in that moment you felt overwhelmed by everything all at once and decided to just walk away. 

“See you around?” he offered meekly as you took a few steps back, offering him what was a weak nod at best.

You turned and headed out of the stable without another word, leaving Joel and Kiri together. The two of them looked at each other, and Joel gave her a few more pets, “I don’t know either. But I think I might have ruined everything, if there ever even was anything.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple of weeks had passed since you’d had any sort of encounter with Joel. It was definitely purposeful, even if you weren't willing to admit that much to yourself. Just as Joel had finally allowed himself to get closer to you, you'd started to pull away. It felt like such a cat and mouse game, despite the fact that you did have feelings for him. You just couldn't bring yourself to be around him knowing he didn't feel the same way about you.

He couldn't help that he didn't like you in that sense, just as you couldn't help the fact that you liked him. 

The natural solution for you was just to avoid him entirely. Entirely stupid, but wholly effective.

Until he managed to track you down anyway. Not that it was hard in Jackson; the town was big, all things considered, but not that big.

“Hey stranger,” you startled, almost dropping the plate in your hand as you looked up to find Joel watching you intently. You let out a small huff as you set the plate onto the counter of the small diner you helped to run.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, drying off your hands and trying to seem casual as you leaned against the counter, “can I help you with anything?”

“There is one thing,” he leaned on the counter, his warm smell making its way over to you. He always smelled so damn good, “you wanna tell me if I did something to cause you to avoid me entirely?”

“I haven't…” the lie died on your lips as he arched an eyebrow at you. You shrugged your shoulders and picked at a spot in the aged wood, “I've just been busy. It's nothing more than that.”

“Oh honey,” he leaned in, his gaze trained intently on yours, “I may be old and I may be dumb, but I do know when someone's lying.”

“I'm not-”

“It's written all over your face,” he insisted and your cheeks warmed up, “and you've got absolutely no poker face. With your facial expressions, you might as well be screaming.”

“I…” you inhaled deeply before letting out a soft sigh. You found it incredibly hard to look at him; he could read you way too well, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it seem…like I was mad at you or anything.”

“You're not?”

“I'm not,” you confirmed softly.

“Then why are you avoiding me like I'm about to turn you into one of the infected?” He wasn't going to let this go. You knew him well enough to know that much and you had still fallen for it. You swallowed thickly and cast your gaze around, annoyed and thankful for the fact that there were only a couple of stragglers inside, “if you want me to go, I can go. You just have to tell me.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weird or to make you uncomfortable,” you whispered as you put your hand on his forearm to stop him from leaving, “because I…ugh, I-I like you. And I just didn't want to make it awkward. Which I just proceeded to do, but at least you know the truth.”

He pulled his arm out from under your touch and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Your heart sank into your stomach as you waited for him to say something. You leaned back and made yourself as small as possible, “was that so hard to admit?”

“Joel, I-”

“And whatever made you think I didn't like you?” Your gaze snapped to him as your heart seemed to stop working, “I ain't ever said that, have I?”

“No, I mean it like…ugh. I mean, I asked you to go apple picking, and you said no so quickly so I just figured I’d overstepped.”

“I know how you meant it,” he insisted and you were positive that your heart was going to burst through your ribcage, “and you're still wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen,” he moved closer so he was almost directly in front of you again, “I'm not…a great man. I've seen and done things that I wouldn't ever want you to even think about. And you are…everything I'm not. And I'm not a good match for you, but I sure as hell can't stay away from you. You keep drawing me in, and I'm tired of trying to stay away from my feelings.”

“Oh,” you blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he'd said. Either he'd said something entirely different or you'd just gotten a whole confession, “oh?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly as you turned your head to the side and looked at him so sweetly, “I'm sorry if that's not something you wanted to hear, but I'm putting all my cards onto the table.”

“But…why?” You let out an exasperated breath, “why me? Why now?”

“I don't think I need to justify the why you with an answer,” he insisted, “why now? Because ever since you've been avoiding me like the plague and I haven't been able to see you, I realized just how much I needed that. How much I needed to see you. I want to be around you. I need to be around you. And fuck it if that makes me a bad man.”

This time when you looked at him, you couldn't hide the smile that was threatening to break your face in half. Your entire face felt like it was on fire as you opened and closed your mouth a few times before you finally managed a small, “you're right - fuck it.”

The two of you stood there for a while, grinning at one another, before you realized that you were still in the middle of the diner.  By this point, quite a few of the straggling patrons had turned their attention to you. Your cheeks were burning as you took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Umm…maybe we should save the rest of this for later,” your voice was small again and you felt shy, despite the fact that the man had all but confessed his love for you, “I can meet you when I’m off?”

“How much longer until you’re off?”

“A couple of hours,” you shrugged, “maybe less if it continues to be this slow.”

“I can wait,” the corner of his mouth tugged up as he went to take a seat at the counter, pretending to contemplate what he was going to order, “what do you recommend?”

“Huh?” you looked at him dumbfounded; but you knew that Joel didn’t half-ass do things, he threw his whole ass into it as Ellie liked to say.

“What do you recommend I order off the menu?”

“Oh,” you shook your head before playfully rolling your eyes at him, “I see where this is going.”

“Do you?” he pretended to ask innocently, “‘cause I was thinking I’m pretty hungry and it’s fairly cold outside so I might as well get inside and have a meal for a few hours.”

“Okay,” you bit your lip before turning around to make him his coffee just how he liked it. Just like he had always been paying attention to you, you were always paying attention to him, “here’s your coffee. And I can see what the chef can put together for such a hungry man.”

“Thank you kindly,” he took the cups, letting his fingers linger on yours for a few moments, “such amazing service around here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, a lot of the townspeople seemed to have the same idea that it was the perfect time to get inside and warm up with warm food and drinks.  The crowd didn’t let up and your desire to leave early with Joel quickly disappeared.  But that didn’t deter him; he sat there, sneaking in a few words here and there but mostly he watched you. 

Watched how you never rude to anyone despite being frazzled; how you never lost the smile on your face; how you listened to everyone with rapt attention.  You were good and kind, and that made him want to hesitate and take back everything he had said earlier.  However, now that he had said it all and gotten it out there, he wouldn’t take it back. He couldn’t.

When your shift was finally over and you were able to get a reprieve,  Joel waited outside for you.  A small part of you was surprised that he had waited but another part of you hadn’t expected anything else.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a small smile, which he eagerly returned, “thanks for waiting.”

“Didn’t have much else going on,” he shrugged it off like it had been no big deal. He was always busy with something. People relied on him an enormous amount, even if they didn’t realize it.

“So…” he had started walking and you had fallen in line with him. 

Before you could say anything else he stopped and turned towards you, his dark eyes searched yours. Joel gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Without even thinking about it, you leaned into his touch, your lips partly slightly. 

After a couple moments of pause, in which he was clearly giving you the option of pulling away or stopping him, he leaned and brushed his lips over yours. Softly at first, and then slowly with more urgency and need. All you could do was lean into him and his touch. If this was what kissing Joel was like, you never wanted it to end. 

But eventually he pulled away, both of you in need of a breath of air. You just looked at him with wide, happy eyes. 

“So…” he picked up where you had left off before continuing to walk. You were so caught off guard that you didn’t follow at first, “you coming?”

“Yes,” you promised breathlessly as you jogged to catch up to him, “so…”

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Protector | Matt Rempe

wc. 2.1k

You decide to go on a first date on Valentine's Day but what happens when the date goes beyond horrible? You call your best friend to help save you from it.

warnings: really really mean date, mentions a concern for being drugged but nothing actually happens

So maybe going on a first date with a guy you’ve never met before on Valentine’s Day was not your best idea. 

The fomo of Valentine's day has been weighing on you ever since you were a teenager. You were far from the most popular kid in school and had little luck in the love department as you worked through college. Now freshly out of college, living in Manhattan and kicking off your career, you figured now was the time to start getting out there and going on dates. 

To say you have hated online dating ever since trying it would be an extreme understatement. It felt like you had been on hundreds of dates with zero success and tonight was no exception. 

Your date Paul was a bit older than you, unemployed at the moment and looking for a new relationship after just leaving his ex. He met up with you at this fancy restaurant you have never been to and has so far criticized everything about you. 

“Why would you order seafood?” Paul sneers, looking down at your dish. “It’s gonna make your breath smell and I don’t want to have to deal with that later.” 

You’re shocked at how you’re able to keep your face neutral, at least long enough to cough out some excuse that you needed to use the restroom. You grab your purse and your phone, excusing yourself before speed walking over to the bathroom. Once safely inside, you open your phone but pause directly afterwards. 

Who were you supposed to call? 

You were still fairly new to the city, your best friend still lives back home, college friends were either out with their partners or out at a bar, there didn’t seem like anyone could come to your rescue. You started to think through excuses to make to Paul but fall flat. 

Then, you do something you shouldn’t. You call him. 

Matt was just settling into his short break from the NHL. Granted he hasn’t played a ton of games, he still reveled in a break from the grueling schedule of hockey life in general. He knew he was due back to the rangers in less than a week but for now he was content in catching up on some reading and relaxing. 

Just as he’s settled into his couch, fantasy novel in hand, his phone goes off. He looks down, spotting your contact flashing on his screen and he sighs quietly. He remembers you mentioning a date for today but he can’t remember much past that. 

You and Matt have been friends for about a year now and Matt has had a crush on you for even longer than that. Damn near since he got drafted to the Rangers back in 2020. You had done some on and off work for the Rangers for a while now, a side hustle job that Matt wished was your full time one so he could see you more often. 

You were there the day he was drafted, stepping in for media/photos for the day and he had beat himself up for years following for not getting your number that day. When he saw you during his NHL debut it felt like fate was on his side and he made sure to introduce himself better this time. 

You’ve been close friends ever since but that only made Matt’s crush on you grow stronger. He always tried to play it off but time and time again of saving you, protecting you, was hurting his heart more and more. He promised he’d always be there for you but at what cost? His heart? 

Still, he picks up anyway. 

“Hello?” 

Your heart floods in relief at Matt’s familiar voice, a jump of butterflies adding to the mixture as well. 

“Oh thank god,” you release in a breath. “I really need your help.” 

Matt’s heart clenches at your words and he can’t help the way he’s already standing from his seat, walking over to where he keeps his keys. 

“This guy I’m on a date with is a total creep and now that I think about it I left my drink uncovered just now and I’m scared and he keeps making weird comments and-” 

“I’m on my way,” Matt interjects, anger flaring his words and you visibly relax at his response. 

You hang up the phone, shooting Matt a text with the address you were at and he tells you he’ll only be five minutes. You make your way back to the table where Paul is clearly unamused. 

“What? You have an emergency? You suddenly need to leave right this minute?” he asks sarcastically and you shake your head. 

“No I just-” you start but he’s quick to cut you off. 

“You know, a decent person would just tell someone that the date isn’t going well instead of making excuses. This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap, anger rising in your chest. You had been nothing but kind and polite this entire time and all he’s done is rip into you and you were done playing the sweet and demure girl. 

“Firstly, you pick this horrible restaurant. Then, you catfish me, lying about your weight and showing up looking like you just rolled out of bed. God and your personality! You-” 

His rant sends you into a spiral that causes you to freeze, unable to react in any way. Your brain blocks out his next words, not sure what to do next when the decision is taken out of your hands. You watch as someone steps up, grabbing Paul by the shirt and hauling him up from his chair. 

The minute Matt steps into the restaurant he spots you, your posture stiff and unwelcoming, something that sets him on edge instantly. He starts to walk over, his long strides making short work of the distance but when he hears your date's words it takes all of him not to start sprinting at him. 

“You are such an obnoxious little-“ Paul continues but Matt has him by the collar of his shirt and is pulling him out of his seat before he can finish the words. 

“Don’t you ever,” Matt’s voice snaps you out of your state and you stare as he pushes Paul backwards, effectively blocking him from you. “Speak to her or fuck even look at her again, or it will be the last thing you do.” 

Matt is breathing heavily like he just completed a 3 minute shift on the ice and is still staring down his opponent. He’s trying to tamp down his anger but he never realized what people meant about seeing red until this moment. This rat faced looking dick was saying these things to you? Oh Matt was gonna kill him. 

The restaurant is deafeningly silent after Matt’s words and you watch as Paul analyzes the situation before holding his hands up in surrender. Matt stares him down for another moment or two before turning towards you. 

Matt wants nothing more than to turn and lunge at Paul and beat him senseless but he knows you and your safety are the priority. He grabs your purse and jacket before taking your hand in his other free one and pulling you out of the restaurant. 

Matt drags you down the block before you finally pull him to a stop, the intensity of the moment still thrumming in your veins. Matt turns to face you, waiting for you to do or say something and you take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. His heart leaps looking at you, wanting to pull you into his chest and hold you close so you know you’re safe but wanting to give you space to process what just happened. 

“Fuck darling you’re shaking,” Matt says finally and when you look at him you realize the adrenaline mixed with the cold February weather has you shaking like a leaf. He steps forward, wrapping you up in your jacket and his proximity makes you finally take a breath of relief. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you murmur quietly. Matt’s heart pounds at the words, a mix of anger, jealousy, and sadness rushing around inside of him. 

Matt lets out a heavy sigh and steps back with a curt nod of his head. His warmth leaves and you’re shivering again causing you to frown. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, “Let’s get you home.” 

It’s the only thing he can say at the moment, his heart and mind in turmoil. He would do anything to protect you, he knew that truth for the rest of his life. But he hates that that’s all he is to you. A protector. He needed it to stop before his heart gave out. He turns away from you and you can’t help but step back up next to him, wrapping your hands around his arm as he starts to walk. 

Matt wants to shake you off but the feeling of you next to him settles his heart in an instant and he steps closer to you as you make your way back to your apartment. The journey is short and your heart seems to have settled almost to a normal rhythm now that you’re home safe with Matt next to you. 

When you get to your door you unlock it and let Matt in without a word. He follows you slowly into the kitchen where you pour yourself a glass of water and just as you’re about to offer something to Matt as well, he starts to speak. 

“I should go,” he mutters awkwardly and you frown at his words. 

Matt knew that if he stayed here, comforted you, went as far as staying the night, the pattern would continue and his heart would stay stuck in this endless loop of hope and heartbreak. He had to get out now for the best. Even when everything else in him was screaming at him to stay. 

“Please stay?” 

“Why?” he cuts you off, stepping closer with an intensity that wasn’t there before. 

“Why?” you repeat, confused by his question. 

“I promised to keep you safe, and I kept my promise,” he snaps and your face twists to confusion. “I’m done here.”

Your heart splinters at each word, falling apart at the seams as he talks. Tears threaten to spill over, you watch as Matt takes in your expression, something unfamiliar flickering over his features before he turns away. 

Matt can feel that each movement in his body is beyond forced. He has to tell himself to turn, to take a step, take another step, not look back at you and so on. He can’t handle it. 

“Excuse me?” you snap and he pauses. “I’m not done with you.” 

You march over to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to face you. He towers over you, his six foot nine inch frame should be intimidating but right now it’s just frustrating. He stands in front of you, motionless, his eyes finding purchase on something behind you. 

“Look at me,” you demand and his eyes flicker for a moment and you repeat yourself. Finally his chocolate brown eyes land on you and you instinctively take a breath. 

“You may think you’re keeping me safe and that you’ve done your job as my protector or whatever so now you get to leave,” you start and Matt stares at you with a blank expression. “But I only ever feel safe when you’re around.” 

“What?” he asks, shell shocked by your words. 

“I need you Matt,” you tell him quietly. “I need you here. I need you to keep me safe. I need you to help me I just, I fucking need you.” 

The look in your eyes is so vulnerable, so intense Matt can’t look away. He knows the underlying meaning to your words but he’s too scared to take the leap. He doesn’t want to be wrong. He can’t ruin this. 

“Matt,” you say, breaking his train of thought. “My love, you’re all I want.” 

That’s all Matt needs to hear before he’s finally stepping up to you, wrapping you up in his arms and hauling you to him so you’re face to face. His lips meet yours in a desperate kiss that has warmth spilling throughout you. 

Matt felt like he was flying. He knew he was always going to protect you, take care of you, keep you safe, love you. He never realized you depended on that truth as much as he depended on living it out. He was nothing if you weren’t safe. 

“I love you,” you whimper out quietly when you break apart. 

“I love you,” he responds, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

His promise is everything to the two of you and your heart settles gently in his hands, him handing over his as well. 

[sillyhanako]

✦　　﹐　　I just wanna get high with my lover..　　⌒⌒

﹒꒦꒷ WINDBREAKER BOYS cuddling scenarios ♡♡ ft. togame jo, sakura haruka, suo hayato and kaji ren.

୧﹒sfw // wc : 272 - 400 each

꒱﹒a/n﹒୨୧ sorry for being inactive chat im cooking up way too many drafts and the ideas are flooding my brain 🎀 twst is peak

ー﹕m.list﹐

﹫﹒TOGAME JO

It was one of those cozy nights where the world felt like it was wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. The moonlight peeked through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room, as you and Togame found your perfect snuggling position on the couch. The warmth of one another's bodies created a bubble of serene comfort, and the only sounds that filled the space were the peaceful inhalations and exhalations as you both drifted into a blissful half-sleep.

You, nestled comfortably into Togame’s side, sighed contentedly, feeling like you could stay in this moment forever. However, as you succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep, a familiar tingling sensation crept through your arm. It was a well-known sign that your beloved cuddle partner was squishing your arm just a bit too tightly. With a playful huff, you cracked open an eye, gazing up at Togame.

“Hey my sweet angel princess” you teased, suppressing a giggle. “Could you move a little? My arm is falling asleep.”

slowly unfurled from the comfortable bundle you both had created. “c'moooon” he replied with a grunt, “But I was so comfortableee can’t you just power through it?”

“Power through?” you laughed, your voice light and teasing. “What do you think I am, some sort of arm contortionist?” 

With a jolt, he shifted, still pouting, but instantly feeling the warmth of your arm invigorate again. “Alright, alright i’ll grant your wish,” he said, lifting his arm.

Sitting up slightly, you two shared a moment, your faces just inches apart, the teasing still lingering in the air. “But only if you promise to return to this cozy position in just a moment,” he added with his signature mischievous grin. Oh if only he knew how handsome he looked right now.

“whateverrr" you mumbled back, settling in again as you found your way back into that cozy bubble. In the quiet of the night, you snuggled again, warm and content, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

﹫﹒SAKURA HARUKA

Cuddling with sakura who's as stiff as a board can feel like snuggling a popsicle—chilly and a bit rigid. It’s kind of like trying to get a cat out from under the bed; you need to be gentle, patient, and maybe a little playful.

you came back to your shared apartment from a long day at school and needed to recharge, what better way than cuddling your cute boyfriend?

So now you're all cozied up on the couch, and he’s sitting there, arms awkwardly at his sides. You could swear he’s a statue, frozen in time, unsure whether to embrace or retreat. His heart might be racing—after all, cuddling isn’t exactly in the job description of a guy who’s never been in a relationship.

So how do you break the ice? Start with a playful nudge or a light tease. Gradually, you can inch closer, laying your head on his shoulder as if it's no big deal, inviting him into the cozy cuddle puddle you’ve created.

As his rigidity slowly melts, you can feel his heartbeat sync with yours. It’s like discovering the secret to a puzzle that everyone thought was impossible. You catch him stealing glances at you, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Those moments give life to the cuddles, turning the chilly embrace into something warm and comforting.

If he still seems a bit hesitant, don’t worry! It’s all part of the fun. Compliment him or tell him how good he's being doing lately and how enough he really is. You might just find that his flustered face is the softest pillow to rest on. With each tease and awkward shuffle of limbs, he might just start to feel safe enough to let go of that stiff facade.

In this playful dance between fluff and awkwardness, he'll discover that cuddling isn’t only about physical closeness. It’s about creating an atmosphere where he feels free to express the whirlpool of feelings he’s been keeping bottled up. And hey, sometimes, when you least expect it, he might just surprise you with an unexpected cuddle back, and in that moment, you’ll know you’ve unlocked a piece of his heart.

﹫﹒SUO HAYATO

Cuddling on a lazy Sunday morning is one of those simple, sweet pleasures of life. The warmth of your handsome boyfriend wrapping his arms around you feels like being enveloped in your favorite blanket—cozy and secure. As the morning sunlight streams through the window, the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you, lost in your own little space.

Every touch feels like a tiny spark of magic, igniting sweet little giggles as you playfully nudge against each other. His calm demeanor means that you don’t have to hustle or worry about maximizing every moment; you can simply be. There’s a tranquility in those still moments that grants you permission to drift into laughter about the silly things you two did last week or to share fond memories that make your heart flutter.

Amidst the sweet serenity, a sudden, unexpected sound breaks the tranquility. You, snuggled comfortably against hayato, can’t help but let out a little fart. It happens!! We’re all human, right?

“Did you just fart?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye, mixed with amusement and a hint of disbelief.

“Yes,” you admit sheepishly , a blush creeping across your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” suo responds with that signature calmness that makes everything feel better. “release your demons babe.”

With a mix of laughter and mock desperation, you lets out an exaggerated groan, “aaaauuurghh..”

The room bursts into laughter, and suddenly, the atmosphere is lighter.

amid gentle laughter and soft whispers, the world outside ceases to exist. You embrace the imperfections, the giggles, and, yes, even the farts, as the true essence of your relationship shines through.

﹫﹒KAJI REN

The soft glow of fairy lights dances in the corners of the room as the scent of popcorn fills the air — the perfect scene for a movie night. You settle into the couch, and your boyfriend, kaji, saunters in with his classic laid-back vibe.

he doesn’t fuss or fret about plans or expectations. Instead, he just kind of... floats in and out of moments, like a gentle breeze.

As you cuddle, a delightful mix of warmth and quiet envelops you. His breathing is steady and calm, creating a soothing backdrop to your little pocket of the world. While he might not shout his feelings from the rooftops or engage in wild conversations, there’s a comforting strength in his silence. He’s the type of guy who listens more than he talks, which sometimes leaves you wondering what’s going on in that brilliantly quiet mind of his.

But every now and then, a subtle chuckle escapes him — when you least expect it. — you find yourself savoring those moments.

But today your stomach had a different idea.

You, with a playful pout, broke the comfortable silence, “I’m hungry." You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable while you stomach let out a small grumble, as if joining the conversation.

Kaji, blissfully snug and unwilling to leave the warmth of the blanket, replied with a monotone voice, “no way am i moving,” one was craving food, while the other was perfectly content to remain cocooned in his warm sanctuary. plus he was reallly into the movie.

You both knew that the only solution to your hunger would involve a quest to the kitchen, but the task seemed monumentally heroic when faced with the allure of the warmth of the cuddles and the movie. With a mock sigh, youleaned closer, whispering dramatically, “But what if I starve?”

after an exaggerated pause, he replied, “find a way but im not moving, 'm way too lazy."

cuddling with kaji is like a delightful balance. Sure, youre often the one chattering away about everything from your day to the latest trending topics. Yet, there’s something grounding about having a partner who doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence with words. It’s as if you've developed your own language — a subtle squeeze of the hand here, a soft smile there.

there’s a sweetness in the simplicity of being wrapped up together, lost in your thoughts but connected in the profound hush of your recharge sesh.

© 2025 sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[madhattervanessa]

Arctic Fox

(GIF Credit goes to @bastardcompany; original post here)

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Summary: After a successful mission, you make John work for it.

Warnings: Banter, teasing an old man lmao, rough sex, sex in the snow, a little bit of dirty talk?, tiny bit of begging and mocking, a bit of praise, spitting, some other kinky stuff that I probably forgot, idk.

Words: 2096

A/N: Look, I had those gifs in my drafts bc I had an idea and today the brain worms finally spoke to me, aka, I got a minor (read, major) caffeeine high and wrote all of this in about 2 hrs. Don't ask.

Not edited yet

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

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It’s cold.

Freezing, actually. His breath billows as he pushes the door open again. He sighs and rolls his head until his neck creaks.

The snow is not falling anymore on his way out of the small cabin. But there is still something frigid in the air and the threat of what looms in the dark forest around him lies heavy in the air.

Nonetheless, Price steps outside of the cabin and makes his way towards the rock wall in the distance. He can already see that you aren’t there.

“Fox, come in, over.”

Silence meets him on the radio. He sighs and keeps trudging forward, until he can turn his back towards the face of the rocks.

As he takes another look around, he spots footprints in the snow. The radio connection crackles back to life in his ear.

“Got you in my sights, Captain.”

He finds comfort in your voice, that deep, almost raspy quality of it, all smoke, but the way you stomp on the radio communication rules as soon as the job is done still irks him.

“Wanna play a game?”

He lets his eyes trail over the tree line, cradling the front of his gun as he lets the words roll through his mind. 

“A game, huh?”

“Extraction is running behind. We have almost an hour until pickup.”

He sighs and squints as he scans the tree line.

“Right, then, hurry up and tell me all about it, darl.”

“So grumpy.”  You let a sigh sound through the radio and he hears the telltale creak of a branch as you keep the channel open for him to hear. “I’m close to the pickup point- Come find me.”

He is already moving, making sure to keep the footprints on the ground close as he carefully scans the treeline. Pickup is a mile away.

He is already calculating in his mind, thinking back to the brief, where you had to be to keep him in sight even now. He turns, adjusting his path to lead him deeper into the underbrush.

“What are you thinking about?”

 He huffs and adjusts his vest as he treks through the snow.

“Might have to drill some better radio etiquette into you, Sergeant.” 

Your laugh is a little breathless. More cracking and rustling sounds follow in the background.

“That a promise, Captain?”

The way you purr his title is making his cock chub up, every time. It’s why you are barely allowed in the pre-mission meetings anymore.

It’s a good thing you are on irregular rotation for the squad, only jumping in when Ghost isn’t available.

“See, I think you like having a reason to order me into your office to drill some discipline into me.”

The comment makes him smile despite himself. 

“Shame such an experienced officer needs it.”

“You know I don’t. I just like you pretending to be all gruff and diligent. Good little soldier that you are.”

“Trying to distract me won’t work, love.”

“I’m not even close to trying to distract you, John.”

This time, he can hear what you are doing outside of the channel.

The telltale sound of feet hitting the ground.

Your equipment is lighter than his by trade. But that doesn’t mean he can’t outpace you.

“Making a run for it, already?”

“Gotta make you work for it.”

He holds his gun closer to his chest and gets ready to quicken his pace, adjusting the angle of his route a little to catch you.

“You’re being cruel to an old man.”

“That’s what you like about me.”

You’re right. It’s that cocksure attitude, backed by all that skill, that had first made him glare at you. The sheer audacity.

“And I’m being nice. Giving up on seeing you climb into a tree is really fucking decent of me.”

“So merciful. Keep running, darl, if you want to give me a challenge.”

He can feel his face heating up as he falls into a pace just shy of a jog.

He can hear you. The shift of the velcro vest, the tight cargo pants you favor that are most definitely not regulation. The crack of a branch gives you away.

When he can finally see you, he puffs out a final breath and breaks into a sprint. He can see the zig-zag coming before you do it. He drops his gun before he charges, tackling you to the ground.

You laugh as you go down in his arms, full of glee, even as your knees take the brunt of your collision. It knocks the wind out of the both of you.

“Fuck, love.”

You keep wriggling underneath him while he grabs one of your wrists to pin it to the ground. He groans when you push your ass back against him, rubbing up against his hard cock, straining against his pants.

“Get your pants off. We don’t have time for this.”

“Not my fault-,” you gasp, turning to press your cheek into the snow. You push your arm underneath yourself to fiddle with your pants. He opens his in a quick, practiced motion and spits into his hand to stroke himself as you struggle to tug your pants down.

“John-”, you whine, wriggling against him.

He just tuts at you. The slick sounds behind you are driving you crazy, the knowledge that he could be inside of you already.

“Gotta earn it. Come on. Can’t even undress, love?”

You make a ragged sound and rut up against him, using him to tug your pants over the tantalizing curve of your ass.

He’s already panting. The moment you drag your underwear down enough for your pussy to glint at him, he groans. He presses a hand to your neck, pinning you down as he moves in closer. He cages your legs between his until your knees knock together. When he drags his hand back down to your ass, he crudely gropes at it until your pussy parts a little with it, too.

He uses his thumb to trace over your pussy, dipping it inside until he is knuckle deep.

You hiss in response. The cold snow your cheek is pressed into is forgotten as he plays with you. Then, a hot glob of spit splashes against your pussy.

“Say it,” he groans, before spreading his spit against the lips of your pussy. He pushes his thumb inside this time, shallowly fucking it into you.

“Need you to fuck me.” You gasp as he slaps the tip of his cock against your pussy. The wet sound seems to echo through the forest. “Please, John, please-” your words are yet again cut off by the squelching sound of the tip of his cock pushing in between your pussy lips, the fat head of his cock splitting them apart.

You gasp into the snow and furrow your brows as he shallowly rocks it back and forth, letting you feel every detail of it: The ridge of it catches against your hole as he rocks back, the way it glides in smoothly, without the slightest hint of resistance, when he rocks forward. You keep perfectly still, all of your senses focused on the feeling of him. When he lets go of your wrist, you keep it right where he had put it. He spreads your ass cheeks open and it’s like you can feel his eyes on you, staring at your pussy with that look that makes you want to bite him.

“Good girl.”

As soon as he pushes balls deep inside of you, you melt. He curls over you, crushing the magazines stuck into his vest against your back in favor of grinding his cock as deep as he can.

Without the adrenaline, it would have hurt, and you were guaranteed to be sore after, but in the moment there was nothing better than feeling him battering into your cunt like you had personally offended him.

You reach back to grab his neck. As your fingertips reach to grasp his hair, his hat falls to the ground next to you. You push yourself up on one arm, your other hand tightly gripping his hair as you moan, your breath coming out in little clouds of warmth into the cold air.

He wraps an arm around your waist and buries his nose in the skin underneath your ear.

“Feel so fucking good, love,” he growls. The only answer you manage is a breathless gasp. “Can feel you creaming on me, already.” He is panting now, too, keeping his thrusts deep and hard in a way that would make your headboard slam against the wall back home. But now there’s nothing but you taking all of the brute force he uses to fuck you. He is just about to praise you again, when his comm crackles to life on another channel.

“Extraction in 10, over. Do you copy?”

You bite down hard on your lip when he reaches up to answer.

“Copy”, he grumbles back. He makes sure you hear him click off again. When he leans back down over you, he bites at the shell of your ear, tasting metal as he sucks on your lobe. “Need you to touch yourself, love.”

You gasp, trying to process his words as he keeps pounding into you. He grabs your hand for you, pushing your fingertips into his mouth. He crudely coats them in his spit, pressing a little kiss to your fingertips before pushing them to press against your clit.

“'m not leaving until I feel you come on my cock. Don’t care if the whole squad comes to watch.”

The low growl crawls over your spine with a delicious spike of heat. You quickly start to rub firm circles into your clit. His breath is hot against your ear, rutting into you with a precision that keeps you on the verge of tears.

It takes barely any time at all for you to cum.

Price curses into your ear and presses his hand over yours on your clit, dragging your orgasm out forcefully as he keeps fucking into you.

You yelp when he presses you back down, flattening you against the ground as he grunts. Your ass audibly slaps against his stomach and he praises your perfect fucking cunt under his breath, before he cums.

You can feel him twitching inside of you as he fills you, slamming into you those last few times, before he collapses on top of you.

You’re both panting- your nipples feel sore from rubbing against your shirt and your legs are shaking as your pussy finally gets a break from the overstimulation. Sweat is making the back of your shirt cling to your back.

“Fuck,” you sigh, a smile already widening your cheeks. He grunts in agreement and presses a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck. “Gotta get off of me John, or we’ll be late.”

He groans but gets moving nonetheless. As soon as he has sat back on his haunches, you move to do the same. You’re still shaking but manage to pull your underwear back up. John rucks up your cargo pants over your thighs for you. You start fixing your hair and rubbing snow from your face as he buttons your pants. He presses another kiss to your temple before tightening your belt for you.

As you start to get up, he takes a quick glance at his watch.

“Fuck, gotta hurry,” he grunts. You faintly hear the clink of his belt before he gets up to his feet.

He quickly traces his last few steps to find his gun and strap it back to his chest. He can hear you fumbling with your own pack behind himself.

When he turns, he manages to catch you still trying to get yourself back together, rubbing at your rosy cheeks before you give up and instead just tug your scarf over your mouth and nose.

When you catch him looking, the corners of your eyes crinkle a little.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go.”

He tugs you closer by your elbow and leans down to press his mouth close to your ear as soon as you bump against his chest. “You’re getting it soft as soon as we’re home.”

“Mh, understood, Captain,” you quip back before starting to walk off towards the pick up location. He sighs and shakes his head as he watches you take off. He picks up his boonie hat from the ground with a grunt and pushes it back on top of his head before rushing to catch up with you again.

-

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[eroselless]

────────────── sommer house // 1

series summary: After starting a new job at a prestigious museum in London, you form a close friendship with Helaena Targaryen. You're surprised when she invites you to stay at her family's estate for the summer holidays. [1.7k]

[aegon targaryen x reader, modern!HOTD AU ]

masterlist

warnings: talk and description of bugs. if there's any I missed, let me know!

note: hello friends! I’m sure some of you might be a little confused seeing this coming up again. after much contemplating and many many re-reads, I decided I would rewrite what I had of moth to a flame now that I had more inspiration and motivation. for this first chapter, it’s not much different from my first draft but I removed and added a few things that I thought made the story begin flowing a lot better. thank you for the support and happy reading <3

Dashing through the rain, your coat pulled tightly around you, you navigate the bustling streets of London. The sky opened up as you were leaving the train station, drenching you instantly. You’re breathless when you reach the entrance of the museum, soaked to the bone with hair sticking to your forehead. Pausing briefly under the awning, you try to catch your breath, shaking off as much rain as you could before hurrying inside, the patter of rainfall fading behind you. 

The familiar warmth and silence of the museum envelop you, offering a stark contrast to the chaotic weather outside. The lights are dim and if you listen closely, you could swear you can hear soft music permeating the air. 

You make your way to the back of the museum, passing through employee doors and to the entomology department, where you knew Helaena would be waiting. Rounding a corner, you see you. She stands at the entrance of your shared office, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She leans against the doorframe, her free hand fiddling with the key card that hangs around her neck. It’s 5 past 9, you're not that late and her casual demeanour only makes for a comforting sight.

“Rough morning?” she asks, a grin on her lips as she entends the cup of coffee towards you. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you reply, taking the cup and making your way past her into the room. “The tube was a nightmare. Some sort of signal failure. I’m surprised I made it at all.”

Helaena laughs, “You wouldn’t have to deal with the tube if you drove,” she teases, raising her eyebrows. Following you to your desk, she stands in front as you set your things down. You roll your eyes at her, making a face, to which she responds with a half-smirk.

You met Helaena three months ago when you first started working at the museum. After a seemingly endless job search, you happened upon one that just happened to be in a country halfway across the world. Seeing as how you fit all of the requirements, you pushed fear aside, taking a leap. You packed up what you could and made your way to London. The idea of working in another country had always captivated you, but the reality of moving hadn’t fully sunk in until you stepped off the plane. Everything felt surreal—the accents, the bustling streets, the historical buildings whispering stories of the past.

Working in the entomology department with Helaena, you spent countless hours cataloging and preserving the museum’s vast insect collection. The late nights became routine, often the two of you working late into the night, at times at each other's homes. Her companionship made the hours more bearable. Helaena quickly became more than just a colleague; she became a friend, someone you could rely on and share with. 

Clapping her hands, a wide smile now on her face, Helaena turns to you from a large cluster of boxes: "Well, you're here now, and just in time; we've got a ton to do today."

Settling into your desks, surrounded by cabinets filled with specimens and shelves lined with books and equipment, the morning passes quickly.

You take turns pulling out cases from the large boxes, a new shipment from South America, examining and cataloging each specimen. Each one is carefully inspected, labeled and documented. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns never cease to amaze you, each telling a different tale. 

As the afternoon rolls around, you find yourself leading a group of young school children through an interactive exhibit, one you spent the last week preparing with Helaena, explaining the life cycles of different insects and answering their curious questions. Their eyes widen as you show them the cases of insects, pointing out each of their intricate and unique features. Together, you carefully examine drawers of pinned needles, getting lost in the details of their iridescent shells.

The children nod as you explain different insects, jotting down notes in their small notebooks to bring back to school. Their laughter and curiosity makes the rest of the day pass quickly, their enthusiasm making even the most mundane tasks feel rewarding. 

The day winds down from there, the absence of the children making you realize how tired you’d gotten. You put the exhibits back into their boxes, making sure everything is in its place for the groups coming in tomorrow and the day after that. From the corner of your eye you can see Helaena making her way to you, rolling a cart identical to yours. There’s a thoughtful expression on her face. 

"So, any plans for the summer holidays? They're not gonna need us at all during these renovations they're doing," she inquired, pursing her lips at you.

You shake your head as you continue placing boxes onto your cart. “I would but I can’t afford to go home right now. I’ll probably just stay in London and explore the city or something.”

Helaena’s face lights up. “Why don’t you come with me to my family’s country estate? We’re having a big party for my dad’s retirement. It’ll be a nice change of pace and you can officially meet my family. They’ll adore you.”

Your lips part as you stare at her wordlessly. “Are you sure?” you asked, searching her eyes, 

Helaena waves you off, “Of course!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “"It'll be fun. Besides, it would be nice to have another girl there so I don’t have to deal with my brothers all on my own. Say you’ll come," she pleads.

The thought of spending the holidays with Helaena, surrounded by the English countryside and her family’s hospitality, race through your mind. It sent a shiver of nerves through you. You knew very little about her family, only hearing of her brothers in passing. You’d seen them in pictures she had littered around her apartment and on her facebook. You met her mother, if you can call speaking to her briefly over the phone, one night that you spent the night at Helaena’s. Her older sister and her father were a complete mystery to you, both of them a subject she didn’t ever really talk about. 

She bats her eyes at you, gently wrapping her arms around yours. You let out a sigh, breaking out in a smile. “Alright, I’ll come.” you laugh, and she throws her arms around your shoulders. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's a few days later you find yourself tossing clothes at Helaena. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window behind her. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. It looks as if it were glowing. She sits on your bed, gingerly folding different shirts and pants into your bag. Rejected piles of clothes are strewn across your bed, shoes littering the floor and small packing cubes full of toiletries and makeup sit next to your gradually filling case. 

“What about this?” you ask. Swaying slightly, you hold a dress up to your chest. It’s red and covered in polka dots with a large white bow cinching the middle. Her face stays in a slight grimace, shaking her head and laughing.

"We need to get you some new dresses; these look like they belong in a history museum," she says with a playful smile. You laugh, shoving her shoulder as you tuck the dress back into the wardrobe. She pulls a knitted sweater from the edge of your bed and tucks it tightly into your bag.

Once your outfits are sufficiently coordinated and your essentials pulled into packing cubes, Helaena helps you pack them into your suitcase, ensuring you have enough of everything you need for your stay. She speaks up when you struggle with the zipper. 

“So, I know you’ve sort of met Mum and you’ll be meeting everyone else while we're there.  My sister is even coming with her children. A fair warning, though having everyone there can be a bit … intense but they’re good people.”

You note her hesitation. “Intense how?”

Helana shrugs, trying to downplay her words. “It can get a little overwhelming, is all. But you’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

You nod an ok at her, climbing on and bouncing on your suitcase to press it shut with your knees. She joins you, twisting with you as you begin to pull on the zipper. 

"The place’s been in my family for generations. There’s lots of history there, places you could get lost in. You’ll really love it.”

You struggle for a little bit, pulling the zip a little more to fully close the case before sitting on it, breathless. 

"What was it like, growing up in a place like that?" you ask, looking up at her as she takes her spot back on the edge of your bed. 

Helaena smiles, a distant look in her eyes. It's a smile that has a drop of sadness behind it. "It was magical. There are all these secret passages and hidden rooms. We used to play hide and seek for hours.” 

She traces a pattern on your quilt as she continues speaking. “We each got puppies at some point and when we’d pretend we were princes and princesses, my brothers would pretend they were dragons.” 

There's a bittersweet expression on her face as she recounts the memory. It's not an expression you're used to seeing on her face but it’s one she seems to fall back to every time she speaks of home. You can’t help but to be curious about it but you always stop before prying or saying anything. You smile, reaching out a hand and placing it on her knee. It pulls her out of her momentary daze and she flashes a smile at you. A mixture of nerves and anticipation fill you again. "I can’t wait," you say with a soft sigh.

Helaena looks at you, her eyes sparkling. "You're going to love it. It’s like stepping back in time. Just be prepared for a bit of drama; there’s always something happening when we're all together."

"Drama?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, family stuff. Arguments, misunderstandings, that sort of thing. But it’s all part of the charm," she says with a wink.

You laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Well, I’m ready for anything."

With the suitcase finally zipped, you both collapse onto the bed, giggling. Helaena turns to you, her expression softening. "I’m really glad you’re coming. It’s going to be a summer to remember."

If you want to support my writing you can buy me a coffee over on Ko-Fi <3

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Obsessed- Lady Lesso x EverReader!

Synopsis: Lesso has this thing, but no one knows. Not even you…

Word Count: 643

Warnings: Dark!Lesso, no smut, non-consensual stalking, readers gender isn’t mentioned. (Lmk if there’s anything else!)

A/n: (You can kinda see her tie pin in this gif, which is not mine btw) Okay, yes, this is short asf. I’m sorry! I really wanted to get something out while I’m working on this other smutshot (that includes working up the courage to do it too 😅) I figured something was better than nothing.? I legit have had this forsaken OneShot in the drafts at 5-6k words FOR A YEAR NOW GUYS. I’m trying! I want you guys to have it too. I’m also SO sorry to the few requests I’ve gotten, believe me I have seen them and I do plan on writing them! I’m just once again working two jobs and I’m also plainly in the dumps with writing motivation :/. I’m working on it 🫶🏻.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Obsession. It's a funny thing really. It usually builds from innocence, a simple crush maybe.

But then, it spirals.

Though, the obsessor most times doesn't realize the extent of said obsession.

Leonora Lesso wouldn't necessarily deny the fact she obsessed, of course, unless, she was asked.

It wasn't her fault. It was yours.

Yeah, that's it. Your fault.

You.

You with your bright smiles and warm being.

It really should make the Never woman feel sick.

But she watches you with a subtle warm fuzzy feeling, like how she would think it would feel if you made her soul smile.

Watching you at meal times with Dovey, laughing at whatever the conversation was.

She found satisfaction in watching you, joy almost, watching you teach. The passion you held was quite similar to hers, though you were an Ever.

And even now, her watching you from behind your balcony door. Enjoying the feeling that fills her as she watches you undress from the day.

No, she wouldn't say she's obsessed. Enthralled, sure.

Enthralled at the possibility you could see her in the reflection of the mirror you were standing in. Enthralled by your possible reaction if she chooses to make herself known, or maybe, if you were to catch her.

She often wonders what your reaction would be.

After all, she does this almost nightly.

How you haven't seen her at least once in the fortnight, Lesso wasn't sure. But she loved to think of the idea that you were aware of her watching you, and you enjoyed it as much as she did.

She continues to wait in the shadows, watching how you don't skip a single part of your routine.

She'd come to learn that you liked everything in a certain way, down to your showers.

As you climbed under the covers, your nightly steps coming to end, she never strayed.

She usually liked to stay until she knew you were asleep, loving how peaceful you looked.

Normally, it was enough.

Being 20 feet from you, a glass door in the way, it was close enough.

Normally.

Well, who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not.

Once again, you were peacefully in your slumber while Lesso hadn’t moved a hair.

But she needed more.

She carefully took her tie pin from the knot that she frequently adorned, using it to swiftly pick the door you always made sure to lock.

The first step into the unfamiliar, yet very familiar, space was enthralling for her. Your true scent, unbothered and unedited, hitting her nostrils so strong to the point she’s sure she would’ve faltered if she cared to pay attention.

But as always, her attention was elsewhere.

Neither her heels or her cane made their signature click as she entered, the carpet working in her favor.

Slowly she walked up to your bed, standing at the end and getting lost in your serenity.

But as realization set, she decided she wanted to learn more. No, needed to learn more about you.

Her painted nails just barely scraped the surface of your duvet as she slowly moved onto your bedside table.

Noticing the new book you recently picked up, she made a mentally note to look into it later.

She never stayed in one spot for too long, too afraid it would bring her a welcoming she can’t ignore.

Her final spot was your vanity.

The very same one you sat yourself at just mere moments ago.

Sitting in the same spot as you previously had could’ve made her head spin, she had to know that her heart was pounding, if she paid any mind to it.

But her mind was elsewhere.

Her eyes and her mind were on you, just like before.

But sitting there, seeing you, smelling you, feeling you….

She couldn’t help but think, just how much fun she’d have with you.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @sgelessoanddoveykissing @hxzxrdous

(Okay, I’m def missing people on this list and if you’re one of them please leave a comment! 🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Part 2 maybe??

[jweekgoji]

Hi, if you have time, energy and motivation for this, then please write a sequel on yandere!tfrid2015.

Yandere!TfRID2015/Reader [hcs]

tw: nsf/w(-ish) headcanons so minors don't read, possessiveness, praise kink, size kink, power dynamics, marking. word count: ~820 a/n: it has been in my drafts since summer so a good time to finally finish it.

Bumblebee

This Bumblebee is such an interesting character for me, mainly because he is finally taking the serious role in the series. Due to a lot of responsibilities with his own team (newbies, a half-functioning minicon, a clumsy cute dinobot!) and constant Decepticons' attacks. He puts up with a lot of stress. 🐝 probably prefers soft moments of intimacy (honestly, I can't even imagine yan!🐝 being violent at all); maybe even let you do the job while he can just relax and finally forget about controlling everything and everyone. He is vocal, though he would probably try to put his own servo over his mouth, mainly because he's still a bit shy that someone might hear him. I mean, looking back at where they 'live'...good luck.

This Bumblebee probably has a praise kink, and he would absolutely MELT when you call him 'sir'. It's just something that gets him going even when he's too tired to even move a finger.

Respect, respect, he likes it! Whether you're the one receiving pleasure, whining and accidentally moaning the soft 'lieutenant!' during it, or holding him down, telling Bumblebee how good he is, such a good and caring leader...your poor lieutenant Bee! You're probably putting a lot of dirty and unnecessary thoughts in his processor.

Grimlock

Grimlock absolutely knows how good he is. He also absolutely understands what role he has in the team. Muscles. And he has no shame when it comes to his size! He is used to bots around him being annoyed when he accidentally breaks something or bumps into stuff, the 🦖 gets a little confused when he meets someone who's...into it? I think he would probably be into size kink when his partner shows that they love how big he is! But probably a little worried since he doesn't want to hurt you. Is he doing well with using his sharp digits inside you? Grimlock doesn't want to hurt his sparkmate!!

Despite having an intimidating look, he is a massive dork (affectionately) who is totally in love with his partner. That's why Grimlock being responsible big dinobot would always make sure you're satisfied first! He is still reluctant about doing it in his dino mode, but he might take this challenge only if you would be on top of him. Otherwise, it would be...awkward.

Sideswipe

Young, arrogant, and painfully determined when it comes to a good fragging. At first glance, you might think he's incredibly experienced, and he'll pretend he is until it comes to a moment of intimacy between you. An extremely confident bot will start to blush and hide his face as soon as you straddle him, and no matter how hard he tries to squeeze out a smirk, it's hard not to notice the little shiver that runs through his body.

But a little determination with you, and you see the old Sideswipe again. He will tease and try to coax a reaction out of you, but only because he longs for you to finally snap and give him a good spanking. He really is into being tamed by his sparkmate, especially if they're better than him in everything.

Strongarm

Sometimes she talks about Cybertronian rules so much, you wonder if she mutters them even when she's asleep? Strongarm always wants what is best for her loved one, so it is no surprise that she shared with you everything she knows.

Strongarm very well mirrors Sideswipe, but in everything Sideswipe is cocky and teasing, Strongarm is cautious and responsible. Sure, she has her own moments, but Primus help her! She totally can't help when you try to distract her whenever she gives you a lecture. Everything you do seems to catch her attention. The way you look at her, or how you bite your lip when thinking about something... It is probably very, very wrong and unprofessional when you try to seduce her, calling her by the title and playing as if you're one of the criminals she caught. This will not affect her results, right?

Steeljaw

Scratching, lots of scratching. The cunning wolfticon is not so gentle at all, not to imagine, if he's obsessed with his darling. I'm just very sorry for their paint job. It must be so tiring polishing your armor and fixing the small scratches around the insides of your thighs and hips every single time you two decide to get intimate together. Scratching is not only his way of separating himself from the former fraction but a way of marking someone. A three simple but a little too deep mark on your shoulder is now a longtime reminder of who you belong to.

But it doesn't mean it doesn't work both ways. If 🐺 is in the right mood, with his tail wagging behind his back and his spike slamming into you so deep it makes you seem stars, he will probably encourage you to leave some marks on him as well.

[calcitedraws]

Comet City Chapter 2

Yandere Superhero vs Yandere Super villain p2

Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3

I've given the reader shadow manipulation powers.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°

You had the next day off, so you slept in a bit before heading out to run some errands. You wore a long sleeved sweater to hide the bruise Zenith had left behind.

First on your list was returning a book to the library and picking up another one. You entered, greeted by your old friend, Arlo the librarian. You have become friends over the years.

”Ah, my favorite reader.” He chuckles as he gets out from behind the desk to greet you. You hug him good morning, patting his back. You hand him the book before sauntering off to find a new book. Eventually, Arlo catches up to you and you start chatting.

”Late night?” He asks, pulling his cart up to start putting books away. 

“Tell me about it.” You groan playfully, plucking a book up to examine it. You two sit in a comfortable silence for a moment.

”So… My lunch break is going to start soon. Maybe we could get coffee?” He offers. You think a moment before nodding. You didn’t have too much to do and spending time with Arlo was always nice.

————-

 

Lunch with Arlo was nice. The two kept making each other laugh over a cup of coffee. You felt like you could be yourself with him, maybe it’s because he was just such a mellow guy.

”Well, I’ll have to get back soon.” He sighs, disappointed as he checks his watch. He gets up and offers you his hand to help you stand. Not thinking much of it, you take his hand and yelp when his fingers press into your bruise. He jumps, startled and alert.

”Oh, jeez, I’m sorry. I just, um…” You stutter before he grabs your wrist, his hold feather light.

”Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” Arlo says, panicking as he pushes up your sweater sleeve to examine your wrist for injury. He freezes when he notes the bruise. It had gotten better since last night but it was still really ugly. “What is this?”

“I… some drunk guy grabbed me as I was walking home last night. But I promise I’m okay.” You reassure him. Arlo shakes his head, pushing his glasses up as he turns your wrist to examine the bruise further.

”No! No, no, no… Who was this guy, what’s wrong with people nowadays?” He scoffs, tracing his fingertips over the finger shaped bruise on your wrist. Arlo was always a bit protective over you, he was just the kind of guy who cared a lot.

”I’m okay.” You chuckle, trying to reassure him as you pat his shoulder. “Just some creep. I chased him off and that was that.”

”… I should walk you home tonight. Saturdays are worse than Fridays.” Arlo huffs, allowing you to take your arms back. You sigh. If anyone was more stubborn than you, it’s him.

”I mean… okay, but-“

”No buts. I can walk you home.” He insists as you leave the cafe. You agree on where to meet up as soon and go your separate ways.

——

It’s been several days since then, with little to note.

You work for a newspaper called the Starlight Reads. Mostly it was just writing short articles about any feel-good updates for the city, like a new park opening or the heros latest big save. 

Your assignment today was to do an article for the unveiling of the renovated Hero Academy, apparently the same school Zenith attended many years ago according to what you remember him saying. It was a quick deadline, but your boss put a lot of pressure on getting it done in time. 

Due to your job, you had managed to snag a pass on the tour for students, parents, and anyone who was important and interested. The presentation came and went (while you took attentive notes). You hadn’t gotten inside before the renovations, but apparently there was a lot of new stuff like a courtyard and a soundproof building just for battle practice. The group was then released into the courtyard for refreshments and banter. You were surprised to not see any heros but you assumed they'd be here later.

You were seated at a picnic table, jotting down the rough draft while everything was fresh in your mind. You were going to network when you had the skeleton of the article done (you had spotted a few important shareholders who you could get a relevant comment from as well as a few notable potential students and their very important parents.)

You were so engrossed that you had almost missed a random woman shriek. You peered up, seeing a stark shadow across the courtyard. Slamming your laptop and shoving it into your bag, you looked up to see what was causing the commotion.

You knew a supervillain when you saw one; stupid edgy costume, cocky demeanor, and penchant for crashing important events. A dime a dozen around here, but nothing to be taken lightly. You tried to rack your brain for anything relevant as he descended from the sky.

He had some kind of a pack on his back, which housed six spider-like legs with little claws on the end that kept his feet a few inches off the ground. His costume was black and sleek, the eye plates of his mask glowing a neon green (how could he even see?) You paused when you heard what sounded like a thousand tiny footsteps. From every entrance to the courtyard, a mechanical spider the size of a cat scuttled in, black and glowing green from their joints like their presumably owner. Soon, everyone was surrounded.

You suddenly recognize him: Techbyte. All anyone knew about him was that he was the best of the best when it came to robotics and technology.

You looked around, counting maybe two hundred of these little things. The man didn’t speak as his mechanical spider legs gracefully carried him in front of the guests, who were now huddled together. 

“Sorry to crash the party.” He chuckles, his voice bent and distorted through some kind of filter. “But I have business here.”

No one spoke. You doubted anyone here had any experience handling a supervillain directly.  And the heros wouldn't be here anytime soon.

You stepped forward. Hopefully your experience talking down less super villains would come in handy. But those people were just desperate and angry. Techbyte wasn't like them. 

”What do you want?” You call out, trying to keep your voice firm and level. The man turned to you, cocking his head. He didn’t speak for a full minute, but you heard him mutter something under his breath, but whatever filter he put distorted whatever comment he made to the point of not being able to make it out.

“… To teach a lesson.” He finally says, carefully. 

“What lesson?” Someone calls back, a mother clutching her child close. These kids were mostly fresh out of middle school. They were from important families and likely coddled but they were still just kids.

“Silence.” He barks, before nodding to the nearest spider machine. In an instant, everything burst into chaos as the spiders marched, organized but in some unseen choreography. A small group stayed to wreck the courtyard while the rest marched into the buildings in single file lines.

Tables were flipped and dismantled, trees were surgically uprooted and thrown across the courtyard, you saw a punch bowl thrown at a chairman, it was just a mess. 

You tried to corrale everyone together, thinking of what to do. You’re not sure hurting anyone is this guy's goal, but… You’re pretty sure that punch bowl hit the chairman’s head based on a fat bruise you see forming there. A team of spider robots start dividing the group, dividing the group into four chunks with five spiders guarding each group as everyone is backed into areas. Ankles were nipped at and people were backed into groups.

You couldn’t just come out and save the day, because that would reveal your identity. But you couldn’t just let this happen, since someone could get hurt. You looked at the man responsible who was just… staring back. You couldn’t see his face but… you had the sense that he felt proud.

”Stop! At least let us leave, someone could get hurt. I don’t think we’re the ones you have a problem with!” You plead. For now all you could do was reason with him. He cocked his head, directing his mechanicals legs towards your group.

”I don’t care what happens to these people.” He says, gesturing vaguely to the other groups. “This city has only gotten worse since the introduction of hero’s. This academy is just the gem of the elite.”  

“T-the hero’s will be here! They’ll kick your butt!” A kid counters from another group, trembling. The man's head jerks to the little one, his head cocking to the other side as he traverses to them. You try to follow and de-escalate but a spider stabs it pincers into your ankle, a sharp warning. You can’t do anything but watch as this guy lifts the poor kid up by their ankle, his grip harsh.

You couldn’t just watch this. You slowly shuffle to the back of the group, away from everyone’s eyes. It helped that everyone was distracted. You turned to the cameras you had heard about in the courtyard. Good, the spiders seemed to have smashed all of them in. Activating your power, you quickly slice up the spiders guarding you with thin strands of your shadows. Without a word, you slip away, running to safety within a building. 

It appeared to have been intended to hold normal classes, but when you peer into any room, it’s trashed, pieces of desks and chairs everywhere. You duck into a ruined bathroom to pull out your phone and call the police. After that, you pull out your meager disguise and throw it on, trying not to fall over due to rushing. You didn’t want to be too late.

You run back to the courtyard, scanning around. The situation was how you left it and you spotted the kid, unharmed. A plan quickly formed in your head.

”Hey!” You call out to Techbyte. His head jerks to you, startled.

In a quick burst, you use shadow strands to vault yourself towards him, your feet landing right in the middle of his chest. His mechanical legs quickly get him level again but it gives you enough time to sprint away. Your goal was to lead him away from the crowd, and after that… well, you’d have to wing it until the heros get here, which you knew they would, especially after all the commotion. Checking your watch, this has been going on for… seven minutes. And it usually took ten for heros to show up to an situation they'd care about.

A sudden crashing sound and cheering in the courtyard let you know that the heroes likely beat their usual time, probably because of the stakes. The villain chucks a hunk of concrete at you, which clips your shoulder, causing you to cry out. He then tries to run away, likely to take care of the hero’s or cause more damage. Summoning strands of darkness, you hurl the concrete chunk back, hitting the back of his pack. He tumbles to the floor in a tangle of mechanical limbs and wires, his leg-pack slightly busted. He quickly gets back up to face you. The screen over his eyes was cracked in one spot, showing the hint of his eyes. He looked furious, like he just wanted to rip you to shreds. You clutched your shoulder, which was dripping with blood. It wasn’t broken but it was definitely dislocated.

You use your ability to hurl another piece of debris at him, but he swiftly dodges it and on his mechanical legs, skitters away. You doubt he’ll be getting far, so you let him go. You could afford a minute to tend to your wounds before hopping back in.

You let out an exhausted grunt, checking on your arm. You weren’t as invincible as some hero’s but you certainly could handle more damage. A normal human would’ve lost their arm completely from something like that. Relocating your shoulder was a bitch, but you had done it so many times you knew when it worked. 

You use your shadows to quickly maneuver back to the courtyard, where most of the spiders were fleeing or being torn apart by a team of three heroes; Zenith and his famous sidekicks. Everyone else seemed to have been directed to leave. You quickly head out, avoiding the rest of the fight. They could handle some mechanical spiders, but you followed the fleeing ones, to try to see where they were going. Maybe it could help you find where this guy was based.

But that seemed to be a loss too, as when you poked your head outside, you noticed the police shooting any spiders that had escaped. Damn.

You knew when you weren’t needed, so you made your way to a dark alley to take your disguise off. Joining the group was easy, telling them a half truth about running away and calling for help before escaping. No one seemed to question it and you got to write an article about it that made your boss pretty happy, which was featured in that day's afternoon news.

[juuuulez]

📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess,” part two.

📖 -> part one.

info: Richie Jerimovich x reader, no use of (y/n), allusions to sex, kissing, smoking weed, alcohol consumption, overall generally pretty fluffy, Richie wants what’s best for you, king of self control bro is trying so hard.

omg this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week SORRY. but anyway i think this was sweet and is so richie’s growth and awareness era i think he’s trying so hard and is doing an amazing job.

let me know what you all think 😝😝

The floorboards are cold, where you’re sitting against Richie’s door, waiting for him to return from work. 10pm sharp? Yeah, right. Though, you’ve never known Richie to be a punctual man, so it doesn’t bother you that much. Anybody else, and you would have left. But maybe you’ve missed Richie more than you’ll let on.

The 6 pack of beers has already diminished, a half-drunk bottle nursed in your hand, the liquid warming with the air. Heavy footsteps are heard from the stairwell, promoting your head to tilt towards the corridor.

10:23pm, there he is.

Before he’s even approached you, he’s apologising, fumbling with a set of keys inside the pocket of a leather jacket. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, princess,” Richie is cursing. “Carmy was bein’ a massive bitch, and apparently there’s a gas leak ‘n—“

The rambling stops, Richie assumably coming to his senses as he eyes you, sitting on the floor, drink in hand.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” He relents, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

So you simmer on the thought, rolling it around like a pearl, sucking on the inside of your teeth. Finally, you come to stand, not reaching anywhere near Richie’s height.

“Mr. New York?”

A grin breaks out on Richie’s face at your clarification, tone questioning despite the fact that you’re sure, that you remember all of those little conversations. About a dozen people, only made real in your brain, courtesy of Richie’s overzealous descriptions of every little problem in his life.

Sure, he was just your dealer. Just a guy you hooked up with occasionally. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t listen, right?

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He grumbles in approval, a spare hand coming to rub the back of your neck. It’s an intoxicating movement, makes your body warm and fuzzy, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

Richie unlocks the door, the jangling of keys sounding through the hallway. Always the gentleman, he holds it open for you, a smug grin on his face.

“Already made a dent in the beer. Couldn’t wait,” You muse, fingers hooking into the cardboard handle of the 6-pack. “Y’know, this better be worth it.”

“You’ll be right.” Richie dismisses, his eyes following your form as you saunter into his apartment, already so familiar with the place.

He dumps a plastic bag down on the floor, the clutter making an indistinct noise you don’t care to expand on. The beers are placed on the table, and you’re quick to settle into his couch, shoes discarded and knees tucked to your chest.

“So…” Richie begins, coming to stand next to the couch. “Did you want some food?”

Your gaze flickers to him, soaking in how he seems to be a little nervous, a little hesitant. So different. “You know what I’m here for, Richard.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t call me that, it’s weird.” He outwardly cringes at your words, retreating further down the hallway to retrieve the subject of the night.

In your eyes, it was a little amusing. He’d changed, certainly, but you understood why. Maybe Richie’s party days were over, but you’re certainly weren’t.

Your hands find the TV remote, switching it on. It’s been left to Netflix, some kids cartoon looping in the background from when Eva was here, the colours bright and characters animated. Clicking your tongue, you call out to Richie. “Big fan?”

He comes down the hall a few seconds later, nodding towards the TV. “What, of Adventure Time? Fuck yeah. Shits awesome.”

It makes your face split into a grin, a notion he catches onto. Richie leans down, sitting next to you with a joint poised between large fingers, which you eagerly take. Fetching the lighter, you spark the flame, taking a deep inhale to burn the bud inside.

The lighter falls from your hands, Richie scooping it up to light his own cigarette.

“Blazing tonight?” You ask him, a curious lilt to your voice. It’s not often he doesn’t jump at the opportunity.

“Nah,” Richie waves his hand. “Not much, at least.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax back into the couch. “Party pooper.”

Regardless of the quip, Richie’s big hands find your legs, wrapping around your calves and pulling you further down the couch, so you’re lying on your back, and your legs spread across his lap. They rest there, warm over your jeans.

The joint doesn’t last long, you’re antsy to get it through your system. The next one is cradled a little slower, where Richie even takes a few drags, though you can tell he isn’t hungry for it like you are. Cartoons buzz in the background, a distant noise, and the beers quickly disappear leaving you in a giggly stupor.

You end up in a new position: Richie is lying on the couch, his firm chest against your own, with your chin propped up against him. There’s a grin on your face, chewing down on chapped lips, looking as pleased as a goddamn cat. His hands are planted on you, warm over your back, holding you firm and close. Your fingers fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, tugging and twisting it absentmindedly.

Then, his mouth is warm on yours. Hot tongue sliding against hot tongue. It’s unclear who initiated it, but that doesn’t matter, because he tastes like mint gum and nicotine. You probably taste like weed, but Richie doesn’t care, for it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of you. Like a familiar pattern, someone he can come back to when all else fails, someone who he doesn’t need to try for. You’ll always have him.

Your hands travel down the expanse of his torso, finding the band of his sweats. The fabric is soft and you savour the sensation for a moment, every piece of stimuli feeling that much better, like a prickly fog has overcome your mind and makes your body tingle. You press further, dipping your fingers under the band, which makes Richie grunt into your mouth.

“C’mon,” He mumbled against your lips. “Hands off, sweetheart.”

It takes so much effort to pull away, faces inches from each other. And fuck, your eyes are red, glassy and lidded as you stare at him with a mix of satisfaction and tired lust. It’s sleepy and quiet and feels perfect.

“What’s up?” You ask him.

But he just shakes his head, blue eyes still studying you. “Nothin’ s’up.”

You’re sceptical, of course, because when has Richie ever refused sex? Not with you, at least, and certainly not like this. The thought doesn’t simmer long in your mind, because the grin is soon returning, with a poorly suppressed giggle as you shift a little atop him, pressing your hips down against his own.

“I can feel you.” You tell him, utterly amused by the notion of his arousal beneath you. The sweats do little to contain it, and you can tell that Richie finds the situation enticing, his length hardening slowly under the heat of your clothed body.

The giggles don’t stop, seeming to have hit at the worst possible time, but you feel completely smitten. Your head ducks down against his shoulder, to which Richie pats over your hair, holding you close. He’s breathing steadily, one… two… three…, all in an effort to not flip you into the couch and fuck you right there.

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cus ya fuckin sexy,” He mumbles into your hair, which only provokes another round of snorted giggles from your form. “Trust me, I’d give the world to fuck you right now, princess. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a goddamn week.”

You look back up at him, still smiling and happy, albeit a little sleepy. Everything is blurred and fuzzy, and you can imagine how good the sex would feel right now. “Then do it.” You urge him, tongue darting out to wet your lips, despite the dry state of your mouth.

And it’s so goddamn hard to resist. Because right now, it’s all Richie wants to do. But there’s this stupid voice in his head, telling him no: that’s a terrible idea, he can’t do you like this anymore. He doesn’t want to be the person you come to for drugs or sex. That’s not healthy, and it won’t stop if he keeps indulging in it.

Even if he can feel your clothed breasts against his body, and his dick twitches with each of your words, cursing his mind for being such a massive cock-block.

“Hey, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He points out, brushing back your hair to get a better look at your face. It’s true, you’re drunk and high, drowsy eyes blinking up at him with a smug little grin.

You must know that, too, for you rest your head back down on his chest. If he won’t fuck you, at least you’ll probably have the best nap of your life like this. His heartbeat is audible from this position, and you press your nose closer into his shirt, inhaling a deep breath of musk and man and smoke. “You’re just lucky this is really good weed,” You mumble with a deep sigh, “But you owe me a lay.”

“I know princess,” Richie agrees, his voice low and so close to your ear, the only thing you’re truely aware of anymore. “Maybe.. maybe I’ll take you out, huh?”

The suggestion has his mouth going dry, and not from the weed. It’s slightly timid in the way his tone drops an octave, a tad quieter, simultaneously hoping you’re too stoned to remember but also lucid enough to answer honestly.

“What, like a fuckin’ date? Gross.” You shoot back, the words crude and playful. Your discontent is betrayed by the grin on your face, nose scrunched up in amusement, to which Richie pinches at your ass through those jeans.

“Not gross. I’d be a goddamn gentleman.” He pressed back, conscience lightened at how easily you take the suggestion. His hands soothe the curve of your back, following a trail up your spine, and back down.

It’s calming, and with your eyes closed, it feels like you’re near floating. The distance between you and Richie is nonexistent, like you’ve melted into him, a heaviness over your mind that feels like a weighted blanket.

“M’kay,” You manage to mumble with the last of your awareness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And he lets it go, for now. Because that’s a positive answer, and you’re practically falling asleep. Richie is glad you can’t see his smile, how happy that idea makes him, the mental image of taking you out like a regular couple. Maybe he’ll wear his nice dress shirt, a tie if you’re lucky, and take you to some restaurant. Bore you with his stupid stories and have a glass of wine, and then, take you home… give you the night you deserve, something calm and loving and (most importantly) sex you’d actually remember in the morning.

You fall asleep on his chest, dreaming of the same thing.

[cynthiav06]

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

1.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

2.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

3.

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

4.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Major Blog Update: Inbox Cleared, Life Updates, a big thank you and More!

First of all the big one:

The deed is done...The Inbox is dead.

Long live the inbox.

To get a fresh start, I've deleted the current inbox of all my asks.

The inbox memes, the nightmares...they're finally over...

ANYWAYS, feel free to send in any request you may have as per usual, just figured I clear that damn thing finally out considering I've had asks that are three years old in there.

Right now I'm really getting into Honkai: Star Rail since Natlan kinda killed my enjoyment of Genshin, but those gals I will still love and write for (I mean, I'm sure as heck not changing the blog url) so don't feel discouraged if you came to this blog because of my Genshin content. And of course my other fandoms are still good to rock and roll!

One last thing before the cut:

I want to thank EVERY ONE of you for following this blog and sticking around with my goofy ah for so long.

I genuinely get excited to read any message or request you put under my posts or inbox, whether it be feedback or joking around! And I know we have the memes going on about me being drowned, please know I do genuinely take the time to look at every single one that comes in everyday, even if I didn't say anything or respond. And it means the world to me that ya'll like my writing enough to continue asking of me.

You all are the reason I even put the effort I do in this blog for so many years, from my newer followers to those who have followed me since my first blog. I could not ask for a better group than ya'll.

From the bottom of my heart, thanks, and let's have a great year together!

ANYWHO: For those who care enough, this is what's been going on with me for the last few months.

Work:

As for why I've been absent for a while: simply put because I work a retail job. Thankfully nothing too bad, it's just normal scheduling and it IS work I very much enjoy and get paid relatively well. My love for writing is still very strong as is my simping, so no worries, I don't plan on going anywhere.

I DO greatly apologize for making everyone wait for literally ANYTHING, doubly so if you had an ask I didn't get to yet. I wanted to honestly save everything into my drafts, but alas I could only choose some select ones.

You're more than welcome to send it back in, and since things have calmed down I SHOULD be getting to them a lot faster.

Genshin:

In regards to what I said earlier about Genshin: Natlan kind of killed any enjoyment I had playing, characters were REALLY unappealing to me, it made my friends stop playing so therefore I stopped as well as that was the major reason I still had it installed. I don't really plan on adding anyone from Natlan or anyone else from that game in the future, so apologies if you were looking forward to that from me specifically.

Star Rail has been filling the hole in my heart and honestly? I have a lot more writing freedom writing the gals from there, but again, don't feel afraid to send me any genshin request! I still simp for my Mondstadt women after all.

Other things I've been doing/Ideas for the blog:

I've also been playing games (and getting distracted) with my irl friends and trying to catch up on my hobbies to prevent myself from burning out, Minecraft has been a big thing lately for me again: specifically Pixelmon LMAO.

For 2025 though, I plan to at least post an imagine once a week starting next week since things are still settling down and I have to get my work schedule.

I might also start posting (Eventually) my personal writing projects here to get feedback and possibly go to AO3 to post my crossover series since Tumblr isn't really the place to be doing so (Chief among them my FE3H AU: House Isekai), or if demand is high enough I'll post it here.

Oh, and with this major update I have once again updated my banner, not that it's really important, just that I put a good amount of effort in it, more than you'd think for how simple it is. I also want to see if anyone even gets my reference LMAO

Once this post goes live, I plan to add a few new characters, starting with the Commander from Girls' Frontline but we'll see how it goes.

I think that's all I got for right now, so see ya soon guys!

- Chris

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues

Years after their divorce, they still act like strangers despite the ties that bind them: parenthood and work. When she wears the blue velvet gown from one of their last happy memories to the hospital gala, Zayne realizes some fires never die. They just burn hotter in the dark. The one where they cave in. Just once.

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, ANGST, kind of implied smut? My goodness, they're a mess. 2023 words.

A/N: I'm back with a fic! I've always wanted to write about Zayne. But true to me being me, of course it had to be angsty. I do have a longer draft exploring their relationship over the years, which I may or may not eventually post (TBD although I've been neck deep in this one for the past week tbh lol), but for now I wanted to post a little something from that world. Enjoy!

You can read on ao3 here

Zayne didn’t want to be here.

Unfortunately, the board of directors had made it clear his presence was non-negotiable. He would have to endure a few hours of pretending to be agreeable, acting like he cared about the donors beyond their wallets. Part of the job, he reminded himself. Part of being chief.

The gala unfolded in predictable monotony: champagne flutes clinking under chandeliers, hollow laughter echoing through the hotel ballroom near the hospital. A snooze fest, according to Zayne. He had dressed in his black tuxedo with a cummerbund and bowtie, all dressed up to the nines for this. He made sure he looked the part: polished, prepared, and ready to coax a few donations out of deep pockets.  An hour in, and he was already dreading every second. Still, he forced himself to make conversation, smile when appropriate, nod like he was listening.

The old Zayne wouldn’t have entertained this kind of nonsense, but he wasn’t the same man he used to be. A lot had changed. One being the way he kept sipping the whiskey from his glass, a habit he’d picked up in the years since she left when he needed something to dull the ache.

And when the giant doors opened again, he felt her before he saw her.

Mona stepped into the room with a kind of grace only she carried. And for a moment, everything else—the live jazz band, the glittering chandeliers, the soft murmur of conversation—faded into an insignificant buzz.

She was midnight incarnate. That’s the only way Zayne could process it. Midnight in a gown cut from velvet, catching the light softly like night sky. Midnight blue, deep enough to drown in. The hem grazed the floor, but the slit rose high enough to reveal the curve of her thigh as she moved slow and deliberate, like she wasn’t trying to be seen but silenced the room anyway.

The sleeves clung to her arms down to her wrists. A string of pearls framed her collarbones, each one catching the light, resting just above the swell of her breasts. He tries not to look, but he can’t.

The back of her dress dipped low—too low, he thought—sliding down the length of her spine until it disappeared just above her hips. He remembered zipping that dress up once, fingers fumbling, her laughter warm in his ear. A reminder of better days.

Mona was stunning. Devastatingly so in the way only she could be: effortless, unbothered, barely trying. Her usual curls were pulled up into a sleek twist with a few soft strands escaping near her temple, her neck exposed and elegant. Her pearl earrings matched the necklace. Simple and classic.

He finds his eyes lowering to her dress again. It had fit her differently once. He remembered her frowning at her reflection, tugging at the fabric. “It’s a little loose,” she’d said. Now it hugged her like it had been made for this version of her. Not the girl he married at twenty-two, but the woman she had become now at thirty—grounded and full. 

The years had softened her in all the right places, and something primal twisted in his gut. Time hadn’t dulled her beauty, but it had deepened it significantly. And he hated himself for staring. For remembering what it felt like to touch her in that dress. To take it off. To lose her. But what he hated the most was how it pulled him straight back to five years ago, a memory he still treasured.

They were in a taxi on their way to a wedding reception, the air cold even inside the car, the city lights painting the windows in streaks of gold. Mona took his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“I have something to tell you,” she said softly.

Zayne turned, expecting hospital gossip or a new study breakthrough. Instead, she pressed his palm to her stomach. He didn’t understand at first, but then she bit her lip, trying not to smile, and something inside him stilled.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered. They had always talked about having children when they were older and maybe in their early thirties, but something about this moment... Zayne never felt more assured that it was the right timing.

She nodded. He immediately kissed her, overwhelmed with joy in the backseat of that taxi. The driver said nothing. The world kept moving. But for Zayne, time stopped.

He exhaled slowly, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. His fingers curled tighter around his glass. Too many memories. Too much.

Across the room, Mona stood with a champagne flute and a polite smile, listening to a man Zayne didn’t recognize. It didn’t matter (but it did). They ran into each other all the time at the hospital, even worked on many cases together. But something about tonight made him look at her a little different; the kind that didn't make him want to look away. All he could do was stare at her, his own guest long forgotten.

Her posture was more deliberate now. Shoulders squared, chin lifted, a smile edged with something practiced. Almost sharp. She wasn’t the same girl who kissed him in the rain outside their first apartment. Not the one who ran a soothing hand down his back when he couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t his anymore. Yet something in him stirred. Slow, familiar, and dangerous.

Mona’s back was pressed against their bedroom door, breath catching as the dress slipped to her hips. Zayne slid his hand beneath the velvet, his mouth tracing fire along her throat.

“Zayne,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders “You’re the one who wore this dress,” he murmured against her skin.

She laughed—bright, unguarded—her head tipping back. “Well, don’t ruin it.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ll try.”

She smelled like jasmine. He breathed her in like home.

Across the ballroom, the man leaned in and said something that made Mona smile. Not a wide one, but the one he knew she made when she was trying to act like she wasn't impressed. Zayne knew that smile. The way she tilted her head slightly. How her eyes flicked down before meeting the other person’s again. It was the smile she used to give him.

Zayne finished his drink. It burned going down, but not enough.

He shouldn't have been watching her like this. Not like she still belonged to him, like every memory wasn’t already etched into the back of his mind like a scar he couldn’t stop picking at. But there she was, smiling like it never ached, like she hadn’t once screamed at him in the kitchen as their infant cried in his hold, hadn’t packed her things in silence while he sat on the floor and said nothing, hadn’t looked at him that last morning, eyes full of hurt, and said, “I can't do this anymore.”

He hated how easily she wore elegance now. You could never tell that she had once been the girl in his sweater falling asleep at the library table with a pen in her hand and three textbooks open beside her. Or the girl who was so overwhelmed the first time they had kissed he could feel heat radiate off of her. He hated that she looked happy, or at least composed. But Mona had always been good at tucking her emotions beneath the surface until they boiled over, and Zayne had been the one to learn that the hard way.

Her hand brushed the man’s arm. It was light and barely there. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it meant everything. He shouldn’t have cared, but he did.

And just when he was about to look away—when he told himself to stop and move on—Mona glanced up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Her gaze didn’t widen. Her mouth didn’t twitch. She just looked at him, calm and unreadable, like they were strangers meeting for the first time.

Then she turned back to the man beside her, said something and smiled again. And Zayne felt his stomach sink. Because even now, after everything, he still selfishly wanted her to look at him like she used to.

He didn’t stay long after that. Made some excuse to the attending beside him; something about an early shift or prep rounds, though they both knew it was bullshit. He just needed to leave. Needed to stop looking at her like he was still hers to ruin.

He didn’t remember walking to his car. Just the cold night air, the thud of his shoes on pavement, and the weight in his chest that refused to lift. By the time he hit the freeway, lights streaking past in a blur, he told himself he’d outrun it.

But she knocked on his door sometime past midnight.

He almost didn’t answer. Just stood there, heart pounding, staring through the peephole. She was still in the same dress. Dark velvet adorning her curves, hair a little messier now, heels dangling from one hand. And her eyes, soft in the way they only were when she was about to lie beside him. Or when she was about to say goodbye for the day.

No pretense. No shield. Just Mona.

He let her in without a word.

They didn’t talk. Not with Amara sleeping quietly in the room next door. The last thing they wanted was to answer questions on why Mama was at Daddy’s house when she had already fallen comfortably into the pattern they had now, where every Wednesday she goes to Daddy’s house and every Sunday Mama picks her up from Daddy’s office, although her own was only a floor above in the same building. They didn’t speak about the man she’d been with, or the whiskey still clinging to his breath. She moved towards him slowly, like she expected him to stop her. But he didn’t.

When she kissed him—hesitant, then certain—it felt like coming up for air after drowning underwater too long. They didn’t sleep much. But they did, eventually. Bodies and hearts tangled in silence and regrets they couldn’t count, in a bed that was once too familiar. 

She had left before sunrise without a word. Only a soft kiss to his temple and one last lingering look before she headed for the door.

The next morning, Zayne returned to routine. He made sandwiches the way Amara liked them, packed her sketchbook, and double-checked that the bento boxes were ready for their picnic by the park.

He wasn’t thinking about the night before. Or at least, he tried not to. That was until Amara caught something in her hands.

“Daddy?”

He looked up from the lunchbox. She was held up his tuxedo jacket, bunched awkwardly in her small fists. “Why is this here?”

Zayne blinked. The jacket had been left draped over the sofa last night, discarded in the blur of frantic hands and breathless kisses and everything he didn’t want to explain.

He opened his mouth, but she was already pressing her nose into the fabric. “It smells really nice,” she said. “Like flowers.” His stomach turned.

Amara frowned thoughtfully, sniffing again. “Like jasmine. Did you go to Mama’s house?” 

Zayne stared at her. She was a carbon copy of him, save for Mona's thick lips and curly hair. He couldn't get past the innocent curiosity in her voice and the way she held the lapel like it held answers.

He swallowed and forced a smile.

“No, just a garden,” he lied.

Amara shrugged and dropped it back onto the couch. “You should put it in the laundry. There’s glitter on the top.”

The memory came again. Mona’s lipstick staining his tuxedo, trying to quiet her moans as his hands pleasured her like it was muscle memory.

He let out a quiet laugh, barely holding it together. “Yeah. Probably should.”

But he didn’t. He folded the jacket carefully, smoothing the crease down the front, and set it aside like it was a sacred relic. Like it meant more than it should.

Because maybe it still did.

A/N: And there we have it. Please do let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you'd like to read more healthy dynamics (lol) and love Sylus, check out my master list here. Have a great day/night, and thank you for reading!

[jojo-schmo]

hi jojo! im just wondering but ive been wanting to make a comic for a little while but im not too sure where to start 😅. i really love your style of art and your forgotten land roleswap, and i was wondering if you had any tips for beginners?

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying my Forgotten Land Roleswap comic, it means a lot! <3

I'm very honored that people have been asking me for tips and advice. All of this is coming from a hobbyist who draws these comics purely for fun outside of my regular day job. Some of my methods would probably deal psychic damage to a professional, LOL. But I'm more than happy to share some things I've personally learned! :)

First of all, the book, "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud ROCKS. It literally gave me a new dimension to understand the medium of comics and how it presents ideas and emotions to readers! And I haven't even had the chance to finish it all the way! I'm very happy I own a copy and I recommend having one of your own if you can, but it's archived here if you want to read it :D

I also like analyzing other comics and thinking about how they get information across to me as a reader. It's helped me learn more effective ways to visually tell a story, like what to include in a frame, how zooming in or out affects the feeling from the panel, maybe building a scene by focusing on other stuff if someone is talking a lot... etc.

ANYWAYS-! Some other tips I've learned through my personal experience-

I had to overcome a lot of negative self-talk in order to tackle a huge comic project like this and stay committed. I was a pretty severe self-deprecator for most of my life so far, and getting help has allowed me to catch myself when I'm slipping back into those habits, look in the mirror, and go, "NO, JOJO! You pour your heart into what you make and that is a wonderful thing! You are appreciated and loved and you deserve to have fun making something you are passionate about!!" Some examples of the negative self-talk I catch myself in....

"I'm a noob at writing and making a story interesting... What's the point of even trying?"

When it comes to starting a project, whether it's 2 pages or 2000 pages, is to just jump in and start! It's okay to be a little insecure or nervous about your technical art skills, writing skills, etc... But writing a "bad" scene is better than no scene- because you can always edit a "bad" scene down the line, but what can you do with nothing? Nothing!! I also put "bad" in quotation marks because I am trying to use that term less, and instead call them "early drafts." or "works in progress."

The first Roleswap scene I fleshed-out was the first Bandee boss fight, in May 2022. I made this drawing on an impulse, getting my ideas down on the page without thinking about the technical stuff like comic panel borders. I consider it like a "pilot episode" almost, haha. The final project is going to be very different from how things play out here. But it got me interested in the concept and excited to see where I could take it, and I made the decision to commit to an entire game plot's worth of AU comics!!

Also, what's the point in trying you ask? The point is to have fun! Making a fan comic in my free time means I don't have restrictions like deadlines, nobody's telling me what I can and can't write, and I can make the story as long or as short as I want! I have full control, which means the world I'm writing is all mine to create! Yes, with a fan comic there is a pre-established world with existing characters. But a universe like Kirby has enough open-ended concepts for people to take basic concepts in the world and take them to whole new levels! I think that's why there are so many amazing fan interpretations of Kirby characters and OCs. The rules are so vague, you can just make up your own a lot of the time!! And it's a wonderful exercise to learn skills for someday building an original world with all original characters from scratch! Magical!!!

"I'm not good enough to make a comic. I don't understand perspective or color and other stuff. Anything I make will look bad.

I once read a two panel comic on here. I can't find it anymore but I remember most of it. First panel showed the artist looking at what they're drawing on their tablet, looking defeated and sad. "Man, I don't even know how to draw this....."The next panel was like them smiling and shrugging, I think rainbows and sparkles were coming out of their tablet, ".....I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAW IT SHITTY!! :D "

IF ANYONE KNOWS THIS COMIC I'M REFERENCING, PLEASE TELL ME AND I'LL LINK IT!!! Because it permanently and positively changed my brain chemistry.

No kidding, making the decision to just do my best even if it's not perfect, helped me a LOT. I was always waiting to "reach a certain level" to tackle a huge project because I felt like I'd never do it justice at my current state. Except I had been telling myself that kind of stuff for years and I still didn't start any projects!!

So the day I said, "Oh well! If I draw backgrounds shitty, then it is what it is! I'll learn from it and draw the next background a little better," Was the day I could commit fully to the project. I'll keep studying how to draw them better for my own benefit, but I won't let my skill issues stop me from even trying!

And for my limited confidence in full-color art, I solved that by making the comic in black and white with no-to-minimal shading lolol. Because I can only address one skill issue at a time before it takes me 25 years to finish this HAHAHA.

It saves a BUNCH of time to work with skill issues rather than against them! Because at least experience is gained in other ways, and who knows, maybe that new knowledge will help address the skill issues someday! So identifying your personal skill issues and deciding which one to try to grow stronger, and which one to work around, could help with big projects!

"Nobody will read this. I'm going to put months or years of my life into a dumb little thing nobody will even care about."

Learning how to draw for my own enjoyment instead of somebody else's was one of the biggest breakthroughs I ever made. Enjoying the feeling of being challenged artistically and just doing my best, even if it's not technically perfect, is the reason why I was even able to start this!

And just because someone doesn't directly like, comment or whatever on a post doesn't mean nobody saw it! I used to get really down on myself for the lack of engagement on my art on other websites.

I was a lurker for pretty much my entire teenage years and never posted my own stuff or commented much. But that didn't take away the fact that I really enjoyed the things I saw online. Those positive feelings were real to me, even when I didn't know how to articulate it in words. Granted, I grew up into a Words of Affirmation main, and I use words to tell people the positive things I think about them as much as I can! But I know not everyone prefers words to express themselves. So I think about the people that I don't know enjoy my work- that just because I don't see it doesn't mean I didn't make a positive impact on someone by sharing my stories.

THIS IS GETTING LONG-- UHHH, STORY TIPS!!

If you work best on technology, start building the story in a Notes app, or a Google Doc! If you work best with pen and paper, start a notebook and rearrange stuff as you need to!

Or if you're chaotic like me, a mix of tech and paper!! I bought a notebook with ring binding so I can remove and rearrange pages of drafts as much as I wanted to! Like here's two very rough concept pages of one Chapter 1 scene made months apart.

I'd say planning out the biggest basic plot points and then filling in between as I went was most helpful! I also have separate notes for character motivations, important story-changing events, etc... So I can have my own reference when I'm writing new scenes!

Okay this was a lot, sorry about the yapping! Hopefully it helps even a tiny bit. If you have any specific questions I'm happy to talk about my experience in the creation process! Or elaborate on anything I said above.

And finally, because I'm not a professional there are probably plenty of other tactics that could work better for some people. My ADHD probably doesn't help with the chaos of my process either, HAHA. But thank you for reading this far and enjoying the peek into the rainbow glitter and soap bubbles that inhabit the right side of my brain, heehee.

[tikus-library]

"Books to Bread"

Night Hunter AU

Characters: Walter Marshall x Reader

Posted: Feb 10th

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: Have a draft dump. I want to do more for this, but life is a bit chaotic rn. I haven't posted in a minute, so this is one of my many hidden drafts. I did attempt to edit but 🤷‍♀️

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

It was hard to miss the guy.

Definitely over six foot, dark unruly curls framing a serious face with a thick beard, thick dark brows drawn down as a scowl marred his lips. Nice lips, you thought, eyes raking over his tall muscular form. No better than a man, you scolded yourself with a smirk.

You shifted, careful not to draw attention to yourself as the other women in the book shop didn't even try to hide the way they ogled him.

In the town of Port Tenebris there weren't many that looked like him and plenty more women ready to welcome him. You had heard there had been a recent new body that had moved into town, ex-detective, if gossip was right…

“I've read that one.”

You jumped at the low smooth voice that came from beside you and looked over and then up… and up again till you met deep vibrant blue eyes. You swallowed as he reached out with one thick arm, fingers catching your elbow as he offered you a smile in apology.

“I didn't mean to surprise you…?”

The way he lifted an eyebrow meant he was asking for your name, instead you looked down at the book in your hands, “into romance?” You asked instead.

He held the smile, “not ashamed of it,” he answered, “and that one is actually more of a forensic thriller.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he offered you a quick tilt of his head and a smile before going back to looking at the books in front of you. “It's a romance,” you stated.

He flipped through the book in his hands, it looked tiny, he shrugged without looking at you. He had of course seen you enter the bookstore, not that he had been following, no. He had most definitely not followed you from the tiny diner where you had verbally assaulted a jackass of a man that had been handsy with the young waitress there.

He simply wanted to get your name. Maybe your phone number… how did he do this again?

“It's a romance,” you said again. “I have every book by Billie Martinez, she writes romance.”

“I mean,” he shrugged again, suppressing the smirk that itched to fight its way to his lips, out the corner of his eye he saw you turn to him and scowl. This was something, ever since he'd stepped foot in this little Port every woman had given him the look, it had been amusing at first.

“Explain.”

He coughed to hide the short laugh that escaped him, “she hides it under the romance, but, when you read it you'll understand. You'll also want to slap the shit out of the male lead.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, he let his eyes wander to your curvy waist, “maybe… I shouldn't get it” you mused, thinking of the man at the Cafe you had laid into, “I think I've had my fair share of irritating men for the day.” He made a noise that had you looking up in time to catch his tongue flick out over his bottom lip, eyes jerking up to meet your gaze.

Had he…? No.

He cleared his throat, “fair,” it was all he could think of and watched as you started to put the book back, “but I could pay for it and then you'll not regret leaving it behind.”

You sighed, this conversation had already gone on longer than you had wanted. You had purposefully been attempting to avoid talking to him as conversations with others always seemed to go awry. In a weird way. You supposed it was your fault, no one else had that problem really.

“No, no need to buy me a book when you don't even know me.”

“Walter.”

You took a small step back, a little confused.

“Walter Marshall, Im… th-thats my name,” he smiled awkwardly, turning to you and shoving a hand into his pocket. “I started work in the Bakery in town? Owned by Kate and her husband? Uh, they offered me a job there… Now I'm not a stranger.”

You nodded, fingers tapping at the book's spine, before letting your arm drop to your side. “Nice to meet you Walter Marshall, who works in the bakery owned by Kate and her husband. I should be going.”

He had struck out yet again. Sighing heavily as you stepped away and made for the front of the store. He snatched the book up and hurried after you, eyes falling on your ass, before he rolled them scolding himself silently.

“Please, no name, let me buy you the book then. You collect her books and it'll be incomplete.”

You pulled away from him, studying him warily.

He knew that kind of look and took a step back. “I'll leave you alone,” he hummed, turning away, he shouldn't have pushed. Maybe you had moved here to hide yourself, he understood that.

“Alright,” he heard you sigh and turned around quickly. “But don't complain if I come down to find you at the bakery and yell at you there about the dumb male lead.”

Walter grinned, “you won't hear a complaint from me.” He watched you tilt your head to the side, enjoying how easily he could read your thoughts clear in your expression. “I'll even treat you to something I've baked.” Your eyes jumped back to his face, something he decided he wanted right then and there. To have your full and complete attention. “To apologize for dumb males that is.”

You snickered, eyes lighting up, “then I hope you are a baker of delicious sweets and golden bread!”

He almost forgot to breathe as your eyes scrunched up beautifully as you laughed. “You'll fall in love with my bread and butter,” Walter flashed you a toothy grin as he led you to pay for the book, “plus, this is essential to the series. You can't miss out on this book.”

“Oh, no! Then absolutely buy it.”

You followed along, noting the pairs of eyes tracking the two of you. There would be gossip and questions, a little inconvenient but nothing you couldn't handle. He thanked the cashier who nodded wordlessly and stepped towards the door where he paused, dragging a pen out of his pocket and scribbling on the receipt, tucking it into the cover of the book.

“In case the bakery is closed and you want to yell at me.”

You felt your neck heat, he wrote in all capitals, clear and neat. He crossed his sevens, huh. “No promises.”

*

Walter scowled at his phone, yet was quick to flick the screen and scan the words there blearily. It was past three am and he was due up in an hour to begin baking.. right. He was a baker now.

Unknown: I love thick slices of warm bread with butter that melts beautifully.

Unknown: He deserves to be run over…. Multiple times.

Unknown: what an idiot. He let her walk away?!

He sat up and smiled.

WM: I did warn you, suppose I owe you bread.

Unknown: Y/N

WM: ?? Uhh, which character?

Unknown: my name is Y/N

Walter woke up fully.

WM: nice to meet you Y/N.

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