#need to change my name but I still don't know what to change it to

[jockwrites]

pillowtalk - p.b

warnings: smut, pet names, (baby, ma yk all that) idk what else tbh

a/n: i loved her in the dallas jersey i needed to make a fic abt it. also barely proof read lol

the dallas wings arena thrummed with the cheers of the crowd as your girlfriends final basket sank cleanly through the net, securing her team's victory. the blonde haired, blue eyed beauty grinned broadly as her teammates swarmed her, celebrating their hard fought win.

as the post-game pandemonium subsided, you navigated the bustling locker room, heart pounding with anticipation. paige, still in her sweat-soaked blue dallas wings jersey and shorts, was in finishing conversation with a reporter. seizing a window of opportunity, you approached, clearing your throat softly.

“paige, you did amazing,” you complimented, stepping up beside the blonde athlete as she wrapped up her interview. paige turned, blue eyes gleaming with unshed sweat and triumph, a wide, cocky grin spreading across her face. “glad you got to see it,”

paige excused herself from the lingering reporter and pulled you into a tight embrace, her strong arms wrapping around your waist. “i'm all sweaty, i'm so sorry,” she apologized while laughing, pulling back but keeping her hands on your hips. “that's okay, i don't mind,”

“i'll be right back,” she said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the locker room to change out of her uniform.

as paige changed, she couldn't stop thinking about you. she quickly shed her uniform, her hands trembling slightly as she removed each piece of clothing. she tossed her gear into her locker and grabbed a change of clothes, her mind racing with thoughts of you waiting outside.

she couldn’t wait to get you home, or to the car?

paige emerged from the locker room, dressed in a blue-ish black tracksuit, her blond hair damp from the shower. she scrubbed a towel over her buzzed head, her broad shoulders relaxed. “sorry 'bout that,” she said, flashing you a grin.

paige tossed the towel aside and sauntered over to you, her movements slightly different. she stopped a foot away, looking you up and down appreciatively. “you're a sight for sore eyes,” she said, her voice low and husky.

you chuckled and playfully rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “what’s got you sore hmm?” you asked paige, smirking at the joke. paige laughed, her deep voice rumbling.

“nothing yet, but ima be sore in a minute if ion get you home,” paige said, her voice dropping an octave. her eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze as you giggled. her biceps flexed slightly as she uncrossed her arms.

paige licked her lips, her eyes still locked with yours. “you ready?” she asked, her voice a low, suggestive purr. she reached out and gently grasped your wrist, her calloused thumb brushing over your pulse point. “my car right outside��”

you laughed as she tugged gently on your wrist, urging you to leave with her. “c’mon, let's get out of here before i lose my patience entirely.”

paige led you out of the gym, her hand resting possessively on the small of your back as you walked towards the parking lot. once at her car, she hit the remote unlock button and opened the passenger door for you. “thank you,” you grinned.

you climbed into the car and pulled the seatbelt across yourself, watching as paige leaned in to make sure it was secure. “why d’we gotta leave so soon anyway?” you asked, tilting your head up to look at her.

paige raised an eyebrow as she straightened up, closing the door behind you. she leaned against the open window, her arms crossed over the door. “why you askin like you got sumn’ in mind?” she asked, her tone curious.

but i think she knows exactly what you wanna do.

paige smirked, leaning closer to the open window, her eyes glinting with mischief, “if you’re thinking what i’m thinking, once we start i ain't sure ill wanna stop.”

you grinned, leaning forward. “get in the car p. ‘m sure you don’t wanna keep waiting yeah?” your eyes filled with challenge and flirtation as you jerked your thumb towards the driver's seat. “clock’s ticking.”

paige slid into the driver's seat, her hand immediately finding your thigh as she leaned over. “you can't just say stuff like that and expect me to hold back," she growled, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

paige growled against your lips, her hands gripping your hips and lifting you clean out of the passenger seat. she deposited you on her lap, so you were straddling her. “come on baby, tell me what you wanna do.”

paige's hands slid up your sides, her thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt. her hips shifted beneath you, the hard press of her muscles against your backside. “i want you to fuck me in this car,” you whispered against her neck.

you placed your hands on her shoulders for support, biting your lip as you rocked your hips forward. paige's eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a husky growl. “like this?”

paige's hands slid around to grab your ass, squeezing and guiding your movements as you rocked against her. she captured your lips in another hungry kiss, biting at your bottom lip. “you feel so good,” you breathed. she panted against your mouth, her hips starting to roll up to meet yours.

you gasped as you felt the continuous heat building between the two of you, your bodies moving together with growing urgency. you tangled your fingers in her hair, tugging lightly. “fuck, p...” you dragged the nickname, voice thick with desire as you ground down harder against her.

“just like that,” she breathed, tilting her head back against the headrest. you moaned softly, burying your face in her neck as you continued to move against her. “god i’m gonna cum,” you whispered, your voice hitching as she slid one hand down between your thighs, pressing her palm against your core through your leggings, “paige...”

you whimpered, bucking against her touch. “paige please...” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. she looked at you, her eyes filled with lust. “please, what, ma?” she murmured, slowly rubbing her hand against you. “do you want more?”

you panted, squirming under her touch. “more... please, paige. i need...” you broke off, moaning softly as she slipped her hand under your waistband, her cool fingers brushing against your bare skin. “you need what, baby?”

you trembled, your hips rocking against her hand. “i need your fingers... inside. please...” you whispered urgently, your heart racing in your chest. paige smiled, her thumb rubbing gently against your clit as she pushed two fingers inside you. “like this?”

you gasped, your body arching into her touch. without hesitation, you started to ride her fingers, your movements desperate and needy. “fuck, paige... yesjustlikethat” you panted, words stringing together as your hands grip her shoulders for support. you chased your pleasure.

you rode her fingers furiously, your inner walls clenching around them as you sought relief. paige watched you, her own arousal growing at the sight of you losing control. she curled her fingers inside you, rubbing against that sensitive spot within you. “fuck, you're so tight, and wet...”

you slowly lowered yourself up & down onto her fingers, feeling them stretch you open as you took them in inch by inch. paige looked up at you, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly curled her fingers inside you, gently massaging that spot deep inside. “look at me.”

you met her gaze, holding it as you began to rock your hips, slowly sliding up and down her fingers. paige watched you, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against your clit as you moved.

you slowly guided yourself down onto her fingers, gasping softly at the fullness. she watched your face intently, adjusting her pace to match yours. her thumb was a constant tease against your sensitive clit, while her two fingers moved rhythmically inside you. “does that feel good ma?”

your reply was an exaggerated nod, your mouth falling open as you continued to rock your hips, slowly guiding yourself up and down her fingers. paige continued her gentle, rhythmic movements, her thumb still teasing your clit as she murmured, “you like that?”

paige paused her fingers inside you, making you whimper and try to shift your hips downwards. “answer me,” she commanded, her voice low and insistent. “say it.” she prompted, her thumb still rubbing slow circles.

you bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you realized she wanted you to say it out loud. “fuck, i like it.” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. paige chuckled, her fingers slowly curling inside you. “louder, baby.”

“i like it..” you whimpered louder, your body tensing around her fingers as she hit that spot deep inside again. “and what am i doing to you?” paige prompted, her fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. “speak up... am i fucking you right now?” she cooed.

her three fingers slowly pushed in and out of you, curling upwards to hit that spot deep inside that made you whimper and try to sit lower on her hand. Her thumb was a constant, soothing presence against your swollen clit. “am i?”

you let out a shuddering breath, your hips rocking down to take her fingers deeper. “fuck,” you whispered, your face buried in her neck. “you’re fucking me paige.” you added, your voice growing louder and more confident with each word.

her fingers slid in and out of you with deliberate slowness while her thumb maintained its steady pressure on your clit. She nipped at your neck, breathing heavily in your ear “that's right... tell me how it feels. my fingers... deep inside you?”

“fuck, paigeee,” you moaned her name as her fingers curled purposefully against your g-spot, pressing firmly while her thumb continued its measured pace on your clit. her other hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt “you're getting wetter... can you feel it?”

her fingers moved faster now, plunging in and out of your dripping pussy. “fuck yes, god,” you moaned as her thumb pressed down hard on your clit, rubbing it in quick circles. the hand on your breast slipped under your shirt to palm your bare breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between her fingers.

her fingers curled inside you, pressing hard against your g-spot as her thumb rubbed your clit in fast, tight circles. she leaned in close, her hot breath against your ear. “cum for me, baby.”

she continued her relentless pace, her fingers moving in and out of you with a quick, steady rhythm. her thumb rubbed your clit in fast circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “cum on my fingers, now,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

as soon as the words “god, paige i’m gonna fucking cum, please,” left your lips, she removed her thumb from your clit and curled her fingers deeper inside you, hitting your g-spot over and over as she allowed you to finally climax. your legs shook, your voice became hoarse as you begged.

your orgasm hit hard, your pussy clenching and unclenching around her fingers as you gushed all over them, cumming so hard your vision blurred. she held still, letting you ride out the waves of your pleasure as she watched your face, a satisfied smile on her lips.

then, she gestures to the backseat, eagerly pointing her thumb; this was gonna be fun.

a/n: i wanted to write scissoring but lost motivation and got writers block so ill save for another ok bye 😕

[aviad1b]

I have some very mixed feelings about this.

I'll start by saying that I've been talking about the possibility of such a project for a long time now. I considered trying to do it by myself for myself just as a proof of concept.

So TL;DR: I'm conflicted, but in general - a fan?

On the one hand, I can see where David is coming from: yes, extending a language's grammar like that seems kinda... impossible. Especially with Hebrew. People tend to get fixated on these things, and Hebrew doesn't really have this sort of thing naturally.

On the other hand - didn't we ravitalize the whole goddamn language? And yes, it was never truly dead in the first place, not in the way that gentiles like to think of at the very least, but it wasn't developing as much and we changed that.

And also, think about it - how does modern Hebrew handle gender inclusivity at the moment? With notation such as את/ה and רוצים/ות, etc. It wasn't always the case. Think about it, it used to be that to be gender "neutral" you just use the male form. Then developed into masc/fem, then "neutral/fem" (which isn't even a good name for the notation because את/ה exists).

The truth is that while Hebrew is a very "kept" language, very protected, in the sense that it's vocabulary and grammar haven't developed that much in over a millenia - it's also kinda the most evolving, in a sense? In what other language are words still constantly made, constantly developed, all in a way that fits perfectly fine with everything that already exists? I don't really know many languages at all, but comparing to English at the very least, it's seems kinda crazy to me. Hebrew is a very flexible language, and I've been saying that the only way she's not flexible in is gender - why does it have to stay that way?

We proved that we can make major changes to the very way that people speak - or write, at the very least.

When I think about such changes... No, not just changes - developments, in the Hebrew language, I also find my thoughts wondering to something else - gentiles, antisemites especially, like to claim that modern Hebrew is completely different to traditional Hebrew (which is a claim that we all point and laugh at, since modern Hebrew natives can read and understand traditional and even ancient Hebrew perfectly fine). Maybe the reason I'm somewhat conflicted about this is because it will further support this "nerative" (lie) that it's become a different language? But that's dumb, languages develop and involve all the time, Hebrew happened to be a more protected language. Allowing it to be a bit more flexible doesn't make it any less "real". And besides, why should antisemites get to dictate what our language is like? That's just not right at all.

A problem that I still do have with this tho, has to do with vowels. In day-to-day, people don't write vowels in Hebrew. That isn't going to change and I don't think I'd even want it to change honestly. But it does make this more challenging - without vowels, how will one manage to differentiate בַּת from בֶּת , and אַתָּה from אַתֶּה ?

Or maybe that's a good thing? Because it'll make people able to "stealthily" use it, sneak it in without people realising and protesting? But then this isn't really the way I want such a notion to be used, do I?

The thing about developments in general, and in language specifically, is that they come out of need. If Hebrew fails to satisfy the needs of its speakers, what guarantee do we have of it surviving tomorrow? Pardon my pessimism, but being Israeli and Hebrew (yes I still use the old notion of Hebrew as in the ethnicity/people), I see more and more Hebrew natives approaching English more rather than Hebrew. Maybe even including myself - it's kinda my entire blog. I started catching myself thinking in English sometimes - I managed to come to the conclusion that a major part of this is because Hebrew forced me to think of myself in gendered terms. English does not.

This is what I mean when I say on my blog that I love Hebrew but she doesn't love me back

I've seen people use אתם/הם as pronouns in Hebrew. If it works for them then good for them, but to me, I simply cannot accept that this is the "best Hebrew can do". That's... still gendered. It doesn't suffice. I refuse to accept it as enough. It's not.

And yes, a major part of English influence on Hebrew natives (and Jews in general) is the fault of the internet. But, I do feel like there's more to it - for some at least, there's a need that isn't answered.

We Jews are experts at adapting "old", traditional concepts onto whatever the current times are; why should our language be any different? Perhaps we should consider that our very language is more like us than we think?

Can we get people on a major scale to fundamentally change the way in which they speak? probably not. Can we add another gender notion for people who want to use it tho? I'd like to think so. I like to think about it somewhat like neo-pronouns in English: when they were first introduced, almost nobody used them and people in general thought that they were weird. Heck, people STILL do. But it have some people, even if just a few, a new way to finally feel more comfortable with the language that is used for them - and that, on its own, should suffice. In my humble opinion, at least.

To sum it up, while my feelings about this are mixed, I also feel like if ANYONE could achieve such a project - it's us, the Hebrews, the Jews.

And I'm sure we will some day.

I can't believe anything else.

Because Hebrew is a gendered language, the Nonbinary Hebrew Project has created a third grammatical gender system! They are building a bigger tent for nonbinary Jews, guided by Torah and Talmud which teach us to rejoice that which cannot be neatly categorized.

The project is free, open-source, community-based, and grassroots. It lives and grows and changes with every single person who uses and adds to it.

Here are some example usages: Candlelighting Blessing: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְשֶׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתֶיהֶ וְצִוֶנוּ לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל שַבָּת

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam asher kidshenu b’mitzvoteihe, v’tzivenu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat. Blessed are You, God, Ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with the commandment of lighting Shabbat candles.

~~~

Kiddush: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ,  אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרָאת פְּרִי הַגָּֽפֶן

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, borat p’ri hagafen. Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

~~~

Blessing over Bread: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיאֶה לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, Hamotzi'e lechem min ha'aretz. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has brought forth bread from the earth.

~~~

Waking-up Blessing: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

מודֶת אֲנִי לְפָנֶיךָ מֶלֶךְ חַי וְקַיָּם, שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְּחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ:

Modet ani l'fanecha, melech chai v'kayam, shechezarta bi nishmati, b'chemla, raba emunatecha.

I give thanks before you, King living and eternal, for You have returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is Your faithfulness!

~~~

Morning Blessing substitutions: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁעָשַׂנִי בֶּת חוֹרין

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-Olam, she-asani bet chorin.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made me free. ~~~

Soulmate Blessing: written by Ariel Ezekiel Tovlev, with gender-expansive language for the speaker's soulmate, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה אֶת יְדִידֶת נַפְשִׁי

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech haolam, asher asah et yedidet nafshi. Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who created the companion of my soul.

~~~

Wedding-Enacting Words: with gender-expansive language for the one the speaker is marrying and for the ring, but traditional God language

הרי אתה מקדשה לי, בטבעת זת, כדת משה וישראל

Harei ateh m’kudesheh li, b’tabaet zet, k’dat Moshe v’Yisrael.

Behold, you are sanctified to me, with this ring, according to Moses and Israel. ~~~ For more examples, as well as charts explaining the grammar system, check out the website! A note from Jewish-LGBTQ: The Nonbinary Hebrew Project is primarily being created in the diaspora and is used for ritual purposes; queer communities in Israel have their own system for creating gender-expansive Hebrew. The Nonbinary Hebrew Project should be understood as creating a third grammatical gender for liturgical and ritual Hebrew, rather than for everyday, spoken Modern Hebrew.

[ma-sulevin]

Rook is going to check on everyone. She’ll visit them in their chosen rooms, ask how they’re feeling, make sure they have what they need, listen to them complain about their problems while the world is ending around them all, and she’ll find a way to fix everything. That's what she does. It's what she’s always done. It's how she keeps herself feeling okay in the face of everything.

She’s going to check on everyone, she will, but for some reason she finds herself climbing the central stairs and heading to Emmrich’s tower first instead of checking on anyone else.

��Oh, hello, Rook!” Emmrich looks a little surprised to see her but not at all upset by the fact she showed up without knocking. In fact, he’s smiling at her despite the exhaustion she can clearly read on his face, the thin lines around his eyes deepening as his smile grows. “How can I help?”

“I just wanted to… see how you're doing,” Rook says, pausing long enough to push the door closed behind her. “After Weisshaupt. How are you feeling?”

Emmrich keeps his eyes on her as she walks closer, his hands clasped in front of him as usual, and answers, “Very well, thank you. How–”

“Did you have any injuries?” She barely registers that she interrupts him, her gaze snagging on the firelight glinting off his rings. “The darkspawn, did they get close enough to bite you? Scratch you even?”

“Not at all,” Emmrich says, voice lower now that she’s standing close. “I did have to throw out my boots, but–”

“Are you sure?” Rook knows she cuts him off this time, not caring about the boots, already willing to replace them as long as he isn't hurt, still unwilling to think about what that feeling means for her. “The Blight only needed the smallest of wounds to enter your body before, and we still don't understand the changes Ghilan'nain has made to it.”

She’s still staring at his hands, unable to look up at his face to see the expression in those kind eyes, and she grabs his wrists without thinking. She pulls his hands closer to her face so she can see his knuckles, unbroken from the fighting, then turns them over to check his palms.

They're calloused from holding pens and staves for so many years, the hands of an academic, unlike her warrior-mage hands, hardened from fighting darkspawn for nearly a decade now. His hands are uninjured, but as she moves to look at his wrists, his forearms, he pulls them away from her grasp and cups her chin instead.

“Rook.” His voice is even lower now, laced with an emotion she doesn't know how to name, and she drags her eyes up to finally, finally meet his.

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and wraps one hand around his wrist as she looks up at him. The silence stretches for a long moment before he finally breaks it.

“I am fine, I assure you. How are you?”

His voice is so warm, his expression so soft, the concern so genuine that all it takes is his thumb brushing against her jaw for her carefully built facade to crumble.

She bites harder on her lip, but that doesn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. She tries to pull away, to put that safe amount of space between them again, but the soft clicking of his tongue stills her movements.

“Oh, my dear Eira.” Instead of letting her go, he pulls her in, letting her face rest against his chest.

She stands stiff for a heartbeat, then another, then she feels his hand cupping the back of her head and his chin resting against the top of it, and she breaks.

She breaks, and Emmrich holds her together.

It’s okay, just this once.

[silversurfersx]

pleaseeeeee give us a part 2 of filns of anger PLEASEEEEEEJSJDHNDE IM BEGGING

Christmas pressnt to us maybe?!? 🙏🙏🙏🙏😔😔😔😔

It’s the first of December, close enough, haha

Had the beginning of this actually in my notes since I posted the first part, but I hadn’t really finshed it, but I saw a few people now ask for a part two so here it goes.

I don’t really know how to feel about this, but anyway

Happy December, guys 🎄

Films of Anger | pt. 2

Part one

sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader

summary: basically brocedes 2.0 (with a happier ending), childhood friends turned rivals turned back into friends in a sappy way

warning: a bit of angst and fluff, swearing

It's been weeks, almost months, since you last spoke to Sebastian and it started to get to you. You weren't used to this kind of cold distance.

Distance as such was never much of a problem, seeing as both of you were busy in different places around the world. But this was not like those times.

You saw Sebastian almost all the time, he was always there like your own shadow, but just like it, he didn't speak a word to you. He didn't even dare to look at you (at least not when you were). He only ever did look when he knew you weren't.

There was a heavy feeling building up in his chest when he noticed you around and wanted to talk to you, hang out with you, just like you always did, but something stopped him.

You felt similar. You wanted your best friend back. The one who would always play video games with you after training. The one you would sneak out with to eat stuff you weren't supposed to. You wanted your other half back. The one that was so close yet so far out of reach. It pained you to look at him and there were times, especially after a bad race, when all you wanted to do was run to him for comfort. But you couldn't. Or at least you felt like you shouldn't.

Michael watched the whole situation from the outside. He saw the longing looks the both of you threw at each other. His own heart felt heavy at the thought of your friendship ending. Corinna and him witnessed the joy brought to your face whenever his name was called. Though now there wasn't anything like it, quite the opposite actually. And it was painful to witness for both him and his wife, knowing that the tight bond knitting the two of you together was broken over something like that. They wanted to do something to stop it from breaking any further, but both felt like only you could do that.

Your brother and sister alike noticed the lack of Sebastian around. Mick and you were playing a game of one on one, something you had done since he was very young. Both inspired by your fathers own love for football.

"Why don't you hang out with Seb anymore?" He asked shooting the ball towards your goal, but you blocked.

You didn't want to tell Mick what truly had happened between the two of you, because you weren't really sure either. Dribbling past him, you used the distraction as a way to hold off your answer. Needing a moment to think anyway.

Of course you had an accident, which you still didn't think was on you, but that wasn't new. The two of you had a few crashes over the years, sometimes caused by either one of you, but you always reconciled. But not this time. Something was different. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe the two of you had just drifted apart over the years, at minimum speed, that it only took one moment of anger from the both of you to cut the string that held you close.

"I don't really know Micky. We had a fight and need some time to calm down, I guess." You answered your brother, who knocked the ball away from you.

"Hey!" You shouted watching him kick the ball inside the net of your goal.

Mick grinned at the goal, before turning back to you. "But you are still friends, right?"

You didn't answer, not sure yourself. It still felt like you were friends, even if neither of you spoke. You reckoned that that would never change. But you didn't know how he felt, so you just answered for yourself. "Yes."

"Good. You too sappy without him." Mick nodded, taking the ball, you had just talked out of the net with your feet, away from you and once again dribbling it away from you, once again scoring. You laughed shaink your head at his cheekiness.

"There was a time when I used to beat you all the time."

"Yeah, when I was five." Mick chuckled, preparing to once again take control of the ball.

"Ey, be quiet." You gently pushed your brother. The blonde laughed while you tried not to be hurt being beat by a 12 year old.

The next race weekend approached quicker than you'd hoped and over was the small break you had at home. You and your father both packed your bags and got ready to race once again.

"Fernando!" You called out to the Spaniard, running down pit lane, nodding at him when he turned around.

The both of your wearing the familiar Ferrari red, marking you teammates.

"Good morning, y/n." He greeted you stopping for you to catch up and walk down the pit lane together.

"Morning, Nando. How was your time off, done anything fun?" You started the conversation, holding your hand up to cover your eyes from the bright sun.

You had to admit you missed what Fernando was saying, as you just passed the RedBull Garage and you unintentionally made eye contact with a very familiar RedBull driver. You held eye contact, neither of you ready to break it.

The usual distance you recently felt coming from him wasn't there. It was as if the short break betwene the races kind of reduced the anger, or whatever it was, from his mind.

You had turned your head away from him, back to Fernando, but you could have sworn you saw him frown sadly as you broke eye contact.

It wasn't a big change in behaviour, but it still felt weird in your mind, not used to him being so nice once again. Or at least civil. And to even acknowledge you properly.

You hoped that it wasn't just some kind of mind play, from him, but you knew that that wasn't his thing. At least it hadn't been with you.

It was during the qualifying session that you were in a somewhat fight with Sebastian. It wasn't much of a fight as you knew that this was just quali and not the race, yet.

So neither of you intentionally raced the other, but you did aim to beat his time. And it appeared he did too, as your time kept getting beaten by him.

Everytime your engineer told you your time, you requested to know Sebastian's as well, which he did give you, even if he was a bit unsure if he should. But as long as it encouraged you to drive faster, it wouldn't hurt. He thought.

Meanwhile you relived moments of your childhood. Back when your father and spent your evenings after school at the karting track. When no one else was present and it was only the two of you. His voice, soft but stern, was sounding in your head over the sound of the engine.

You remembered the moment you finished your lap, and took one of the corner as late as you dared to do. It took your breath away, but in the end you set your new personal lap record.

"That corner, yeah," Your father started. "If you take every corner, like you did that one, you'd beat them all."

You always followed his advice of course, but there was also always the possibly to do more. To go further. So you did.

And you went too far. Breaking too late, added with a strong wind in the wrong moment, suddely sent you into the wall.

Weirdly enough, the first thing you thought of when the car stopped was how horrible the media would react to yet another crash. The first one with Sebastian, was on you, according to them. The other times, after the initial crash, when you started to get a bit more aggressive with each other, was because of your hormones.

The times when you made just the tiniest mistake, was picked up by the media instantly. It was as if they were only waiting for you to slip up, to throw insults and doubts at you. To question whether you truly belonged in the world of formula one or if it was just there because of your family name.

Sebastian used to talk it all good. He mocked the media's stupidity to make you feel better. But of course, that didn't happen recently, which is why you felt even worse about all the comments being made, which only led to you doubting yourself more, with lead to you making even more mistakes. It was an endless circle.

Maybe adding onto your odd thoughts was your pounding head. Hopefully not a concussion. You tried to act tough, hiding your sick feelings, and aching body, quickly replying to your race engineer and pushing yourself out of the car.

You took a moment, after climbing out, to calm down. Sitting down on the body of the car, pretending liked you did that because you had to wait for the safety car and not because your body gave you a hard time.

'No weakness. Show no weakness.'

The voice in your head repeated. You kept your helmet on, even if you wished to just take it off to breathe better.

Marshall's surrounded you, made sure you were alright and then lead you towards the arriving safety car, while taking care of the crashed car.

___

"I don't know why I keep messing up so bad, Papa." You told him as you left the medical centre. The impact you had sustained was hard, 30G. But you tried to push through the aftermath. Michael came over to the medical centre right after qualifying and interviews (which you gladly didn't have to attend), to walk you back to the hospitality and then to the hotel. He wanted to make sure that you rest.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Your father started. "that is what makes you mess up. You lose confidence and get scared."

Michael wasn't known for talking around the point when it came to racing. He felt that if there were words that can help you get better, they should be said, no matter how hurtful they may be. You knew that, it was always something you appreciated.

"I'm not scared." You replied honestly.

There may be some fear in your body when you drove, but that only fueled you to go further, to press for more. It wasn't the kind of fear that led you to be scared, but to go even harder than you thought would be possible. You loved the adrenaline, when you did something dangerous. It gave you an extra boost. "I think I just can't concentrate. I feel so... I don't know.

Michael watched you for a moment, halting in his words, as he let it sink in. Deep down he had his suspicions what might cause your loss in concentration.

"You need to talk to Sebastian." He announced. You bit your lip, but didn't say anything.

Michael was right, of course. He was most of the time. But you didn't know if you dared to speak to Sebastian, yet. You weren't scared of driving your car dangerously, but to talk to Sebastian. You were not that brave. Not yet at least.

Your father didn't really mention anything regarding Sebastian after that. He took you back to the hotel and insisted that you'd spent the rest of the day in bed, just as the medical team had ordered you to do. You didn't resist that order as you felt your body ache from every movement. You head was feeling liked it would explode. It was difficult for you to move your neck and raise your arms as the G-force hit you straight on.

After your father left, it wasn't difficult for you to fall asleep. And you stayed that way until you were awaken by a knock on your door in the late evening hours.

You didn't realise who stood in front of you for the first few moments, still too drunk on sleep.

"Sebastian?"

"Hey." He whispered, almost unsure if he should be there. "Uhm, your father gave me your hotel and uh room number, I just wanted to-"

You didn't know why you did what you did, but it just felt right to hug him right then and there. You felt Sebastian suck in a breath, before carefully hugging back, his grip so light in fear of putting a hand wrong and pushing you away from him.

Slowly you let go of him, frowning over your own actions. "Sorry, I don't know why I just did that."

Sebastian shook his head, smiling softly. "No, it's alright."

"I saw the crash today. It looked bad, I just wanted to make sure your were alright. I know we, uhm-" he looked for a word to describe your current relationship. "We haven't really talked in a bit, and I know that's kind of my fault, but I just felt so helpless, not being able to visit you after a crash like that because I felt like I'd lost every right to do so."

"You would never lose the right." You interrupted his rant, watching his hands nervously knit each other, while he watched them too scared to look at you. You remembered your fight with him and th way the words had stung. You were so angry with him whenever you remembered them, but now that he stood here, in front of you, looking like a sad puppy, you couldn't help but want to forget all of it.

"Well, after the shit that happened between us-" Sebastian argued.

"I know." You felt the same way, like you'd lost your right to care about anything regarding him. "I think we're just idiots."

Sebastian chuckled, nodding agreeing. "Yeah, we are. You more than me."

"Oh?" You replied teasingly, a tone which he didn’t quite pick up on. He looked up eyes wide, his mouth opening as apologies spilled out, in fear that he had pushed it too far once again.

"Hey, hey. It's alright, I was only joking. Probably not the best time to do that." You quickly replied to calm the poor guy down.

"No, you're fine." Sebastian stated. "I just… I want to fix what went wrong between us. I miss you. It was stupid to let such a thing do all of this. I was so wrong for doing this to you.“

You noticed how you still stood in the doorway, which probably wasn't the best place to have that type of discussion.

"Do you maybe want to come inside?" You stepped aside and held the door open for him.

"Oh." He whispered, also realising where exactly he was standing. "Yes, of course."

Sebastian stepped inside, and you closed the door. You turned back to look at him. He looked more than unsure of himself. Nervously fiddling with his fingers, wipping on his feet as he let his eyes move around the room, taking it all in.

“Listen, y/n. I know I messed up badly, I said things that were so incredibly shit. It was wrong for me to say all those things, to throw the same shit at you that the press does. I know that you didn’t get into f1 just because of your name, I should know that better than anyone else. I don’t know why I said that. I hate that I said those things and I regretted the words right after I said them.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” You asked, watching him patiently. Sebastian gulped before shaking his head. “I don’t know, I think I felt too ashamed and embarrassed.”

“That was really messed up, Seb.” You crossed your arms, frowning at him. Your chest felt heavy.

“I know. I know how you hate to be reduced to only your name, but I was just so angry at everything in that moment, that I let it out on you. It was so wrong and I am so incredibly sorry, y/n.”

You nodded, your own head filled with the moments he referred to.

Sebastian hesitated, his eye taking you in, analysing the way you feel. He knew you inside out, every little habit you had, he knew the meaning of. So he saw the hesitation inside you. How the voices in your head argued over whether to forgive or to fight him further.

"Please forgive me." He whispered, trying to aid the side of you wanting to forgive him.

Internally, that decision had been made some time ago. You knew Sebastian just as well as he knew you. You knew how he ticked and how he sometimes struggled with idioticy. Talking before really thinking, especially after being pumped on adrenaline.

He never truly means the words he spoke in anger. Sebastian was never the type to insult people, especially you. You could only think about the regret he had been carrying around these past weeks, almost overshadowing your own anger at him. Almost.

A part of you didn't want to forgive him just yet. It wanted prove that he really meant it, ignoring all the times he had already proven it. The times he cheered you up, speaking words of affirmation after the press made some ridiculous statement and spoke highly of you afterwards to everyone who'd listen, just to make them forget any bad word ever uttered.

And the more you thought about where or not to forgive him, you realised that you had already forgiven him. But you weren't able to fully admit that, yet.

"I'm really glad that you came." You answered instead, breaking the silence that started to build up.

"Yeah?" Sebastian asked, looking hopefully at you. His big blue eyes held a distant fear much like the one you felt when you thought it might be over. Which was now overshadowed by the light of hope for a rekindling.

"Yeah." You agreed honestly. "And I missed you too."

"Good." Sebastian smiled. "Then I don't feel sappy on my own."

"No."

"How are you, then?" Sebastian continued, looking you over. "I haven't heard much about the crash, only that it was like 30G. I've been worried."

You smiled at his words, the care in his voice brought a familiar warmth, one you had missed over the last few weeks. You went over to sit down on your bed, gesturing for Sebastian to join you. "I’m feeling better than earlier today, but still a bit weak. My head is pounding and I'm having a hard time with my neck and shoulders. But other than that I'm surprisingly fine."

"Are you cleared to drive tomorrow?" Sebastian asked while sitting down beside you.

"Yeah." Nodding you ran a hand through your hair. "They still want to do a check in the morning, but they said that I should be alright."

"So, you're gonna race?" He continued a bit worried, but he knew that even if he tried he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

"What, scared I'll beat you?" You chuckled looking at his soft expression. Sebastian chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Always. No, but I was really worried. It looked a lot worse than how it ended up being. I though you might get seriously injured. And I know that that's part of the sport, but all I could think about was that I never apologised. That you might always believe that I couldn't stand you."

"Seb-" You halted in your words, before throwing your arms around your best friend. Pulling him towards you, his own arms pulling you closer. "I didn't think that you couldn't stand me, at least I hoped."

"But still. I wouldn't have known, that you didn't think that." He muttered against your shirt.

"You know now, and that is what counts." You reminded him, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

"Could we talk things through, get on common ground and get this over with. I really don't want something like this to happen again." Sebastian asked now with more confidence. " I don't want to lose you again over silly things."

"I don't want to lose you either over silly things, Sebby." You agreed using the nickname you hadn't used since you were kids. His groan of annoyance at fueled your laughter.

And for an moment then, it was like back when you were just kids, fueled by nothing but passion, friendship and capri-sun.

___

a/n: I feel like I should have added more drama, like a bit more beef between the two before they rekindled, but I didn’t have any ideas for more dialogue, lol.

[kaliforniahigh]

Can imagine Noah making you jealous (not on purpose) and YOU come home and make HIM beg and whimper for you!!! “Say who you belong to Noah!!” 🥵🥹

Warning: reader calls a woman "bitch" once.

You don't get jealous all that often, but it's the boldness of some people that gets on your nerves. And Noah's obliviousness to it sometimes.

You've been observing their interaction from afar. Noah and her weren't even friends. She was just someone that came around from time to time, usually when there was a party of some sort. You knew she's been trying to shoot her shot even before you and Noah got together.

Now, she knew Noah was taken, and still flirted with him.

Later on in the night, after everyone had already left, you had Noah on his back, naked on the bed. Your hands roaming all over. He really thought he was gonna get it easy tonight.

"You like having my hands on you?", you asked.

"You know I love it, baby"

"Yeah, I know you do", you said, with a more condenscending tone. "Like it when I run my hands up and down your arms?", you placed both hands on his biceps, and you felt him involuntarily flex under your touch. You seethed at the though of that bitch feeling him this way. "You like it more when that stupid girl is touching you?"

You looked at him and saw his expression change from lust to confusion, brows furrowing.

"What do you mean?", he asked, turning his head to meet your eyes better.

"Oh, don't play coy with me now", you narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head. "I saw her talking to you earlier. I saw her running her hand up and down your arm while you just stood there and took it"

"Who are you talking about?", you could tell he was genuinely confused, and you didn't know if that pissed you off even more.

You grabbed his chin with your hands, pressing your forehead with his.

"Does the name Mia ring a bell? Or are you going to keep pretending you don't know what I'm talking about?", you hissed a little, and he would be lying if he said your jealousy wasn't turning him on even more.

"Oh, Mia. You know I want nothing to do with Mia", he maintained eye contact, trying to get it through your head.

"I don't know. I think I need a reminder"

"I'll give you whatever you need, baby", he brought one of his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling your bodies closer together. The moment shifted a little, you weren't as angry anymore, and he recognized you needed more reassurance than anything else. He knows you usually don't care when girls hit on him, it comes with the territory. But for you to be so bothered now, there has to be something else eating at you.

"Tell me you're mine", you requested, voice losing it's edge, getting softer and more vulnerable.

"I'm yours baby. You know I belong to you. Heart, body and soul", he cupped your face in his hands, rubbing soft circles on the top of your cheek.

"And no one's ever going to change that, right?", you asked.

"No one's ever going to change that. No one's ever going to take me away from you. I'm yours forever, baby"

You kissed him for the first time since you both made your way to the bedroom. He kissed you thoroughly, conveying his emotions and reassurance through his lips and tongue exploring your mouth.

[jarl-deathwolf]

GREAT STUFF once again! I've added a bunch to my notes, this'll be great to flesh out scenes but its also given me some inspiration to change some future scenes. But I'll get to that in a bit.

Thank you! I'm pretty happy with how the map turned out, all things considered. Its actually really fortuitious that the celtic rainforests will be on the eastern side of the Fells since I'd earmarked Realm 4 as being the domain of the Archdruid - having half the realm be a verdant, beautiful rainforest would be pretty fitting for that!

I would be delighted if you wanted to tell me about likely tidal and beach patterns! Just to clarify in case it matters the Citalen Republic is something of a mediterranean climate and Hydris a cold, nordic climate.

The Great Oak would probably not go by Old Man Oak. He's more majestic and formal, likely more invoking awe than Grandad. Grandad is visited regularly by locals - he's beloved but he is too close to be elevated like the Great Oak. For what its worth, the Great Oak's role in the story is as guardian of the last physical relic of King Arthur, and keeper of uncorrupted lore about that time.

(Its a whole thing in this story, the disconnect between the story of King Arthur, the version that we know, corrupted by time and the Conquest, and the original story, which is largely lost. Figuring out the real story is a major thread of Llywela's journey)

Very interesting thought about Taid - the one who calls him Grandad is in the Fells, speaking Fellish when she talks about him, but she leaves the Fells after the first book. It might be a cool point for her to be calling him Taid after that, to show her still thinking in Fellish.

(That book is not the one I originally sent this ask about, for clarity. King Arthur book is #4, Grandad's appearance is in Book #1. I have a tumblr blog for story stuff that I really need to get around to putting more of my own stuff on.)

Also very intriguing about the yews. It makes me think that maybe the yew Dagfolk have a special purpose as guardians of gates to Annwyn. The only gate that appears in the story is guarded by the lady of the lake, but I can't imagine it is the only one. Or maybe the eldest of the Dagfolk is a wizened old yew tree? Something that I'll be chewing on, I'm sure of it.

SUPER fascinated about all that bardic lore. Especially because, as I alluded to above, I do have an archdruid of the Fells who is visited as part of the story. It would add a whole new layer to that interaction if Llywela had been Chair'd for her passion in keeping the Fellish legends alive, and then meeting the Archdruid again as she attempts to REALLY bring the legends to life.

Is the bardic name only used for competitions? Would it be something she introduces herself by, as a title? Or is it purely meant as a way to conceal her identity for fairness in competitions - in that case, would it be a good name to use when going undercover as Just Another Bard?

I definitely want to give Llywela a bardic name now, even if it solely comes up during her interaction with the Archdruid. I'll need to think about what she would name herself, but I'll get back to that. Ooo, secondary reading! I'll look through that over the next couple days. This is a fairly high magic world, so faeries and the like are a very real concern for the Fellish people!

Also love love love the list of foods - I get the feeling I'll be mentioning cawl fairly frequently as a go-to meal for travelers in much the same way I would bring up stew in previous stories.

And even if some of those dishes don't show up in this book, I have another Fellish character traveling with a skilled cook, so I'm eager to work in a scene with them getting a taste of home in the next book with that set of characters.

And as for the cheeses, it seems I'm back to another reason I've got to get around to naming those 24 realms ;-; I did end up going with mead flavored with meadowsweet for the feast scene - so I'll go back and use the Meddeglyn name after establishing what it is - but its good to know that I have a good range of local options for future scenes.

A weakness of mine is usually defaulting to the same set of dishes across stories, so having a full on menu split between upper and lower class meals is a godsend. Especially with Llywela, since she can be found at a tavern or in a lord's hall.

Thank you for answering all these questions! I appreciate taking the time to talk about it. I'm sure I'll have a new set of questions soon-ish, as I press on to finishing Act 2 and realize something I didn't even know that I did not know.

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO

[thememestrider]

Sfw Alphabet- Jago Sevetarion x F! Reader

Okay babes, here it is. As requested by the wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous @yanagikou, here is the sfw alphabet for Sevetar. I hope I did him justice. I did my due diligence in researching him, but he's not a character I'm very familiar with so. I did my best, but I apologise in advance if I've gotten anything supper wrong or ooc.

As usual, unedited, so sorry for any and all mistakes. Please enjoy and send thru any fic or hc requests cause I love doing them. They push me outside my comfort zone (like this one haha) and I love making content for others to enjoy :)

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jago Sevetarion adores you like literally nothing else in the galaxy... but he has no idea how to show it. Like, sure, the general, more explicit-type ways of showing affection such as kissing and nsfw stuff, he understands. But the subtle stuff? Stuff like casual intimacy, loving words and soft physical touches that do not immediately lead to sharing a bed? The poor man has no understanding of it. Considering his background, however, this isn't surprising. That being said, however, after having some time to follow your example and get comfortable and familiar with the idea of physical expressions of affection, I can see Jago picking it up in some small way. For one, it's to show you he cares. That he's willing to change a few of his ways for your sake. But more importantly, it's to remind his brothers that you're his. That he is always within hand's reach of you. So, for the love of the False Emperor, they'd better stay the hell away from you or he will make them wish they were dead.

Once he is more comfortable with the idea of expressing affection, I can see Jago being a fan of pet names. He strikes me as that sort of man. A few suggestions could be "little one", "little bird" or "little lady." Anything that emphasises your size difference and the fact that you are his.

B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)

So long as you showed yourself to be loyal to him and his cause, I reckon Jago would be actually be a pretty good friend. He's quite charismatic and loyalty is one of, if not his strongest value. He's not the kind of friend to offer you a shoulder to cry on, but so long as you'd do the same for him, he would absolutely ride or die for you.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I'll be honest, even after he becomes familiar with physical affection, I struggle to see Jago being super into cuddling. To accept such physical comfort, to be that vulnerable with another living being, I think he would struggle to not see that as weakness. He might hold onto you in a more protective, possessive way, but don't expect anything particularly gentle or comforting from him in that regard.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Jago loves his life as a Night Lord. Delivering justice, executing punishment on those who deserve it (all according to him, of course), it's what he lives for. He truly believes in it. And he would want you to believe in it, too.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I don't really think I need to elaborate on how Jago might break up with you if he doesn't like you- you can put two and two together. However, if Jago still loves you, and it's circumstance that's forcing you two apart, I see it being a... tumultuous affair. He's not familiar with compassion or gentleness- even if he feels those things, he doesn't know how to express them, be it with his body or his words. Therefore, Jago would break up with you by either being so cold it drives you to leave yourself, or by ravishing you with harsh words. It's not malice, however, that makes him do this. It's to protect himself and his own hearts. Maybe if he acts like this doesn't hurt him, it won't. But, of course, it still will.

Now, if you broke up with Jago... Jesus Christ, babes, you don't know what you've done. Only person worse to break up with would be Konrad Curze himself. Whether you want it or not, Jago is your furious, heart-broken stalker shadow. And unlike someone like Sanguinius, who even amidst his possessiveness would balk at the thought of it causing you distress, Jago doesn't have any such concern. He's yours, you're his. Damn you for forgetting it, and damn anyone who thinks they can change it.

F - Fiancé (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Jago would want to marry you right away. One, because loyalty is everything to him. And two, for your protection. If you're cornered by a Night Lord who doesn't know better, being able to name drop Jago Sevetarion as your husband is a pretty sure-fire way to get him to leave you alone.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

I think some of my previous answers have answered this one pretty well already: to the Night Lords, gentleness is a foreign concept at best and actively despised at worst. Jago might learn how to be gentle from you, and he might partake consciously for your benefit, but it doesn't come naturally to him.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Similar to cuddling. If Jago hugs you, it's because he's feeling possessive or protective of you. Now, that being said, if you were injured or in a particular state of distress, Jago would hug you in comfort. For as problematic as some of his behaviours may be, he still loves you. He adores you. He wants to keep you safe. And he wants you to know all of those things.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

A long, long time.

J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)

I might be a bit contrarion in this regard, but I don't see Jago being a jealous lover. Protective and possessive, absolutely, but not jealous. He's loyal, and if he's fallen in love with you, it's because he knows you're loyal too. And, as such, he trusts you absolutely. He also doesn't see any of his brothers as a potential 'threat'; he's the Primarch's favourite son, the best Night Lord there ever was: no one can compete with that.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Fierce, hungry and so passionate it brims on obsession. Your lips are getting bitten, your breath is getting stolen, and for good measure, he might bite a chunk out of your neck or shoulder, too.

L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Honestly, if The Long Night short story is anything to go by, Jago might just be the best with children a Night Lord could hope to be. In general, he would be indifferent to kids, but if it was a kid that was close to you (say, a little sister or brother, for example) or a child who has been the victim of sin, Jago would try to be compassionate. He'd be a lot better at it since meeting you, too.

M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)

Jago is absolutely waking you up with a ravishing of fierce kisses. Nothing further your honour.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Jago suffers from psychic headaches and nightmares, so nights with him would be pretty unsettled to say the least. They would, however, provide ample opportunity for you two to bond on an emotional level. If anything, these nights might just be the thing that bonds Jago to you forever. After waking from a nightmare or from a terrible headache, Jago can't hide that vulnerability from you, no matter how hard he tries. And when you answer that vulnerability with compassion- massaging his scalp until the pain fades or curling up on his chest so he might hold you while he settles back to a state of sleep- that shit is gonna change Jago somewhere deep in his soul. In those moments, he's going to be human again.

O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)

Jago's life might be wraught with pain and suffering, but he doesn't seem particularly affected by it, if you catch my drift. Therefore, he'd be relatively comfortable opening up to you. It would be presented as anecdotes or entertaining stories rather than seeking comfort, however. I imagine he'd be deeply entertained by any of your shocked reactions to some of his stories, too.

P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)

For a Night Lord- for a space marine, even- Jago is pretty patient. He's far from saintly (obviously) but his temper is something you can work with.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)

Jago feigns that he doesn't care about such things, but in truth he remembers everything. You are the object of his adoration- he's committed everything single little thing about you to memory.

R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)

That first time he woke from a psychic night terror and you were there to comfort him. He'd never admit this, not even to himself. But that moment means everything to him. It's the moment he realised that he needed you- not as a serf, but something so much deeper. It's the moment he fell in love with you.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I think I've answered this already. Jago knows how dangerous the Night Lords are to you, not to mention the galaxy as a whole. He protects you with unmatched ferocity and devotion. In spite of outward appearances, you're probably the safest person in the entire galaxy as Sevetar's wife.

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)

Much like R, Jago pretends he doesn't care about such things, but he does. And in his own, little ways, he shows it to you. It's sweet, really.

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Possessiveness, overprotectiveness, borderline obsessiveness as well as a splash of astartes arrogance and night lords callousness.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not at all. This man slaughters people daily. He's covered in scars. He doesn't care about his looks at all.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He wouldn't know it at first, but absolutely he'd feel incomplete with you. If you were ever injured, captured or he almost lost you in some other way, the realisation would hit him like a bus. You could expect the protectiveness to get worse after that, too.

X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

If in some alternate timeline he was able to save Altani's life and take her with him, the three of you would become the most twisted but loving nuclear family. Jago would be a Night Lords girl dad, you'd be a big sis/aunt to Altani, and Altani would help further break down Jago's walls.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)

Disloyalty, someone who did not accept him for him (excluding the areas where you help him grow/change for the better, of course)

Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

As mentioned back up in N, Jago struggles with sleep due to his psychic afflictions. Also as mentioned, your presence would help this greatly. I could even see him getting to the point where without you by his side, he couldn't sleep at all.

[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: JJ does something stupid

I tried to pretend like nothing had happened, that everything was fine. We were going to look for the Royal Merchant hoping to find the gold. When we got to the bottom and found the shipwreck, that happiness soon turned into utter disappointment. It wasn't there. Who knows if it had ever been there honestly.

We were headed back to the Chateau and everybody was upset, everything has led up to this and now we don't know where to go from here. Hopefully, someone has a major breakthrough on what to do. We tied the boat up to the dock and headed our separate ways. John B went home, Kie went to the Wreck, Pope went to the library, JJ went home, and I went for a walk. We all just needed our space for a little bit to think about what to do next.

I was walking along the beach, enjoying the weather. It was cloudy and a little windy, which almost messed up our finding the Royal Merchant earlier, but my favorite weather. The dreary weather has always been comforting to me. I wasn't on my walk for long before I heard my name being called. I turned around and saw Rafe and his goons. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. "Rafe," I said back to him in a drawn-out voice, "Who are you mad at now?"

"Who the hell do your friends think they are?" He yells back at me, causing me to flinch at the sudden change in tone. I take a step back and find my back hitting Topper's chest. "Really, Rafe? I know you hate me, but three to one is a little unfair, dontcha think?" I look behind me at Topper and then over to Kelce who is standing next to Rafe. I cross my arms, annoyed that my walk was being interrupted. Rafe got close to me and took hold of my wrist which caught me off guard. "What the hell, Rafe," I curse at him trying to pull my arm away. That's for sure to leave a bruise.

Rafe gets close to my face causing my heart to beat faster. "Tell those boyfriends of yours that we know," he whispers into my ear. He backs away, still holding my wrist in his hands, and looks at me. I give him a confused look before ripping my wrist away from his grip. He pats the side of my face and smirks before walking away. He glances back at me one last time before I turn and walk away. It didn't take me long before I got to JJ's house. Luke was gone, probably getting drunk.

"JJ, what the hell did you do?" I ask him walking into the backyard where he was sitting. He stands up to look at me. "Why did Rafe, Top, and Kelce just stop me on the beach?" As soon as I mentioned the three, I could see the anger flash through his face. He walks over to me and runs a hand through his hair.

"What did they say?" he asks with guilt lacing his voice. I roll my eyes at him, "They didn't say shit to me J," I say louder this time, getting frustrated over the entire situation. "He said to tell those boyfriends of mine that we know," I repeated what I was told. JJ lets out a sigh before turning around and sitting down.

"So, uh," he starts explaining looking up to me, "you know how Pope had that cut on his forehead?" I nod my head, still not understanding. "Rafe and Topper jumped him, beat him up with a damn golf club. I couldn't just stand by and let them get away with it." JJ looks down and plays with the rings on his fingers, "We sunk Topper's boat."

I look at him with wide eyes, not able to think of what to say to him. He stands up and walks over to me, grabbing my hands. He looks down and I feel his grip loosen, "What is this?" He points to the forming bruise on my wrist. He looks up at me with pleading eyes, "How do you think Rafe stopped me?" I said with anger laced in my voice. I try to storm away from him, but he runs in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Rafe did that?" I nod my head at him and continue walking, "Will you please just talk to me?"

"J, please just," I look him in the eyes and can see the worry in them, "leave me alone." He is taken aback and steps aside, letting me walk away. I turn around and look at him, "I just need a second."

It was more than a second by a few hours. I just needed a second to think about what they did before I responded out of anger. I walk to the Chateau and see JJ by the dock. He's looking over the edge of the railing. I start walking up to him and he turns around and just looks at me. He raises his eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing. "I'm sorry J," I tell him walking up to him and resting my elbows on the railing. He hasn't taken his eyes off me, "I didn't mean to just leave." I apologize.

"It's just, what you did was extreme and then on top of that, involving Pope? He's got the most going for him out of all of us, he can't get caught up in something like this." JJ looks out to the open water before looking back at me.

"You know why I didn't tell you?" I look up at him and mumble a small no. "I didn't tell you, not because you'd be mad, but because I know you would try to help," he tells me as he looks down at me. "I couldn't bear the thought of you getting in trouble. Pope agreed to this, but we both agreed you couldn't know."

"JJ, I don't understand why though," I tell him and turn around to lean my back against the railing. "Why would it matter if I tried to help?"

JJ takes my hand and places his hand on the bruise that was left by Rafe earlier. "This," he looked down at my wrist, "this is why we didn't tell you. You didn't know shit and this happened. I love you, but you have a mouth on you," JJ chuckles at the last part, but I can't stop thinking about what he said. "Rafe is a douchebag of the finest order and if you knew more, this might've been worse." He holds my hand in his and is tracing the bruise on my wrist.

"JJ," I look up at him to find him staring into my eyes, "Did you just say you love me?" I could see the red tint on his face immediately. He quickly looked away. He let go of my hand and I felt all the cold I felt before return. "You've just never said that to me before."

I look down at my feet, trying to ignore the heartbreaking feeling. I went to walk away before I heard him say, "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner." I look up and turn around to face him. He's still looking out at the open water. "I couldn't bear to see you hurt because I love you. Not like how I love the rest of the Pogues." He turns around to face me, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about Topper's boat, but I knew if you knew, you'd be in more danger."

I went and grabbed JJ's hand, "I can take care of myself you know." I tell him which causes him to chuckle. "I know you can," he leans down and places a kiss on my lips. He places his hand on my back and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.

Kie yells at us from the house that we were going to be late for the movies. We back away from each other, hoping she didn't see. "I could get used to that," JJ whispers in my ear before walking back to the house, leaving me speechless to what just happened. Maybe I needed to get mad at him earlier for this to happen. I chuckle at the thought before following after him. Once I see Kie isn't outside anymore, I place my hand in his and he places a small kiss to my temple.

We headed to the movies and, let's just say, all shit broke loose by the end of the night.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 6

Rough Housing

A lot has changed over the years.

Joker had kicked Harley out. She tried to defeat Batman. She would have succeeded too. Joker didn't like that.

You missed her.

You still saw her from time to time. You'd get drinks together now that you're old enough. Odd she enforced such a rule when she didn't bat an eye at breaking any other laws.

It was strange going home with her not there.

You were mad at Joker for a while after that.

But he's still your dad. You did eventually forgive him. Even though it didn't feel right.

You and Joker's legacy continued to grow. The Clown Prince and his little Princess. You certainly let it go to your head. It was kind of hard not to.

When everyone fears you it's hard not to take advantage of that. You could have virtually anything you wanted. Money? It's your's. Just please put down the gun. Information? Anything. Just don't call Joker. Hell, you even had connections at Arkham now. You never spent more then a single night in there.

Life was good.

There were rumors going around recently about a new vigilante. This one, however, was less than moral. He left a trail of death in his wake. He'd taken over the drug rings previously belonging to Black Mask. Not an easy task. This guy had to be strong to pull that off. Or crazy.

You smiled at the thought. It'd be nice to break in a new toy. But alas, your paths have yet to cross. You didn't even know his name.

"Jinx!"

"That's me!"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"I have a shipment coming in and I need you to make sure the numb skulls don't flub it. Think you can do that, my dear?"

"Easy peasy."

Or at least it should have been.

The good news is you know that new guy's name now! Red Hood. Bad news? He was attacking your men. You were transporting run of the mill weapons. You thought this guy was all about drugs? It made no sense.

"You work for Joker, right?"

You peaked over the side of a crate you'd been using for cover. He had an AK-47 pointed at one of your unnarmed henchmen.

"Y-Yes!"

"You're going to tell me where he's hiding."

"I don't know!"

"Five seconds."

"Do you know what he'll do to me if I talk?!"

"Do you know what I'll do to you if you don't?"

Oh this guy was a tough cookie. You liked it.

"Do you know what I'll do to you regardless?"

You stepped out, pistol raised at the assailant. He didn't budge. You couldn't read him with that helmet on, but if posture meant anything he seemed unphased.

"Jinx!"

"You."

"Me."

With a swift hit to the back of the head you knocked the henchman unconscious.

"Whoops! There goes your source."

The man pointed his gun at you. "You do realize you're also a source? A better one at that?"

"Oh, please. Have you met me? I may be a chatter box but there ain't nothin' I have to say. Threaten all ya want."

"Do you ever take anything seriously? I have a loaded gun pointed at you."

"As do I." You waved your fingers around the grip of your pistol. "And as if this is the first gun I've had waved in my face. You're not exactly special, pal."

Red Hood sighed. "You're not gonna talk, are you?"

"Talk? Sure! Tell you what you wanna hear? No."

"You haven't changed a bit."

You cocked an eyebrow. Changed? Have you met this guy before? Obviously he was someone Joker knew if he wanted to see him so bad. You'd have to dig into this later.

The masked man jabbed the butt of his gun at you. You ducked, raising your own up to his chin. Which he then kicked out of your grasp. He grabbed you by one of your long braids, yanking you back up to your feet.

"You should seriously cut this."

You flung the second braid over his shoulder before pulling it taught. He gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen.

"But it's so useful!"

Red Hood threw his head back, slamming into your face with a headbutt. That mask of his packed a punch. You struggled to stay upright, the world around you blurring in a dizzy smear of color.

He grabbed you by the face, staring at you. Before he could speak you bit into his hand.

"Son of a- are you fucking serious?!"

"Deadly."

"This is getting nowhere."

The man decked you in the face. You fell to the ground with a loud thud. He clambered on top of you, fist raised and ready for another punch. Your nose was bleeding, you could feel it running down your chin. You stared up at him in shock. But he didn't move. Just stared down at you. Again, unreadable with the helmet on.

In an instant smoke enveloped you. This guy had tricks too it seems. By the time it cleared you were left alone on the ground, the henchmen around you either dead or unconscious. You breathed out slowly.

"Joker's not gonna like this."

You scanned the nearby buildings in hopes of catching sight of the vigilante. Only to be met with disappointment.

Red Hood.

You finally found a new playmate.

[silverirony]

hi can i be insane for a sec

sorry to be an archaeologist (archaeo student, but still), but I can't stop thinking about this. i know nobody else cares about this the thing is I don't think you understand just how right gordon is here. I don't think even gordon understands. the foundation of (we live in a) society really is all about the ability to store surplus of food.

that's the difference between hunter-gatherers and farmers, between nomadic and sedentary lifestyles, this is the neolithic revolution. Storing the food we don't eat immediately allowed us more freedom to focus on technology, art, and architecture. this is the reason we only see monumental structures being built after we settled down and started pretty much hoarding as many resources as we could. this is the foundation of society, of social hierarchy, of religion, you name it.

the world that exists now exists because of salt, honey, vinegar and ice. I appreciate this perspective so much because we rarely take a culinary approach to the changes and revolutions in pre- and ancient history. we tend to focus on the emerging power structures and elites, the conflicts and warriors, the cities and empires - pretty much all the things that divide people. so, looking at this from the perspective of food, specifically food preservation, is actually so nice and refreshing and I want to know what article Jon read for this (give me that jstor link)

SECond of all. the history of mummification make me unwell. theres So much that I think people miss about it bc it's always like mummies > ancient egypt > pyramids > aliens (I'll kill you im so fucking tired). I could go on and on about how burial rites are the purest expression of love and care that humans have ever developed but the mention of chinchorro culture actually took me out.

I need everyone to understand that the chinchorro mummies are the oldest mummies we've discovered. because I will never forget when my south american archaeology prof spent like half an hour explaining to us that the oldest mummies in the world are children because child mortality rate was so high that losing so many children became so overwhelming they did the only thing they could to keep them alive - they removed soft tissues and covered them in clay, sculpted the features of each one of them and mourned. there's evidence that they displayed those mummies in public spaces - not cemeteries but main squares of settlements or built special structures to house all of their dead. this makes me insane bc 1. the idea that in antiquity and middle ages ppl would lose so many children they became desensitized to it is wrong - they literally could not get over it so much they invented a completely new way to bury somebody (or really, keep the alive) and 2. the desire to keep our dead with us forever, in any way we can, for as long as we can, is literally over 7 thousand years old. it's older than bronze metallurgy, it's older than any empire, any country, it's older than domesticated horses and bees. insaneeee.

and I think this is an interesting contrast to how human preservation is portrayed throughout most of red valley, which is - rich people trying to avoid the consequences of their own actions while damning everyone else, or as a punishment, a new type of prison. the chinchorro mummies are literally the difference between all of that and gordon and warren being frozen for 44 years to give them a better chance, a new life. it's the preservation of someone you care about born from the refusal to let them go, the inability to face reality, the complete defiance of the natural order of things. Aubrey freezing them - and thus not letting them die - is literally no different from the chinchorro mummies, and egyptian mummies, and bog bodies, and scythian kurgans, and roman hypogea, and every great monument. archaeology is a study of everything we had and how we lost it and how we grieved it. someone hold my hand.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: D&D

Elon Musk: mama mia Musk: life, itsa seems so empty Musk: [touching a framed portrait of Stephen King] since my-a best frienda moved away

Musk: i'm-a so depressed Musk: grok, what shoulda i do Grok: [slur] Musk: mama mia, you are righta,grok! Musk: i SHOULD buy Hasbro to secure the rights to dungeons anna dragons!

Stephen King: submitted for the approval of the- Elon Musk [rising out of bushes] eyyyy Stephano king King: elon? are we still doing this?! King: i'm gone from twitter now! King: i'm finally… King: clean

Musk: maybe you heard i tweeted ima gonna buy hasbro Barker: christ why would we hear that Musk: eyyy i tweeta it, itsa news! MusK: datsa how da lasangna is made, paisano!

August Derleth: okay welcome to another call of Cthulhu game Derleth: what are your characters this time? Victor LaValle: i'm sweet sweetbreads, the harlem hustler Brian Keene: i'm dr. batcountry, the gonzo journalist Nick Mamatas: i'm groovio daddy, the freaky deaky beatnik Elon Musk: ima da paladin!

Derleth: excuse me? i don't think you're part of this group Musk: eyyy i buy Hasbro, so now ima member of EVERY D&D group! Derleth: this isn't D&D! it's call of Cthulhu! Derleth: its owned by chaosium! Musk: Musk: not for longa!

Musk: i owna all ropleplaying games now, as a concept Musk: data mean, you hafta let me play! Derleth: ok ok fine Derleth: what's your character? Musk: ima da elfin paladin Derleth: this isn't that kind of game! Musk: mama mia you betta MAKE It datta kind of game or i breaka you face, pedodungeonmaster!

Derleth: guys, look i think we're gonna have to make some changes in the game to accommodate elon Derleth: i know this is unpopular but if we don't he's going to be crying all night Derleth: he is very rich, after all Keene: oh yeah very rich LaValle: very rich Mamatas: the richest Mamatas: like literally, i read he was

Derleth: ok so Cthulhu appears, role for sanity check Elon Musk: da elf paladin, he stabba da Cthulhu with a sword! Derleth: you can't do that!! Derleth: you need at least a boat to stab Cthulhu! Brian Lumley: no wait i like the cut of this elon's gib Musk: oooo disruptiano!

Musk: i stabba da Cthulhu Derleth: ok roll to see if you can kill an elder god by stabbing Musk: eyyy i don't need to roll no dice Musk: i buya da game, so i maka da rules Musk: it works, i win, Cthulhu i killa him Musk: also my character name? issa X.

[empthy1]

sugar mommy!tashi bc i need her. thank you for breaking me out of my slump once again ms tashi. ms duncan. wrote this in one night, so any errors are unintentional. i can't seem to stop imbuing unnecessary amounts of worldbuilding into every single thing i write. 941 words.

Somehow, some sixteen months after taking the internship of your dreams, you ended up here—sprawled on a beach for the second day in a row, baking comfortably under the Tahitian sun after quitting said internship the week before.

Tashi didn't intend on ending up with a sugar baby. Didn't intend to be hoodwinked by a young woman ten years her junior.

Doesn't mean she didn't kickstart the process, however unintentionally.

So she showed up to your little corner cubicle eleven months ago, tugging you from your laptop by the collar of your blouse and taking you out to a far-too expensive lunch. She doesn't exactly know why, either.

She was intending to take lunch, anyway, but usually she'd just have her assistant have it delivered, still steaming, to her high-floor office. Sit, alone in the white room decorated with her accomplishments, and eat as she kept working. The magazine waited for no one, after all, and she had a deadline.

Yet, as she'd checked the employee logs sent to her every day, detailing work hours and project progress collected by her subordinates, she'd noticed far too many hours being worked by one sweet little intern.

She'd only met you once before, when she'd dropped by to introduce herself during intern orientation—as is routine. Your smile that day was different than the one shown in your employee photo. Shyer, almost bashful at the handshake she'd culled you into and at the fingers she'd strummed along your palm during the lengthy release.

She'd hoped you'd do well. It seems you were doing a bit too well. You'd put in at-home work, contributed meaningful things to projects far above your pay grade, and smashed through every task will increasingly ruthless efficiency.

You reminded her of her, a million years ago. Crashing through barriers and putting in an unprecedented amount of hours. But it would catch up to you. It caught up to her, one day, when she was fifteen.

It's not a long story, or a particularly important one to anyone. It barely even headlined the local news, even in their small town—Local Tennis Player Passes Out from Exhaustion in the Hot Sun was ran on page 4B, tucked deep into the newspaper and only given a small segment in the sports section. But it was important to her.

It marked a moment where her ambitions were not stunted, but contained. She couldn't practice twenty, thirty hours a week and compete—she'd harm herself. Firm earfuls from both her worried parents and her stern coach confirmed it.

It changed the way she worked, the way she lived. She still watched her tapes over about a trillion times—but she did it relaxed and in bed, instead of on the court as she obsessively attempted to hammer out a flaw in her footwork. She carved out times for actual meals instead of protein bars and fruit.

She wanted to make sure you don't do the same thing to yourself.

This is how she ends up leaning into your cubicle, nose wrinkling at the impersonal area. There's barely any note that someone even spends time here, other than the barest hints of a gifted plant—price sticker still molded to the cheap plastic pot. Hm. It's definitely not suitable for any worker, much less one that puts in as many hours as you do.

"Hello?" She calls out with a quiet murmur of your name, voice curling in the air and seeping past the cushion of your headphones.

She sees the embarrassment on your face. She can practically taste the confusion. What's Ms. Duncan doing here? The surprise on your face makes the slightest smirk tick her lips.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to lunch with me today."

An unexpected proposition. But who are you to say no?

She'd picked a little vegetarian spot she'd frequented. Based on the charges she's seen on your cafeteria card for meals and such, you're like her—not the biggest fan of meat.

You both settle in to a little corner booth. The angle doesn't force you to meet her eyes; it seems like you've been avoiding that, head tucked almost permanently to your chest. Out of awkwardness or embarrassment, she doesn't know, but she'd like to rectify it.

First, though, pleasantries. The head chef's already ambling over, arms outstretched and a smile curling her face. A nice older woman, with greying roots (she swears she'll let it grow out this time) that whips up the best pasta in the city. She's come out to take their order personally.

"Anything for an old friend and her date." The stressed syllable and the rather unsubtle wink she sends her way is not lost on her. Or you, it seems, she muses to herself as your head dips further.

She'd been rather invested in her life since her divorce. The thought makes her feel the lightness of her ring finger for the first time in months.

No worry, though. She won't let a nosy (if well meaning) friend ruin her date lunch meeting and attempts to pull you out of her shell.

Once the chef had left—but not without shooting her another wink—she is quick to engage you in conversation and sink into the lull of your chatter. She wants to see if the witty, smart person she's seeing in your work and hearing from others is really the truth.

You were, she muses, months later, laying next to you on that beach. And even more than that.

Your ring finger's looking a little bare. She'd never had reservations about buying you jewelry before, though.

these were meant to be headcanons but turned into a blurb. might still write the headcanons though. maybe.

[beawesome04]

Never Enough... (Fanfic idea)

I had this idea and I want to share this before I forget!

(If you like this idea and want to use it, feel free! Just tag me if you don't mind because I really want to read it!)

(Spoilers for Book 7, so be warned, though I may get the story wrong)

(Note: Yuu's character will be based on my OC, with he/him pronouns)

(Also, this idea is based around "Never Enough" by Loren Allred from 'The Greatest Showman'

What if Yuu was unable to break free from the dream, leading to the story continuing on but without Yuu.

By the end, just about every students has broke free from Malleus' hold, with Yuu being the last one remaining. Entering Yuu's dreamworld, the cast finds them in Ramshackle, only to far from being an actual ramshackle. This house is well built, brand new, well furnished while having the ghosts living there in peace. Travelling across campus, the students there cheer for Yuu, with tones far from the teasing that came to be the norm as they spot Yuu walking around, his clothes spotless and tearfree as he greeted his classmates with carefree joy. When the cast tried to convince Yuu into waking up, Yuu quickly changed subjects, as if he didn't want to listen...

Throughout the island, the cast hears tales of Yuu being popular with tasks impossible for him, or rather, anyone, from being a hero, celebrity, king, as if he held the world in his hand. The air being thick with magic that the cast came to know as Malleus' influence, only that this time, it felt impossible to breathe, signalling them that Malleus is focusing his magic intensely in Yuu's dream... But why?

But the cast could tell that Yuu was fully aware that he was in a dream, but refused to leave, and yet he never seemed in peace, despite having spotlights on him, more madols than royalty knew what to do with, people praising his name... What more does he need before he's truly happy!?

That question was answered as they came across a portrait in Ramshackle, picturing Yuu surrounded the people no one knew, every face in the portrait blank, including Yuu, as if the artist couldn't remember what they looked like. The portrait was named 'Home'

Finally, a soft voice echoed across Ramshackle...

"All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the nightsky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

Towers of gold are still too little

These hands could hold the world but it'll

Never be enough

Never be enough..."

[storiesaplenty]

Jelly Bracelets (14)

Eddie Munson x f/Reader (18+)

Jelly Bracelets Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. P in v sex. Unprotected sex. Pussy fingering. Missionary position. Creampie.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me: 1st gif: @psychecreations

WC: 1149

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Black (18+) - the wearer will have regular "missionary" sex

Eddie Munson may be the freak of Hawkins, but he is your best friend. Who is always willing to teach you new things, even when you get new bracelets from your cousin. Eddie will even go as far as teaching & showing you what each one means.

Eddie Munson's Pov:

Her and I made the spaghetti in my small kitchen.

This isn't the first time we made food together, but time it felt more intimate.

Even as we sat across from one another, talking about what we have been up to when we haven't been with one another.

It's like nothing has changed, but yet, everything has changed between us.

It has only been a month since her and started whatever this is between us, and I have no idea what is going to happen once this is all over.

Will her and I go back to how it was before this started?

I don't think I can. Not when just the thought of her with another person makes me instantly jealous.

"So I was thinking that we can go to the movies tomorrow afternoon." She said, bringing me from my thoughts.

"Just us or will Steve and Robin be joining us?"

"They have to work, and even though I love Robin, I would love to hear the whole movie this time, instead of her asking a question during every important scene."

"Okay, it's a date. I mean, not a date, but you know what I mean." I started to ramble, until she placed her hand on top of mine.

"Eddie relax. I know what you mean." She softly smiled at me.

The rest of the meal went off without me acting weird.

For once.

Her and I are sitting on the edge of my bed, making out. Her hands were playing with my hair as I kissed my way down her neck, nipping here and there.

The soft gasps that fell from her lips had my cock twitching in my pants.

My hands trailed down her body, stopping to grop her tits, making her back arch into me.

"Eddie." She whined, leaning her head a bit more as I kissed down to her shoulder and then back up her neck again.

"Spread your legs sweetheart." She did as I asked, and I groaned as I felt how wet she was through her panties.

"This all for me?" I said as I moved her panties to the side and trailed my two fingers up and down her pussy, still not believing that I am the one causing her to be this wet.

"Yes." She mewed.

"Shh, shh. I got you." I said as I inserted two fingers, fingering her, making her grip my arms.

"Need you to cum for me, before I fuck you, yeah." I sped up my fingers, and I felt her cum before she cried out my name.

Her pussy clenched around my fingers tightly, making me groan at the thought of her doing that around my cock soon.

"That's it. I think you are ready to take me now." I snapped the bracelet with my free hand, as I am still fingering her, not wanting to stop.

◆

She is naked on my bed, propped up on her arms as she is watching me look around my room for a damn condom.

"Eddie." She said my name.

"I know I have one here." I said, as I opened drawer after drawer, pulling empty boxes out.

So close.

So damn close to finally fucking her and I don't have a condom.

"Eddie, I'm clean and on the pill." I stopped looking and looked at her.

♣︎

"Come to bed Eddie." She spread her legs and my eyes zoned in on how wet she still was for me.

I crawled between her spread thighs, looking over at the black jelly bracelet that is on my night table, not believing that this actually happening.

I gripped my cock, rubbing the outside of her pussy to try and collect some juices, which I spread around my cock as I jerked myself off, before placing my cock at the entrance to her pussy.

Her and I are staring into one another's eyes as I pushed just the tip in.

"Shit."

"Fuck."

We both swore as I slowly pushed in. I am watching her face for any signs of discomfort, but the moment my hips were flushed against her body, I groaned, loudly.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as soft pants fell from her lips.

"You doing okay sweetheart?" I asked her through gritted teeth.

"Anyone ever tell you how big you are, Eddie?" I wanted to laugh but she clenched her pussy around my cock, which turned my laugh into a low moan.

"Once or twice." Was all I said before I pulled by hips back to gently thrust back into her.

I fucked her gently, until she started to raise her hips, whimpering for me to go faster.

I wrapped her legs around my waist, rutting against her, trying not to just flip her over and fuck her so hard, she can't walk straight.

I pulled back and then slammed back into her, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as I fucked her hard and fast.

"Just like that Eddie. Yes, yes, yes." The last bit came out like a chant, as I put her legs over my shoulders as I leaned over her body, folding her in half almost.

I was hitting her deeper, and it was like her eyes glazed over as I angled my hips to hit her g-spot.

Her mouth is open slightly, a bit of drool forming at the corner of her mouth as I fucked her into my bed.

Her pussy started to flutter around my cock.

"Oh yes sweetheart. Go on and cum for me."

Her hands gripped my biceps hard, as she came. Her nails digging into my skin making me groan before smashing my lips against hers as she came.

Her pussy fluttering around my walls as I fucked her through her orgasm.

One, two, three, and I was done, moaning into mouth as I came, my own hips stuttering against her as I filled her pussy with cum.

Her and I kissing through it all, as my cock continued to twitch inside her pussy, as it slowly softened.

I pulled my face away from hers, just to make sure she was okay.

She gave me a soft smile, and that was all I needed to leave her alone for a second, to grab a wet cloth, to clean her and I up.

I put my sweaty hair up, as the two of us got dressed in our pj's.

"I heard there is a new Miami Vice on." She said, and I was playfully rolling my eyes.

"Come on Eddie, just one episode and then we can watch whatever you want." She said, as she pretended to bat her eyes at me.

My heart fluttered in my chest as I told her fine.

As the two of us watched TV, she leaned into my side, and I couldn't help but imagine that we are actually together.

Glittery Green (18+) ♥︎ Glittery Blue ~ Final Part (18+) - coming soon

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope you're having a good day!

Just found your blog yesterday and read Onychinus' Finest. I've been STARVED of Kieran and Luke fics, not enough people appreciate them, so I come with a request! (Most of what I'll say is totally optional. I believe in the author's creative vision overall so if something doesn't fit feel free to change and adapt whatever you'd like.)

Either hunter or assassin MC, where they're at a mission, and they're ambushed. One of the twins gets hurt protecting her, maybe even taken, and she just goes on a rampage to get him back. They've never quite seen her so protective and yet so vengeful. She might go by herself? When Sylus wants to plan ahead properly since his own miscalculations lead them to get attacked in the first place. The twins are loyal to him, the other brother won't go without his permission despise his brother being missing or hurt. I'm just picturing her finding a broken mask, half of it missing (she's never seen their faces before.)

Happy ending. 🥺 Just fluffy you know? I want the twins melting into her, one with gratitude for finding his brother and the other just with disbelief and affection that she's do all this for him.

Special mention to any heads on her lap like overgrown puppies, just holding her close. They're sweet boys I think, especially if their guard and masks are finally down.

You can take this as platonic or romantic, she could be with Sylus and still have grown to really care and look out for the twins, or she could love them. (I don't know which ones angstier)

Thank you for even considering this even if you decide it's not worth your time!

AAAAAAA HEY!! You had such a vision for this and it was so fun to work with-- I hope it's everything you imagined! You've always been so so so supportive and kind, so I low-key went all-out on this, that's half the reason it took so long. 😭😭 Think this is my longest fic so far oh my gosh? Love it though, all the action scenes took me RIGHT back to my Assassin's Creed fanfic writing days haha Anyway! This is set in the same canon as the last fic because I loved that dynamic ngl. Not a direct sequel though!

Beneath The Mask

Luke and Kieran x Reader 🎭

Summary: Sylus and Kieran are useless, as always, so you take matters into your own hands

Genre: angst + fluff + ACTION!! *karate chops*

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, nonMC!reader, platonic Sylus x reader, swearing, descriptions of violence, injury, broken bones, killing (don't @ reader, she wants her man back!!), but also some humour 😌

| Word count: 4.6k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sometimes, you think you’re the only member of Onychinus who isn’t completely out of their mind.

You’d think it was Sylus, your indomitable leader. Smiles-with-a-knife-at-his-throat Sylus. Has-the-situation-completely-in-hand Sylus. It used to inspire you: that crimson gaze of his, always alight with a fire that’s never, ever, quite out of control.

How does he do it? You’d wonder in awe, like a wide-eyed child enthralled by a magic trick.

How does he do it? You’re wiser, now. You know it’s a lie, now, but you still can’t see through it. It’s driving you mad.

You watch as the man works away at a large, glass monitor, his fingers gliding across the screen with their usual grace. You get glimpses: names, faces, contacts. He’s testing the cords of his network— an intricate web— and he’s hoping someone’s caught something he can sink his teeth into.

He’s been at this for two hours, ever since you dragged yourselves back here with your tails between your legs. There’s a gash on his forehead that hasn’t yet healed, and the blood is still drying, dark on his face. Has he thought to heal it? Or— there’s a smudge on his finger— does he like his guilt a little warmer to the touch?

“We need an order, boss,” you seethe, because you’re tired of standing beside him, unacknowledged.

“You have your order.” He types out a message. Dismisses another. “Wait.”

“I meant an order that isn’t complete bullshit.”

He shoots you a glance, his eyes embers of warning. “Careful, sweetie. You forget yourself.”

Your fists ball. “Oh, spare me.”

“What would you have me do?” he mutters, gaze returning to the screen. He isn’t rising to the challenge, or should you say— stooping to it. He’s so goddamn noble.

“They have Luke, Sylus.”

“I know.”

“So let’s fucking do something! Let’s go back, let’s get him. They caught us off-guard last time, that’s all. They got their hands on some Ever tech, so what? We know that, now. They don’t stand a chance if we just—”

“Charge in there, guns blazing?” Sylus finishes for you, lips curled in derision.

It sounds stupid out loud, and he wants you to hear it. You do; you don’t care. “We don’t need all of this,” you beseech, your hand waving over the monitor. “We have you, boss.”

“Me?” he chuckles, and it’s so, so bitter.

Is that the guilt you’ve been looking for? It isn’t enough. His eyes are still pools of calm— spilt blood, unreciprocated. How does he do it?

“We have to do something,” you say limply. “Please, I can’t… I can’t do this, Sylus. All this nothing. Tell me what to do. I’ll go back alone if I have to. Just say the word and I’ll—”

“Look at this,” he interrupts, stepping away from the screen so that you can take his place before it.

It’s an order, even if it isn’t the one you want. You roll your eyes as you obey, and you begin to scour the intel he’s gathered. Eyewitness accounts, rumours, surveillance footage— some courtesy of Mephisto— and it’s all centred around two things. One: the aspiring new gang you’d set out to dismantle earlier, and two: a link to Ever. A solid link to Ever. 

“They didn’t steal Ever’s tech,” you release on a sigh of understanding. “They’re working together.”

“Mmm.” Sylus’s hand clears the screen before you. “We should have known. I should have known.”

Your mind is so caught-up by the revelation that you almost miss the confession.

“This was my mistake,” he continues, watching you. “And you are all my responsibility. Believe me…” He taps the screen and live surveillance footage springs up: an outside view of the compound you’d raided earlier. “I want to burn that place to the ground as much as you do.”

But… “No collateral damage,” you murmur, eyeing the guards on patrol.

“No collateral damage,” Sylus nods. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you, boss.”

And maybe he is burning with just as much anger. Maybe the fear is making his heart drum, and the guilt making his skin crawl. It’s the same, old trick, isn’t it? Done to death:

The mask without a mask— just where does he hide all that?

Maybe he doesn’t.

There’s only so much faith you can have in something you can’t see.

…

Clink.

You slot a bullet into the magazine of your pistol, then follow it up with another. Clink. Then another. Clink. You’ve never relished this quiet— not like Sylus does. To him it’s an art. To you: a chore. You glance about the armoury, and you’ve never resented your shelves of options quite like this before. Antiques. Prototypes. So many means of dealing death.

You’ve never seen the beauty in it, but a shot through the heart means something different to Sylus than it does to the rest of you. It can be intimate. Symbolic. He can die for something, someone, and he can do it over, and over, and over again. How poetic.

You holster your loaded weapon, then reach for another.

“What’re you doing?”

The voice makes you jump. “Gods, Kieran. You want a bullet through your head?”

“No.” He misses the meaning of your words. “Why— wanna shoot me?”

“Right now?” you ask cynically.  

He laughs like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Liar. You’ve finished loading the second gun so you slide it across the table to him wordlessly. The beak of his mask lowers as he regards it; he doesn’t pick it up.

“You’re being weird,” he says after a moment. “It’s cool. I like it.”

You roll your eyes, wandering over to a rack of weapon attachments. There are different sights. Silencers. (Is that how you want to play this? Quiet?) “I’m going back for Luke,” you state as you muse it over. “You want in, or not?”

The rest is implied: Sylus doesn’t know. He isn’t coming. All of that’s evident from the fact that you’re here, rifling through his precious collection, and not ensnared in the tendrils of his Evol somewhere. A toddler could connect the dots. Kieran will get there. Give him a minute.

It takes half a minute. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. An ambiguous apology.

“It’s fine, Kieran.” He was never going to come with you. “I can do this alone. I can—”

A weight lands on you, tackling you into the weapons rack, and you land on the floor amongst the attachments you’d just been perusing so calmly. The weight stays on you, pinning you: hands are on your wrists, twisting you around. “Kieran!” you protest.

The man pulls away, leaving you slumped in your new, uncomfortable seat.

“Wha—” You try to stand up but you’re jolted back; your wrist is fixed to something. You turn your head, eyes widening as they fall on the pair of handcuffs you’ve been restrained with. They’re padded— lined with a soft, velvety material. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“Boss’s room. Luke and I had a bet,” Kieran shrugs, now towering over you.

“You win?”

“Heh. Yeah.”

You’re still trying to squeeze your hand out of the cuffs. You pry at them. Twist and wriggle your fingers— none of it’s any use. You glance up at Kieran, admitting defeat with a sigh. He brushes his hands together in a ‘job well done’ sort of gesture, his eyes fixed on you, well— you have to imagine they are.

Instead of windows to the soul you’re faced with red-glass imitations, impossible to read, and you’re tired of all the guessing.  

“How do you do it?” you ask with a quiet desperation. “How do you act like everything’s fine?”

“Boss will come up with a plan,” the twin says simply, like he hasn’t really thought about it.

“And what if it takes too long? What if we’re too late? I mean… think of all the shit he knows, Kieran. Everything about us, about boss— it’s priceless. Do you really think they’re holding back?”

Kieran huffs. “You worried he’ll snitch or something?”

“I’m worried they’re hurting him!” you snap. “What the hell is wrong with you!? He’s your brother! He could be dead and you’re acting like, like..”

Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him hopelessly. There’s nothing to see— no tension in his body, no harsher rise and fall to his chest, betraying a nervous, racing heart. All the usual signs are missing. He isn’t shifting on his feet like he does when he’s anxious. Is he that good at pretending, or…

Does he really not care?

You shake your head, looking down at the floor; you’re so sick of red eyes. He’s crazy. Sylus is crazy.

There’s nothing for it, then.

“You know what?” you chuckle dryly, under your breath. “Maybe you’re right. This isn’t all bad, I mean… when’s the last time you and I had any one-to-one time, huh?”

Kieran is silent. He lowers himself slowly until he’s crouched before you— forearms resting on his knees. His head tilts inquisitively: Go on.

“Maybe,” you lilt, “this is an opportunity.” You’re practically whispering, and the man leans in, not wanting to miss a word. Your free hand reaches for a horn of his hood and you use it to pull him closer; he doesn’t even resist. “How about we…” you speak into his ear, “go look through Luke’s stuff?”

Kieran draws back, those false eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you think, for a second, that you’ve gone too far.

“You’re the best,” he breathes out, suddenly fiddling with the handcuffs, slotting the key into the lock. “Just… the absolute best.”  

Got him.

The cuff springs open and you’re on top of him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms by the side of his head before he can think to stop you. “Oh,” he grumbles, going still beneath you, and it sounds like his eyes are narrowing, “you’re not the best. You’re sneaky.”

His compliance lasts all of a second, and then he’s fighting back— using his strength to throw you off balance and wrench his wrists free. He rolls on top of you, trapping you just as effectively as you’d done him, and he laughs like a child, having ever so much fun.

With a grunt of effort, you manage to push him aside. You turn onto your stomach, scrabbling away as you look for space, opportunity, and— if you’re being honest— something you can throw at him. A hand connects with your shoulder and you thrust your elbow backwards on instinct. It hits something hard.

“Ah, shit! Wait, wait, wait… time out.”

You freeze instantly.

Kieran’s voice is different; it’s acquired a clarity that tells you his mask his away from his face. Don’t move. You stare down at the floor with a patience that’s almost sacred. He’s taking a while, though…

“You ok?” you ask.

“Yeah.” His voice is different again, like he’s holding his nose. “Nosebleed.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

You sit up with your legs crossed while you wait, but your eyes are still trained downwards. You can hear Kieran’s breath, a little ways behind you— so much clearer without the mask— and the intimacy is always sobering. Realising he’s vulnerable, knowable, and all you have to do is turn around. 

He doesn’t rush, though: doesn’t scramble to pull the mask back down, or insist you keep looking away. The silence, the stillness— all of it is trust.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye; he’s set the mask down on the ground while he bleeds.

“I’m worried too,” he admits softly, and you’re not sure what’s more foreign: his voice, unhindered, or the honesty it carries. You don’t want to scare either away, so you do nothing. There’s more: “I can’t leave boss, though. Who else has he got?”

“The hunter?”

“Nah,” he dismisses. “She’s hot stuff, y’know? A lot of players in that game.” He taps at his mask idly. “Heard one of them’s a doctor.”

You’re quiet again. Thinking.

“Boss always has our back,” Kieran asserts. “We have to look out for him too… That’s the job, right?”

He’s not really asking you; you came to this late, after all. It was their job long before it was yours.

You’ve nothing to do but look at your hands and listen, biding your time. The passing seconds are still restless, useless, but the sensation slips when you feel hands on your waist, pulling you back. Kieran’s arms wrap around you. His chin settles on your shoulder, and you close your eyes.

“Stay,” he says. “Please?”

His pain is harder to sit with than your own. Minutes ago, this was something you wanted. Now it’s just another wound you don’t know how to stitch up; too deep, too late.

You let your head rest against his, but you don’t say a word.

…

This was easier when you were relying on Mephisto’s guidance and not hazy, disjointed memories. The last time you were here you were running, Kieran at your side and Sylus not far ahead. You weren’t thinking about what corners you turned or what directions you travelled; you were thinking about everything behind you. Shouts. Gunshots. The subtler rush of your leader’s Evol, still crackling, still faltering, courtesy of whatever technology your attackers had managed to appropriate.

It all happened so quickly.

Every corridor feels longer, now. Each moment— slow. Your body is aching. You’ve lost count of how many encounters you’ve had, but there’s a new bruise or scrape for every body in your wake. None of it has been easy. You ran out of bullets just getting inside this damn place, and the rest has been messier: up-close and personal.

You’re catching your breath, so you toe the rifle of your last adversary, lying a short way from their limp, open hand. They never got a chance to use it, and you were lucky; it would have been loud. Every guard in this run-down labyrinth is looking for you. The last thing you need is to send out a homing beacon.

Glance around. Try to work out your bearings.

This was once a police station. Old-world. Eroded beyond recognition, almost. These places were the first to fall victim to the backwards evolution of the N109 Zone. The bones are the same, but the skin is different. Every wall is scrawled with anti-Association sentiments.

It makes you smile, despite everything.

Your footsteps are deliberately quiet as you carry on down the corridor, turning into the next room— you’ve been tackling them one-by-one. There’s a narrower corridor before the room opens out, and then…

Cells.

A short line of them— five in total. Your heart wants to beat faster with hope, but your mind is holding it back: insisting this is wrong. It seems abandoned. Forgotten. You walk by the first cell, and then the second. Nothing. The third. Nothing.

There’s a sound behind you, and you almost don’t hear it. You spin, only to find a hand wrapped around your throat, tight and unforgiving. A guard thrusts you up against the red-brick column that divides two cells, and you’d cry out in pain, but there’s no breath to carry it. Your eyes water. You try to prise the hand away, and it’s desperation that possesses you— not skill or experience.

You kick out and hit nothing, but the second time, you catch the man’s shin. He shouts, his grip failing just enough for you to slip your fingers beneath his. A few seconds of advantage. You grasp his wrist, using your other hand to wrench his forefinger backwards— crack. He staggers with a cry and then you’re dodging his frenzied attempts to recapture you: weaving behind him, seizing the back of his neck. Your foot trips his. He’s teetering, off-balance, and you use the momentum to crash his head against a bar of the cell.

Metal rings out. Flesh splits.

The guard crumples at your feet and you almost go down with him. Your lungs are pulling for so much air that it makes your throat sting. Adrenaline laps your limbs, celebrating in sheer, ecstatic disbelief; you’re alive.

Someone wolf-whistles and you swear you feel everything stop.

Your gaze shoots up, lit by hope, but it’s quickly snuffed out. A young man is watching you from the fourth cell, his arms threaded through the bars. There’s a shameless grin as his eyes flit over you. All of you.

“Fuck off,” you sneer as you step over the guard. You turn to leave.

“Rude.”

Your eyes go wide. You spin back. “Luke?”

The man cocks his head like you’ve asked a trick question. “... Yeah?” It takes a drawn-out moment of you staring at him, motionless, for him to recognise your confusion. “Oh, right. Here—” he draws up his hood and the horns are missing, so he emulates them with pointed fingers— “this help?”

You lunge forwards, trapping him in a hug through the bars of his cell; you barely notice the separation. He chuckles as he hugs you back: “Miss me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale in relief, even though he was definitely setting you up for a joke. You break away from him, forcing yourself to look at anything but his face. Gods, his face. Pretend you don’t already want to look again. “Are you hurt?” you ask. “Did they—”

“Nope!” he interrupts with what sounds like a smile. “I told them everything.”

You glance up; you can’t help it.

He winks at you. “I lied. Glad you got here before they figured that out, though. Sheesh, that would not have been fun.” His hands wrap around the bars. “Can you get me out of here?” He tugs at them. “Pleeease?”

Right. “Yeah.” You glance around. You just need to find the—

“Key’s with the dead guy,” Luke says. “What a jerk, huh?”

It still feels like there are hands on your throat. “Totally.” You wander over to the body, bending down to rummage through the man’s pockets. After a brief search, you produce the key.

Luke slow claps. “My hero.”

You laugh softly as you return to the cell, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The twin strides through, giving a little bow as he passes, then stretches his arms like he’s just been set free from a much smaller cage.

“So…” He speaks in a sing-song sort of voice, sniffing the air like it’s sweeter. “Where’re boss and Kieran?”

“Um. Home?”

Luke narrows his eyes at you— vaguely resembling the slits of his missing mask. “You went rogue?”

You wince. “I did go rogue.”

You’re still being studied warily. Luke has raised an eyebrow and it’s so starkly expressive; is this a look he gives you often? You have a feeling it is. Then he shrugs and it’s gone. “That’s hot,” he quips. He crouches down beside the dead guard, lifting the body and puppeteering one of the arms to wave at you. “Look— this is gonna be you when boss finds out.”

You cross your arms. Luke laughs, dropping the man back down with a thud. “Just you and me then?” he clarifies, holding a hand out to you.

Are you supposed to know what to do with it? “You and me,” you confirm. Your hand goes out too.  

Luke slaps it gently one way, then another. He entangles your fingers. Pulls back. Does a few more slaps in sporadic directions, and— is this a secret handshake? You don’t have a secret handshake.

“Nice,” he beams once the ritual is complete. “Let’s go, let's go!”

…

Luke is hanging close to the wall across from you, waiting— listening— as you both brace yourselves behind the turn of yet another corridor of the rival base. He sneaks glances around the corner.

“Anyone there?” you whisper.

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t press on, either, because it’s odd; you’d both thought you’d heard something. This isn’t your usual strategy— playing it safe. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke err on the side of caution, but he’s concentrating, even closing his eyes so he can listen harder.

You take advantage of the moment in a way you shouldn’t: letting your gaze linger on his face. Even with his hood up— shadows lowered like a veil— he’s still a stranger to you. You want to know him; you know him already. He’s been smiling at your jokes forever, but tell him one now, and it’ll be the first time.

His eyes open, meeting yours. Could he sense you watching? He grins, poking his tongue out at you.

“Stop it.”

“You stop it,” he retorts. The coast must be clear, for he comes away from the wall and rounds the corner with a spring in his gait.

You sigh as you stand to follow him. One less-enthusiastic step forward, and something snakes around your ankle. Your gaze drops like a stone, but it isn’t fast enough. You’re hauled into the air, voice failing, vision swimming as the world flips upside-down and you’re strung up from the ceiling. “Luke!” you manage in warning.

Are those his footsteps, coming back? You’re facing the wrong way and you try to lift the lower half of your body so you can reach for your ankle, but you’re already exhausted. Your muscles burn. After a few, futile inches, you give up, going limp.

There are footsteps behind you. “Oh, hey boss!” Luke exclaims.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

An unwitting pendulum: you can’t keep your body from turning, ever so slowly, until you’re staring the right way down the corridor. You can’t see much of it, though.

Sylus is in front of you, so close that you can almost feel the heat of his eyes.

“Hey, boss,” you echo reluctantly.

He says nothing, and behind him, Luke slides a gloating finger across his own throat: you’re dead! And you’re turning, still. Sylus lifts a hand to the top of your head and swivels you back to him. “What happened to that trust of yours, sweetie? Hmm?”

You half-laugh, nervous. He doesn’t seem quite as amused.

Releasing your head, he steps back with a huff of disappointment as you start a slow rotation once more. He taps a finger to his chin pensively, like you’re a masterpiece he’s convinced might be a forgery, now that he’s looking more closely. “Reckless little thing, aren’t you?” he tuts.

There’s maybe a smile, but it’s short-lived; the dark rope around your ankle whips you into the air. You shriek with shock as you lose all bearings, all vision, all sense of reality. You’re falling.

Someone catches you.

“My reckless little thing,” Luke grins, jostling you into a more secure position in his arms. “Mine.”

You want to protest, but your breath is gone.

“You can’t afford her,” Sylus speaks over his shoulder; he’s already taken the lead in guiding you out of here. Mephisto squawks somewhere up ahead, appearing in a cloud of smoke and feathers.

Luke gives a defensive hmph as he holds you a tighter. Then he smiles down at you, and though it’s new, you know it’s far from the first time, and even further from the last.

…

“Are we really doing this?” you ask Sylus sceptically.

“Lighten up, sweetie.” He clicks his fingers.

Not far from you, currently oblivious to your presence, Kieran stands at the door of your leader’s study, still waiting for an order. The air above him changes: it swirls with a dark, scarlet mist. Luke drops out of it, landing straight on his twin’s back.

“What the—” Kieran splutters, but his brother’s arms are over his shoulders, around his neck. “Get off!” he squeaks out.

“No way. I was a prisoner,” Luke chortles. “You have to be super nice to me. Carry me everywhere. Boss said so.”

“He did not!”

And with those words, Kieran flips his other half the rest of the way over his shoulder; Luke lands on the ground with an unceremonious splat. All four limbs are sprawled. “Ow!” he whines.

Sylus has already strode the rest of the way into the room. “Play nice,” he scolds as he steps over Luke, then passes by Kieran.

“Yes, boss!” they chime, stilling obediently as the older man disappears into his study. The moment the doors close behind him, Kieran throws himself down. He wrestles with Luke, both of them laughing and rolling around as they try to hurt each-other.

It makes you think of those old, vintage cartoons you used to see on TV. You can just picture the cloud of dust, the colourful stars and shapes flying with every traded punch. Idiots.

You leave them to it, slinging yourself down on a couch and closing your eyes. Gods, you want to sleep. There’s blood dried to your hands and face, but you’ll shower later. There are grazes and cuts still bleeding, but you’ll tend to them later. Everything can wait.

The room has gone quiet. Too quiet; you open your eyes.

Luke and Kieran stand in front of you ominously, their figures symmetrical. The illusion of reflection is broken by Luke’s absent mask, but his eyes are just as unreadable.

“What?” you cave.

“You went rogue,” Kieran states, and his brother is nodding gravely, like this is a very serious infraction.

You smile. “I did go rogue.” More shameless than last time. “I got a free pass, though. Luke said it was hot.”

Kieran’s mask turns to face his twin, slow and resentful. Luke shrugs. “What? It was.”

There’s an impasse: long enough to make you think they’re having some kind of secret discussion. Both twins look at you. You smile sheepishly. You don’t think you’ll ever really know the entirety of what goes on in those heads, but it’s for the best. You value your sanity.

“You went rogue,” Kieran carries on, as if his speech had never been interrupted, and his authority not just completely undercut. He moves closer, slinking down beside you, and Luke plays the part of his mirror image. “There will have to be a… punishment.”

The word is elongated for effect, and it’s remarkably similar to Kieran’s ‘ghost voice’— which you know, thanks to the time he roped you into that ‘the base is haunted!’ prank. (Sylus did not, in fact, fall for it.)

“Bring it,” you murmur, closing your eyes again. “I just stormed a whole enemy base single-handed. I think I can handle the two of—”

Your voice meanders to a stop as Kieran nuzzles against you. His mask is off; you feel the soft of his face and the bridge of his nose. His breath is light on your neck. You smile, slipping deeper into your seat and then his embrace as his arms go around you. He’s warm. Really warm.

There’s a weight— Luke’s head on your lap— and he hugs you too, arms lower around your waist. His breath tickles your stomach. You hum in contentment, running your hands through his hair. 

He's safe. You're all safe.

They were never going to say thank you; it’s not in their nature. Their language isn't superficial. It isn’t words spoken aloud or feelings worn on the face— it can’t be. A smile is too easily read by the rest of the world, but a smile behind a mask? It’s private. Reserved only for those who’ve learnt to hear it in your voice, or see it in the way your body relaxes when you hold someone you care for.

A language of tiny, intimate details.

Kieran has never nestled his face quite so closely against you. You don’t think you’ve ever known Luke go so long without talking.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Unlike Anyone Else – Glen Powell

Masterlist

Glen walked into the coffee shop, hiding his cringe behind a smile when people started noticing him. He walked up to the counter and ordered his coffee from a very excited barista. This has been happening a lot more since his role in Top Gun: Maverick. It got even crazier after Twisters.

As he waited for his coffee, he stood off to the side, using his phone to avoid making eye contact with anyone. When his name was called, he walked up and grabbed his coffee. He turned around but pumped into someone.

"I am so sorry," Glen panicked. "Did I get any on you?"

"Don't worry about it," the young woman shrugged. He looked up at her, instantly noticing how beautiful she was.

"I didn't spill my coffee on you?" He double-checked.

"I'm all good," she chuckled.

"Coffee for Y/N!"

"Excuse me," the woman smiled. Glen was slightly shocked as she walked past him and got her drink. He expected her to walk back over and talk to him, but she sat down at a table in the corner. He couldn't help but watch her pull out her laptop from her bag. She took a drink of her coffee and over the cup, noticed Glen was still watching her.

She sent him a wink before going back to work. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him debating something. She hid her smirk behind her coffee when he made up his mind and walked over to her.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," she smiled as she sat back. "But can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he shrugged as he sat across from her. 

"You always stare at a woman after almost spilling your coffee down her shirt?"

"Only the special few," Glen winked at her.

"Last time I checked, there weren't twisters in LA," she smirked.

Glen chuckled awkwardly as he ran his fingers through my hair. "You know," he sighed, "for a second there, I thought you didn't recognize me."

"Please," Y/N laughed, "the second you walked in, everyone recognized you. I doubt you can go anywhere without being noticed."

"That is true," he sighed. Y/N studied him.

"You okay, Hollywood?"

"I'm fine," he laughed a little too forcefully.

"It's okay not to be," Y/N shrugged as she took another sip of her coffee. "After a rough day at work, I got to the nearby bar and drink and drink and drink. If it's a really bad day, I go home with a sexy stranger."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," Glen chuckled. "What do you do for work?"

"I'm a lawyer," she explained, "currently working toward partner."

"That's awesome. You close?"

"Hell yeah," Y/N laughed. "I basically do everything in the office. Not only do I handle my cases, but my coworkers always seem to need my help."

"Damn," Glen smirked. He looked down at her empty coffee cup and had an idea of how to keep her here. "You got time for another coffee or do you need to rush back to work before the firm falls apart?"

"I've got some time," she shrugged. "If you're buying."

"I'll be right back," Glen winked. He stood up and ordered another coffee for her. As he waited at the counter, he looked over his shoulder and watched Y/N answer her phone. He watched as her whole demeanor changed as she spoke to whoever was on the other side of that phone call.

She hung up as he walked over. "Everything okay?" He asked, suddenly worried she might have to leave.

"Everything is fine," she sighed, not sounding convincing. "Just morons at my office that don't know how to staple paper, let alone talk to a client." She looked up, her face slightly reddening when she saw him staring at her. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice lightening up. "Work is just. . . a lot."

"Sounds like you need something stronger than a cappuccino," he tried to tease.

"That's for sure," she mumbled. "Then again, it's not even 10 o'clock. But I will definitely be making a stop at a bar after work."

* * * * *

They spent the morning, talking about their jobs and their lives. The entire time, Glen couldn't believe that this amazing girl didn't care who he was. Not once did she treat him like a famous actor.

Y/N sighed when her phone rang for the third time. "I'm sorry," she sighed before answering her phone. "What now, Caleb?"

Glen sat back and watched as her facial expression changed. "We have gone over this so many times," she sighed. "The case files are not. . . Yes, the client. . . You know something Caleb, I'm getting awfully tired of doing my job and the job of my assistant."

She hung up and her eyes softened when she looked at him. "I should really go. I'm half-expecting my office to be on fire when I get there."

"Well," Glen sighed as the two stood up, "if your office is on fire, call me."

"And what are you going to do about it, Mr. Hollywood?" She smirked.

"Run into the building and save you," he said like it should've been obvious.

"Can't have you doing that," she chuckled. She reached up and patted his face, as she added, "This pretty face is your job. Can't risk anything happening to it."

* * * * *

Glen tried to go about his day, but his mind was constantly on the woman he met at the coffee shop this morning.

"What's with you?" His manager, Andrew, asked when he walked into the hair and makeup trailer and saw Glen staring absentmindedly at his phone.

"Nothing," Glen stuttered. "Just. . . distracted."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Only a woman can make a man. . . distracted," Andrew laughed. "Who is she? Coworker? Neighbor? Friend?"

"Nothing like that," Glen sighed as he put his phone down. "Just a random girl I met at my coffee shop this morning."

"Wow," Andrew chuckled as he sat next to him. "What's her name?"

"Y/N."

"By the look on your face and the way you smiled when you said her name, something tells me you actually talked to her."

"I did," Glen chuckled. "We talked for over an hour, but her work pulled her away."

"What does she do for work?"

"She's a lawyer."

Andrew studied Glen as Glen thought about Y/N. "Did you ask her out?" Andrew asked.

"No," Glen sighed.

"Did you get her number?"

"No," Glen said, clearing his throat.

"Do you know what law firm she works at?"

"No," he said, looking down at his phone. "All I know is her name is Y/N, she is a lawyer, and she likes to go to the bar close to the coffee shop."

"There you go," Andrew shrugged.

"What?"

"You know where she's going to be, right?"

"Well, yeah. I do, but. . .Oh."

After work, Glen headed to the bar. The second he walked in, he searched for Y/N. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her sitting alone at the bar.

"Fancy meeting you here," Glen chuckled as he sat at the bar next to Y/N.

"Really?" She smirked. "You just happened to show up at the bar I was telling you about this morning?"

"I always come here."

"Mmhmm," she rolled her eyes as she took a drink.

"Can I buy you a round?"

"How about more than just one?"

* * * * *

The next morning, Glen woke up to an empty bed. He ignored the feeling of disappointment when he realized Y/N was gone. He spent the entire morning, slowly getting ready for the day.

As he drove to the set, his thoughts were only on Y/N.

He thought about the coffee shop. He thought about the bar. He thought about the night they spent together. He thought about the feeling he got when he looked down and saw her asleep on his chest.

He hated himself for not getting her number. He hated himself for letting her leave without kissing her goodbye. He hated himself for not asking her out on a proper date.

He vowed to do whatever it takes to find her.