#since you didn't mention which muse I picked one at random

[gothroughthelookingglass]

Making it it's own post!

@ayoharuko Thank you for saving my life with your reblog!

Y'know, I really didn't like school festivals. Partially because all the ones I've attended so far had an Overblot occur, but they were also just boring in general. Especially those end of the year ones. Like the one I was attending at that very moment.

The whole island was jazzed up for the joint school festival, and I was just sitting on the bench in the square doodling.

"Oi, prefect!" I looked up from my notebook, flower doodles littering the otherwise blank page, to see Ace and Deuce walking towards me. When I saw the large book in the formers hand, I raised a brow.

"What's that?" I asked, closing my notebook and setting it down. One of Grim's ears twitched as the pair came and sat on the bench on either side of me, and he moved to Deuces lap when Ace passed me the book.

"It's the sage island yearbook." Deuce explained simply. "This is your copy, Ace and I already signed it." I hummed with a smile, opening the book.

I was a part of that years yearbook committee as a photographer because of the ghost camera Crowley gave me. Most, if not all, the pictures of NRC and its students were taken by me, and I got some good ones at RSA as well, there was this end of year dance thing being hosted there and a bunch of NRC students went.

"Oh awesome, thanks for bringing it over." I expected that to be the end of it, but both Ace and Deuce had a little grimace on their faces. I sighed "Okay, what happened?"

"You should see for yourself." Ace stated gravely, flipping to the student hall of fame pages.

All the students and staff in both schools could vote for random things like 'most introverted' or 'teachers pet' or 'most likely to commit a crime and get away with it'(My Idea) stuff like that.

I quickly understood why Ace and Deuce were acting so...odd. one of the categories was 'Most Beautiful' and instead of one of the two Actors you'd expect to see. My name and picture were there.

It was a good picture, thankfully.

"Oh, that's what happened." I said plainly, a little in shock. "Have either of them even..."

"Vil Senpai hasn't gotten one yet. I'm not sure about Neige." Deuce said confidently. I waved my hand at the mention of Neige.

"That's fine, Neige isn't who I'm worried about." I hummed nonchalantly, looking at the other people in the hall of fame pages. Iida got 'most introverted', some RSA student got 'teachers pet', and Epel got 'Most likely to commit a Crime and get away with it' which made me laugh a bit.

He could, and would, pull that off. Depending on the crime anyway.

"Hey you know what this means?" Ace perked up, a grin on his face. "This means that a majority of students and staff in both schools think that you're prettier than both Neige and Vil!"

"Yeah, I noticed." I sighed out. "And I do not want that, Vil gets homicidal when he's jealous."

"Ah, Prefect." I froze, looking up to see Vil approaching, yearbook and a cloth pencil case in arm. "Just who I was hoping to see."

"Hi Vil Senpai." I greeted calmly, closing my yearbook and standing up, putting my yearbook on top of my doodle book after it had fallen from where I wedged it. "Something I can do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could sign my yearbook." He mused, holding it and the bag out to me casually. "I have plenty of to choose from."

Taking the two items from him, I opened the bag to see a variety of different colours and styles of pens.

"Only if you sign mine." I smiled, picking up the, admittedly heavy, book with my free hand and passing it to him. He took it with a smirk.

Luckily, there was a table nearby that we could put the books on to sign them better. I picked out a sparkly purple gel pen and jotted down a little note. I didn't want to take up too much space, since there were probably a lot of people wanting to sign his.

"Just because you're the Villian of someone else's story, doesn't mean you can't be the Hero of others."

Signing my name with a little flourish at the end, I closed Vils yearbook, and we swapped them back once he was done with mine.

And of course, this is when Neige popped by with his own yearbook, asking both Vil and I to sign it. Vil begrudgingly agreed, but handed it to me first. I took the book and switched my purple out for red.

"Be the Hero for whoever you can, even if that means stepping out of the spotlight."

By the time I had finished writing my little note and singing my name, I found that my yearbook was being passed around by my other NRC friends, everyone wanting to sign it. Ace, Deuce, and Grim had wondered off somewhere, probably a food stall.

"Say, Prefect." Vil started out, holding his yearbook under his arms while everyone was using his pens for my book. "What are you going to do now that the year is over?

"I... don't know, honestly." I answered plainly. "I'm not sure if Crowley would be willing to let me stay over the summer. Especially not since Grim has to go to that rehabilitation centre for the summer break after...well, you remember."

Judging by the face Vil made, he did indeed remember.

"Oh well, we can't have that!" Neige piped up, claping his hands together cutely. "You can stay with me for the summer!

"Um, Absolutely Not." I sighed at Vils immediate interjection. "The Prefect barely even knows you. They'll stay with me."

"And be stuck on their own? I respect you, Vil Senpai, but you're always working. If they come with me, they'll at least get to have some fun!" Neige countered, grinning. "Honestly Senpai, you need to learn how to take a vacation."

I sat back down on the bench, grabbing my notebook and flipping it to a clean page as the two Actors got lost in their 'my horse is bigger than your horse' like bickering. I pulled my pencil out from behind my ear and leaned back with a small smile.

"Oh geez, what's goin on here?" Epel walked over to me, my yearbook in hand, and sat down next to me.

"Oh, they both invited me to stay and their place for the summer and now they're arguing." I explained simply. Epel let out an amused chuckle and leaned back, my yearbook resting in his lap.

"Hey if you don't wanna deal with either of em you can always spend the summer with me. MeeMaw would loveta see you again." I giggled and nodded at Epels suggestion, it had been a long while since I spent a summer of a farm. "How long do you think they're gonna go at it for?"

"Who knows at this point."

The answer: Long enough for me to sketch them, steal a black inking pen from Vils bag to ink that with, and for me to go buy quality art pencils from a booth an RSA student set up And colour it.

[a-vctlan]

[ lime ]  describe yourself as a character / mix of characters you've always related to the most.

[ mint ]  when did you start your blog? what made you start it?

[ olive ]  what gives you the most inspiration for your muse(s)?

COLORFUL INTERVIEW

LIME — also asked by @enshijou 💖

if you've suffered with identity issues and the feelings of being other in your own life, like you're filling in someone else's shoes, congrats i am forcibly assigning you a cloud strife kin. that, or you know, might just be autism. point still stands.

MINT

i officially started writing on tumblr in 2016 with my first kunsel blog, kunselxknows, which i've since archived for myself and then deleted. i've roleplayed online before, my start being on those random homestuck roleplay sites along with on skype, but then one day i accidentally stumbled onto the rp part of tumblr.... pretty sure with one of zack's blogs - specifically his cloud. picking kunsel was a deliberate decision, he really did live in my skull after being shown as such a good friend's of zacks only to be never mentioned again... and this was before remake timline, so i was 100% certain i was free to do whatever i wanted with him, haha. tumblr was the first place that let me properly develop my son into what he is now, and i've met a lot of great people over all, if my art commission and following sappy post didn't show it enough.

OLIVE

i need a refresher of source material every so often to make sure i got their voice right, but what inspires me most when writing them is talking about their connections with other people's muses. it is these interpersonal connections that really help you shape them less into archetypes and tropes and into characters.

[lennjamin-o7]

For the ask game, 18 and 29?

18) The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Wilbur. Fucking. Soot. Gosh, he is so HARD. You have to balance his chaos with his eloquence and it is just SO HARD. If I go gray, the entire fault lies with character Wilbur Fucking Soot. I'm not even joking.

29) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

This question is why it took me so long to respond. I had an idea, but I wanted to re-read earlier chapters to make sure I didn't overlook anything. Which, for one, thanks for that. I realized I never addressed a certain plot hole. It must have gotten cut from a draft. I can do that in another chapter.

Anyways, I have a few that I really liked. I can’t quite pick one so you get 5+1.

From Chapter 2

So, of course, Technoblade was punished for guiding a teenager through the city. Because that is just the height of blasphemy against the Blood God. Associating with some random blonde kid would be the end of all the Blood God’s well laid plans. The very downfall of Scywar. Ridiculous.

Also from Chapter 2

“He’s like a thunderstorm,” Technoblade settled on. Sir Wil tilted his head, eyes glittering.

“Oh? How so?”

“Loud,” Sir Wil barked a laugh,” But…not unpleasant to listen to.”

“I agree,” Sir Wil’s eyes softened, taking a step away from Technoblade. “A thunderstorm is an excellent way to describe him.”

From Chapter 6 (Because of the sheer amount of dramatic irony I stuffed in it)

“Dad is really interested in military strategy and history. He can honestly be a bit overenthusiastic about it. He could go on for  hours  about proper army placements. I’m sure he would  love  to talk to you about it sometime. He's also  really good with a sword, and I am sure that he would love to spar with you, if you wanted. Scywar is renowned for their swordplay, after all. But I’d understand if you are sick of fighting,” Wil mused. “I’ve never been very interested in fighting myself. Armor is incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention it just  doesn’t  match my aesthetic. And Tommy can be a bit too…monomaniacal with his approach in sparring, I suppose. It makes him a bit predictable.”

“You better explain that word right now, prick. The only maniacal person here is you!” Tommy growled as he returned with a glass in his hand. Wil ignored him.

“And ever since we lost Mom, Dad hasn’t really had anyone to talk to about that sort of thing. Well, he does still talk about it. It just  bores me. There are only so many times I can hear about the proper way to wield a trident before I want to throw myself out the nearest window. I have always been more into political drama, anyway.”

Chapter 8

“I’m not going to read some encyclopedia-”

“Read it.” Technoblade sat in the desk chair, not looking at the brothers as Tommy groaned.

“Ugh, wait. Is this the one Wil got laughed at because of?” Tommy asked. Technoblade nodded without looking up and the kid looked slightly more interested. Or at least, he looked less like he bit into a lemon. Cautiously, the kid opened the cover and his look of distaste turned into one of confusion. The kid flipped through the pages.

“All of these pages are blank,” Tommy said in confusion. Wil leaned over his brother’s shoulder, curiosity piqued.

“All of them?” Technoblade goaded. Tommy flipped through the pages quicker, until he stopped on a page in the middle.

“...it just says ‘nice’.” Tommy said, bewildered. But Wil broke out into cackling laughter, leaning against the bed to not fall over. “Wait…”

Technoblade tore his eyes away from the book to watch the brothers with amusement. Tommy met his eye, a look of dawning awe.

“K. Jacobs wrote forty-two volumes detailing the history of Essempi. They’re considered one of the most accurate historiographies of the country,” Technoblade explained with a smirk. “His forty-third volume, however, was a bit of a joke that he labeled-”

“Volume Sixty-Nine,” Wil wheezed. Tommy had now joined his brother in breathless amusement. Technoblade rolled his eyes, before returning to his book.

Chapter 10

Technoblade stood upright as the priests slowly made their way through the barrack, assigning tasks to each Blessed One that they passed. And in the familiarity, there was horror. For instead of sluggish compliance, the Blessed were twitchy and wound. The Blessed were full of fear and despair. The Blessed had never tasted hope, not one day in their short lives, but were now choking on trepidation. And oh, the children looked so lost under the guidance of those who claimed to know the very plan of a god. A plan that was either flawed, false, or fiercely cruel.

And from Taste of Freedom, I just really like this section.

Two feet came into view, and Technoblade peered up at one angry  Jerry .

“You disobeyed me, Technoblade.”

“Would I do something like that?”

“You attacked guards of the church.”

“Pretty sure they attacked me.”

“You attempted to permanently injure another Blessed.”

“I mean, not  permanently . The only thing a little oxygen deprivation is gonna do is kill off some brain cells. And we both know that Hallowlance doesn’t have any-”

Priest Jereth kicked Technoblade. Technoblade blinked stars away, a trickle of blood dripping from his forehead.

“Ow.”

“You are disrespectful, unrepentant, sacrilegious-”

“I’m pretty sure the Blood God didn’t come up-”

Priest Jereth kicked him again. The world spun and Technoblade stopped struggling as he blinked away spots in his vision. He tasted blood.

Thank you so much for the ask! Funny enough, the fic took me some time to reread lol. Someone put too many words in it <3 <3 <3

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

@goodbye-home-demo

All right so basically, I've been chewing on the juxtaposition between Taylor clearly worshiping Love as a concept (and her own love/lover, specifically) and her frustrations expressed in Lavender Haze:

No deal! That 1950s shit they want from me / I just wanna stay in that lavender haze.

All they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride / The only kind of girl they see is a one night or a wife.

Since Taylor otherwise really values her relationship (see: her entire post-1989 discography) and has even alluded to marriage positively in song (eg. Paper Rings, Lover) I think the issue she's expressing is less with her being viewed as a part of a relationship per se, and more with the way she's perceived within that relationship, namely she doesn't want to be seen as a passive participant in her own love story and specifically doesn't want people thinking that she's going to retire her creative work and "settle down".

But here's the thing, her creative work is very much tethered to her current relationship – and I think that's kind of the crux of it all.

Love and songwriting form a synergy within her – the fact that she has both expressed more joy than ever before, having found happiness with someone, as well as been on a creative roll in the last 6 years is not a coincidence. Contrary to her erstwhile fears that lasting happiness would lead her into a creative drought, it's actually opened up more doors than she could count.

Basically, I think that to her, one of the marks of a truly great love is it inspiring her to create.

(Also, I think it's noteworthy how Midnight Rain kind of portrays these passions as opposites and unable to coexist, and You're On Your Own, Kid describes them forming separately but eventually converging within her.)

It's interesting to me that she's used similar words to describe love in songs as she does to explain inspiration.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear. — Lover (2019)

"I've never been able to fully… explain songwriting other than… It's like this little like glittery cloud floats in front of your face and you– you grab it at the right time." (x)

"My answer is always that it happens differently every time, and that's why I'm still so in love with songwriting." (x)

She's also outright written love songs directly referring to being inspired to create.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we could follow the sparks, I'll drive. — I Think He Knows (2019)

And from the same song, this line, which, based on what she said, implies the same:

He got my heartbeat skipping down sixteenth avenue. — I Think He Knows (2019)

"I mention a street called 16th Avenue, and that's a street in Nashville where I used to write songs. The songwriting/publishing houses are on that street, so if you're wondering if I just picked a random number, I didn't." (x)

Lastly, also need to point to this line:

I'm setting off / But not without my muse. — the lakes (2020)

Taylor's also outright expressed interest in what makes someone inspiring. Look at this passage from her 2018 conversation with Pattie Boyd:

TS: I don’t know what it is that makes some people really creatively inspiring. There have been people I’ve spent a lot of time with who I just couldn’t write about. PB: Yes, now what is that? TS: I don’t know. It’s just that some people come into your life and they have this effect on you. It’s really interesting because in your case you inspired that creative output from two iconic musicians. That just blows my mind. It’s very rare! (x)

Circling back to Lavender Haze and the idea of being reduced to a passive, docile woman within a romantic relationship (You see all the wisest women had to do it this way / 'Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game.) I think, aside from her justified outrage at sexist standards, this concept is also something that is antithetical to how she specifically approaches love; she's an active participant in it via the art she creates about it. Creative inspiration is a pillar of the great love of her life.

Somewhat off-topic post-script: It's also interesting to consider the current speculated timeline of her relationship – which, of course, may be proven wrong some day – that appears to imply she began writing songs very early into dating her current partner, despite having been in a writing flunk for the previous year, which, in fact, coincides with her previous relationship, which was with someone who seemed to express shame about her co-writing a song with him and possibly wanted her to rein her creative and career drive in.

Your picket fence is sharp as knives. […] Storm coming, good husband, bad omen / Dragged my feet right down the aisle / At the house, lonely, good money, I'd pay if you'd just know me / Seemed like the right thing at the time. / You know there's many different ways you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough. — High Infidelity (2022)

I have so many thoughts about the way Taylor's view of love is inextricably linked to how she views writing but alas, I have like ten swiftie followers.

[dreammagicisims]

@herxes2000 liked for an Elsa starter!!! for Tadashi

❅- The start of a new school year felt different this year. It was probably because Elsa now lived in a new area all the way across the country, or maybe it was starting a new University. She knew she shouldn’t be too nervous, after all the school she started off at was a sister school for SFIT, still it felt different. It had to be because she now resided in San Fransyoko rather than New York. Standing in the office of Professor Granville, the Dean, who was going over things with Elsa. Due to her “situation” Elsa’s enrollment was private. Being the Heiress to one of the top companies in the World made it hard to have a normal social life... and then there was the other thing.

It didn’t take long before Elsa was finished talking with Granville, though she proposed Elsa have someone show her around campus, Elsa reassured her that she’d be fine by herself. Besides she had a few days before classes started back up again, she’d be fine exploring the campus on her own. Though it wasn’t completely empty with students still working on projects or personal experiments, it was still less people. 

“So! Where to first?” Her sister, Anna’s, voice rang out as soon as Elsa was in the hallway. Anna had another two weeks before her high school started up so she felt she needed to see Elsa’s campus to get a feel of where she could find her sister.

“Well, we could check out my new lab.” Elsa shrugged.

“Which I’m guessing you forgot to ask where, wait a second!” Anna spoke trying to wave a male down, “Excuse me, could you tell us where this building is?” Anna took the sheet of paper containing the name of the building where the student labs were to ask the male how to get there.

Elsa hadn’t had time to tell Anna she’d be able to find it on her own.

[peachyloveswriting]

Hello there! Ok so before I begin I just want to say that I'm kinda new at this so I'm so sorry if I'm not doing this correctly lol. Feel free to ignore this if I'm not. :)

So this is kinda random and weird but could I have headcannons on how Lupin and the gang would react to their S/O absolutely bodyslamming them onto a couch out of spite then walking away as if nothing happened because they teased them for their height?

Short S/o getting angry over getting teased about their height

Pairing: lupin gang x short reader (all separate)

Prompts: none

Warning: suggestive, pg 13

A/n: I honestly didn't wanna do this at first but it would be hypocritical since I'm short and rather violent

Lupin III

We all know lupin loves to get freaky, like he's mentioned some very naughty stuff to Lupin in some episodes of part two.

So going off of this knowledge he probably likes it rough which is where the being feisty part is useless.

You still try anyway.

You're short obviously.

Lupin picks on you about it a lot and you find it rather annoying.

He still can't help himself though

One day you finally just got tired of it.

"Hey I bet with y/n's height they could get in there no issue." Lupin mused. The hole was way smaller than you were, there was no way you could fit in there and even though you knew he was joking it pissed you off to no end. Turning on your heel you walked away with your arms crossed. "Look at what you did, now their walking away!" Jigen fussed at his friend.

You stopped and pivoted back toward Lupin's direction. You were running as fast as you could and when you reached the perfect distance you leapt and slammed your self into him. The landing was a bit rough but you walked away unscathed, the same couldn't be said for Lupin however.

Jigen

Jigen isn't usually one to make fun of others for their height, he keeps his judgement to himself.

But sometimes he just can't help but press your buttons.

You would normally try to hold back your punches when getting back at him but you were fed up.

You stormed up to the tall gunman, wrapping your arms securely around his waist before hurling him over your shoulder. "What are you doing?!" He demanded. You chuckled to yourself before pinning all your rage into one move.

Grabbing him in the perfect spot you built up the momentum before slamming him onto his back as hard as you could. Poor guy really looked old now with the way he was walking.

Goemon

Letting loose isn't typically a Goemon thing so when he picks ta you for your height you usually let it slide.

But the moment where he's making a genuine offensive sentence

You just wanna lose it.

Today was that day.

When those words slipped from his mouth you room fell silent, everyone's eyes were on you. And so, you stood peacefully, before letting out the most outrageous war cry.

You'd tackled Goemon with your shoulder going straight into his chest, well, more like your elbow considering you took inspiration from John Cena.

[number5theboy]

Hiya, random musing but have you ever watched “no country for old men”? The main villain uses a captive bolt pistol to kill people/break locks, which is directly referenced in s1 of TUA when Hazel and Cha Cha break into the academy. I thought this was weird because there’s no reason for this to be in the show outside of being a blatant reference, the weapon is never seen, mentioned or used again. The only other possible references to this movie I’ve noticed is that Klaus steals a black briefcase hoping that there’s money inside, ultimately getting himself into a world of trouble with Vietnam and Time Travel, while one of the main characters (a Vietnam veteran) from ncfom finds a black briefcase full of money that gets him into world of trouble with the villain and various gangs. I’ve never seen anyone online mention this. It’s strange as well because my Dad showed me ncfom just a few days before my sibling showed me TUA, so I made the connection easily. This, the Luke Skywalker comment, and the Footloose scene are the only movie references that I’ve caught which is extra strange (though maybe that’s just me not having seen any other references) because you’d think that a reference that blatant would have some kind of running gag or meaning or foreshadowing but it’s dropped and never picked up again. I know ncfom did well with the critics but it’s not something that’s referenced much (although I think the line “I’m older now than my father ever was” may have originated with this movie? Which is a line I’ve seen circulating a couple times).

Apologies if you have mentioned this/seen this and I’ve just missed it.

hey, pretty sure i sent an ask about No Country For Old Men and I just wanna add that hiding a black briefcase in the vent of an old and rundown motel, moving between motels to hide, and having a shootout/confrontation in a motel is also a direct parallel/reference to ncfom idk why the showrunners continuously reference this movie in particular but it's definitely purposeful at this point. if i didn't send that ask to you originally or it got lost i'm sorry to have confused you lol

Hey Anon!

This was a really interesting ask to receive. I hadn't noticed the parallels because it's been a while since I saw the movie and I never really felt the desire to circle back to it.

But it does make sense as a movie to make callbacks to, what with the story about a contract killer and someone fleeing from him while law enforcement runs around in circles, unable to do something about the abundance of violence. I will say this, apart from the captive bolt pistol (and even that), I don't know if the references are specific enough to truly be confined to that movie in particular. Motels are common locations in thrillers, and briefcases are a common object in heist movies and the like. There are some more visual parallels that can be drawn, like these:

But I do feel like 'tough person cleans up their wound wearing a wife-beater' is a visual I've seen a bunch of times, and 'cool guys don't look at explosions' is literally a trope so overused there's a fifteen-year-old parody song about it where that scene from No Country for Old Men literally features in the music video.

I get where you're coming from but I genuinely don't know how many - if any - of these references are actual references or if they are just entries in a long-standing visual history of crime cinema. It's not out of the question for it to be deliberate, Season 3 very deliberately shouts out Wes Anderson and specifically The Grand Budapest Hotel (see this amazing gifset for examples), but Wes Anderson has a more distinct visual style than the Coen brothers, so for S1 it really depends on interpretation.

[normreedenstein]

Muse

Fezco x female OC

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mention of gun/ implied violence?

Notes/summary: This is just something random, and I don't know where (if) it's going. Mostly musings of Fezco's new employee, who has become infatuated with him. Could he ever return her feelings?

I've literally never posted anything I've ever written. So, please be kind! Thank you. I don't know how to make cut links, so sorry this is clogging your feed.

×××××××××××××××××

When she first started working at the little corner convenience store, Mya hadn't really realized her boss's beauty. It didn't take long for her to fully appreciate it, though. She had met him for a quick, casual interview and then started her first shift that weekend. Fezco is an odd name but not as strange as his little brother, who had been named Ashtray for some reason. Mya wondered about them, about him.

It started as simple observations. She would watch him stock the fridges, scroll his phone, and talk to customers. He intrigued her. The way his arms and shoulders flexed through the fabric of his Polo as he carried cases of malt liquor. The intensity of his green crystalline eyes. His passive expression which caused his full, rosy lower lip to protrude just so and the way his thick lashes brushed over his freckled cheeks when he was absorbed in scrolling Instagram. He was always well kempt. His hair buzzed short--exposing a large crescent scar over the left side of his skull--but that was a mystery for another time, his cropped ginger beard always nearly trimmed, and his clothes designer from head to toe.

Fezco's body language could be difficult to interpret. He could appear completely relaxed while also on edge, and she wondered if his customers picked up on it like she did. Probably not, she assumed, since they were usually drunk or high as fuck. Ashtray knew though, and she often stole glances at him, lurking behind the glass doors of the drink fridges, waiting with his Glock in case shit went sideways. If Fezco was intriguing, Ashtray was downright shocking.

It really only took that first shift for Mya to know that she found him irresistibly attractive, and this one slow shift in particular sprinkled with deep conversations to know she had developed feelings for him. When he spoke, he had a clear, concise way of making his point, and when he listened, he listened with his whole body. His eyes watched her, nodding slowly, hands loosely gripping the edge of the counter that he sat upon while he easily leaned into the conversation.

Mya had to constantly remind herself that this was just Fez's way. She wasn't special, and he wasn't doing this because she meant anything to him. Did she? No, of course not. She was just the girl he employed to help out a few evenings each week.

"You aight, kid?" Fez broke her from her disassociating daze.

"Huh? Oh yeah, m'fine sorry, just tired." She took a deep breath and returned to the reality of the little corner store.

A look of gentle concern passed over his brow, and he pursed his lips gently.

"You wanna cut early; that's cool. Get you some sleep, lil ma."

The gentle way he spoke and the term of endearment made her heart skip a beat. He had never called her that. It didn't mean anything, though, right? He was staring at her now, waiting for a response.

"OK, yeah, thanks, Fez." She breathed as she slid off the freezer. He nodded at her.

"Be safe ma..."

She nodded this time, pulling her purse from under the counter. She brushed by him as she raised the strap over her head, and across her chest, her arm brushed his shoulder and gave her goose flesh.

"Night," she sighed.

"Ay, you sure you aight? Need a ride?" He cocked his head to the side. "I'll get Ash to watch the register." Mya paused a moment but thought better of it; she just needed to be away from him and her pining. "I'm good to walk, thanks."

He watched her walk out of the bright parking lot lights. Ashtray wondered out from behind the fridges. "Bruh, you fucked." Fez lulled his head towards his younger brother, giving him a sideways glare. "Shuddup kid, don't know shit." He pursed his lips. Ash snorted, "bruh bruh, you called her lil mama, the fuck. She's not gonna forget that." Fezco swallowed, his adams apple bobbing slowly. "Ay, yo! Stop eves dropping. It don't mean nothin'." Fez's voice was hard and demanding. Ash simply raised his hands in mock surrender as he backed away from his older brother. The kid was right. He'd slipped. Fuck.

[boom-bakugou]

‘The Three Times’ — Keigo Takami (Hawks)

A/N: had this one on my mind for a while, hope it made you as sad as it made me

Pairings: Hawks x GN!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight smutty themes, mentions of blood, slight stalker Hawks

Summary: There were 3 times each when you and Hawks really thought of each other after your breakup.

Word Count: 3.4k

masterlist requests are open <3

The first time Hawks thought of you was 6 months after your relationship ended. His fingers brushed tightly through some random person’s hair as their kiss became ragged. Spurred on by alcohol and their combined sex drive. But as they stumbled up to his apartment, lips locked together as if the alcohol called for it. Something just- didn’t feel right. He couldn’t understand if it was the multiple drinks that they had but he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

Yet as he lay over them on his bed, readying himself to take off their clothes. Hawks stopped himself. His eyes glazing over the person beneath his body.

“I’m really sorry I can’t do this uh-“ Hawks’ usual cocky demeanour dissipated. “I think I’m too drunk.”

But his mind was completely sober. His near fuck-buddy annoyed at the disappointment gathered their scattered items and made their way out of the apartment complex with pity money for a cab from Hawks as an apology.

Plagued by his own mind, he couldn’t think of why he couldn’t follow through with it, stripping himself to go to bed as if stripping back layers of himself to figure out his troubles. Before he pinpointed it. The person beneath him wasn’t you. Laying on his king size bed he couldn’t help but still catch the smell of you on the other side, not daring to touch it since you had both ended things.

Why couldn’t he bring himself to sleep there? Even if he awoke in the middle of the night and was the slightest bit too far over on the other side he’d always move. Why couldn’t he bring himself to sleep with someone else in your bed? No, it was his bed; no one else lived with him. Why did he still reach out only to be met with cold covers?

It wasn’t that serious. He told himself. Yes you two had fun, were intimate, became each other’s best friend but it was better to be apart. Hawks knew he was holding you back and the pressure of keeping a partner and being a pro-hero at a tumultuous time wasn’t a good plan.

He hadn’t even realised the shirt that he’d put on to wear to bed that night was one of your favourites on him. Always saying it was the comfiest to lie on. You promised that’d be the one shirt you’d never steal because you preferred it on him. Hawks couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, out loud, in his empty bedroom, looking at how your side of the bed still had traces of the way that you slept.

-

The first time you thought of him was 8 months after your relationship ended. At your agency, you watched him on the tv in your office as he was part of an interview. You didn’t even notice it was him at first, flicking through paperwork. You didn’t notice the interviewers announce his name or the cadence of his voice. It wasn’t until you heard your own name that your eyes were soon glued to the flat screen.

“So how do you feel about Y/N and their new agency? It must be nice to see your ex-sidekick flourish and make their way up and up the hero charts!” The host didn’t mean any malice from it, but you could see the shock and hurt in his eyes hidden behind his signature smile.

No one knew, no one even at his old agency knew about the two of you secretly dating. But the two of you knew about how work and relationships didn’t particularly coincide. Hawks chuckled, before he began his sentence. The inner cogs turning within him plastered on his face, his charming features that you knew so well.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m happy for the kid. Wish we kept in contact more often though.”

He did not want to talk about it. It had hurt you both for it to end it, but you were holding each other back right? You didn’t want to be a side-kick forever, and heroes dating got messy. Tabloids plastered with paparazzi photos. You didn’t want your image ruined before you’d even begun.

“You don’t keep in contact that often? But you two were so close!” The host’s voice was cheerful, trying to keep the smooth pace of the interview going as it had moments prior. Hawks was made for TV, loved by many. Seeing this talk-show was stuttering, you’d never seen him so quietly distraught on camera.

“Just hero work I guess. Keeps everyone busy!” He retorts playfully which makes the crowd laugh, and you yourself can’t help but crack a smile. He could work the camera like magic, but you couldn’t help but see the cut where his face turned into a solemn frown. He was so civil about the breakup. He couldn’t miss you now of all times right?

The TV had cut to an ad-break and you busy yourself with paperwork again. You didn’t really want to think about him, the caress of his fingers, the way his morning voice said your name in his own cadence, the breakfasts he’d make for you the times you’d stayed at his apartment.

No. No more Keigo. So you plunged yourself back into your paperwork and lost all thought of your ex-lover.

-

The second time Hawks thought of you was a year after your relationship ended. Days off never came to him easily, but craving a sense of normalcy at least for one day was allowed. Stopping by his favourite coffee shop was the easiest way to feel normal for him, order the same drink, sit in the same window seat and people watch. Except today, someone was in his seat.

Taking a chair a few spaces down from the girl at the window table, it took him a few moments to recognise her before placing two and two together.

“Hey you’re uh- Y/N’s sidekick right?” Hawks asks, the girl turns her head to him before looking at him in shock, almost spitting out her drink and spilling the other cup that she had with her.

“Uh- y-yes uhm and you’re Hawks oh god hello-.” She stuttered, he reached his hand over to let her shake it which she happily obliged.

“So, how’s it working at big pro hero Y/N’s agency?” Hawks sipped at his coffee, preparing to hear about all he’s missed out on- well, avoided. Her demeanour almost reminded him of you when you just started, a big fan of his looking to do more and be better for the better of everyone around you. She took a sip of her own drink, trying to compose herself before she formulated an answer.

“It’s a dream come true! I’ve been a big fan of Y/N ever since they were at your agency.” She smiles. My agency, he thought. Seems like eons ago.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories from them.” Hawks chuckles, before looking he noticed her rather solemn expression. Her eyes drifting down from his to look at the coffee lip over the opening of her disposable cup.

“Not really, they don't talk much about the old agency which is upsetting- I’d really like to know what it was like!” She was so enthusiastic, so bright. Just like you when you’d become his sidekick. He hoped that he hadn’t ruined that spark when you left the agency. Taking his eyes back to the second cup, his heart sank a little before directing his attention to your sidekick; trying his best to keep his savvy cool aura around him.

“Are you two out on patrol today?” He tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, not to seem prying. He hadn’t heard anything about you really for little over a year, why didn't you two keep in contact? It wasn’t like you agreed never to speak to one another again.

“Yeah! But we have an hour before we start so they’re meeting me here and got me to grab them their favourite before we head off.” She gestured to the other cup that sat next to her own. “They’ll only be a few minutes, do you wanna stay and talk to them?”

The tone in her voice was that of an excitable fan girl although she did her best to tone it down. Hawks’ mind raced at the thought, seeing you now; not just as he flicked over TV channels and newspaper articles on his phone. Or even how his favourite coffee place that he used to take you to was now your favourite, and you hadn’t bumped into each other here once.

“I gotta get running, I have some errands to do.” Hawks picked up his cup and went to walk off before adding. “Tell the kid… I hope they’re doing good.”

And with that he was off, sitting atop the rooftop next to the cafe, awaiting you to walk inside. He only got a brief glimpse and you didn't notice his presence but, after a few moments he saw you return outside. Hiding behind the lip of the roof so you couldn’t see behind, Hawks saw you lift your head up. Your hand shielding your eyes as you looked to the sky for him. When you had no avail you headed back inside to enjoy the rest of your break.

They wanted to see me. He mused.

-

The second time you thought of him was a year and a half after your relationship ended. The deafening sounds of plates smashing as your then boyfriend threw them about. Anger poisoning your veins.

“It’s not my fault that I get called away for work!” You seethed. Trying your best to not follow suit with him, your feet kicking away shards. You see him lift another mug, using your arms to shield your face as it shatters to the ground. It was one of your favourites, but you never remembered why.

“God you act like you’re all high and mighty that you’re a hero and that you save lives every day.” His hands bled from fractures slicing back up into his skin, collateral damage. You looked at the man you once loved, his face contorted with jealous vexation.

“I am not high and mighty! I just believe in what I do! There’s a difference between the two, dipshit!” You couldn’t even work like a hero right now with him, not being able to help but only bite back. You tried your best to make your way in between the cupboard full of the rest of your dining-ware before he smashed anything else.

“HAH you’re so full of yourself, you’re like that dumb hero you used to work for… Hawks is it?” The name caught you by surprise, like ice being pressed to the back of your neck. It was as if a ghost had left his lips. “Just as fucking arrogant and cocky as that cocksucker on tv,”

“Get out.” You mutter, your eyes surveying the mess on the floor. The pieces of broken china looked like islands among a wooden sea, a beautiful nonsensical mess.

“What?”

“You heard what I said, now get out!” Your eyes shot back up to him, filled with absolute malice. The timbre of your voice elevated as your shoes stood on pieces of the plates, cracking beneath your heavy stomp.

He hurried his way out, not another word leaving his lips. The slam of the door didn’t even make you jump. You didn’t know what to feel. Shuffling debris from beneath you with your feet, you kneel on the hardwood floor of your kitchen. Digging away at what had been lost during the fight. Some were little things like plates you found at antique stores or ones that had a chip in it after you’d opened the cupboard door to quickly. Yet one stood out to you.

In a pool of shattered red pieces was where your favourite cup had been rendered to smithereens. Taking each piece, you tried your best to regain your memory of why it meant so much to you. Until it hit. The day you got the mug was the day that Hawks had first kissed you. After a tricky situation involving a villain and a ceramics shop. He and you had been on a few dates prior to the mission, and after all was said and done the owner of the shop gave it to Hawks who then bestowed it to you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Rummaging your way through the pieces trying best not to cut yourself, you find that the bottom of the cup had been split into two, reuniting the pieces you see the faint ‘Hawks x’ painted on the bottom. It had worn away with time but you still saw it. His distinct handwriting, it always looked different when he wore his gloves which must’ve been how he’d written it then. It was a shame you’d have to get rid of it now.

-

The third time Hawks thought of you was 4 years after your relationship ended. How could he have missed it. It was all every newspaper wrote about, all every television talk show chattered on to their audiences to, every social media post upon his dashboard.

You were getting married.

Hawks balled his fists in frustration, the leather of his gloves creating a shrill noise which only fuelled his sadness. But why was he upset in the first place? He hadn’t seen you properly in the flesh for at least 4 years now, not heard you breathlessly say his name as you clung to his sheets, not heard you hum songs in his shower as you got ready for the morning, not smelt your sweet aroma that made him feel like home.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it was all some crazy possessive idealisation that his mind had come up with just because it could. But his throat couldn’t help but go sour as he thought of you in another person’s arms. No one had really made him feel like everything was right, not those half excuses for a relationship he’s had over the past few years, not the one night stands nor the dates his friends tried to set him up. Nothing was as perfect as you were.

You were everything, the moon and it’s pull, the stars and their shine. And what did he do? Throw it away because he was scared and he’d convinced you that it’d be better for you too. How could he be so stupid? How could he have everything in the palm of his hand and let it slip away. He had to see you, just once. Before he could never have you again.

Taking flight in the pitch black, Hawks did his best to research where you were living now. Not in that old cozy place you once had, you were a pro-hero now, able to buy yourself way better. Settling himself on a rooftop near the new and improved apartment complex you lived in, Hawks kept an eye for any movement before he saw you in your window.

You looked as beautiful as the day he met you, clad in only some shorts and a T-shirt, you sipped out of a mug. Watching the bustling city below you. When the hot substance steamed up the window you’d wipe it off, allowing yourself to have the perfect view of the streets. The way the city lights lit you up made his heart swell, everything about you was utterly perfect. He only wished that you were drinking out of that old mug that he had given you all those years ago.

Taking him out of his trance were two strong arms wrapping around you, frightening you momentarily. You looked shocked, nearly dropping the cup. Hawks stood on the ledge of the building, flaring his wings as he prepared himself to jump into action. Yet you turned around and giggled, placing your lips upon your soon to be husband. He recognised their face and blonde hair- another hero. But it’d been years since Hawks last cared about the hero listings. He couldn’t even tell the hero’s name.

His heart sank as you placed the mug down on the window sill, wrapping your arms around your fiancé and dancing around the living room together. Hawks could hear the soft music playing in the background, the man spinning you around. Watching as your hair danced through the twirl with you, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to run his fingers through it. Waking up to it tickling his nose, pushing it out of your face behind your ear; he missed the little things.

Opening his eyes again, he was met with the curtains shut. The final goodbye. He stood himself up properly, not worrying about being spotted before taking out his phone and searching for local shops that open earliest in the morning.

-

The third time you thought of Hawks was 4 years after your relationship ended. Your engagement ring dazzled in the fluorescent lights of your office, you couldn’t help but stare at it. It had taken so many years to find the one but you finally had it, being successful in your career and your love life. Everything was falling exactly into place. Before you could admire your finger any longer there was a knock at your door.

“Hello Y/N? These were delivered for you.” Your secretary brings a tied gift bag and leaves it on your desk, quickly scurrying out as she always had a mountain of workload to do.

You looked at the decorative paper carefully. You knew it couldn’t be anything inconspicuous as all deliveries into hero agencies had to go through rigorous testing before even being allowed into the building. You assumed it was something you might’ve ordered a while back that had finally arrived so you delicately began to peel back the tissue paper.

Beneath was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in a quaint but beautiful small vase. Amongst the sea of flowers was a card held by a stick which you plucked out to read, expecting something from your soon-to-be spouse.

It’s always gonna be you kid. - Hawks x

You swear your heartbeat stopped, retaking your seat at your desk. You reread the simplistic words on the card over and over as if they’re gospel and you can’t help but feel the pang of tears in your eyes and in the back of your throat. Placing it upon your desk you shut your eyes, you hadn’t thought about your feelings for your old boss in years. It sounds so silly, but maybe he buried feelings too. But that was long gone. You had moved on, you were happy. You were settling. Settling.

Still, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and reached beneath a couple of old files to bring out an old memory. The bottom of an old mug glued back together so you could once again read the inscription of Hawks’ name.

[golden-barnes]

Divinità

Prologue: Salvezza

Bucky Barnes X F! Reader

Description of the series: Au! Divinità. A deity. A goddess. One that Bucky has only seen 3 times before and now he can’t get Y/N out of his head. So he decided to put an idealized version of Y/N in his books. But what will happen when he gets to meet the real Y/N? Will you still be his deity?

Summary: (Salvation) The three times Bucky has seen Y/N and how his life changed because of that.

Warning: Curse words, grumpy Bucky, ptsd attacks and war mentions

Word count:1.5k words (I think that’s a lot for a prologue but I got carried away) 

A/N: I (loosely) based this off the Dante Alighieri and Beatrice Portinari story but with a modern twist. This is my first series in years, so I am a little rusty but I am very excited about it.

Past:

The first time he saw her: 

James Buchanan Barnes hated the center. And he made it goddamn clear that it was the worst and that he rather be anywhere else than there. After coming home from his last tour, with one less hand, Sam and Steve decided it would be for the best that he went to the Military Rehabilitation Center. He understood why they wanted him to get help and it wasn’t like they forced him, he truly wanted to get better. He was grateful that they cared about him so much to help him. And the center helped him a lot. He was getting fewer nightmares. The nurses were nice. He likes his physical therapist, even though he thinks that she underestimates him. But he is making some progress, more than anyone in the center. The food is decent, a lot better than what he ate when he was stationed. He liked going to the small library that they had in the center. There was a little park next to the center that he likes to go for a run in the mornings. He was finally starting to feel normal, or rather as normal as he could possibly get. 

His psychologist, on the other hand, is a nuisance. It wasn’t that he is a bad guy, it’s just that Bucky hates talking about himself and he swears the psychologist is out to get him.Sam thinks that he is just being dramatic but he still claims that he hates him. He recommended (even though Bucky says that he ordered him) to keep a journal. To fuck with him, Bucky decided to write some random things. They were borderline poems but Bucky would never admit that. In one of his journal entries, he wrote  about some french fries he ate in Belgium. One time he just rambled about a blue bird. Doc wasn’t pleased with that one in particular.

“You have to write about your feelings, Mr Barnes. That is what the journal is for.” He reprimanded  him in one of his sessions. But Bucky wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That is until today.

His session with the irritating physiologist started normal. The whole "How do you feel Barnes?" and "did you have any nightmares last night or any anxiety attacks?"  Which the answer was yes. He didn't particularly wake up on the right side of the bed. Meaning that this session was getting on his nerves more than usual.

Then there was a knock on a door before he could answer the doctor's questions.

"Excuse me, doctor. The director told me to come get you. Apparently there's a situation in the lunchroom." From the door emerged the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. Her presence just filled the room, in a way he has never seen. It was as if she was radiating calmness. For a few minutes, all of his worries and his fears just vanished. His mind was only focused on her. On the way her eyes were warm and made him feel comfort. On the smile she was giving him. Oh that smile. He knew that he was now addicted to it and would do anything to see it again.

“Behold, a deity stronger than I; who coming, shall rule over me.”

 Was the first thing that came into his mind when she left the room with the psychologist. That night when he wrote in his journal, he wrote about her. 

A month later;

The second time he saw her

Veteran’s day in the center wasn’t as fun as a lot of people think it is. It would be crowded with family members. Kids would bring their toys to show them to their grandparents. There would be a cookout outside for all the vets and their families. Even fucking games, there were little challenges and shit for the families to have fun with. The ruckus was too much for Bucky. Bucky always made it a point not to celebrate this holiday.

 “First of all, it’s dumb. If you wanted to do something for the veterans, maybe you should give the centers more money to operate. And, I don’t know, make more fucking centers. Second of fucking all, why make so much noise? Seriously, can’t we have ONE silent holiday?” He once told Sam and Steve. To which Sam replied with a “stop being such a grumpy motherfucker”.

This year, he decided to hide in the library instead of his room. He wanted to finish this new book Steve brought him in peace and quiet. And since the library was on the other side of the rehabilitation center, he knew it was gonna be his little safe haven. What he didn’t expect was to see her there.

He stopped at the entrance, astonished and amazed. With a flowy flower dress and peonies in her hand. She was looking at the books that they had. Running her fingers over the spines of the books. Why would she have flowers? Why was she here? Was she staying?

She turned around to see him and gave him the same addicting smile that she gave him the other day.

“I thought I was going to be the only one here. I was just looking at the books. Don’t worry I’m going to leave.” Bucky swears her voice is like honey to his ears. His senses were overpowered by the smell of her perfume. Was that vainilla? Or was it cinnamon? He couldn't guess. He was stuck there. He couldn’t talk or move. She gave him another warm smile, one that made her eyes crinkle a bit. Bucky would bet anything to have her permanently smile like that.

“Oh before I leave, here’s a flower. Happy veteran’s day. Thank you for everything” She gave him one of her peonies. Their fingers slightly touched and Bucky felt a small shock. He probably looked super dumb to her. With widened eyes and his mouth slightly opened, he probably looked like an idiot. Damn it Bucky, she might think that you are a creep. 

She smiled again and pointed at the door. Fuck, I haven’t moved from the entrance. She can’t pass. Way to go Barnes! 

“Thank you soldier.”She winked at him. But little did she know that he wouldn’t stop thinking of her wink. 

Another one for the journal, I guess. He thought letting his mind run wild with the image of her.

Two months later; 

The third time he saw her

James Buchanan Barnes was consumed by two thoughts. Number one, he had finished all his physical therapy and his nightmares and panic attacks were less, but he was much better at dealing with it. So that means that it was his last week at the center. He was so happy. He has already said goodbye to all the nurses, his doctors and he even said a nice goodbye to his insufferable psychologist, who he in the end grew to like. He was packing all his things and was waiting in the reception area for Steve to pick him up.

His second thought was her. He hadn’t seen her since that Veteran’s day where he acted like an idiot in front of her. Fucking damn it. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Almost every night since then, he kept writing about her. It was like his brain was trapped in a box, captured until he wrote out everything he could about her. He never even formed a formal conversation with her, but he still couldn’t help but think about her. About how her presence soothes him. How her smile filled him with joy. How the flower she gave him was the most important thing he has ever received. Hell, he learned how to press flowers and made it into his bookmark. 

“These last entries were really good Mister Barnes. It is like something I would see in a poetry book.” His psychologist once noted. And he couldn't help to agree with him. She had become his muse. And I don’t even know her name.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. As if Bucky called her with his mind, she appeared. With the same heart melting smile and the brightest aura. The receptionist even smiled when she saw her. She walked in, and the room got lighter. Can a human glow? Because Bucky thinks that she is glowing, as if small specks of glitter were emanating from her body and reflecting back at him. Did it make sense? Not one bit, but Bucky couldn’t describe it any other way. 

“Good morning Y/N. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”  Y/N let out a soft chuckle at the receptionist’s words. She reached to sign in the sign in list. 

“Buck! Hey buddy, ready to go?” Steve had walked in and Bucky hadn’t even noticed

“Ye-yeah. Let’s go” Grabbing his bags, he started to walk out the center. But not without giving Y/N one last look.

If salvation had another name, Bucky would bet his life that it was Y/N.

[one-boring-person]

I Trust You.

Marko (The Lost Boys) x Chiraptophobic!reader

Warnings: very vague mention of abuse, but they do not apply to the reader necessarily.

Context: The reader suffers from chiraptophobia (the fear of physical human contact/touch) and has somehow found themself in a friendship with Marko, who has somehow managed to understand how to not constantly need to touch his friend to show affection, until they take a ride on the Ferris wheel.

A/N: This was interesting to write, so j hope it's turned out alright. I guess I took a little inspiration from Death Stranding's Sam, but I thought it would be fun to do which it was. I hope it's enjoyable!😊💛

Masterlist

It took Marko weeks to finally figure out why I always shied away from his advances, why I'd stared uncomfortably at his offered hand until he withdrew it when he'd tried to shake mine in greeting, why I always wore gloves even in the suffocatingly hot summer air (despite him doing the same), and why I wouldn't go near people I don't know personally, often doing my hardest to steer clear of others in general. Rather than ask, he tried to work it out for himself, observing my behaviour and mannerisms for hours on end, though he still couldn't get what was up with my actions. He'd had to ask for some help from the others, though only David and Dwayne could offer any plausible reasons as to why: maybe I'd been abused in my past and was now averse to unfamiliar human contact, or maybe I was a germophobe. When the young vampire had asked me about both, I'd quickly denied them, thinking that it is unlikely he'd understand the real reason for my odd behaviour. It was only when he saw another person try to shake my hand that he finally noticed the emotion passing through my eyes at the prospect, at which point it all clicked into place. I was afraid of the contact.

Explaining to him what chiraptophobia is was surprisingly easy, though he was a little disappointed by this fact, being a very touch-driven person when around others, even when not in a relationship, though he did manage to take it in his stride, taking time to inform the boys of this as well, in case one of them accidentally made me uncomfortable. He'd nearly ripped Paul's head off when the taller vampire tried to wrap his arm around my shoulders, only letting up when I told him it was alright, that there was no harm done, despite how uneasy I felt afterwards. Since then, Marko has become almost like a bodyguard for me, making sure no one ever comes into my personal space, all while keeping his distance, too, respecting my limits.

We became fast friends, so much so that he eventually told me his secret, revealing his true self to me on one of the nights we chose to hang out together, alone, on the beach, a night I'd never forget. Naturally, I'd been shaken by this revelation, but soon grew used to the idea, knowing that my friend would never hurt me, not intentionally. After a few months, I finally felt comfortable enough to let him touch my gloved hand, though it still made me feel a little uneasy, the sensation of another person's fingers on mine unfamiliar and disturbing to me, but it made the vampire unbelievably happy, a bright smile plastering itself across his face for the rest of the night. He tells me he had to fight off the urge to hug me, for which I'm very grateful - touching a covered hand is very different to being enveloped in an embrace. Since then, he's taken any chance he can get to hold or touch my hand, always beaming like a beacon when he does so, my discomfort in the contact fading a little over time, though I'd soon found that it was only with the curly haired blonde that my body reacted like this, having asked Dwayne to try at some point, to see if it improved overall. Having come up negative in this test, I gave contact one last try with David, who never seems to take off his gloves, only to find that his touch made me uneasy as much as Dwayne's had, despite the two layers of cloth between our respective fingertips. The memory still sets me on edge, though I am well aware it has nothing to do with either David or Dwayne, rather my own mentality.

A shiver goes up my spine as I feel a hand slip into mine, though I quickly recognise the young vampire stepping in beside me, my stance relaxing again when my body realises whose touch it is, though my arm still remains a little tense, out of habit. Reassuringly, Marko swipes a thumb over the back of my glove, glad that I haven't rejected the contact yet, meaning I'm doing better than normal.

"Hey Stranger." He greets, grinning widely at me.

"Hey Blondie." I reply, smiling back at him in return, before casting a quick glance around for the others, "What'd you do with the other three?"

"They're around. Not sure where." The young vampire shrugs, dismissing the question quickly, "How was your day?"

"Not too bad. I didn't get much work done though, I was too preoccupied."

"Preoccupied? With what?" Marko inquires, raising an eyebrow at me in confusion, though his lips are still quirked up into an amused curve.

"That's for me to know, and for you to figure out." I chuckle, tapping the side of my nose secretively.

"Challenge accepted." He smirks, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

I smile at him as we walk, knowing he'll figure it out eventually, the answer being a little closer to home than he thinks.

"Anyway, how'd you sleep?" I question him, eyeing the Ferris wheel off to the side of the Boardwalk.

"Better than usual, actually."

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"Paul didn't snore so much for once, and David wasn't muttering in his sleep either, so it was pretty quiet, altogether." He explains, smiling when I laugh at the mention of David.

"Wait, David talks in his sleep?"

"Yeah, but you can't tell anyone! And especially don't tell him that I told you, or I'll have my ass kicked to the moon and back." Marko grins, biting his thumb as if nervous, though I'm aware that this is one of his signature mannerisms.

"That's a lot of ass-kicking. Probably quite impressive to watch. " I muse, noticing his arm lift slightly, as if to give me a playful slap on the arm, as he normally would've done with someone else, only to briefly squeeze my hand instead, shaking his head in mock exasperation. I grin at him, before turning my gaze back towards the Ferris wheel, admiring the glittering lights in the black night sky, wondering what the view is like up there.

"Wanna take a ride?" Marko interrupts my thoughts, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Huh?" I blurt out, not having heard his question, quickly snapping my eyes back to his.

"Do you wanna go on the wheel with me?" He repeats, gesturing with a nod of the head to the great circular structure a little way away.

"I would love to, but I don't have any money on me tonight. I forgot my change." I say, somewhat remorsefully, using my free hand to pat my pockets to check for any loose coins, though I'm well aware I have none, having spent it all on food earlier in the evening.

"Who said anything about you paying? Come on, it'll be fun!" The blonde vampire promises, pulling me into the crowd, which parts around us thanks to his reputation (and choice of company), meaning no one comes into touching distance. At one point, my arm brushes past some surfer's bare bicep, which sends uncomfortable shivers and goosebumps through my body, the bitter, irrational fear that comes with it soon biting at the back of my mind, my pulse picking up slightly in response, my muscles turning rigid under my clothes. Marko notices this, briefly stopping to make sure I'm ok, before turning to memorize the surfer's face, most likely intending to take it up with him later, before we continue on, swiftly reaching the shortening queue for the Ferris wheel. Beside me, Marko fidgets and shifts in place, clearly eager to get on the rotating structure, his thumb between his teeth as usual, doe eyes focused on the ticket booth.

"Calm down, Blondie. The wheel isn't going anywhere." I laugh, watching the people around us as they amble to and fro, inching out of the way as a group of made-up girls push past, wincing as I brush against Marko, only to feel surprised when I don't feel the usual discomfort rising up in me from the contact, setting a train of thought into motion. I barely notice as the queue diminishes, only really returning to the present when we reach the booth, at which point Marko buys two tickets and leads me into one of the seats. An attendant comes over to help us secure ourselves, but Marko quickly stares him down, doing the job himself with efficiency.

Not too long after, we've reached a decent way off from the ground, our feet swinging gently in the air as we watch the Boardwalk from above, grinning and joking with each other as we take it in turns pointing out random individuals, making comments about them until the other laughs. At one point, the young vampire manages to spot David, Dwayne and Paul, making some sort of remark about how the leader's hair "looks like a pineapple from the top", before comparing the latter's to a mop. I do my best to hold back my laughter, but it only results in me nearly choking as he starts pointing out more and more likenesses between his friends and everyday objects, tears threatening to spill as I struggle to contain myself. It is only in this moment, that I realise one thing, but it takes me a couple more minutes to act on the thought that has sprung to mind.

Slowly, I pull off my left glove, teasing each finger out of their designated space with a deliberate hesitation, wriggling them a bit once I've exposed them to the air, enjoying the sensation of the light breeze around my heated digits. Marko makes a point of ignoring this, turning his gaze up to the star-strewn sky instead, only to snap his eyes back to mine when he feels a single finger touch the skin of his hand. Gingerly, I trace it over his knuckle, expecting to feel a rush of discomfort, my movements careful and calculated, knowing this is the first time in years that I've had deliberate contact with another person's skin. From my fingertip, it feels as if an electric shock has travelled through me, butterflies suddenly appearing in my stomach. Biting my lip when nothing bad happens, I continue this movement with the rest of my fingers, cautiously slipping my hand into his, enjoying the feeling of his icy cold palm against my warmed one, my eyes finding his shocked ones as our fingers intertwine. In them, I find a tonne of questioning, though he makes no move to actually ask, instead remaining quiet, carefully tightening his grip around my hand as he tries his best to feel as much of my soft skin as he can, the calluses from the handlebars of his bike rubbing slightly.

"What does this mean?" He eventually queries, elated that he can finally hold my hand without a glove being in the way.

"It means that I trust you. I've had no reaction to your contact, and I think it's because I enjoy being with you, and also because you've increased my confidence levels a lot since we first met. I've been trying to figure out why I'm ok with you touching me and no one else all day, which is why I was too preoccupied to work, but I finally worked it out." I inform him, telling him part of the truth - in reality, my trust goes a lot further than wanting a platonic friendship.

Marko is quiet for a moment, as if not quite understanding what I've told him.

"You trust me?" His voice is laced with disbelief, eyes fixing on mine again.

"I do."

Eyes widening again, he smiles, his other hand coming up, as if to try and wrap me in a hug, but the awkward positioning of the barrier, as well as the reminder of my usual discomfort, stop him in his tracks, his hand tightening around mine instead .

"I'm really glad you feel that way, (Y/n). Not many people do." He chuckles, referring to the naturally predatory air he gives off, being a vampire and all, still surprised that I let him touch me.

"I feel safe around you because I know you're my friend, but not many people can have the same claim." I point out, watching the view a little, enjoying the sight of the many glittering lights sprawled out before me, admiring the tiny orange specks of fires on the beach, as well as the rapidly moving headlights of a train passing through the outskirts of Santa Carla, most likely heading out towards the Bridge.

"Fair point." Marko agrees, still staring at our joined hands, which he continues to do until we reach the bottom of the wheel again, at which point he has to let go in order to remove the barrier from our laps. As soon as we're back on the Boardwalk, however, I slip my hand back into his, a small feeling of warmth welling up in me as I see the bright smile splitting his face, clearly happy that I've willingly made contact with him again.

A whistle behind us draws our attention, the sound belonging to a grinning Paul, who approaches us, along with David and Dwayne, who are both smiling at the sight of us, the latter more so than the former, though both seem glad to see their friend happy. As they come closer, I make eye contact with Dwayne, who lifts an eyebrow in questioning, a smirk making its way onto his face when I silently give him a nod, knowing he understands what it means.

I've fallen hard for the blonde vampire who's helped me get over my fear.

[artificialqueens]

Just Tonight #1 (Shalaska) - BABE

Sharon is the lead singer in an indie punk band and Alaska finds herself becoming their number 1 fan.

AN: So I was scrolling through the blog a while back and I found this prompt and I just fell in love with it, however I’ve been on holiday for the past five days so I wrote all of this on my mobile phone while on the tram, at the hotel, walking to see Alaska a few nights ago and even at the club. I plan to write more of this so chuck it a like if you want!! This is the first time I’ve written fanfiction in a while so I apologise! Also I plan to not make this just Shalaska, there’s hints of Trixya, Pamelet (Pearl/Fame/Violet) and Biadore if you squint.

It was a complete accident that Alaska ended up where she was tonight. 

Sure, it might seem quite comical to picture Alaska Thunder, all blonde hair and long legs, mere inches away from the indie punk cover band playing at the warehouse costume party she’d be been forced into attending by her roommate. It was even more comical to imagine her, in her slutty cat costume (which was really a short dress and heels with store bought cat gloves, ears and a choker) actually enjoying the music, but it was happening. 

A few hours prior, Alaska had just arrived home from her job at McDonald’s, praying to God that her roommate was out. It wasn’t that she didn't like Adore; it was just that the girl was insane. She spent most of her days smoking weed with random people that she had slept with the night before, and when the brunette actually attended the class that the two shared she spent the whole time hitting on Professor Del Rio. Not to mention, she was always trying to drag Alaska out to parties, and while the blonde loved going out, she barely had enough money to keep herself afloat. When she stuck the key in her door, absolutely tired from the day’s work, of course Adore’s voice rang through their shared room. 

“Lasky, we’re going out tonight!!” the brunette exclaimed as Alaska crinkled up her nose. Adore swung her legs over her bed and stood up, a wicked grin on her face. “Don’t give me that look, there’s a party down near Cooper Street that’s having a costume theme. A girl from my gender studies class, Pearl, says the band playing is going to be fucking dope plus Katya is down to come out. Please?”

Alaska sighed. Adore was making these huge puppy dog eyes and the blonde found it hard to disagree. It had been a while since they had all gone out and despite her wanting to sink into her bed and pass out for 12 hours, the blonde gave in. 

“Fine, but I wanna borrow your cat gloves,” the blonde sighed, knowing that her lack of costume could be remedied by Adore’s eclectic style. 

“Fair trade, be ready by eight. Katya will be here and we’ll drink this,” Adore paused as she dug out a bottle of tequila from behind a shelf, “before we go.“ 

“Sounds like a plan.”

——–

Two hours had passed and Alaska was impressed by her efforts. She’d managed to transform herself from a greasy mess to a cat. Her black strapless dress clung to her hips and thighs while her stilettos were higher than professor Del Rio’s standards. Her long blonde hair was pulled up Ariana Grande style while Adore’s cat ears sat atop her head like a tiara and the brunette’s fingerless gloves showed her long white nails. Another loan from Adore was a choker that said “meow” in jewels (“You better not fucking leave it in a frat boy’s room,” the brunette warned), and to finish the cat look, she’d drawn whiskers on her face. Katya (also known as Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolochikova, but nobody had the fucking effort to say her full name), who lived in the room across the hall with a film student called Max and had clicked with the two girls instantly. She lounged on Adore’s bed in her Russian gymnastics suit, red cup in hand as Adore stood in front of her mirror and tied her flannel shirt around her waist. Of course, her costume was just her everyday style - flannel shirt, high waisted shorts, band tee and sneakers, but nobody at the party knew that. The three were drinking homemade tequila sunrises and laughing about some story that had happened to Katya at the club she’d went to the night before. It was their classic pregame that they’d perfected in sophomore year. 

“I swear, Courtney was all over him!!” the Russian blonde exclaimed between chuckles. “She didn’t realise that he had the hugest cold sore, should’ve warned her." 

Adore leaned back and chucked, stepping away from the mirror with satisfaction. "Classic Courtney, total hornbag,” she mused, so many memories coming to mind. Her and the blonde go back to freshman year in high school me have been unlikely best friends ever since.  Turning to face her friends, Adore jumped onto her leopard print beanbag and took a sip from her drink. “Alaska, you’re the rich one. Call the Uber.” The blonde, who was mindlessly scrolling through her Instagram feed, sighed and closed the app. “Fine, but next time it’s your shout, Delano.” The Uber was ordered and set to come within five minutes, so the group downed their drinks and left their dorm room. Adore chatted mindlessly about whatever she was doing in her gender studies class while Katya responded in laughs and Russian phrases. Alaska, however, was in her own world all the way to the party, knowing that something was different. She had a vibe about tonight that she couldn’t ignore, but she knew something good was about to happen. 

————- 

When the trio arrived, the party was in full swing. A blonde dressed in bunny ears and a bodysuit ran over to Adore with a grin. “‘Dora, darling!” she greeted, kissing both of the brunette’s cheeks. She had blue eyes and a nose ring and was accompanied by a dark haired girl with an incredibly small waist dressed in leather. 

“Pearl!” Adore exclaimed as she copied the girl’s actions. “This is Katya and Alaska. Girls, meet Pearl.” The three exchanged polite hellos as the brunette clutching Pearl’s hand cleared her throat. “Sorry babe,” Pearl apologised. “This is Violet, she’s one of my girlfriends.” The brunette forced a smile but looked like she wanted to be elsewhere. “Don’t mind her, she’s just upset that Maggie had to go back to New York for the weekend. She’s our other girlfriend but everyone calls her Fame.” The three girls nodded in understanding as another blonde strutted up to the group. 

“Pearl thanks so much for inv-” she started to say until her eyes locked on Katya. She was dressed in all pink and had makeup resembling a Barbie. “Hi,” she said with a friendly tone. “I’m Trixie." 

Alaska and Adore both looked over at Katya as the Russian struggled to find her words. "I’m Adore, this is Alaska and that mess up the end is Katya.”

“Cool, nice meeting you girls,” Trixie replied with a grin. “Anyways, I came over to say thank you for inviting me Pearl. Now I’m off to get a drink. Anyone coming with me?" 

"Y-yes,” Katya stuttered as she followed the blonde. Alaska and Adore shared a look; they both knew that Katya would not be back until tomorrow. Pearl giggled as she turned back to the girls. Violet excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving a light peck on her girlfriend’s cheek in the process. Pearl then focused her attention back on her friends. 

“I’d go get a drink if I were you,” she said to the girls. “My friend’s band are about to play and they’re probably the best cover band in Pittsburgh.” The blonde looked down at her buzzing phone with a devilish grin. “Sorry, I’ve been summoned,” she answered with a wink. “I’ll see you bitches later.” With that, Pearl strutted away in the direction of Violet. Adore and Alaska walked up to the bar, the brunette getting distracted and wandering in the direction of a frat boy she’d banged two weekends ago. This left Alaska alone at the bar, ordering a drink as she studied the party around her. 

“You look like you need a shot of vodka,” a voice behind me said with a smirk. Alaska turned around to see a woman with ice blonde hair wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans. In front of her was a lonely shot, the other in her hand. Alaska looked into her eyes, intrigued at how ice blue they were. 

“I never say no to a free drink,” she replied, picking up the glass and clinking it with the stranger. The vodka slid down her throat as Alaska tried not to make a face. Blondie cackled at the other girl’s reaction, her grin the size of the Cheshire Cat. “How has your night been?” the stranger asked, returning to her rum and coke. 

“Good, although I wish they played better music,” Alaska replied honestly. Blondie raised an eyebrow, not able to take her eyes off of the girl in front of her. She notes how her costume is just an excuse to be scantily clad but couldn’t help but check her out. 

“I reckon that’ll change soon, baby. Just get yourself to the front and you’ll see.” And with that, the blonde vanished and Alaska was left to drink her vodka and raspberry in disbelief. She was intrigued by the other blonde, the way that a mixture of different emotions danced throughout her light eyes and how she so easily had Alaska under her spell already. 

The familiar voice broke her out of her thoughts as her eyes flashed around to the stage and locked with the stranger’s. 

“Hi, we’re Anarchy Rose and we’ve got a really cool set planned for you tonight!" 

The band then launched into a cover of "Make Me Wanna Die” by The Pretty Reckless. Alaska watched from the bar, ordering two more drinks and watching Blondie perform on stage. She was electric and Alaska was drawn to her every time she looked at the stage. They’d played a couple more songs until the stranger spoke again. 

“Okay, I know we’re a cover band but this is a song I’ve been working on, feel free to tell me what you think!” The crowd cheered and the music softened her voice low. Alaska was transfixed by her song, their eyes connecting from across the room. The blonde couldn’t help herself; it was as if her feet were moving by themselves through the crowd and up to the front. People were disgruntled by the blonde’s shoving but she just had to be closer to the stranger. During the final chorus, Blondie leaned down and grabbed Alaska’s hand, singing the song to her. It was in that moment that Alaska was completely hooked. 

———-

The band’s set list had ended and Alaska, who found herself completely enamoured with the lead singer, was searching through hallways for a bathroom. Her mind was still firmly on the blonde but she tried to shake it off. 

“Did you like the show?” a voice behind her asked, Alaska turning around to see that it was the lead singer. 

“Actually, I did. You were so amazing up there,” she mused as she stuck out her hand. “I’m Alaska Thunder." 

The blonde kissed the other girl’s hand, blue eyes smirking at her. "Sharon Needles. My parents had a sense of humour.” She grinned as she looked at Alaska’s red cheeks, a reaction to her kiss. It might’ve been the alcohol, but Alaska wanted Sharon to kiss her so badly. Her eyes darkened with lust as Sharon stepped closer, a grin still present on her face. 

“I’m glad you liked the show, princess,” she started, filling the space between the blondes. “But I always liked the after party.” Sharon’s hand carefully touched Alaska’s cheek, trying not to smudge the cat whiskers. Their eyes locked and both could see how much lust they each held as Sharon connected their lips. The kiss quickly became rough and fast, their lust taking top priority over anything. Sharon’s hand rested Alaska’s hip as she roughly pushed her against the door behind them and through to the empty bathroom. She kept pushing until Alaska’s ass hit the back of the sink. Moving her hand down to Alaska’s other hip, Sharon lifted the blonde on top of the sink cupboard, smirking as Alaska wrapped her legs around her waist. Their tongues fought for dominance as one of Sharon’s hand rested on Alaska’s breast, playing with it softly as she pulled away. 

Her lips weren’t away from Alaska for long, though. Sharon kissed the blonde’s neck slowly before nipping and biting at the area, causing the other girl to moan as she did so. Sharon’s lips got lower, exposing Alaska’s breasts so she could lightly suck on her nipple. She knew that she had the blonde in the palm of her hand; she knew that Alaska would beg for her to touch her soon. 

“Fuck, Sharon,” Alaska moaned. She was horny and needy and didn’t realise how much she wanted the blonde to fuck her senselessly until now. Sharon smirked at her moans and stuck her hand between the girl’s legs, rubbing her inner thigh softly before rubbing her on the outside of her panties. She smirked at how wet she was, causing her to want to tease her less. Moving up to the blonde’s mouth, Sharon kissed her on the lips as her fingers rubbed Alaska’s clit, pushing aside her panties. The blonde was moaning into her kisses, her hips bucking as she stuck two fingers inside of her roughly. This made the girl cum with a loud cry, something that was music to Sharon’s ears. However, she wasn’t done yet. 

Kneeling on the grimy bathroom floor, Sharon slipped the panties down past Alaska’s knees and pushed up her skirt so she could gain good access. Her tongue danced along the blonde’s clit before plunging inside of her, tasting her completely. Her hand roughly played with her clit as moans poured from Alaska’s mouth, the girl getting closer in a matter of minutes. 

“Sharon!” she screamed as came a second time, leaning against the mirror in pure ecstasy. This had got to be one of the best sexual encounters she’d ever had. Sharon stood up from the floor and pecked Alaska on the forehead. 

“You like that, Princess?” she asked, her grin still wicked. Her hair was dishevelled and her dark lipstick everywhere but Alaska still thought she looked beautiful. The blonde nodded, pulling Sharon back towards her for a longer kiss. They’d made out some more until Sharon unexpectedly pulled away, a grin more devilish than anything Alaska had ever seen. 

“See you at my next show,” she smirked, and with that, she left. Alaska sat on the sink confused by what had just happened - a girl had flirted with her, given her two of the best orgasms she had ever had… and left. Alaska didn’t know what would come of this, but as she walked home from the party, she knew that Sharon would be tattooed in her mind for a very long time.