#stairs' strangely spontaneous... somethings?

[stairswell]

Hehe doodl

They’re having a meal together as men

image I drew over/og

[elliehase-blog]

The Valentine's Surprise

It’s just a random day in February and Roman bursts through the door, bringing a blast of cold air from outside into Virgil’s room.

“We have a problem!”

“Hm,” Virgil replies without looking up from his book.

“It’s an emergency,” Roman says more emphatically.

Virgil lifts an eyebrow slightly. “Is the house on fire? Should I run for my life?”

“Much worse.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman unceremoniously flop down on the armchair next to him, burying his face in his arms.

“We have no date for Valentine’s Day,” he says in a tone of voice in which other people say, ‘I only have six months to live’. “Why do I think of this so late every year? Why? Why is Valentine’s Day always so sudden?”

Virgil smirks behind the pages. “Yes, it’s hard to believe that they put it so spontaneously and completely arbitrarily on February the 14th again. Is it no longer possible to rely on anything in life?”

Roman fishes for a pillow and throws it in Virgil’s direction. “Not funny, Mister Sarcasm!”

It becomes more than clear that Roman, with all his pre-Valentine’s heartbreak, isn’t going anywhere else. Virgil struggles with himself for a moment before finally putting the book aside and turning to Roman.

“Why are you bothering me with this anyway? Patton seems to me the right side to contact for your problem.”

Roman sighs deeply and tragically. “No, it has to be you,” he confesses and comes finally to the point. “You’re the one who can push this problem into focus.”

‘Ah’ thinks Virgil, only mildly surprised. No one ever comes to him for advice. Especially not Roman.

“Listen, Princey, weren’t we all agreeing on not psyching ourself out over some day and instead celebrating love in all its forms?”

He knew that the topic would come up again, no matter how well Roman coped with the whole thing on the outside. You don’t have to be a genius to realize that his thoughts still revolve around Nico Flores and the unclear relationship.

“Ugh.” Roman sighs again. “It’s just…,” he starts to explain and his voice sounds husky, as if he had a cold. “I’m Thomas’s romantic side and I should do something, right? Valentine’s Day makes me sentimental, and I want to throw around grand gestures, but… What’s the point of embracing love if you never get anything back?”

That was too much of an exaggeration, even by Roman’s standards. Virgil would like to make a sarcastic remark again, but he can’t. Not when Roman looks like that, so worked up and hurt. It always causes a strange tug in his chest that he can’t quite explain.

“Wow, that’s a gloomy way of seeing it.” Virgil swings his legs over the edge of the couch and stands up. “Come on, you stayed already for too long in my room. Breathe, okay?”

Roman allows Virgil to grab him by the arm and carefully escort him out of this dark corner of the mind.

“Better?”

“Better,” Roman agrees, but still sounding a little helpless.

It’s unbearable.

“Okay, you know what, let me show you something.”

Almost energetically, Virgil manoeuvres them in the direction of the stairs. It’s kind of surprising how little defensive Roman is about all of it. Usually, he is protesting and whining a lot more. For now, he just raises his arms in a questioning manner.

“Virge, what-” he stops abruptly. Roman has the widened, panicked gaze of a deer on the highway that suddenly and abruptly finds itself in the middle of the headlights of an approaching truck.

“Oh my goodness! Are you kidding me?! What’s… Why…?”

Virgil bites his lower lip, amused. “My pet spider wanted a friend, and you’re always into battling monsters, so…”

“No, no, no… No!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Unconditional, requited love.”

Roman looks at Virgil, then at the spider and his tiny self, and finally back to Virgil again.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. To be honest, he’s just a little smug about it. You can’t choose where Cupid’s arrow will land.

“What can I say, you make my spider feel special and awesome.”

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitch. It looks like a smile he’s suppressing. “I will tolerate this nonsense,” he says benevolently. “But it’s not at all solving my problem.”

Virgil should walk away now, leaving Roman behind with nothing but his self-doubts and fears. That’s at least what the old anxiety would do. Damn it, he is not the one who is usually comforting people! But then again… it’s all about family, right? At least, that’s what Patton would say.

“I can’t believe that I have to point it out.” Virgil sighs and feels a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Love always comes around for us when we least expect it. You don’t have to force anything, Roman. Accept and acknowledge what you already have. There’s a lot of affection in different ways and forms around you. You’re just not seeing it clear.”

It’s strange to have said it out loud after it’s been rumbling in his stomach like an ulcer. Strange and relieving at the same time.

Virgil clears his throat. Anyway, it’s not that he meant anyone specific. What matters is, that Roman’s face suddenly lights up with a warm, knowing smile. It makes Virgil feel a whole lot better too.

"I knew I could count on you," says Roman softly, and no one is commenting it.

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

I hope you enjoyed the small (not beta-read) story. I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes my german brain wasn't seeing.

[mimicha-arts]

Date: 09/10/23 Hm. Some thoughts, details, mostly speculation about ep 10 + things discussed over the last two months, it might be a bit chaotic ~ Don't take it too seriously, feel free to discuss. A lot of thing are open-end speculations, as we don't have too much detail about the lore and Lu Guang.

Spoilers for s2!

Twins - who killed Chen Bin?

I won't dwell too long on the exposition about the twins' abilities -the fandom's collective mind was right, who has what powers, how important physical contact is, why Qian Jing actually wears gloves. Really satisfying thing - twins are really attached to the theme of the “present” and do not physically disappear. May we say that the situation with the photo and the phone is confirmed? That it was Li Tianchen both times (unless there are any time jumps that we are not aware of). The main question, given the unpredictable factor, depends on how spontaneous the plan was. I think the timing is pretty fast, but in pure theory, I understand how everything could happen in such a short moment. Chen Bin was taken in control as soon as his phone conversation with Qian Jin ended. The following time was just enough for Cheng Xiaoshi to come to Lu Guang's room and all the characters discussed the current situation (Now it’s clear why Chen Bin’s behavior was so strange and there was a misunderstanding), at the same time Xiao Ma drove Qian Jin and twins to the hospital.

Xiao Ma left, he was waiting on the roof in advance - Chen Bin (possessed) left the room, went to the roof and gave the phone to Xiao Ma.

So...... Xiao Ma left him alone, and we now "know" for sure that he was not directly involved in his death - the one who threw him off the roof was Li Tianchen... Perhaps not. Yeah, this was the trigger for Li Tianxi - so there is the problem one, even if Li Tianchen was planning something behind Qian Jin's back, he couldn't predict his sister's reaction and that this situation would get out of control. Personally, I kinda think  that this happened to her at exactly this moment,  because she and Chen Bin knew each other personally (If Qian Jin continued to keep in touch with Chen Bin all these years, there is such a chance. Perhaps Chen Bin wanted his child to be a girl also because of Li Tianxi... I'm speculating) But did Li Tianchen really manage to throw Chen Bin off on his own, or did he lose control earlier? Because I think it's the second option, and Xiao Ma returned to the roof - completing what Li Tianchen couldn't do. > I've got the aftermath covered for you.

As I think, in the end the twins didn't kill Chen Bin - Li Tianchen lost control before that happened (which also gives extra time considering the count was in minutes - because Li Tianchen had to be at the hospital in the shortest possible time to pick up the phone from Xiao Ma coming down the stairs). So the real killer was Xiao Ma.

Anything is possible, of course, we will see. Although I still have a question. Did Li Tianchen stop following Li Tianxi because it was his only opportunity to pick up the phone/contact Lu Guang? Or was the spontaneity of the moment not so spontaneous and he had not planned to run after her in the first place? I still don't quite understand Li Tianchen's actions regarding Lu Guang. There is a possibility, based on his sister’s mental abilities, that having possessed Qiao Ling, Li Tianchen already knew about the abilities of both Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang - the questions in s2s1 were nothing more than catching Cheng Xiaoshi in a lie.

It's kinda confusing, but in the end it turned out that Li Tianchen "framed" his sister, because of which Qian Jin does not suspect betrayal from Li Tianchen. I also think about the possibility that Li Tianchen, if he actually killed Zhuang Shuai, he originally knew (through his sister's abilities) the real circumstances between Chen Nan and Zhuang Shuai, and this is what may influence Li Tianchen's real attitude towards Qian Jin all these 7 years. Li Tianchen cares about his sister a lot - it's not just his words, voice, and my own faith in the complexity of his character. Because Li Tianxi ended up in a fairly safe place, in an abandoned area, but it was an old shop that still had groceries and, surprisingly, electricity.

She ran away without her old toy fox. I also think that this is the same toy from her childhood that was sewn up, given the condition of the fox. The only person who could find her and return her fox is Li Tianchen. There is still a lot to be revealed here.

The question remains. Where's the phone? I don’t think that Liu Xiao is in contact with Li Tianchen now, it seems that the promised meeting has not happened yet and Li Tianchen pursues purely his own goals. Obviously it needs to be a safe place, but probably still "visible" and accessible. Still a lot of speculations! Just a though. But what if? Inside the fox toy.

Li Tianxi's drawing - blue ability

The interesting thing is that Tianxi drew Lu Guang. Initially, this seems fine in the context of s1ep11, attack towards Lu Guang, but Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi were not drawn, and Lu Guang himself had red eyes. Such a thing should not have happened since the original plan in s1e11 was to hurt Lu Guang, not possess him. From the time Lu Guang was injured until Li Tianxi escaped, about 12/13 hours passed, most of which Lu Guang was unconscious, so I can't figure out where is a "window" for possessing. I don't know how to understand this part yet. Unless Li Tianxi simply used Lu Guang as an “example” and did not include any subtext.

Another thing: it is possible that the twins do not perceive the physical pain of the person they are possessing. There was a scene with Xiao Li, who explained that a person, purely technically, cannot strangle themself due to the physical reaction. But, again, I didn’t have that experience, sooo, idk.

In my understanding, Li Tianxi probably did not cry from physical pain, but rather from this entire terrified situation, from what her brother was doing and/or the thoughts of Lu Guang himself.

Since she uses her abilities with Lu Guang's photo to determine his condition, I also have one thought, since I am sure that we still don't know anything about Lu Guang's "real current blue abilities."

Considering that not only photographs have become key moments in the narrative, drawings also play this role, I think it’s time to mention one strange moment that is connected with Lu Guang. I still have a lot of questions about why Lu Guang, closing one eye, used his abilities not on the part with the photo, but on the back part, with the drawing. Was it an animation error, or… Technically, is it possible to use abilities on any images at all? Now that we know abilities aren't tied to photos, yes, in theory.

Anyway. We still don't know how much the "blue" ability can vary - but what if Lu Guang, much like Li Tianxi, can sense a person's "state" in the current, at least whether a person is alive or not, through a photo or image.

Because, well. Let's go back a little. The Doudou's case. Since s1 I've been wondering. Could Lu Guang have known in advance not details, but the simple fact that Doudou was still alive and the case would not lead to a dead end?

Considering Cheng Xiaoshi's mental state, their quarrel, the absolute unpredictability of what could happen to the child that day or later, how could he objectively propose this case without knowing that the child was alive, after these three years? I just find it interesting.

Innate ability - ability to take it away

I also think, we can confidently say, using the example of twins, that abilities must be innate + have a first activation trigger. Can they be activated separately, or must a trigger situation occur for both at the same time? So far it remains unanswered. Twins do not have the ability to take away abilities from others literally, and in fact, Tianchen's words simply meant that he wants, with the help of his sister, possess Cheng Xiaoshi and experience his abilities.

But. Who really knows about the possibility of taking away abilities? Lu, fucking, Guang. Of course, nothing is said directly, but I'm more than sure for now, based on his reaction and response.

Considering that he did not know about the existence of twins, does not suggest in s1 that the killer in theory could be a person with abilities, I will write a rather wild thought. This does not apply to some abstract carriers of abilities, I don't think Lu Guang has ever met other people like himself and Cheng Xiaoshi in the past - so his knowledge that the ability can be taken away - refers specifically to his personal experience and Cheng Xiaoshi. What if the ability to "take away" an ability is not an actual ability, but refers to the death of the ability's bearer?  In fact, to the death of Cheng Xiaoshi in the past.

So if Xiaoshi's death was the moment when Lu Guang "inherited" his abilities and was able to rewind time, could this be pretty interesting? We've never been shown their "overall color coding" as green, although the visual elements very often use green instead of yellow. Also, for Li Tianxi (blue) and Li Tianchen (red) we've seen the purple/magenta visuals a few times already.

Moreover, we already had an interesting implication that Cheng Xiaoshi himself received abilities only after meeting Lu Guang, at the same time (同時). Lu Guang was said to be the bearer of the ability (超能力者）, which somewhat… May imply that Lu Guang already had the ability when they first met in the current timeline. But, again, I'm not sure if it's reliable

I'm not ready to write the entire RGB/CMYK theory right now. I'll have to think about it carefully, but if the parallel realities/rewritten timeline theory will be finally confirmed, mark my words. Let's leave that for the next post, as well as the possible interpretation of his other already shown abilities related to cameras, recording information and sketches-like POV. Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that Lu Guang’s original color coding is not even yellow, but green, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s is blue.

I have a lot to say, but I think it's best to leave that for another post. Either their abilities were activated due to the power of love in the first place, lol.

Posters Besides Starry, starry night there are some interesting things, but I don't understand them too well. These are my guesses, my understanding is very shallow.

1. One of the poster with 海燕和黑色闪电 refers to the "The Song of the Stormy Petrel", written by Maxim Gorky. Up above the sea's grey flatland, wind is gathering the clouds. In between the sea and clouds proudly soaring the Petrel, reminiscent of black lightning. 2. 春深似海 - spring (love?) is like the ocean, is a chengyu from 兒女英雄傳 (The Gallant Maid), novel by Wen Kang. 3. 声色俱厉 is also a chengyu, stern in voice and countenance. You can check a part of 《語林》 here, what it refers to, I hesitate to take responsibility for conveying the meaning in context, but I found it VERY interesting. Correct me, if I'm wrong! The rest is too blurry for me, maybe I'll come back to it later. XƎTЯOVerthink I made a separate post about this, you can see it here, the episode with the theater/stage is extremely close in essence to what we see in XƎTЯOVerthink. I wonder if we will understand the whole context of the many dead Cheng Xiaoshi just in these two weeks :)

We have so many implications that nothing can be rewritten, and at the same time, time is already broken, and Xiaoshi is being challenged for the second time whether he is ready to rewrite everything just for Lu Guang. The level of this tension is SO noticeable it's terrifying.

Xiaoshi and his abilities I think his actual plan was pretty smart, even if it didn't work out well due to other circumstances - and we're getting into some very dangerous zone where "diving" almost borders on the topic of teleportation, so the use of abilities is more and more closer to the context of the present, not the past.

Personally, I think. that the photo (which Li Tianxi looks at) has nothing to do with this - this photo on the phone was needed specifically for Li Tianxi’s abilities. Considering Xiao Li's phone, they should have used a remote CCTV feed, so that they could create a "save point" and move it around. So, maybe it's not "diving", but like respawn on the same spot.

Technically, Cheng Xiaoshi's abilities are limited to diving into the past - but we don't know this for sure (and what opportunities does he have for “cheating”), since all the information we have comes from Lu Guang, and he's an unreliable narrator. As we remember from episode 2, Lu Guang himself could use his abilities to “view and track” in the present time. Not in the past.

The Tunnel When I did the analysis on Starry Starry Night, it was added that the tunnel scene, if this is the reference for OP, has an obvious feeling - to go on the path to a dream, where the end is ... the end of everything. And now we actually have a tunnel and rails as part of the narrative and the location, amazing.

Time is already dead. I already wrote that in s2 something strange happens with time. Dates are gone, years are gone. Even the twins' files never included a year of birth, although we can calculate it. The moment that made me think that everything was WRONG from the beginning was the Xu Shanshan phone from the previous series. There are no dates anywhere on the phone screens, but our timeline is the end October, maybe the beginning of November. Only her phone still has some dates. And the photos at the bottom are dated as "today", yesterday", and the previous ones… May(五月). And April(四月). Like. Xu Shanshan didn't take pictures for half a year? Doesn't sound right.

But apparently? Time is unimportant. At all.

Because. Everything literally vanished. Year? 0. Month? 0. Day of the week? 0. Hour? 0 Time is truly dead.

Thank you my dear @wrathyforest without you  I don't know if I could take this road ~ I'm pretty sure I'm wrong about a lot of things, so I just keep having fun and playing bingo. I just want to see how wrong I am about everything ~

[justhere4kpop]

Red

Club Owner Jongho x Reader

Jongho gets fucked over in a new deal....he needs to relieve some stress.

genre: smut, NSFW

rating: 18+ (MDNI...seriously.) M

warnings: ? Hopefully nothing bad, but obviously smut, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), slight praise kink, slight sir kink, petnames (darling, sir), manhandling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, creampie, and language. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!

w/c:1656

Tags: @ssaboala , @cromernet

a/n: This is like the first smut I wrote, changed who I was writing for and then abandoned and then came back to so I'm so nervous to post it haha. Let me know what you think.

Masterlist

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

There was only ever one downfall to your job.

The night belonged to the underworld, the gangs, criminals on the run, dealers, the undercover cops, and the workers who could make their living off dancing for the men and heathens of this city. That’s where you stayed, in your little (big) club run by the most notorious gang in the city, hand-picked by your bosses off the street when you were struggling to get by in this godforsaken town. You only had one catch, a few months into the job one of your new bosses became somewhat enamored, he’d come visit you every night, make sure the club was still treating you right. It started off as a large tip for an hour of your time in the VIP Lounge, first just an hour, then all night, and what started as talking under the harsh neon lights soon became something you looked forward to each shift. They made your schedule, they knew when you would be here…HE…knew when you’d be there. Soon you became a personal plaything to him, always pulled away from the stage to entertain the boss, not that you mind, they pay you handsomely to do exactly as you’re told. And you’d do anything the man in front of you told you.

By day he played mechanic, he and his so called brother, they played it well, sometimes the slight hint of grease to present on his skin, that was when you knew he was desperate, he always liked to dress up for your time together….before it inevitably came off. He chose what you’d wear, sending gifts to the apartment the club had set up for you, you’d get a text “Wear this tonight.” it would say. Not an ounce of affection through the cold text. But then his personal number would come through “I can’t wait to see you darling.” You couldn’t either. Two days is too long without him. Normally he texts you throughout the day, letting you know how it’s going when he’ll get to the club, how long he’ll be there, what he’s bringing you as a gift. Not today. It can mean one of two things, he’s spontaneously perished….or….he’s having a bad day. Judging from the outfit change he just sent you…it has been a very bad day indeed.

When you arrived at the club the rain had just picked up, the back door bouncer had rushed over to help escort you inside without getting wet, the large umbrella adorning his hands. “Our VIP has already arrived y/n. You’re late.” the manager came over. Strange he shouldn’t have been here for another hour. Must be a very bad day indeed. “I’m coming once my coat is off.” you looked at the small man while taking your things off. “Don’t forget the decanter and glasses this time, ice is already up there.” “So you brought him ice but no drink? A shame, no wonder he’s in quite the mood today.” you shrug grabbing what you need before making your way to the bar to find you final things set out for you.

As you make you way up the red carpeted stairs, your heels pushing you upwards, the red lace adorning your body, you can’t help the small shiver of worry and excitement that courses through you. You reach the door to the room that overlooks the club. One you’ve reached for many times, and one that always leaves you feeling so important.

“Jongho.” you breathed out upon seeing the man on the loveseat in the room. “Darling, there you are….you’re late.” he said looking up at you from his phone unamused. “I’m terribly sorry sir.” you grabbed the glass some ice and his favorite whisky to hand to him. “Do you like? You picked it out for me.” you asked twirling slowly for him as to show off the red lace lingerie, the straps forming over the cups in a plush subtle velvet, the high thong with a design to show off your ass….ets, the belt with a heart in the middle…his favorite. “Even down to the shoes, you’re my favorite doll.” he sipped his whisky a small smile befalling his lips. “You were quite silent today, did you have a bad day sir?” “Just business matters nothing to worry your head with.” he stood up his aura towering over you. Your panties sticking closer than before. His presence now making its way behind you as he wrapped you in his arms. “Let me help you relax then? After all I’d hate for your day to be entirely ruined.” you turned to face him, the ribbon choker you’d tied in a bow for him catching his eye. “Unwrap my present?” he smirked and leaned in his breath fanning over your face. “You always do look best in red Darling.”

Red lipstick smeared on both your faces as he roughly pushes you down on the couch, his frustrations of the day getting the better of him finally. He’ll show them. He’ll show all of them. “Good girl, always so ready and wet for me.” he pulls your hips up as he leans down. “Practically dripping and ruining our favorite couch. What am I supposed to do then? Hmm?” he licked a bold stripe up your slit groaning at the way you jolted. He loved the little whimpers you made. “My favorite little plaything, all worked up? Tell me who’s got you this way.” he growled. “Y-y-ou.” you whimpered against him. “Who?” he questioned again his thumb starting slow circles on your clit. “Y-you J-Jongh…sir.” you moaned as his speed increased. “Look at you, makeup smeared already…moaning, and bucking.” he groaned continuing his ministrations on you, leaving you desperate for more. His tongue found his way back to you as he worked you ever so close to what your body is aching for. He pulled away before shoving two of his fingers in you harshly curling and pumping them ever so slightly. “Cumming so soon Darling?” he rasped in your ear. “Y-Yes.” you moaned, hips bucking. “Uh uh, you know the rules….” he slowed the pace down, frustrating you further as the orgasm you had been so close to now slipped away. “O-Only on your cock, sir.” you tried to grind back into his hand only to be met with a harsh slap which left you begging for more. “P-Please sir, u-use me.” “I plan on it darling.” he groaned before removing his fingers harshly and giving you another spank on the opposite cheek. “Stay put. I didn’t say you could move.” he forced your shoulders down again before dragging his thick cock through your folds. “So fucking wet.” he growled again sinking in, your body pulling him in tighter. “And so fucking tight. You can’t seem to get enough can you?” “N-No sir, never enough.” you let out a harsh moan as he snapped his hips all the way forward. His hand came to the back of your neck pushing you further into the couch as he rammed his hips into yours, the sounds of skin slapping apparent. Your moans became muffled by the cushions but with each snap you grew louder and louder. Even with you moaning below him, his favorite sight he couldn’t get that stupid fucking deal out of his head. He’ll show them respect, who really owns who here.

He picked you up and walked you over to the balcony the room had that overlooked the club. He was going to show everyone just how good he was at his job, that he had you, he owned you. You grabbed onto the railing as one of his hands made it’s way up to your throat and the other stayed on your hip. “You like that hmm? Like knowing the whole club can see you getting fucked up here if they just would look up? Like knowing you’re above them because I’m the one fucking you darling?” “Y-Yes!” you clenched around him once more your orgasm building. He squeezed on your throat constricting your airways sending your mind and subsequently your body reeling as your orgasm crashed through you leaving you moaning and dripping onto the floor of the balcony. That’s it, that’ll show them, show everyone….he’s in charge. He’s the boss here, what he says goes. Teach them to fuck him over in the deal. “There’s a good girl.��� he praised as his hips sped up again, the overstimulation already overwhelming…you couldn’t possibly cum again that quickly. Fuck it felt so good, like putty in his hands. He fucked you though another orgasm, hips unrelenting as he pulled you back in, two was quite enough for the show if anyone was watching. After what felt like an eternity his hips stuttered as his spilled into you, the heavy load filling you to the brim. “Show me.” he commanded as you spread your legs and felt it drip out of you. “So good for me darling.” he kissed your crown before getting up to grab a cloth to clean you up.

Your legs are left shaking, your body feel like it’s been put on vibrate, but that sweet tone of his voice, that truly brings you back. You see him press a few buttons on his phone before tossing it back to the side and coming back to you. “Thank you sir.” you smiled weakly, exhaustion hitting you. “It’s Jongho. You don’t have to keep going.” he smiled and met your lips in a loving way. “Rest now darling.” he moved your messy hair back and began to hum lightly to you. His voice soothing you to sleep. “Goodnight Jongho.” you curled into him, the low bass thrumming through the floor, you’d be out for maybe an hour max, continuing what you started.

There was only ever one downfall to your job.

You were in love with your boss.

[in-my-loki-feels]

🤓 spontaneous hug / unexpected with President Loki and Don for the ask game!

Thank you for the prompt! I might be stretching the definition of "unexpected hug" on this one but once I had this idea, I just went with it. 😅

This is a continuation from a kiss prompt posted here, where President Loki got hurt.

🤓 spontaneous hug / unexpected

Felled by something as mundane as a gun. Loki was glad he was no longer on a timeline with his family. Thor would never have let him live this down.

In truth, the gunshot wound hadn’t been more than a nuisance at first. It was having to deal with the remaining members of the task force before seeing to the injury that had made it a more pressing problem. He should’ve slunk away to lick his wounds in private, but the thought of Don left wondering where he’d gone, if he’d come back, had forced Loki back inside the house. 

Better he stay with them, anyway, in case more trouble arrived. 

If he hadn’t been so tired, his illusion might have fooled Don, but he was having trouble concentrating even before the man barrelled through it. Now Don was kneeling beside where Loki had collapsed, taping a bandage in place while tears continued to trail down his face. Kissing him as if it were goodbye and then making a joke. What a strange man. 

“Your children haven’t listened to you,” Loki muttered. He was struggling to keep his eyes open but could see the two blond heads peering around the wall, halfway up the stairs. 

“What?” Don whipped around. The children ducked out of sight, but Don’s sigh revealed he’d seen them. He turned his attention back to Loki’s wound. “They rarely do. I’d be hurt, but they don’t listen to their mom either.” When he looked up, Loki saw the tears had stopped but his eyes were red. “Should we move you, or do you want to stay here?” 

Loki wanted to get up on his own, thank you very much, but when he tensed to do that, a fresh wave of pain tore through him and gray crept into the edges of his vision. He grit his teeth against a snarl of frustration. Staying on the floor was an indignity he would not bear, but it was quite clear he wouldn’t be moving on his own. 

“Couch,” he ground out. 

With Don’s help, Loki got to his feet and limped past the stairs—Sean and Kevin were huddled there, watching with wide eyes—into the living room. He sat down heavily on the couch, swaying for a moment before Don guided him to lie back against the arm. 

With the blood stopped—or at least slowed—Loki simply needed time for his body to heal, and for his pride to recover from this embarrassment. He fought to keep his eyes open, looking up at Don. His face was white and his clothes were smeared in Loki’s blood. 

“Wash your hands before you see to your children,” Loki said. 

Don looked down and seemed to notice the blood for the first time. It only made him more distraught, as he looked between Loki, the kitchen, and the stairs. 

“I will be fine,” Loki went on, trying to put some bite into his voice. “Go.” 

Don hovered a moment longer before hurrying into the kitchen. Loki heard the water turn on but the next thing he knew, footsteps were approaching the couch. Loki’s eyes snapped open and he reached for a weapon he didn’t have. Don stood at the foot of the couch, hands raised. He’d not only washed his hands but changed his clothes. How long had Loki been unconscious? 

Once he saw Loki relax, Don approached and gently pushed Loki’s shirt up to check the bandage. Loki didn’t care about the state of it. He hadn’t died yet, so it was unlikely he would at all, but there was no relief to be found on Don’s face. 

Loki had no wish to be stared at for however long it would take him to find the energy to rise from the couch. 

“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand. 

Don, who already stood beside him, frowned. “Where?”

“Here,” Loki said impatiently, gesturing at the scant bit of couch left next to him. 

Still looking confused, Don gingerly sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. It wasn’t exactly what Loki had wanted but it brought him close enough for Loki to slide his hands around Don’s back and pull him forward against his chest. 

The movement wasn’t without pain but Don's weight was on Loki’s uninjured side. His clothes were no doubt getting stained again; Loki didn’t care. The warmth of Don’s body felt good, as did hearing Don take and release a shaky breath. 

Loki liked to keep hold of Don when they slept, but he didn’t cuddle. He had made that clear from the start and Don never questioned it. Neither of them spoke now as they carefully rearranged themselves so Loki could spoon Don, one arm thrown over him. 

The ache in Loki’s side was still there, but there was no longer a pressing need to stay awake. Loki felt Don wrap a hand around his wrist and then he knew nothing for a while. 

From this game. Other fills here.

[vaicomcas]

I experienced something wonderful recently. Very long and probably boring, but well, tumblr is my personal diary isn't it.

So I go to a workout class on the third floor of an old, dilapidated brick building. There are a few other businesses in the building but I've never seen them open. I don't even know what kind of businesses they are. Typical "urban decay" type of place.

So on Monday while taking a breather, I looked out of the window into the courtyard, looking directly at one of the second floor windows (left), but seeing a squirrel poking out of the little hole there (right).

I was delighted, and wanted to see what it was up to. But it stayed completely still. And it stayed. and stayed. and stayed.

After a few minutes, I called my friend over, and we kept watching. It never moved. "Is it... is it dead?"

The squirrel didn't move AT ALL for like 10 minutes. We conclude that it must be dead, though we kept saying out loud-- "could it be sleeping? but why would it sleep sticking out the window like that? It must be dead. But it doesn't look dead" And the more minutes pass without it moving, the more we said, "it must be dead. It must have just died." "Maybe it's the heat."

My teacher came over and watched as well and also concluded that it must be dead. This old building is frequently infested with creatures, and he himself had captured a squirrel that chewed through the walls on our floor, and had relocated it in a park in another part of town.

His theory is this poor squirrel had eaten poison, wether meant for it or for mice. And, because the squirrel couldn't breathe, he went to the window to get air only to die there.

So now we were all rather sad, but we went back to our activities, periodically checking and yet the squirrel remained there over the next half an hour. At one point my friend and I sat down and sang a song for the poor dead squirrel, with bad pronunciation of a language we don't really know, a song which is sort of about acceptance of one's mortality. After the song I looked again and the squirrel still perched in the exact same position.

After class me and my friend went downstairs and as we exited the building we realized with a knot in our guts that we got to look up at the deceased creature from below. So we did and at this angle it looked like it was directly staring at us. I took a picture and tried to get a closer looking by enlarging it and boy it was terrifying.

So now my friend and I were sort of frozen in place unable to look away. Then suddenly it moved! Like just for the blink of an eye, and immediately it was still as a statue again, staring at us from above-- and I yelled, "it moved! I swear it moved!" my friend reassured me, "I saw it too!"

So now we are just completely shaken, not knowing what to think. Someone else came to the door and we let her in, and she must have thought how strange we were to be standing in the doorway craning our necks staring at the 2nd floor window. We watched this person walk up three stairs of the floor and the entire time, the squirrel stayed perched like that without moving a hair.

Then just like that, in another blink of the eye, it turned around and disappeared! I have never screamed spontaneously in my life, but that time I screamed, very loudly. My friend screamed too. "It's alive!" We shouted.

So two days later, we were back in class, and of course I had to check the window. Lo and behold, at some point we had squirrel sighting! And this time it moved, and seemingly trying to climb out. But it didn't.

So, at least we knew it didn't die, which was great. I still couldn't get over the last time though, how it could have been still for so long and not be dead; for a brief moment I entertained the fantasy that the song me and my friend sang so inelegantly had summoned an Orixa or a lesser spirit that revived the squirrel, but in my heart I knew that was just the self-importance of human ego. But now I wondered, though the squirrel seemed OK, was it stuck?

So after two more days I couldn't wait to check on the window again. And once again we saw a squirrel coming and going! It seemed like this was the routine-- to hang out perched on this little hole in the window. It would sit there for a while, wash its face, hang a little bit outside the window sometimes, withdrew for a bit, then it'd come back out again.

So my mind was going crazy -- I wondered if the squirrel was trapped in the 2nd floor suite, its only mirage of outside world this hole in the window. I thought of the little guy (girl?) as a version of squirrel Beast stuck in a cursed castle, dreaming of the squirrel farmer's squirrel daughter; I thought of it as the squirrel Repunzel, lowering its long fluffy tail in vain to two dumb humans who lack both the courage and the skills to scale those brick walls to rescue it. I thought of it as the Squirrel Minotaur, imprisoned in this failed industrial labyrinth of a building, looking out for the prophesized string-bearing squirrel knight to end its loneliness.

So after this very emotional workout class my friend and I again exited the building, and we looked up again and saw the hole was empty. But then in front of our very eyes we saw a squirrel-- our squirrel--appearing out of nowhere at the foot of the building no more than five feet from us, running vertically up the brick wall, all slick and effortless the way squirrels move, and in a snap dove into the hole in the window and disappeared again!

So not only was the squirrel resurrected, not only was it fine, it was going into the hole of its own free will! Our building was its summer palace!

The End

[teawan]

How about something like a secret relationship? They sneak off and hide to make out and stuff. Just really cute and wholesome love for one another. I just want some sweet fluffy romance! Thank you! ♥

here you are :) it's a little rushed and probably ooc bc this is my first time writing for stranger things but hopefully it's not too bad 😭😭 ty for the prompt and hope you enjoy!!

-

It’s seven at night and the party is gathered in Mike’s basement, drunk on laughter and cold pizza and togetherness. Will is in his wizard costume—well, the cape is draped across his lap as he stretches out on the couch and the tall, pointed purple hat is askew, a couple jostles away from falling straight off, so maybe he isn’t exactly in costume, but he doesn’t really care at this point, because the room is full of warmth and giddiness and he hasn't felt so at peace in what seems like forever. Mike is sprawled out on the floor below him, snorting at the sight of Lucas and Dustin as they wrestle with each other.

“Give it up, man, Suzie literally saved the world,” Dustin says, pinning Lucas to the ground and carelessly lifting an ugly throw pillow that Mrs. Wheeler had placed meticulously on the couch only hours before, preparing to sock Lucas in the face with it.

Lucas scoffs, rolling out of the way just as Dustin brings down the monstrosity of a cushion. It lands squarely where Lucas’s face had been moments ago. “Yeah, by reciting some numbers. What was it? Pi or something? Max is way more badass.”

“Planck’s constant, you idiot,” corrects Dustin, dodging clumsily and checking his hip on the corner of the table as Lucas lunges to tackle him to the ground. “Oh, shit, that hurt! Motherfucker!” 

Will laughs. “I don’t think Mrs. Wheeler would be very happy to hear that kind of language under her roof.” He glances at Mike when he says this and is pleased to see that a small, amused smile has wormed its way onto the taller boy's elegant, angular face.

Alarmed, Dustin turns to the stairwell, as if he expects Mike’s mother to materialize at the sound of her name like a demon being summoned. Lucas takes the opportunity to chuck a die from their unfinished campaign they had drifted away from an hour ago at Dustin’s exposed nape, and his newfound basketball skills ensure him a direct hit.

“Ow!” yelps Dustin, whipping around so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet. “Oh, you’ll pay for that, Sinclair—”

As the two boys’ bickering continues, Will catches Mike’s eye from his spot on the couch, reaching out with a socked foot and nudging Mike’s hip to get his attention. A silent conversation passes between the two of them, consisting solely of secretive smiles, sparkling glances, and, occasionally, a peek at Lucas and Dustin to check whether or not they’re being watched (they aren’t; Lucas and Dustin, having spontaneously made a truce, are now leaning against various pieces of furniture and discussing seriously about their respective girlfriends), and eventually, Mike props himself up on his elbows, gravity sweeping a single dark curl over his face. Will bites back a smile as Mike tries to blow it out of his face, eyes crossing slightly. After a few attempts, he gives up, hooking it behind his ear impatiently, and moves to stand, making his way to the stairs. 

He doesn't get far, having taken only four steps—Will counted—before Dustin and Lucas look up, eyes questioning.  "Where are you going?"

"Up," replies Mike, waving his hand vaguely at the stairs. "I think my mom called." He doesn't look at Will, but his body is ever so slightly angled towards the couch where Will lounges. The corners of Will's lips quirk up at the likely-unintentional gesture. It's at times like this that he has to restrain himself from doing one of two things: either pinching himself to reassure his mind once again that he is not, in fact, trapped in a strangely realistic and detailed dream that spans several weeks, or—the urge that is much harder to resist—launching himself at Mike in front of everyone and smothering his boyfriend with kisses because God, Michael Wheeler is the single most adorable thing he's ever had the pleasure of encountering in life. He can't do either of these things because first of all, Mike would get pissy if he saw Will doing anything remotely harmful to himself, and second—well, that's self-explanatory. It isn't that he thinks that any of his friends would react badly if they ever found out that he doesn't like girls the way they do, but honestly? He doesn't want to deal with the drama that would inevitably come if he were to show any kind of affection towards Mike that wasn't strictly platonic in front of other people.

Lucas hums in acknowledgement and he and Dustin return to their conversation. Shooting Will a quick, conspiratorial grin that says I can't believe it was that easy, Mike trots up the stairs. Smiling to himself, Will begins to count backwards from one hundred and twenty—it's probably unnecessary, but staggering their exits when in front of other people makes both of them feel a little more secure.

"Hey, what about you, Byers?" Dustin's question distracts him from his reverie, and he sits up before remembering the hat that's balancing precariously on his head. Well, was balancing. It falls to the ground with a soft sound and Will spares it a short glance before turning his attention back on his friends. 

"Huh?"

Lucas gestures impatiently, waving his arms around in the air and looking at Will like he expects him to understand. "Y'know. Any girls?" Wiggling his eyebrows, Dustin leans forward, clearly anticipating some kind of juicy answer.

Will tries to force down a laugh, but the question is just so ridiculous to him—obviously he can't really blame his friends, as he has spent the last decade trying as hard as he possibly can to fake crushes on the women in magazines and modeling shows, but the idea of him noticing a girl enough to feel the need to share it is absurd. Mike is literally two floors away, waiting for Will. Lucas and Dustin had been in the same room as Will's boyfriend not even two minutes ago. So, despite his valiant efforts, a giggle slips out.

Lucas's face morphs into an expression of comical confusion, but Dustin just raises his eyebrows, leaning even farther forward. Will doesn't understand how he hasn't fallen yet. 

"No," he answers truthfully, and watches the confusion and excitement slip from his friends' faces, suspicion painting itself over their features instead.

"Really?" Lucas asks skeptically, knitting his brows together at Will.

Will nods, trying to look as earnest as possible—it's not like he's lying, after all. He'd answered Dustin's question completely honestly. He hasn't noticed any girls, not ever in his life. At least not in the way that his friends were implying.

He sees Dustin open his mouth to ask a follow-up question, most likely something along the lines of an accusation of insincerity, when he remembers to check the time on the clock. The minute hand has ticked its way around the face twice now, and is on its way to complete a third revolution. Mike is probably getting confused by now. Will can just picture his delicate features twisting into a look of puzzlement as the seconds race by, and he stands up abruptly, his purple cape dropping unceremoniously from his lap onto the floor, before Dustin can even get a word out. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he announces, and toes the fine line to how fast he can walk before it becomes alarming.

Just as he reaches the first stair, he catches a glimpse of his friends’ bewildered faces. “Isn’t there a bathroom down here?” he hears Lucas ask Dustin, but he’s already stepping out onto the first floor and shutting the door to the basement as quickly as he can without slamming it.

Doing a short preliminary scan to make sure he’s in the clear, he scurries towards the stairs that lead up to the second floor. Before he steps foot on the staircase though, Mrs. Wheeler’s voice cuts through the silence, scaring Will so badly that he almost jumps out of his skin. “Will, honey? Where are you going?”

Heart pounding in his throat so hard that he feels nauseous, Will turns to see Mrs. Wheeler rounding the corner with Holly on her hip, looking slightly concerned. “Oh, uh—Mrs. Wheeler! Hi,” he manages, trying in vain to take himself down from fight-or-flight mode. He doesn’t do well with sudden noises or people creeping up on him, especially since the Upside Down. It reminds him of the constant fear, the nonstop need for vigilance, lest the grotesque, horrible, fleshy creatures picked up his scent, or heard his breathing, and decided they were hungry for human boy.

“Hi there,” Mrs. Wheeler says slowly, brows drawn together in confusion at his strange reaction, looking him up and down as if assessing for injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’m okay, you just scared me,” he says, mustering up a smile and hoping it doesn’t look as much like a grimace as it feels like one. “I’m just grabbing something for Mike. From his room.” He prays that Mike had gotten up into his room unseen so Will can avoid any further questioning.

Still looking slightly doubtful, Mike’s mother adjusts her arm around Holly. “Well, okay. Let me know if you need anything, alright? Don’t hesitate to ask.” Will nods, silently willing her to go, and to his relief, she turns and heads back towards the kitchen.

Racing his way up the rest of the stairs, he half-runs down the hall until he reaches Mike’s bedroom, twisting the knob a little harder than he intended to and yanking the door open to reveal his boyfriend, lounging on the bed with a comic laid out in front of him, lanky arms and legs sprawled lazily out across the sheets and eyes half-lidded with boredom. “Took you long enough,” Mike says, grinning at the sight of Will’s flustered expression, and slips off the bed, padding towards the shorter boy.

When Mike wraps his arms around Will, pulling their bodies towards each other and pressing a kiss onto Will’s lips, he melts, losing virtually all muscle function. Mike laughs into the kiss, hauling Will onto the bed. “What did Dustin and Lucas say when you left?” asks Mike, mouth still pressed against Will’s, and Will can feel the shape of the words. Mike’s voice is sweet and sounds and tastes like a popsicle on a sweltering summer afternoon.

He mumbles something incoherent, pressing himself against Mike because he doesn’t really have the facilities to carry a conversation right now. He’s mostly focused on getting as close as humanly possible to Mike, hoping that maybe willpower will be enough to get their bodies to fuse together. “I wanna wear your skin,” he mutters as he wraps his legs around Mike’s waist. He attempts to deepen the kiss, but Miks draws back, startled. “You want to what?” he asks.

Frustrated at the sudden lack of contact, Will headbutts Mike’s shoulder. “Why’d you stop, stupid?”

“Because you implied that you wanted to literally skin me alive,” replies Mike, adjusting their positions so that he can look into Will’s eyes.

“Just wanna be closer,” complains Will, using a hand to guide Mike’s lips back to his. Finally, the dark-haired boy complies, letting Will capture him back into the kiss, grinning a little at the smaller boy’s eagerness. Impatient now because of the previous pause, Will snakes his tongue into Mike’s mouth in a rare display of confidence, apparently surprising the other boy, who makes a startled—but definitely not unhappy—sound. It’s not loud by any stretch of the imagination, but Will still draws back a little, listening carefully for footsteps before diving back into the makeout session with vigor. He whimpers a little when Mike catches Will’s bottom lip in between his teeth, not that Will would ever admit it, and he feels his boyfriend smirk at the sound. Irritated, he nudges Mike’s mouth open wider and licks into it in retaliation, wiggling a little with satisfaction and carding his hands through Mike’s deliciously soft and silky curls when his boyfriend’s long, dark eyelashes flutter at the unexpected action.

Suddenly, Mike flips Will over so that he’s lying under the taller boy, locks of hair framing his face as he looks down at Will impishly. His lips are kiss-swollen and his hair is mussed and Will doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter than this ever. “Michael…” he says, half-questioningly and half-warily, because the shark-like grin on the Wheeler boy’s face is raising some alarm bells.

Without replying, Mike places his forearms down on either side of Will to support him as he leans down to kiss Will again. Hard. Overwhelmed by the warm, slick feeling of Mike’s mouth pressing against him with a ferocity that was at least double of what they had been working with before, Will’s knee presses up against the warm skin under Mike’s navel involuntarily. Mike hums at the contact and takes the chance to move away from Will’s mouth and down to his neck in the split second that he lets down his guard, stopping somewhere near his collarbone and sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Will gasps shallowly at the painful pleasure, using every ounce of strength he has in himself to keep in the embarrassing keening noise that is building up in the back of his throat.

Mike continues down Will’s neck and onto his chest, exploring the almost too-warm expanse of his skin with his lips and teeth, and Will dissolves, clutching onto Mike’s shoulders to anchor him to reality as Mike quite literally marks Will as his own.

It’s really fucking hot.

Then Will remembers that he’ll have to cover it up later, which really defeats the entire purpose, but he’s too out of it for the flicker of unhappiness to be any more than just that—a flicker that’s immediately covered up by the pure sensation of Mike against him, Mike’s mouth on his skin. Fuck, he thinks to himself, because he’s so far gone for this boy, so far gone for Michael Wheeler, his best friend since childhood. And he can only assume, from the way that Mike is mumbling unintelligible endearments against his sternum, that Mike is just as far gone for him.

Then the door swings open, and Will doesn’t register the squeaking of the hinges until it’s too late. "What're you guys doing in—"

By the time he’s pushed himself up on his elbows, face burning and undoubtedly crimson red, Mike having fallen away from above him, Lucas and Dustin are staring wide-eyed at the two of them, uncomprehending looks on both their faces.

“What the actual fuck,” whispers Lucas, breaking the silence.

“...Surprise?” Mike offers sheepishly from beside Will, who whips around and cuffs him upside the head.

“Sorry,” says Dustin, looking shell-shocked. “I’ll—we’ll. Um. Leave you two…to, uh, it.” He reaches out and attempts to grab the doorknob again, missing a couple of times before finally grasping it and yanking the door shut.

Will, face still hot, turns to Mike. His boyfriend smiles back—he is way too calm for the situation they are in right now—and takes Will’s hand in both of his, squeezing it lightly. “Hey,” he says, “at least we still had our clothes on.”

Will chokes.

[foxgloveprincess]

Made up fic title: I should have known better

I Should Have Known Better

Notes: This is heavily—h e a v i l y—inspired by The Haunted Mansion (movie). I knew I wanted something supernatural when I saw this title and demon didn’t seem quite right, so ghost it was! Hope you enjoy. Thanks for sending this in @autumnrose40 💜

Warnings: Dark(ish)/Soft Dark, Paranormal AU, Ghosts (from the early 1840s, if you’re curious), Haunted House, mentions of Tragedy, Fear, Minimal Editing. Minors do not interact (18+). 

Synopsis:

Some houses are old—incredibly old—full of history and charm. Your job is to evaluate them, plan renovations, decorate for potential buyers. It is not to appease the ghosts that haunt them.

Excerpt:

The first thing you were going to do when you saw Ikaris again was wring his pretty little neck. The nerve of that man. To abandon you in this huge, creepy mansion because Sersi ‘needed him’—yeah, like she needed a sharp stick in the eye.

You clicked your tongue and scuffed your toe along the tile of the kitchen. Old pipes groaned, still upset with your attempt to gauge their ability to run water. A shiver darted down your spine. Did you mention creepy? All the shadows and alcoves, the whispering draft that always found its way to the back of your neck, the spiders.

But this place had good bones. And something Thena always loved—a thrilling tale of intrigue, romance, and tragedy. Of course it was assigned to you, resident romantic on the team.

A groan echoed through the house, higher up, from the second story. Following it, you passed the manual dumbwaiter and the rotten servants’ stairs. Up the grand staircase in the foyer, you climbed toward the strange sound. Only to find a figure stood before a towering portrait, faded by time and concealed by cobwebs.

Brunet hair, stature broad and firm. At your entrance to the parlor, he turned. Blue eyes flashed in the dim light shimmering through the windows.

“For the love of gods, Ikaris,” you bit, stepping forward toward your colleague. His lips quirked in an amused and confounded grin.  “How dare you. This isn’t funny.” Two more steps closer and you stopped. This man wasn’t Ikaris. The resemblance was there, but it wasn’t him. You swallowed, foot treading a step back.

He remained silent, watching your each move.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tilting your head in contrition. “I thought you were someone else.”

In the corner a candle flickered. Your eye drawn to the light, you turned in wonder. Then another lit across the room, and another and another. You followed each, astounded by their ability to spontaneously light. Lips parted in shock, your brain puzzled over it, trying to make sense.

Distracted, you forgot all about the observant man. Until a breeze brushed past your cheek, directing your gaze back to the figure before the portrait.

Beaming. Dazzling. His high collar caught on his chin as he stared at you in delight.

“I knew you’d be back,” he growled, voice deep and harsh yet with a gentleness you didn’t understand. ”I knew you would not leave us forever. That your attempts would be in vain.” In a blink, he stood before you, hands reached out to gently grasp your neck. You swallowed a scream, eyes widening at his proximity and the glint of wildness in his. “My love,” he whispered, reverent, resting his forehead to yours.

“I—” you croaked, shaken to your bones.

The coolness of his skin. The lightness of his touch. The way the cut of his clothes spoke of times long past.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you insisted, wrenching your arms from his grip and stumbling back.

The fire blazed high on the candles, unnatural and frightening. His nostrils flared with ire as he followed after you, refusing to let you retreat. With such passion and madness reflected in his gaze, you did the only thing you could think of and bolted back down the stairs.

A roar shook the house, the sound filled with pain and despair and desperation. Footsteps thundered after you, gaining despite your efforts toward swiftness.

Flying down the stairs, you’re stopped at the landing. Strong hands grasping at your shoulders, a calm voice attempting to soothe you.

“Please,” you begged, “you have to get me out of here.” Your voice pitched high with your panic, unsettled and shaking.  

It hushed you and wrapped you closer and closer in an embrace until the figure blocked all light from your sight. It hummed, low, a pleasure-filled sound that chilled your blood.

“He was right,” the voice murmured, deep and sultry.

Your eyes flashed to the figure holding you. A man, tall and looming. His golden hair and crystal eyes the picture of perfection. But something unhinged in his smile spiked your pulse, pounding through your veins.

“You’ve returned to us,” the blond sighed, glancing behind you.

Footsteps descended the staircase, slow and sure, an omen of your predicament. Trapped in this mansion, just like these spirits.

Send Me a Made Up Fic Title

[jcbbby]

For the Witches

Chapter 1- "Devotion to the Preacher"

Jamie's dark preacher character is the center of this story, based on some of the themes and lyrics from the "I Am" music video, as well as a bit of Dante's Inferno and general witchy-ness. Full synopsis here. Story begins below the cut!

A young twentysomething with long brown hair, which was haphazardly thrown up into a loose bun hours ago, slammed the door of her now stalled 20-year-old Toyota shut as she quietly cursed it in her mind.

A young twentysomething with long brown hair, which was haphazardly thrown up into a loose bun hours ago, slammed the door of her now stalled 20-year-old Toyota shut as she quietly cursed it in her mind.

“Piece of shit…” she growled to herself.

Leaning against the hood of the vehicle, she took out her cellphone, checking for a signal to call for assistance. Nothing.

She sighed as she rolled her head back, staring up into the sky, in defeat. This was her life in this moment. She had been driving for over 24 hours now, a spontaneous decision out of complete desperation. She had just gotten notice that she was to be evicted from the run-down apartment she shared with her boyfriend, Aaron, for missing 3 rent payments. She worked part time at a coffee shop, and he drank the money she earned away in booze. It was only a matter of time before that no longer was sustainable. Her parents had both passed away by the time she was in college, and she had no other family around, so there wasn’t much support. She always had to make her own way.

Now, she was faced with another decision to make for herself. She could stay with the car and wait, hoping that anyone would drive by on this barren road in the middle of nowhere. Or she could start walking and hopefully reach any sign of life before the sun retired for the night. She decided on the latter. Knowing there was practically nothing useful back the way she came for miles, she started off ahead, gravel crunching under each step on this unkempt and obviously rarely traveled road.

After walking for what she had guessed was around 40 minutes, it was now quite dark indeed. She had passed a farm, a few random businesses, most of which looked abandoned maybe, or at least not often visited. Yet she kept walking. None of those places felt…right? Finally, a new sight came into her line of vision. This time, a church. It was a modest building. Small, rectangle, white with brown trimmings, and a cross situated above the front door. She paused, a strange feeling traveling up her spine. It wasn’t unease, but it wasn’t comfort either, there was something ominous. Why would a church be out in the literal middle of nowhere? Nevertheless, something inside of her was telling her to to go inside. Slowly, she approached the small wooden frame.

As she drew closer, her heart began to beat faster. She felt her legs picking up the pace, almost subconsciously, as if something was pushing or pulling her in. Her legs carried her up the short run of stairs up to the large wooden doors, before pulling them both open together.

Through the threshold, she was taken aback slightly by what she was met with. The sound of the doors ripping open drew attention of an audience sitting quietly in the pews, as they turned around in unison. Her stomach flipped as she stared back at this crowd of about 25, all dressed in black, covering their face with black lace. Ahead of the pews, at the pulpit, was a tall, blonde man wearing black and white suit and a black hat with a rounded brim around it, presumably a preacher. Behind him were three identically black-clad and masked figures. The preacher was in the middle of delivering his speech when the sudden disturbance at the back of the hall by the girl halted his words. He stared a moment before he smiled.

“It appears we have a visitor today.” His gaze unwavering from hers.

She stepped into the hall, allowing the doors to close with a click behind her.

“I uh…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt…this.” She fidgeted uncomfortably as she gestured broadly at whatever this was exactly.

The preacher began to stroll around to the front of his podium, still holding his gaze, and very intentionally make his way down the stairs of the small stage, slowly approaching the girl.

“What brings you here, stranger?” He smiled, stepping up to her.

The girl felt intimidated, as his presence closed in on hers, enveloping her like humid summer day. She wasn’t frightened, but there was a palpable feeling of power emanating from him, one that she didn’t know what to make of. She felt as if he could sense she had been drawn to this building against all better judgement.

“My um…my car broke down probably about a mile from here. I was hoping for…well, help, I guess.” She glanced to either side of her, to a few of the staring congregation members.

"I see." The preacher nodded, his hand massaging his chin in thought. “My friends,” he turned around and held his hands in the air. “Why don’t we reconvene tomorrow? It seems we have something more important to attend to today. Our new friend here needs a helping hand.”

The people in the pews quietly stood up and began shuffling past the girl, still staring. Once the congregation had all exited, the door clicked shut once again, leaving a heavy silence in the air, surrounding the two of them. The strange preacher turned and lowered himself down to sit in one of the pews, motioning for the girl to sit beside him with a warm smile. She obliged, awkwardly sitting down beside him.

“I suppose we should properly introduce ourselves, then. May I ask your name?” He asked, angling himself toward her.

“It’s Harper.”

“Harper…” He nodded as he took a mental note of this. “I’m Jamie. Pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand to her.

Harper glanced at it and slowly brought hers to meet his in a shake. When their hands met, she felt a sense of…something. Déjà vu, maybe? Something that felt eerily familiar. She didn’t know what to make of it. She dropped her hand rather hastily, subconsciously, as she shifted in her seat, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation.

“So um…is there like, a landline phone I could use to call a tow truck, since cell service is just not happening out here…or maybe, is there anyway I could get a ride to the nearest service station? Where even are we right now? I didn’t see any road signs for miles…” She laughed nervously.

Jamie chuckled. “Yeah, we are quite a ways out here, I know…sort of in our own little world in a way…it’s quite curious that you even found your way to us. How did you end up here?”

Harper sighed and shook her head. “I don't know, I was just…driving. That’s it. I just needed to get away from my situation, and I guess I was trying to just get as far away as possible. I started driving yesterday and I…never stopped. Until my car did.”

“Hmm.” Jamie hummed, taking in her words. “And you’re situation is…?”

“Ha!” Harper rolled her eyes. “Not great. You know, dead end job, deadbeat boyfriend, dead parents, I’m getting evicted and have no hope in sight…just all-around kind of garbage, really.”

There is a brief few seconds of silence as Jamie nodded to himself. Harper sat looking at him, unsure what to think. He seemed kind and like he was trying to just understand this poor girl who fell into his lap, but there was something else there that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Harper,” Jamie began. “Of course don’t feel obligated…but perhaps you could stay here for the night? It is dark now after all, and you must be exhausted. You could join us tomorrow for our service. Perhaps something may come of it that could help you, bring some clarity, adjust your perspective?”

Harper leaned back slightly. “Oh wow…I mean, I appreciate the offer but it’s just…I’m not really the religious type. Plus, I really ought to be getting back t-“

“To what makes you unhappy?” Jamie interjected, something dark flickering in his eyes, only for a split second.

Harper swallowed hard and looked to the floor silently. He was right. Why was she suddenly in such a hurry to return to the life she felt trapped in?

“Just rest here for tonight, get the sleep you need, and meet with us tomorrow- if you’re up for it, anyway. I’ll take you into the nearest town in the morning if you want.” Jamie placed a hand on her shoulder.

She thought for a moment before exhaling forcefully. “Okay, yeah…sure. I’ll stay for the night. You’re right, I really need to just sleep.” She massaged a hand over her face.

Jamie smiled. “Wonderful. Come with me, we’ll get you a bed.”

He stood and beckoned for her to follow him out of the church. Walking around towards the back of the building, he guided her through an open trail into the woods. The trail opened up to a large clearing, where a small neighborhood of homes sat. It was almost unnerving, as if they weren’t supposed to be there. It felt like a civilization long removed from society, a slight pang of regret formed in her chest.

Jamie and Harper approached one of the houses and knocked a few times, before entering, not waiting for the door to be answered or invitation.

“Clara, good evening!” He tipped his hat to a woman standing in the kitchen by the sink, drying her hands with a towel. “Might you be so kind to show Harper here a fresh bed for the night?”

Clara smiled. “Oh, of course, Jamie. Harper…welcome.” She approached and took Harper’s hands as she greeted her.

Harper smiled uncomfortably as she shuffled her feet, waiting to be released from this woman’s grips. Clara released one hand, while she pulled the other one with her, taking off with Harper down a hall. Harper turned and looked to Jamie, who stood by the door watching them get farther away. Clara brought Harper into a room at the end of the hall.

“Please, make yourself comfortable! Let me know if you need anything at all, water, tea, more pillows... I’m just across the hall right there.” She pointed and smiled.

“Thank you…” Harper stood for a moment in front of the twin bed, neatly made, in this relatively minimalistic room, looking around. She sat slowly on the edge of the bed. “Um, I do have a question, actually…and you don’t have to answer it, I guess, but um…is this like…” she lowered her voice “is this a cult?”

Clara laughed. “Oh, gosh! I can definitely see how it may seem from the outside, but of course not! We’re just here to live in peace and truth. You know, Jamie has such beautiful ideas and has truly done incredible things for us.”

“Like what..?” Harper asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Clara stepped closer and squatted down in front of Harper. “Have you ever wondered how beautiful life could be, if you could just get hell over with?”

Harper scoffed. “That’s basically my entire existence. Just wondering where the happiness is once I move beyond the dumpster fire that is my life!” Harper chuckled.

Clara didn't laugh, she maintained her soft, but serious gaze. “Jamie is leading us to that.”

“…what do you mean?” Harper furrowed her brow in confusion, and slight intrigue.

Clara stands up from her crouched position. “Join us tomorrow, see for yourself.” She smiled.

“Okay see, now this kinda feels really culty…”

Clara laughed. “You’re funny. I hope you do end up sticking around. Anyway, I’ll let you rest. Again, please do let me know if I can get you anything! Sweet dreams!” She backed through the doorframe, closing the door.

Harper stared at the closed door briefly, trying to make sense of everything she had encountered in the last 30 minutes or so. She half-jokingly hoped she wouldn’t be murdered in her sleep here, but they did seem nice. Still, she couldn't figure out why she made her way here, and didn't stop at the few other places she walked by. It felt like she was supposed to find this place, possibly. But that was ridiculous, right? She laid back on to the bed and quickly fell into the sleep her tired body and mind yearned for.

In her slumber, she began to dream. She saw herself, sitting on a throne of vines in a lush garden. There was no evidence to suggest this, but in her dream, it felt like an equivalent to the garden of Eden. Beside her, Jamie sat. It felt as though they were royalty. The two of them smiled as they looked on to a similar black-clad congregation she had walked in on earlier. In her dream, she felt…free, she felt powerful. In this vision, her and Jamie were worshipped, looked to for guidance and acceptance. A congregant approached her with an ordinary grey stone from the ground, which she took in her hands. After a few seconds, her hands opened, and a butterfly emerged.

In the conscious world, Harper awoke gently as the sun poured on to her face. She inhaled as she stretched her arms up above her head. She turned her head towards the window that the sun shone through. Her breath halted as she noticed the grey stone from her dream sitting on the windowsill. She sat up, heart rate beginning to pick up it’s pace as she stared at it. Perhaps she simply noticed it before falling asleep, so it turned up in her dream? She kept staring at the rock, becoming more and more curious. She thought about what Clara had said, why they were all there. As strange as everything had seemed, she couldn’t help but be intrigued. Maybe she would join them today after all to see what this preacher was all about.

TAGS: @001-simp, @petersprincesss, @lunerbitch, @cinnamoncunt, @dark-academia-slut let me know if you'd like to be tagged! and LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE LIKING THIS PLEASE. I'm white knuckling this whole idea lmao (also think my tags are broken at the moment, so please reblog this. please.)

[fullstop-roleplays]

The laughing confuses and slightly upsets him. What's funny about this, about it's situation? It's dealing with a force or presence they have no information on, one that had the ability to spontaneously remove all of his colleagues from the building!? They could be in danger! He could be in danger! The world reset when he thought he'd foiled their plans so clearly he did something wrong, but what? Was there some sort of failsafe? Did they know what he did? Was something coming for him?

He's not sure how he feels about the Author. She seems unpredictable, and Rodney finds that that scares him. He understands how the Narrator seems to work. He's (probably) here to help Rodney, and even if he isn't giving correct instruction he at least seems to not be hostile. He's firm about their objective and seems to care about it's completion a great deal. But why is she here? The Narrator narrates, so what is she writing? What is her goal?

"Oooooh, he took a wrench, haha! I wonder what he's going to use that for. Maybe to put a wrench in your plans-"

Wait, what!? He looks up at the ceiling in slight alarm, though he doesn't stop walking. What plans? The voices cut before he can hear anything else but what did she mean by that? What plans does the Narrator have? Why would Rodney need to oppose them?

The voice- the Narrator's voice- comes back, acknowledging him taking the wrench, and he finds himself calm a little, nodding. The Narrator is occasionally incorrect about his thoughts or motivations, but he's absolutely correct about this one. The thought of finding someone else here both excites and scares him; he's desperate to get his- his acquaintances back, but what if it isn't an ally? What if he comes across something malicious? He's not sure how much a wrench would really do, but with his new, strange resolve he resolves to go down fighting.

Or perhaps he'll just flee. Whichever seems less fatal.

Rodney marches up the stairs (no hands this time,) and shifts the wrench in his back pocket to attempt to hide it more, in response to the Narrator's comment. If his boss does make an appearance this time round, he'd rather avoid a confrontation.

...Which is a little at odds with the way he cinematically throws open the office doors, but sue him, he's allowed a bit of flair to boost his confidence. The bout of paranoia after the broom closet has him antsy. He just wants to be over and done with the tedious bits and get to the control room to see if anything's changed, or if he can actually figure out a solution now.

Rodney just barely keeps from flinching at the sudden hardness in the narrator’s tone, not having expected such a harsh reaction. Nor did they expect the sudden giggling that had started up, and this time they do flinch. He’d almost entirely forgotten the Author was also here. What a strange title, that. What could she be writing?

During his musing, Rodney had been perusing- oh, that rhymes- the broom closet shelves. Some pliers on the top shelf, a few wrenches (well- one wrench and two vaguely wrench-shaped objects,) something that looks sort of like a hollow orange tape-measure, and lots and lots of duct tape.

He takes a step closer to look at the bottom shelf (A coil of rope and some kind of large metal tool. It looks quite heavy in fact, and difficult to lift-) but freezes once the narrator’s voice rings out. His slight irritation at not recognizing half of the objects here dissipates, but his eyes are still creased into a frown.

Back to the boss’s office? But that clearly hadn’t… Why? He thought the machine had malfunctioned, or otherwise noticed his presence somehow, but then why was he not sent to… Wherever his coworkers are right now? Had he messed up? But he’d done everything the narrator had instructed him to do, so how-

Oh.

If he’d messed up and was sent back, and the narrator is still asking he do the same thing…

He isn’t sure what conclusion to come to, with all this information, but it plays on his mind all the same. Is he being lied to? That makes no sense. What possible reason could the narrator have for not simply disposing of him, if that were the case, if he’s somehow the mastermind behind his coworkers’ disappearances, or on their side. Why not send him there with them? Why separate him? Why keep him?

Rodney looks hesitantly at the ceiling, almost as if checking for permission, before slipping the wrench into his pocket. He then gives himself a nod of reassurance, and walks briskly- albeit a little uncertainly- out of the broom closet door.

He feels a strange sense of resolve within him. Resolve to do what? No idea. But he’s no less determined to do…er- It. Whatever It is.

[stairswell]

silly little thingy i made... because why not

yippee!

this can be interpreted as romantic or platonic

disappears

[takemecn]

closed for @ianfm​​’s ian vogt.

dustin had always been the neighbor who was considered overly friendly, the one who extended an open invitation to everyone in the building, the one whose door could always be knocked on, the one who sparked up a conversation in the stairwell and the one who made sure he was never running low on anything, just in case a neighbor needed to swing by a borrow something. dustin was also overly comfortable with knocking on the doors of his neighbors, comfortable initiating spontaneous hang outs and check ins. so really, he should have found no problem in knocking on the door belonging to ian and bo, but he did.

he stepped out into the heat in a restless mood, struggling to keep himself company but suddenly afraid to call anyone he knew to ask if they were free. he planned on seeing if ian or bo might have been around, perhaps even in a similarly disgruntled mood, in a position where they could all help each other out, but dustin failed at even that. he made it down two stairs before he froze, his fear and paranoia forcing him to sit down on the stairs leading to the basement before he stumbled and fell as he suddenly felt light-headed with paranoia. seeing ian and bo didn’t feel right either. they were victims too, and while it was true that they might have been able to help brighten each other’s moods while all together, dustin felt stuck and unable to go through with it, unable to try. 

he had felt this way before. growing up in the mess he had, dustin understood pain and trauma and feeling like you no longer had anywhere to go. it was a feeling he had worked so hard to get away from, first with terribly unhealthy methods, but later in a way that had turned his life around for the better. there was no worse feeling than the one he felt there on those steps, the feeling of inescapable pain- but then he made it worse for himself. if he hadn’t have wanted to get caught by ian, he shouldn’t have stayed sitting there on his steps. “o-oh, hey!” he tried to fake enthusiasm, trying to brush off the odd encounter and the strangeness of ian having to step out of his front door to see someone lurking. “i was just-” he stood. “i was just coming to see you.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, not doing a very good job with masking. 

[ladydaemon]

SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.

[tenthgrove]

La squadra reacting to a fem team-mate just grabbing their hand (or handsss) pulling them up the stairs, pushing them into her bed and snuggling up to them 👀💭

Need you Now

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Romantic, Mildly Suggestive

Formaggio- I hope you weren’t after a quiet cuddling session because the second your hands touch Formaggio won’t shut up. He goes on a joyous tirade, asking what game you’re playing and calling you every pet name under the sun. When you pull the sheets over him and press a finger to his lips, he gives one last ‘alright, alright sweety,’ before settling down. He’s a tight hugger and always warm to the touch. Expect a line of kisses from your cheek to your neck. If you aren’t together when this starts, you probably will be by the end.

Illuso- In spite of the big game he talks about everyone loving him, Illuso never really expected anyone to want affection from him so spontaneously. His self-esteem is lower than he lets on. So when you pull him up to bed and throw your arms around him, Illuso finds himself, for the first time in a long time, completely lost for words. As you stroke his hair, he lies completely still, eyes wide open at the thought of someone genuinely wanting him. After a minute, he’ll ask you how you feel about him. Truth is, he’s got a lot to confess about his feelings for you as well.

Prosciutto- As much as the poor man tries (or doesn’t) he can’t help being on alert mode 24/7, so his first instincts when you wordlessly pull him away is that something is severely, severely wrong. Is the base under attack? Is Passione in peril? When, approximately 25 seconds after you actually get into bed with him, it occurs to him what’s actually going on, Prosciutto can only feel annoyed that you would scare him like that. His efforts to move however, are notably minimal. Complain as he might, Prosciutto seems perfectly content to stay in your arms as long as you like.

Pesci- Having learned a lot from his brother, Pesci reacts with a similar sense of panic when you lead him away without explanation. After all, what could reason could anyone possibly have for wanting to be alone with him? When you pull him into bed and throw your arms around him, Pesci lets out a shocked but relieved ‘oh’. His reprieve at no longer fearing he’s in danger is swiftly replaced by a newfound anxiety at never having been in a situation like this before. Do you like him? What does he do? Has he already messed it up? Pesci’s worries are put to rest, at least a little, by the sight of your content face as you snuggle into him. You seem happy with him, at least.

Melone- One of the few in the team to know immediately what you want from him. Melone is well versed in spotting the signs of attraction and affection in a person’s eyes, and he’s been seeing it in you for weeks now. Even still, he’s no less elated when you finally act on your crush. When you pull him into an embrace instead of… you know… pulling his clothes off, he is a little taken aback as he expected your intentions to be more explicitly sexual. He isn’t disappointed however, content to bask in the soft warmth of your embrace you so kindly bestow on him.

Ghiaccio- Complains and pulls back the whole way to your bedroom. If there’s one thing he hates (beyond botched phraseology and twisted metaphors) it’s being taken away from what he’s currently focused on, and he’s going to make that very clear to you. Even when you make him lie down and sink your arms around his torso, he keeps ranting, until suddenly his brain catches up with what you’ve done and it occurs to him he’s being propositioned for actual human affection. That shuts him up.

Risotto- When a teammate grabs Risotto by the hand and pulls him away, it usually means they have something confidential to tell him. So, when you then proceed to push him onto your bed, Risotto’s brain short-circuits. He cannot bring himself to question you as you manoeuvre his arms around your waist and nuzzle against his chest. As he forces himself from his stupor, Risotto cracks a smile. He awkwardly pets your side with his large hands. This may be an unfamiliar feeling to him, but it is certainly one he could get used to.

Sorbet and Gelato- You better be leading them off together else you might not make it all the way to your bedroom alive. Sorbet and Gelato are a set and must not be separated. Provided that you comply with this basic rule, their reaction to your insistent snuggling will be pleasant surprise. Having been together so long, a new pair of arms around them is a strange sensation, but not entirely unwelcome. Putting their surprise aside, the pair chuckle and press you between their bodies, curling locks of your hair around their fingers and whispering the question of whether you intend for this to go any further or not.

[holyhead-harpy]

The Inflatable Killer Whale

For @pottinglilies - you are such a gift to the fandom, and I thought your killer whale story. I hope you like this.

“Last year, Lils, can you believe it?” asked Marlene McKinnon as she and Lily Evans exited the welcome feast.

“It feels so strange to be leaving Hogwarts,” Lily replied.

“Well, we’re not leaving yet, so don’t get all maudlin on me. Will you be taking off that Head Girl badge to celebrate the start of the year with the rest of us tonight?”

“Yeah, Marls, Merlin know I’ll need to take my chance to relax while I can before NEWTs prep really kicks up.”

“Merlin’s balls, don’t remind me,” groaned Mary MacDougal as she passed the two other girls on the stairs, “do you think if I spontaneously combust they’ll send a passing grade to my mum out of pity?”

“Probably not, said Marlene, not unsympathetically, “did you ever hear what happened to Edna MacMillan?”

Mary’s wince suggested she had.

“Oh, Mary, I brought you something for your Muggle Studies project,” Lily interjected.

“Wicked, thanks!” Dread at the upcoming exams pushed off for the time being, Mary disappeared amidst the throng of students in the stairway.

“What’d you get, Lils?” asked Marlene.

“I’ll show you later tonight,” Lily responded.

However, all thoughts of muggle items quickly left both of their thoughts as they entered the Gryffindor common room and observed the riot of decorations and students loudly catching up with their friends after the summer holidays.

“This seems a touch overboard,” Lily said, after taking a minute to regain her bearings.

“It’s seventh year,” said Remus Lupin as he passed by, levitating several streamers that were flashing between scarlet and gold, “so, it’s now or never, really.”

“And I, for one, vote now,” Marlene agreed enthusiastically, “Remus, I assume someone has drinks?”

Remus indicated one of the window alcoves, where a grinning Sirius Black was holding court over an eager throng. “Sirius picked up some stuff from Hogsmeade.”

“So that’s why he missed the Sorting,” Lily muttered.

Remus put a finger over his mouth and winked. “Mums the word, if you don’t mind, Madame Head Girl.”

Lily rolled her eyes but nodded nonetheless as Marlene threw an arm over her shoulder and led her to the drinks.

“So, Sirius, I assume there’s some fire whiskey among your contraband?” asked Marlene.

“You assume correctly, but for two ladies as lovely as yourselves, I’ve got something even better: old Aberforth gave me a bottle of his moonshine,” Sirius said, “careful though, this stuff is strong.”

 ~

Several shots of Aberforth’s moonshine later, the common room was beginning to have a pleasant blur around the edges. The lower years had largely been shooed off to bed, and the upper years were taking full advantage of their last day before classes began, other than an unfortunate few who had not completed their summer homework. For her part, Lily was feeling somewhat more fond of her year mates than usual—even of Potter, who had, admittedly, been much more tolerable of late and hadn’t asked her out once over the summer or since arriving back at Hogwarts.

“Lils, your muggle thing!” said Marlene suddenly, with great urgency despite the slight slurring of her words, “your muggle thing, you were going to show me your muggle thing!”

“Oh, right,” Lily replied, somewhat loath to leave her comfy spot of the sofa nearest the fire, “can I show you tomorrow?”

“No!” Marlene exclaimed, giving her friend a light shove off the sofa, “I’ll save your spot, just go get it!”

“Or else we can set a new fire for you wherever you end up sitting,” said the passing Sirius with a wicked grin.

“You will do no such thing, Sirius Black!” called Lily over her shoulder as she made her way up the girls’ stairs.

“Merlin’s balls, but she reminds me of McGonagall when she’s pissed,” commented Sirius as he went off to find where Prongs had wandered off to.

 ~

After taking a frankly embarrassing amount of time trying to blow up the item before remembering she could just use an inflation charm, Lily returned to the common room bearing a large inflatable killer whale. She showed it to Marlene, who was somewhat disappointed that it didn’t actually do anything.

“So,” said Marlene slowly, turning the orca over in her hands, “it’s made of rubber…”

“Right,” Lily replied.

“And you fill it with air…”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“You play with it Marls, it’s just for fun.”

“I’m not sure about muggles’ ideas of fun,” said Marlene dubiously, “I mean, I can’t imagine spending much time playing with that.”

At that moment, however, James Potter—Quidditch sensation, Gryffindor heart-throb, and three-sheets to the wind on several shots more of Aberforth’s moonshine that would be strictly advisable for anyone who was beginning the next day with double potions—gasped audibly and snatched the orca away from Marlene.

“What is this?” he asked, slightly too loudly.

“It’s an inflatable killer whale,” Lily replied, “a muggle creation.”

Rather than respond, James darted off amidst the throng of people, still holding the toy.

“Damn,” hissed Lily, “I need to get that back. Who knows what he and his idiot friends would do to it.”

 ~

“Sirius!” James exclaimed, brandishing the orca, “look at this!”

“That’s neat, mate,” Sirius replied.

“Neat? This is the greatest thing muggles have ever created!”

“I’m not sure about that,” Sirius said reasonably, “what about…”

“No,” James cut him off with the confidence of the very drunk, “bugger your motorcycle, this is the greatest thing that muggles have ever made.”

What was sure to be a passionate argument was cut off by the arrival of Lily Evans, in full force as Head Girl and Voice of Reason of Gryffindor House, only slightly undercut by the fact that she had clearly been drinking as well.

“I’ll have that back, Potter,” she demanded, and grabbed the killer whale back from his arms before marching off.

“Tough luck, mate,” Sirius said, patting James on the shoulder.

“No,” said James, “this means war.”

 ~

Lily had just resettled on the sofa—though Marlene had taken her spot nearest the fire while she was gone, the traitorous witch—when James sprinted past with a yodeling war cry and stole the orca. Lily reacted quickly, firing off a tripping jinx at his back, causing him to fall forward and taking out a pair of sixth year girls with him. Lily made her way over as delicately as possible to retrieve the whale, fixing the prone boy with her iciest glare.

 ~

“We need your help, Moony,” James murmured to his friend.

“What with?” asked Remus without hesitation.

“To distract Evans,” Sirius answered.

“So we can get the whale back,” James clarified unhelpfully.

“The whale?” Remus questioned?

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius said.

“How should I distract her though?”

“Just talk about homework or something,” Sirius said.

“Ask her what she wrote about for the charms essay on the impact of wand grip on emotion-based charms,” James said, with unexpected insight, “she loves charms.”

Several minutes later, Lily was giving an impassioned oration on the importance of varying one’s grip in accordance with whether one wanted to cast a charm to cause a positive pr negative emotion, Remus egging her on by suggesting that the Crumperton grip was designed to be multipurpose. However, it wasn’t until Sirius pointed out the problematic nature of defining an emotion as positive or negative that the orca fell beside her, forgotten. James took the shark and snuck off, always having preferred Transfiguration to Charms and thus much less invested than the others.  

 ~

It was significantly later that they called the debate a draw and lily noticed the toy was missing again. However, she quickly spotted it next to James, who was quite distracted by a game of Exploding Snap. She attempted to levitate the whale over to her, but even heavily inebriated, James’s seeker instincts held true and he snatched it out of the air.

 ~

“You know,” said Sirius, “after all this bother, I think our killer friend needs a name. Ulrich, perhaps? Unctious?”

“How about Hortensia?” Remus suggested, eager to head off what was sure to be a list of every name beginning with a U ever bestowed upon a child—with the unfortunate naming habits of pure-bloods, there were sure to be a lot of them.

“Alihotsy,” James declared, “like the fudge. Merlin, I’d like some fudge right now.”

 ~

As the party began to wind down in the early hours of the morning, Lily approached James again.

“Look, I know we’ve all been having fun, but I really do need that back. I only brought it for Mary’s Muggle Studies project, and they’ll be starting on them soon, to be ready for NEWTs.”

“I’ll give it back for a kiss,” James offered, perhaps less flirtatiously and more sincerely than he intended.

“Alright,” Lily agreed easily, surprising herself as much as James. He handed back the orca and Lily closed her eyes as James slowly leaned forward. Then, suddenly, James snatched back the toy and ran off up the stairs, cackling. Lily was annoyed, of course, bit underneath that was surprised to find herself, disappointed?

James Potter woke up the next morning to a splitting hangover, which quickly gave way to intense regret as he remembered his final actions from the night before.

“Did I really give up the chance to kiss Lily Evans?” he groaned.

“’Fraid so, mate,” Sirius answered, far too cheerfully as he levitated the inflatable killer whale to make it appear to swim through the air of the dorm, “but at least we’ve still got Alihotsy. I’ll admit, she’s grown on me.”

James only moaned and buried his head in a pillow.

[raineydays411]

You will remember my name

      Part 2 of Ember

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m so stoked y’all liked my first fic! I really appreciate all the love and support you guys have no idea. (This might have to stretch to three chapters lol)

Tony Stark X daughter!reader

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Tonys pov

A tense silence filled the halls of the Avengers tower. It’s been a week since Y/N left the tower in tears. It’s been two days since anyone has seen the girl to think of it.  The first few days it was thought the girl was just staying with a friend while she cooled off. But after the third day, a bad feeling settled in the stomachs of the heros. By the fourth day, they asked some of Y/Ns closest friends. 

No one has seen her.

Pepper called her aunt, Pamela Isely, but the women said that the last time she spoke to her god daughter was a week before this whole mess happened. 

By the time the week was over, it was concluded that Y/N Stark was missing. 

Tony Stark was not a perfect father. He knew that, of course he knew. I mean, he didn’t exactly have the positive male role models growing up other than Jarvis. He knew he wasn’t going to be a perfect father. He just never thought he’d screw up this badly.

He found out he had a daughter four months after the Battle of New York. He had gotten the news that an old fling of his had died during the attack. leaving behind a daughter. Feeling bad for the kid, he began to set up a college fund for her, as he knew what it was like to lose someone in a tragic way. At first he thought nothing of it, just simply seeing it as a good deed. But then one night, during one of his restless nights, he began doing the math and figured out that the age of the girl was just about nine months off from when he had...met her mother. Needless to say Pepper was shocked when she woke up to Tony passing out.

After a few minutes of being yelled at by Pepper and another hour of coming to terms with this discovery, Tony made plans to find the girl.

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Y/n pov

After explaining your situation with your father to the boy, you realize that you still didn’t know his name. Turning to him you ask for it. 

“Oh, my name is Daniel, Daniel Winston.”  You snort as you realize the irony of this ghost boys name. 

“You mean to tell me that your name is Daniel, and you’re a ghost with white hair??” He glares at you for a second then a small smile creeps on his face, “Well, despite the circumstances, it is kinda funny.”  You hum in agreement and let a comfortable silence take over as you try and figure out where you are and if you’re even in New York.

“Hey Danny?” You ask, “Where are you from?”  

“Bludhaven, I was walking home from school when I was taken. Why do you ask?” 

“Because” You reply,” I was taken from New York.” A heavy silence falls over you both as you realize that you’re both unfamiliar with your surroundings. There weren’t any markings to indicate where you were. The base was nestled in a corner of abandoned buildings that looked like factories. The sky was dark and you couldn’t see any stars. There was a strange scent in the air that you chalked up to air pollution. You both continue walking when you see a building with its lights on. 

“Danny, that’s the only building so far that has any lights, we should go check it out.” He looked hesitant, and he wasn’t wrong to be. The building was an old shoe factory, it was dark and looked as if a sneeze could take the whole thing down. Whoever was in there probably wasn’t good company.

“ Are you sure you want to go in there?’ Danny's voice full of doubt, “Maybe we should keep going till we actually get into town.” While his idea was the more logical one, you were starting to get tired, blowing up a building with freaky ghost powers takes a lot out a a young girl.

“I think we should go, I need to rest up and we don’t know how far the town will be. We don’t even know what town this is.” And with that, you start to make your way to the building, a hesitant ghost trailing behind you.

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Tony's POV

Tony realizes locking himself up in his lab really isn’t going to help find his missing daughter. He just can’t believe he screwed up this badly. His own child, thought she wasn’t loved. He did that to her. A rage filled his body as he angrily swept everything off his work table. The clatter of wrenches and pens filled his ears as he stared at the wall.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention. He turned to see Steve Rogers walking in with a box of chinese food and a stern face. Quietly, the blond man took a look at the state of the lab, shook his head and placed the food on the table.

“We picked straws to decide which one of us had to come convince you to come out.” Steve said breaking the silence between the two men. Tony said nothing as he continued to look at the wall.

“You know, you have some nerve to lock yourself away.” Tony jerked his head over and stared at the man . “ What did you just say?” 

“You damn well heard what I said.’ Steve shot back. “ Your daughter is missing. She disappeared into thin air. And you’re in here doing what? Throwing your tools around?” 

“Are you going to lecture me?” Tony said in a bored voice.” Because of you are, i want to take notes” 

“You know this is your problem. You don’t care.” Steve said angrily. “ You don’t care that your daughter is missing. You don’t care that for eight years, the longest conversation you’ve had with her was when you were introducing her to this team.” Steve stood up from the table and walked back to the door before Tony could say anything. “It’s been a week Tony. She’s been missing for a week.  We need to find her.” He walked out without another word.

And again, Tony was alone. Alone with his thoughts, and alone with his regrets. Then he realizes, if he wants a chance to make up all those years, he’s going to need to find you first.  

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Y/n POV:

Getting into the factory wasn’t too hard, considering you can just walk through walls now. The real hard part finding someone to help, as there was no one in the building. In fact, the only living thing in the factory was the surprising amount of vines and greenery over taking the space. 

“hey, Y/n.. maybe we shouldn’t be here...” Danny whispered, ‘” this place is creeping me out.” 

“D, you don’t have to whisper, I’m the only one who can hear you.”

 You answer as you look around, the room you were in seemed like an office of some sort. Then you noticed something.

“Danny, those vines...they lead out of the room” 

And with that you start walking towards the door, but before you can make it you hear loud voices, two women from what you can tell. 

“....mmy you can’t keep doing this to yourself....”

“i....never let her go with him....”

You can’t hear what they’re saying, you take a step forward and accidently step on a vine. 

“wait...there's someone here.” 

Oh shit. You look at Danny in surprise as there was no way these people would have known you were here.

Then suddenly, the room of plants came to life. Vines started thrashing around, searching for the intruder. 

“WHAT THE FUCK” Danny yelled as a vine goes through is body. “Y/N lets get out of here!” In your panic, you forget you can literally turn into a ghost, so you look for a window to get out of. Before you can climb, a vine suddenly wraps around your leg and pulls you out of the room.

“Y/N!!” 

You thrash as you are pulled down the hallway, around corners, and painfully down stairs. You scratch at the floor, desperate to find something to cut the vines.  Then your eyes start glowing. Your skin melting to a pale blue. You blast through the plant as you start floating upwards. You shoot the plants around you with a blue mist like energy.

“What is that?” “Aye whatta you doing here?”  Wait. You know that voice.

Looking up, you get distracted and a vine wraps around your body, restricting your movement. You struggle for a while till you hear it. 

“Y/N?” You stop and look up. You change back to your normal appearance, shocked.

“Aunt Pam?!”

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TONY’S POV

After Steves not lecture, Tony got to work. He had FRIDAY look for anything suspicious in and near New York. By doing that, he found out that there has been an influx of missing people ranging from ages twenty to fifteen. They were going missing from three specific cities: Bludhaven, Gotham, and...New York. Seeing this had Tony's heart sink. He ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was conducting their own investigation. But before he entered, he stopped to listen to the teams conversation.

“How can she just...disappear into thin air..” Sam said in a sad voice. The rest of the team sat in silence. 

“Maybe we missed something. There has to be something there.” Natasha said with a desperation no on has heard from her. “It’s been a week Steve, she wouldn’t just leave like that.” And that when Tony decided to make his presence known.

“Maybe she didn’t” He said making everyone jump, “There has been an increase in missing person cases in the cities of Gotham, Bludhaven, and New York. All around the same age as Y/N.”

“So,you’ve decided to step up” Clint said sarcastically. “Where have you been this past week Stark?”

“ Look I know I haven’t been the best parent” Tony said.

“that’s an understatement”, grumbled Clint.

“I love my daughter. I hate the thought of her not knowing that.” Tony finished looking around the room to see the disapproval of the team.

“Fighting isn’t going to find her.” Wanda said quietly. “We need to work together.”

“Wandas right.” Steve said, “FRIDAY ,can you find any abnormal activity in any of the cities?”

“I did a widespread search specifically in the Gotham bludhaven and New York areas. A building in the indrustrial area in Gotham spontaneously collapsed. When authorities searched through the rubble, they found bodies of thirty out of the ninety reported missing people.”

“Was there anyone matching Y/N description,” asked Natasha anxiously.

“FRIDAY bring up the missing kids files”

A long minute went by, and all the files uploaded. The Avengers were all on edge as they flipped through the thirty files. They were relieved when they realized that Y/n was not part of those thirty kids.

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