#the diner style is my favorite :>

[keeps-ache]

i should learn to make hash browns

[bitchface24-7]

V, you gotta be lacing your fics with something because I literally dreamed Jayvik last night… I’m fighting my demons on if I should write this but regardless I’m gonna throw the idea out there. Because who better than The Jayvik messiah to bless my feed once more.

  Waitress!Reader, who is a new hire at a local bistro. Quickly becoming Jayce and Viktor's favorite waitress. After Viktor suggests Jayce take a break from all the fancy dinners and embrace a simpler style of dining. They are both just enamored by Readers hospitality after they mention it's their first time/first time in a while. Leaving a generous tip. (could be a tip or a tiiip)

Go crazy go stupid. I’m positive you will COOK.

ORDER UP! - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Viktor and Jayce have horrendous eating habits. Too focused on their work to properly take at least a thirty-minute break to eat. You'd think after Jayce became a counsellor his eating habits would become better, nope! The “meals” they serve during meetings couldn’t even fill up a baby poro.

While Jayce was away as a counsellor, Viktor was alone in the lab. One day when he was incredibly frustrated, he took a break. He left the lab and went to a quaint diner called Roadside Revival. He ate amazing food and met a beautiful waitress; You. He needs to bring Jayce here STAT.

warnings: unhealthy eating habits, flirting, favouritism, pre-established JV (they want that cookie (you) SO BAD), reader is very sweet and called the boys honey and sugar; they love it like flowers in the sun, reader treats everyone else like Max from "2 Broke Girls" (one scene is inspired by the show), smoking, suggestive content sprinkled throughout (and especially at the end)

genre: m/m/f

p.s. the way this request was worded made me wheeze. THE JAYVIK MESSIAH?!?!?? Is that what I'm going go be known as? I'm not complaining! Does that make y'all my commune? Do I need to get a dark blue blanket and wear it cuntily?

Viktor wants to rip his hair out. The equations aren't equaling, the rune sequence isn't working, he's tired, his back hurts, he hasn't eaten in several hours, and he misses Jayce.

One of those problems gets a solution almost immediately, when Jayce walks through the lab doors with a beaming smile.

Viktor feels his lips twitch at the excitable energy Jayce exudes. His mere presence makes Viktor more relaxed.

“I’m starving! Those portions they give out are horrendous! I'm telling you, V, they're like five strands of spaghetti and two meatballs if you're lucky. I'm a big boy, I need to eat!”

Viktor smirks and slowly stands up from his chair, walking over to his partner, “You are a big boy but don't lie. Your eating habits are just as bad as mine.” Viktor pulls Jayce in close with his cane and kisses him, enjoying how Jayce surrounds him. His warmth, his scent. Him.

Jayce smiles into the kiss and pulls away with a small giggle, “Oh shut up. Speaking of food, have you eaten?”

Viktor looks away with a fake look of innocence.

“Viktor.”

“What?”

“Have you eaten today? A glass of sweet milk and a singular piece of toast don't count.”

There's a small silence before Viktor sighs dramatically, “No I haven't, BUT—” he says the last word loudly, to prevent Jayce from scolding him, “There’s this diner I've been frequenting, the Roadside Revival. Many different dishes, amazing portions, and fairly priced. I've been planning to take you there when we both had the time so we could get an actual tasty meal in this godforsaken city.”

Jayce quirks an eyebrow, “Really? Tell me more.” he states as he puts his hand on Viktor’s lower back as they leave and lock the lab.

He's been dying for some good food from— somewhere! He's getting sick of cooking all the time, he wants a place he can go to when he's lazy. With Viktor's praise, this might be the place.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your shift is going well, thank god. With how shitty some of the other shifts have been, you were wondering when you were going to crash out and hit a customer.

An annoying snapping takes you out of your thoughts, and you have to reign in your sigh. These two uppity academy students are treating you like a dog. You'll see if they appreciate the sentiment.

You sway over to their table, "Hey, what can I getcha?" Before the guy can even finish his sentence, you're snapping your fingers centimeters away from his face.

"Was that annoying?" You snap your fingers again and the two customers look stunned. "Is that obnoxious and rude?" You rhetorically ask, snapping once more, "Would you find that distracting if someone did that to you when you were working? Oh! You don't have a job, sorry. " The other guy snickers and you shoot him a glare. He shuts up. "I'm not on your side either buddy, you're just as bad as your friend for allowing him to act like that."

You look at snappy one last time, "You think this," You snap your fingers in his face, "is the sound that gets you service. I think this is the sound that dries up my vagina."

And with that, you saunter away, not taking their order.

You start to clean up the bar area when the jingle of the door catches your attention, you go to make your usual greeting, "Hi, welcome to Roadside Revival! What can I--" you stop in your tracks when you see your favourite customer Viktor and a man you've only seen on mugs and posters across town.

A beaming smile lights up your face, "Viktor, honey, you made it! I was wondering if you were coming in today! I would've had to drink the pitcher of sweet milk all on my own!"

Viktor dramatically gasps and raises a hand to his chest in mock offence, "That's betrayal of the highest order."

A smirk grazes your red lips, "That's what you get for making a lady wait. Your usual booth?"

Viktor smiles with a slight nod, you pick up two menus and bring him to what you consider to be the ultimate booth. It's right next to large windows, where you can get the warmth of the sun and a nice breeze of ac. There's quite a few trees so you're not blinded and can comfortably talk with anyone you're sitting with.

"Here ya go! Sorry for not introducing myself," You state to Viktor's companion, you point to your oval name badge and say your name, "and I'll be your waitress for today! I just got so excited seeing my favourite customer! So... can I start you off with any drinks?"

Viktor says nothing, his sweet milk pitcher is waiting for him. Jayce furrows his brows and says, "Coffee will do, thank you." You lightly scrunch your nose and say, "Fair warning Golden Boy, the coffee is kind of shit. But if you order any other variation, like a cappuccino, mocha, french vanilla, I have to make it. And it'll actually be consumable."

Jayce huffs a laugh, "It's Jayce. I'll take your advice then, may I please have an iced mocha?"

You giggle as you lean away from the handsome man, "A man after my own heart, think I'll call you sugar. With manners like that you're as sweet as can be."

You turn around to get their drinks, and because of this you don't see Viktor's smirk and Jayce's flushed face.

"Now you see why I like coming here." Viktor calmly states as he looks through the menu, Jayce's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"Is she like that with everyone?"

Viktor looks up and lightly crooks his head to the side, silently telling Jayce to look over, there you are, a grimace on your face as a customer tries to flirt with you. He can't hear what you're saying, but he hears your tone, and it's irritated.

"No. She isn't."

And for some reason, Jayce smiles and straightens his spin, feeling special.

"Honey?" He questions. Viktor blushes and mumbles, "Because of my eyes. She said they remind her of honey and I'm just as sweet to look at."

Jayce laughs at his partners expression, and in his flustered state; Viktor kicks him underneath the booth with his stronger leg. Jayce yelps in pain. Viktor got the last laugh, his partner is making fun of him. How rude!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're hustling your ass off to try to keep the customers happy. Serving drinks, food, topping up coffee and water. Your energy is waning. You want to kill your co-worker.

She's currently getting fucked in the walk in freezer as you bust you ass off for ungrateful assholes. One older gentleman grunts, "Where's my waitress?! It's been fifteen minutes!" Before you can reply, a loud moan is heard throughout the diner, "She's cumming!" You say with a giggle, knowing the old man won't get the double-entendre.

You're finally able to bring the sweet milk and mocha to your-- now two favourite customers.

"You have an idea of what you want to eat?"

The two nod and hand you their menus. You can't help but smile at them, so sweet, so polite, so handsome.

God you wish you were your co-worker in the walk-in freezer getting your shit plowed by your honey and sugar. Fuck, they'd probably feel so good, and actually make you cum. Your poor purple bullet vibrator can finally take a break.

The rest of your shift went well, you tried your best to stay by Viktor and Jayce's table, trying to maintain your sanity. They leave an incredibly generous tip, like enough to pay your rent generous. You try to deny it, but they insist. You can't say no to them.

The only upside is what happens at the end of your shift, after you've closed up the diner.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slowly but surely, the other customers left. Jayce and Viktor stayed behind, offering to walk you home since it got dark out. Having playful banter, flirting, and too-long touches.

It's only when the three of you left the diner and were relaxing outside during the fresh evening breeze did what you've been fantasizing about was about to come to fruition.

You lean against the wall of the diner, pulling out a cigarette and light it. You take a small hit and appreciate the nicotine relaxing you. You feel a grasp on your wrist and look to see Viktor bring the cigarette up to his own lips. Jayce gasps.

"Viktor! Seriously?! You smoke? Isn't that bad, worse due to your condition."

Viktor exhales and the smoke comes out as a ring, "Let me be hypocritical Jayce. I'm dying, let me enjoy a few pleasures in life." his lips are tinted pink due to the residue of your lipstick on the filter of the cigarette.

You want to see his pale skin covered in kiss marks, bruises, and hickeys. You subtly look to Jayce, you want to see his hair messy, no longer swept up due to his pomade. You want to see scratch lines down his back, angry and red; maybe even a little bloody.

"There's more pleasure's in life than just smoking a cigarette." You say, hitting your cigarette again, the end lighting up a burnt orange; you flick the ask onto the floor and exhale the smoke. "Pretty sure your pretty boy here is more than willing to show you. What a polite man, he also take directions well." You state, remembering asking for Jayce to help with certain aspects of cleaning the diner and he did so; without question.

Viktor smirks and Jayce sputters.

"You're not wrong." Viktor adds, Jayce just flushes a darker red. You giggle and bring your cigarette to your lips, Viktor continues, "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you also follow instructions well?"

You smirk, giving Viktor the rest of the cigarette, his lips darken even more.

"Give me a good reason to."

Viktor and Jayce share a dark look. You feel your face lightly heat up.

"We'll get you to moan louder than your co-worker did in the back." his accent his thick, and Jayce bites his lip and adds, "And we won't stop until that pretty makeup you have on is smeared all over your face."

You hum and cross your arms over your chest, your tits moved up through the open unzipped portion of your dress. The two men's eyes dart down immediately; looking lecherously.

"So... your place or mine?"

Jayce smiles, his dimples popping through. He puts a hand on your lower back as you three start to walk.

"Ours." Viktor states, his cane thumping rhythmically on the sidewalk, "Unless you want to fuck in an allyway, I don't think any of us have the patience to walk to yours."

You nod, "Fair point."

You may not have gotten the dicking down you wanted during your shift, but at least you're getting it afterwards.

A win is a win.

The inspiration train hit me, and the cackles and wheezes I made when reading this request, oh jeez I sounded like I was dying. But anyway, chat did I cook? Love ya ❤️

[softtdaisy]

🌲 a found family l max verstappen

summary. you and max can't spend Christmas together but a trip to his dad and the love he has for you make him realize that he deserves better. a better life. a better love. a better family.

words count. 2,596

a/n. and this is the last piece for this Christmas series. Thanks to all of you for sticking me through December. and a massive thanks to my favorite person @monzabee for encouraging me and for giving me this beautiful idea to end the series 🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

You looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dress Max had bought you this year during one of your holidays. One of the many gifts he did to you this year, because if there were one thing that could describe your boyfriend it would be his generiosity. That man could buy you the world if you wanted it. 

And that was maybe what was making him the saddest tonight.

He could see you wearing it and neither could he offer you his gift. 

Because you were not spending Christmas’ eve together. But in each other’s family.

“You know this look is a great excuse to skip the diner at my dad’s?” Max asked which made you laughed. He was still sit on your bed, his shirt barely closed and his hair absolutely not styled. He was the closest to his place, compared to you who had to drive for almost two hours. 

He watched you as you walked to your phone, that you had put on your wardrobe to show your whole look. “You’re such a flirt, Maxie.” you kept laughing, specially when he started making his poutty face that you absolutely love. You always found it funny how most people saw him as this arrogant guy when he was such a sweetheart. 

“Ain’t I allowed to flirt with my girl?” 

“You are. It’s a shame you won’t enjoy the result of this flirt tonight.” 

This hasn’t been an easy decision for either of you. It’s was only your first christmas together since you started dating on january. And you really wish you could have spend the evening together. But you learn one thing through this past year: never go against Jos Verstappen’s plan. 

From the first race you attended, you got the feeling Jos didn’t really appreciate you. You tried to talk about it with Max without making a whole drama out of it but he didn’t really react. Or say anything, actually.

Not that Max didn’t care. It was even far from it. He just didn’t know what to do. He never talked about his personnal life with his dad and it wouldn’t be a first now. Specially not with these type of question. Max always assumed that his father only care about his racing career. It couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t interested in his son’s couple. Right?

“I have to go” you told Max, who was lost on his thoughts. He enjoyed for the last few seconds to sight of you before you had to hung up. “Call me if you need, alright?” 

“Even if I don’t need it.” he laughed before letting you go.

Every time he had to say goodbye to you, on the phone or because you couldn’t follow him for the next race, Max felt a little hole in his heart. He never thought one day he’ll met someone that could complete him like you did. 

That’s all he thought about until he arrived at his dad’s place. All the thing he wanted to do with you before the new season starts, where he would take you during the holiday, which races you could be there and what places he wanted to show you during these weekend. More than just happiness for your couple, Max realised how important you were for his anxiety. Before he met you, most of the time he had to drive to see his father, he was anticipated all the bad things that could happen. The critics, the disapproval, the yelling if they really did disagree on something. And the worst part was that, in the end, he was just living the nightmare before it happened.

And maybe it was the fact he didn’t think about all these things before arriving, but Max felt good when he arrived.

“Uncle Maxie!” And being around his nephew was definitely a good help.

For many years, Max never consider having children. The anxiety he developped because of his own childhood was a perfect argument to avoid trying. How could he give a child what he needs if he doesn’t know himself what a kid should have? He knew what he shouldn’t do, that’s all.

But these past weeks, from seeing his nephews and calling them, he realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

And maybe, you weren’t for nothing in this change of mind.

“You’re shinny, uncle Maxie.” 

“Shinny?” he laughed, still playing with the little cars that represent all the Formula one drivers.

“Yep. You’re happy.” 

Max didn’t know what to answer to that. But then he felt two hands on his shoulders and a kiss from Victoria on his hair. “He’s right.” He turned around to look at her. He guessed that the look she had was just another proof that indeed, he was lookier happier. “It’s for the toast, come.”

It was some kind of tradition. Everyone had to say what they were grateful for at the end of this year. Kids, health, career… each other always revolved around these subjects. Max was not going to break the circle. Not today.

“Well I’m grateful for the amazing year I spend. Winning the championship again was more than I could expect at the beginning of the season. So yeah I’m grateful for the team, for the work we did to win the races and create such amazing memories all together.” 

Max stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what he could be grateful for. There was one thing, obviously.

If he met his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t have continued. But he didn’t. He looked at Victoria and her massive smile. 

“And I’m grateful for my girlfriend. I couldn’t have go through this crazy year without her. She’s my rock, she’s my best friend, she’s without a doubt my soulmate and I’m glad I could finally found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Max heard all the lovely and loudly sound from his family. And before he could notice her, Victoria was already in his arms, telling him how proud she was that he finally found the happiness he deserved.

Again, he could have focus on the good thing, all the congratulations and excitement about this new family member that they all couldn’t wait to meet. But this time, Max did saw Jos look on him. One that he sadly knew by heart: disappointment. 

At first, Max decided to ignore the situation and spend most of the evening playing with his nephews, pretending to be a car himself to drive them around the house. But he couldn’t escape the heavy atmosphere forever.

Max saw that Jos was sitting by himself in the living room, with a whisky in his hand. He hesitated, did he really wanted to break all the good vibes for a talk for his dad? And then again, he was too nice to avoid him. No matter if he knew he would end this conversation with some broken feelings, Max couldn’t escape it. Because if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he never wanted to become like his father. A man that would rather ignore the people he love for the sake of disappointment. Silence was never the solution.

“So, how do we feel about new season?” Max asked, sitting next to him. If there was one subject they couldn’t really argue about was his career. Or at least, even if there was some disagreement, it wouldn’t end up badly.

“You have to leave her.” It was simple. Five words. Said with a hard tone. Like an order. “You’re already losing your man over that…stupid girl. You can’t let yourself fail for a woman, Max.”

Maybe he should have gone with the swerve, in the end. “What do you mean? I’ve been with her for a year and I still won.” He could have, maybe, understand if the season was a pure fail. But it wasn’t. The car was amazing and he won almost every races. There was not single doubt that not only you weren’t a burden but you were a motivation for him. It didn’t make sense. But still, Max knew where all of this came from. Because he knew his father.

“A woman is always a burden in a career.” 

“This is why you got married thrice?” It left his mouth without Max had time to notice it. Truth is, he got tired as he grow older of the need to think about his words. What could he say what he mean to his dad? Why should he still be afraid? “Trust me, you terrible at giving relationship advices.” 

“You should watch your mouth.” Jos replied, taking a stew towards his son. For many years, Max used to step back to avoid the confrontation. Not anymore.

Instead, he took at step towards too. “You should watch yours. I won that fucking championiship, again. And you can’t even congratulate me? All you think about is the woman that want to spend her life with me? Not you, me.”

He noticed the change, again, in Jos look. It was getting darker and darker, like his anger was taking over himself and he was close to not be able to contain himself. Usually, Max was scared of the moment he would explode. There was just one change in his mind. You.

Max could accept any criticism about his career or life choices, he didn’t care. It was his life. Sometimes he might be wrong and he could deal with his dad saying that he warned him. He was still young and could deal with some mistakes.

But there was one thing he could never let Jos critcize or give his opinion on it: you.

“I won’t let you ruin your career for some stupid woman.” Jos got the time to grab his wrist. Max hated feeling like a child, all over again. Looking for his dad approval. 

Expect that this time, he didn’t want it. “Fine. It’s my career. I don’t need your opinion.” he managed to free himself and was already leaving the room. He couldn’t continue this without letting it become some shit show. No matter the situation, his family didn’t deserve it. Specially not on Christmas eve. 

“If you don’t leave her, then i’m not supporting you anymore.” 

Max stopped in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of a glass falling in the kitchen sink. He heard the sudden silence in the children’s playroom. This was the results of year of fighting for Jos seeing him as an equal, as a real driver and not a child who wants to grow older and be consider an adult. This was the results of feeling like his dad loved him.

Max was hurt. But he couldn’t fight anymore. “Fine.” he didn’t turn around, didn’t want to look at his father. It wasn’t the idea of seeing him. It was the idea of Jos seeing how bad he broke him, again. “I’ll do better without you.” 

The silence was still everywhere when Max walked to his sister to kiss her and said goodbye to his nephew. It was for the better, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight if they asked him to stay. But Victoria knew his brother, and what he deserves was to be in a place where he felt loved. 

And there was one where he knew he would never be ignored and rejected.

When you opened the door, you imagined different scenarios. But never one where you would see Max on your doorstep. “Baby?” you asked with confusion, almost like you were sure he was real.

“I’m sorry, I should have called, I know i wasn’t invited but…” he didn’t need to continue. Because you recognized the look in his eyes. One you sadly saw before. When he argued with his dad on the circuit and you couldn’t do anything than holding him in your arms. Telling me it would get better. That he wasn’t alone.

That was the only truth Max needed. He was far from being alone.

So you offered your hand to him. “Come in baby.” you noticed the little hesitation in his look, on that sadden you. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to come in. It was a pur fear of opening his heart to you and losing you after. It didn’t last long, because he knew deep down that you were here to stay. But you were scared that this was a kind of thought that would never leave his mind.

You gave him a small and simple kiss on the lips, a kind of silent promise that you were supporting him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Max even asked for. He was so not used of being understood and loved, this simple attention was enough to light up his heart again.

“Sweetie, who’s th… Oh Max! What a lovely surprise!” 

You were interrupted by your dad who almost push you away to take Max in his arms. You weren’t surprised. First, because your dad was a very lovely and tactile person who couldn’t resist this type of greeting. Second, because he appreciated Max so much, he was probably the one praying every day for a wedding. Third, because he had been asking you all night why you didn’t bring him. 

But Max, on the contrary, was more than surprised by that. Was he really that happy to see him? “Come in, you’re getting cold. Did you eat? We have…” you didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence that your dad had already pulled Max to the living room. Your boyfriend just had the time to turn around and give you a curious look. To which you replied with a smile. It felt right to see him being appreciated and treated like he should.

All your family spend the night talking to him, asking questions and making him feel like he was home. That was the truth, actually: this place was also a home for him. It was yours. And your family already considered him as a part of it. There was no reason for Max to not be a full member. 

It wasn’t until you got to bed, in your bedroom, that he let his mind speak. You were laying on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling and caressing your hair. It was relaxing for both of you to stay in silence after the crazy night you had. 

“I’ve felt much more at home here in a few hours than in all my life with my dad.” Max said slowly, in a whisper.

You turned your head just enough to look at him while he was still focused on his thoughts. You were making a whole speech in your head to make him feel better. You had no idea how he felt about this. This must be such a strange situation to feel more loved by your family-in-law than your own. 

But then he put a kiss on your hair and started to smile. “Thank you.” he whispered, like he was scared to be heard by anyone else. “For finding me and for loving me.”

You could feel your heart melt at this confession. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” you replied. 

And you stayed like that for a good minute before you made a debrief of the whole evening here. When you both fell asleep, you realised you had the greatest gift you could ever dream of. Happiness in the arms of your loved one.

[rosenclaws]

Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

halloween masterlist || join my discord!

a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting. 

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.” 

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag.  You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos. 

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench. 

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be. 

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need. 

[hsficrecommendation]

Hello everyone! This is masterlist #7 and #8 (Nov and Dec of 2023!) for all of the fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog the writings if you read them!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing <3

••• NOVEMBER •••

Chiffon | Lace | Satin | In which Harry is grumpy and mean to Y/N, who's just shy and trying to get through the day, and they're both teaching assistants for the same class. - @cupid-styles

Love's An Ache In The Jaw | A fic about TA!Harry and TA!Yasmine who hate each other more than anything in the world. - @harryforvogue

Sunkissed | Part 2 | Where (Y/n) is a single mom to an uncoordinated kid, who happens to have surf lessons with a very cute man. - @harryhoney-bee

Knockout | The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises. - @freedomfireflies

Athens | Harry’s in his fourth year teaching university, and he knew he was bound to have a favorite student but he didn’t know he would meet someone like y/n. - @moonchildstyles

••• DECEMBER •••

Halo | Harry doesn’t believe in love and Y/N tries to figure him out. - @parkersroses

Baby, It's Cold Outside | In which Harry is the right person at the wrong time. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Where The World Takes You ♡ | In which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Lonely This Christmas ♡ | You and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other. - @enthusiasticharry

Fine Line | Harry plays you Fine Line for the first time and some things get said. - @harrystylescherry

Delicate | Harry has a bad past with relationships and is waiting for when Y/N decides to leave him. - @gucciharrywritings

Love of my Life | Where Harry and Y/n, who is a part of the love band, end up married without the media and the fans finding out. But Harry finally lets the news out by introducing Y/n Mrs. Styles. - @gucciwins

Number One | In which Harry jumps in to help when Y/n is stressing about a little lie she told her family, but is the new lie -- actually a lie? - @watchmegetobsessed

Masterlist for more recs! My Writing account - @0oolookitsme

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hi if your requests are still open, what would sharing a meal with logan be? at home or perhaps a diner, together in the xmen mansion ?

hope you are doing okay, your writings with him means a lot to me and you do write so sweetly ❤️ have a good day or night:)

a/n: hii sweets! i'm so very incredibly flattered that you enjoy my writing like that, your message really means a lot to me! i love imaging logan in all these little scenarios that i probably wouldn't have given much thought to, so thank you for that! :]

I really love this question!!

Let’s say you’re eating at home in a metaphorical shared apartment/house, you’d most likely be the one cooking – even though Logan swore up and down he’d help you. He’d probably hang off of you, hands placed gently on your hips as he peers over your shoulder at whatever you’re doing. 

He’s a little menace though, always sticking his fingers in the stuff you’re making to the point of you hitting him with whatever you’re cooking with. You’d tell him to find a seat somewhere like a child and he would, but that doesn’t mean he’s done being irritating, because he’s always commenting on something, whether that be a tease on how sexy you look cooking, or that it smells so good he doesn’t understand why he can’t just have a small bite.

Quietness does grace the kitchen at some point, and you know that when it does he’s admiring you with a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Eating out a lot is the most common unfortunately, but that just comes with the territory of being an x-man, but you know that wherever he takes you will be good, even if it is a little shotty hole in the wall diner. He’d choose a booth just so he’d have an excuse to sit you down next to him and tug your legs into his lap.

Now finally, I can see dinners at the X-men mansion being a very large affair, Xavier prefering to have all the kids eating together right along with the teachers. Though there isn’t any assigned seating, everyone knows that the spot next to you is reserved for Logan only. 

The meal is most likely set up buffet style, so Logan has your plate in his hand loading it up with all of your favorites before he even thinks about eating. He always wants to make sure you eat well, so your portion size is a little ridiculous, but more often than not you just end up sharing your food with him, much to his dismay.

He even practices a little pda, a large hand on your thigh as he watches you eat.

[kissiej]

Schlatt x Reader Blurbs

Hey everyone! It's my first time writing and im DESPERATELY looking for some inspo! Cant find any except maybe waitress at a diner reader??? lmk if yall have any thoughts <3

~Schlatt most definitely is a heavy sleeper and hates waking up

~I also feel like despite what a lot of people think, he's super affectionate and after a long day he loves to cuddle

~For sure works quite a bit whether it's filming or attending meetings and I feel like at least once a week he'll bring you a gift like flowers or just something he saw when he was out bc he feels bad

~I think his love language would be gift giving or quality time

~He's such a fun guy to be around and is a really good talker, but at the end of a social day he likes to watch TV in silence with you

~If you have long hair he LOVES playing with your hair or brushing it and his favorite thing is trying to do hair styles on you

~He has a pretty easy time falling asleep at night, but if you have insomnia or trouble sleeping he'll try to stay up and help you sleep

~When you're sick, your every wish comes true, if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING, this man will bend over backwards for you

~Even though he can be really affectionate and well spoken, he has a hard time conveying his feelings through words but if you often do he'll feel a bit bad

~If you're in the car he'll almost always let you have the aux, and even though he says he hates your music taste, he secretly loves it (or at least most of it)

Again, please please please let me know if theres any requests and I would love feedback on my writing <3

[adore-laur]

HOME IS A FEELING

— former high school sweethearts reunite for a conversation about what went wrong 🌃

——

"Don't turn around." 

The vague statement thrown your way sends speculations trickling through your brain. Those three words usually never mean anything good. What is it? Or who is it? Whatever the mystery, it makes you anxious based on your friend's wary expression.

"Just tell me," you say timidly, becoming tense in the diner booth with a forkful of red velvet cake halfway to your mouth. "Tell me so I don't have the urge to actually turn around." 

"Your ex," she mutters, never one to beat around the bush, much to your appreciation. "He just walked in. Don't kill me for saying this, but he looks really good." 

You kick her foot under the table and sink further into the leather seat. "Why is he here? He's supposed to be in another country." 

It's not an exaggeration or a falsity. Harry is supposed to be in not only another country but also another continent entirely—the Netherlands, to be exact.

Your friend risks another glance at the front door. "Well, he's back, and it's like he never left. Look at them..." She shakes her head slowly. "Hyping him up like he's a goddamn hero." 

You assume she means the people you went to high school with. A hometown get-together with a small crowd of classmates from nearby colleges is being held at everyone's favorite local retro-style diner to celebrate the last week of summer break. It was going swell until Mr. Marine Biologist, who probably makes studying abroad his whole personality, waltzed through the door. 

You cradle your left cheek with your hand to create a shield for your face in case he happens to look over. "I'm almost done with my cake, and then we can leave." 

"Good luck," she sings. "The only booth open is the one right behind us." 

Of course. Sighing, you silently pray that Harry won't come near you. You doubt he'll try to talk to you anyway since it's been complete radio silence on both ends for over two years. You're really hoping the breakup doesn't get brought up. 

A sudden and forceful compulsion tells you to catch a quick glimpse to see how he looks, what he wears nowadays, and how he acts when you're not around. It's hard to resist. 

"He's coming this way," alerts your friend through a spoonful of vanilla ice cream. 

The universe must be listening, and you can't combat the urge anymore. Someone as beautiful as him begs to be looked at. You sure as hell didn't break up with him because he was unattractive. 

Subtly peeking to your left, you see Harry in person for the first time in what seems like forever. It's only a short window of time where you can take in his presence as he walks closer to sit with a group of people in the booth behind you. 

Black skinny jeans. Nothing has changed there. 

Chelsea boots. Since when does he wear those? 

A gray, tattered sweater, and a blue beanie. It's summer, for crying out loud.

Most surprising, however, is his hair, which now falls just a tad below his jaw. The same soft curls you would run your fingers through until he fell asleep. 

You continue picking at your dessert, your mind running a mile a minute at the sight of him. The fact that he's behind you—thankfully facing the other way—but still inches away nonetheless is nerve-wracking. If you move your head back even the tiniest bit, it'll touch his own. 

Did he notice you? Does he know his ex-girlfriend is in the same room and thinking about everything he could be thinking? Like how you never forgot about him as much as you tried to? 

He's speaking, but you can't piece together what he's saying because you're too distracted by how his voice has deepened over the years. The rasp and British drawl are still there, and the warmth and comfort of them still make your heart race.

Your friend keeps stealing glances and looking at you with apprehensive eyes that cause prickles of anxiety on your skin. "What?" you whisper.

Before she can reply, you feel something nudge the back of your neck. You strain your peripheral vision and see Harry's elbow resting on the top of your booth. 

"Oops, sorry," he says, twisting around in his seat. 

You automatically turn and look at him. It's impossible not to, since he's like a human magnet for the eyes. His face is so close to yours now. Have his eyes gotten greener? Why does he have such beautiful lashes? Does he have more freckles on his nose since you saw him last? 

Snap out of it! 

"It's fine," you mumble, shaking your head and quickly turning around. Your heart feels like it's in your throat. 

After finishing the rest of your dessert, you lean forward so he doesn't accidentally bump you again. Your friend raises her eyebrows at you and taps her foot against yours. 

"So, your brother is coming to visit soon?" you ask, ignoring her questioning look and attempting to make any sort of conversation to distract from Harry. 

"Yeah, tomorrow. My mom is going to weep happy tears."

"Aw. Remind me to visit her before the semester starts." 

The leather seat suddenly squeaks behind you, and your breathing goes uneven for the third time tonight. 

"You guys want anything to drink?" Harry asks his group of friends. 

They all tell him their desired orders, and shortly after, you see him walk past your booth. He heads toward the counter with long strides and hands he doesn't know what to do with. His back is turned, so you use your chance to shamelessly observe him. He looks different but is familiar all the same. He has the same body, although he looks buff. Same friendly personality, although you've missed out on it lately. Same gentle presence, although it wasn't that way the night you separated. 

"Didn't you once tell me that he always ordered ginger ale at restaurants?" 

You look at your friend, processing her question. "Yes. He never mixed it with anything, either. Just drank it straight up like a freak." 

"Gross," she says with a wince. "I think he just ordered one." 

Once again, the counter is your focal point; this time, you notice the glass of creamy yellow liquid on it. You internally gag at how Harry could still drink that. Harry then walks back to his booth, skillfully carrying two glasses in each of his hands, like he worked as a waiter in his past life. You don't even try to hide the fact that you're staring. 

Eventually, he catches your eye and abruptly stops in his tracks. You watch him blink a couple times before he continues to the table and sets down the drinks for everyone. 

"I'll grab some napkins," he murmurs, leaving again. 

You slide your empty plate toward the center of the table and watch him fumble while taking out napkins from the dispenser. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden? 

When he walks by for the second time, he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. You furrow your eyebrows in response. 

He nonchalantly repeats the gesture as he starts passing napkins around. You shake your head, nonverbally telling him that you have no clue what he's conveying. 

His jaw clenches before he mouths, "Come with me." 

"Absolutely not," you mouth back as you fiddle with the sugar packets. 

Harry huffs and sits in his seat. 

Everything used to be so easy with him. 

—— 

Two Years Ago

It was graduation day, and you were inserting a silver hoop earring in the pierced hole of your earlobe when three thumps gently rattled your bedroom door. 

"Knock knock." 

In the reflection of your vanity mirror, you grinned giddily. "Come in! It's unlocked." 

Harry opened the door with a pout on his lips. "You're supposed to say who's there." 

"Wha—" you stammered confusedly, turning around in your chair. "I hate you." 

He shuffled inside and immediately bellyflopped onto your bed. "Wow. I missed you too." 

"Just kidding," you said, flashing him a winning smile. "You left your laptop charger here, by the way. I set it on the kitchen table." 

"Thank you, baby," he mumbled into your pillow. 

"Don't fall asleep."

"Mm, c'mere." He lazily patted the space next to him. "Let's cuddle before we have to sit far away from each other for the rest of the night." 

"It'll only be for a couple of hours at most," you replied, putting in your other earring. "Don't be so dramatic."

After tidying your vanity area, you stood and slinked into bed with Harry. The lavender-colored sunset filtered through your sheer curtains and created a serene ambiance. Harry's body rolled over on top of yours, his weight providing the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. The scent of his almond oil shampoo reduced your nerves. You reached for your phone and set an alarm for fifteen minutes from now so he would have enough time to get ready, then pulled the blanket over both of your heads, not caring if the hair you spent precious time on became tousled. It would mostly be hidden under the immensely unflattering graduation cap anyway. 

Harry's clean-shaven cheek rested on your chest, and he planted a chaste kiss on your collarbone. He had always been the affectionate type. Touch was his love language, and he never failed to fulfill it with you. 

Every touch strengthened your love for him. Every touch left you longing for more. Every touch felt purposeful. 

—— 

You swear he's doing it on purpose. You know he is. 

Harry keeps leaning his head back until it faintly touches yours. Nuzzling it, if you will. That, or he'll clasp his hands behind his head and loosely twirl a strand of your hair. 

This time, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms before tickling behind your ear. He knows goddamn well it's the place where you're the most ticklish. You pretend to have an itch and bring your hands back to slap his burning touch away, but of course, he takes the opportunity to be a pest and capture your fingers. 

You yank them away and clear your throat. "I need to go to the bathroom," you tell your friend before getting up and making a beeline straight to the back of the diner. 

When you open the door, you sigh relievedly when you find all the stalls open and no one is lingering. You pace toward the farthest wall and rub your hands down your face. Two years without Harry, and not a single call or text—only the occasional picture you'd see of him when you caved and scrolled through his social media during particularly lonely nights. Yet tonight, he acts like you're best buds who can tease each other and initiate playful touches, like you didn't end on a terrible note that made both of your hearts shatter into smithereens. Maybe this is some bizarre dream you'll wake up from and laugh about later. 

You blow out a sharp breath and wash your hands before splashing cold water onto your heated cheeks. 

"Were my hands dirty or something?" 

Your whole body flinches. Now, he's just plain annoying. How long has he been standing there? 

"Why are you in here?" you ask monotonously. 

Footsteps come closer. You keep your back turned. 

He laughs softly and says, "How've you been?" 

Such a master at avoiding questions. "That wasn't what I asked." 

"That wasn't an answer," he replies smugly. You can practically hear the satisfied smile in his voice. 

"I've been fantastic, Harry," you say, your words laced with petty sarcasm. "What about you?" 

"You sound stressed." He's right next to you now. "Is it because of your job? I heard you're an assistant teacher at the middle school." 

Your hands grip the edge of the marble sink. "Who told you that?" 

"I knew you'd be here," he says, as if it were obvious. "I had to ask people what you've been up to since you clearly weren't going to tell me yourself." 

He asked about you. No, that can't be right. Turning to face him, you let your guard down just a little. "I'm helping with the summer school program." 

Harry smiles. If you analyze it enough, it almost looks like a proud one. "That's amazing. What grade do you want to teach in the future?" 

A conversation with your ex-boyfriend about career aspirations is entirely too casual for your liking. Doesn't he have friends to catch up with? Some ginger ale to drink? 

You shrug and truthfully say, "I haven't decided yet. It's a big decision." 

He nods, crossing his arms. "You've got time." 

Silence hangs except for the drip of the faucet. 

"So... I assume you're still studying marine biology?" you ask, already knowing the answer. 

He hums an affirmation. "I'm almost done with my bachelor's degree, and then I'll be on my way to becoming one with the ocean." 

You almost let a laugh slip out. "Well, I'm sure it's beautiful in Europe. I can't imagine the view every day." 

He nonchalantly plucks a stray strand of hair off your sleeve, making your blood rush. "It is, yeah. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's been nice to live somewhere so different from what I was used to." 

"You don't have a roommate?"

"Nope, just me. I don't really like sharing my space." 

Only if it was with you. He's told you that before. Not that it matters now.

"I know. I don't know why I even asked." 

It's a bold statement but a tenuous breakthrough in the barrier of the inevitable and awkward breakup conversation you're dreading. 

Harry inhales and takes a step closer. "Come up to the rooftop with me. I don't want our first conversation in two years to be in the women's restroom." 

You give him an apologetic look and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to head home soon and get up early for work tomorrow." 

He toys with the bottom of your shirt. "Please." 

It's a soft whisper that echos in the empty space, a begging tone chipping away at the walls built around your heart, paired with pleading eyes so clear and tender. Harmless.

"Okay." You'll kick yourself later for giving in so easily. "Okay, fine. Let's go." You pull out your phone and send a quick text message to your friend about where you'll be. She'll understand the weight of the situation. 

Harry walks out of the bathroom, with you following behind. He takes a sharp right toward the concealed metal stairs leading to the diner's roof. He leaves some room so the two of you can walk side by side, your clothes rustling against each other in the narrow space. The rusty door opens, and you step out onto the flat concrete. 

Little squares of light shine from the city buildings far away. They cause a strange feeling to wash over you. It can only be described as a powerful wave of hometown nostalgia, even though you never left. You wonder if it's hitting Harry as well. 

He stands by the edge and leans his forearms on the railing, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. Is it reminiscence? Yearning? Regret? All could be the reason for the melancholy shift in energy. 

"What did we do wrong?" 

—— 

Three Months After Graduation

The party turned sour out of the blue. Harry's friend hadn't just said what you think he said. It was loud, so you must have heard him wrong. Why didn't he tell you? Why did you have to find out from his drunk friend, who's not even close to him? 

Harry definitely saw your face drop because he instantly pulled you into an unoccupied bedroom upstairs. You'd been arguing for the past half hour, neither one of you inebriated funny enough, but still throwing words that were more like weapons at each other—launching arrows at the heart, shooting daggers at the eyes, and slashing swords in the Achilles heel. 

Your weak spot was him, and you were his. 

You stood your ground as you spoke your closing statement with frustrated tears. "I'm never going to see you if you're abroad, so what's the difference if I just leave now and never see you again?" 

"Will that make you happy?" He was being stubborn; you were, too. "Because obviously, I don't make you happy enough for this to continue. For us to at least try." 

He did make you happy, but anger blindly leads people to say what they don't mean, especially in cases of love. 

"Obviously not." Lies, lies, lies. "It's useless when we know it'll end badly." 

Harry released a bitter laugh. "Fine. Have it your way." 

"Fine," you repeated. 

You should have fought for him, but what would have been the use if you had known it would only hurt you in the long run? 

He roughly swung the door open and then turned around one last time. "You can come pick up your stuff at my house this weekend. I won't be home." 

The door slammed shut, and reality sank in. 

—— 

The open sign of the diner flickers below. 

"We did a lot wrong," you declare defeatedly, standing beside him. 

"True, but we were eighteen and didn't know anything about communication or how to balance adult shit." 

The conversation is heading toward a place you don't want it to go. "I really don't want to talk about our breakup, Harry. It's in the past. We've moved on." 

He shakes his head. "Why? There was no closure whatsoever. I think it'd be good to get some now that we're face-to-face." 

In the distance, you watch birds flock on the wire of a telephone pole. "Why didn't you just ignore me tonight? We've been doing fine without each other." 

He scoffs quietly and leans his body against the railing. "Really? I was homesick for months because of you. You felt like home to me; you know that. The feeling never disappeared, no matter how much I pushed it down." 

You throw your arms out. "Then why didn't you call or text me? I would've replied, Harry. I'm not that cruel." 

"I thought you hated me," he says. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I just couldn't stand having you hate me, so I thought it'd be easier not to talk to you." 

It's the classic tale of a high school mindset. You think you're doing the right thing until it slaps you across the face with the hand of cluelessness. You wonder what would've happened if Harry had reached out. Maybe you could've figured it out. 

"I didn't hate you," you admit. How could anyone hate him? "I mean, I might've thought that I hated you, but if anything, I still loved you for way too many months after." 

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but you continue. "Like you said, we were young and didn't know how to balance a relationship and our lives outside of it. Two years can really mature a person, and we both needed to do that without each other." 

He nods while stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah." 

The conversation stops at a dead end. There's nothing else to say since it's a mutual understanding of what went wrong. 

The breeze picks up, and you shiver before asking, "How long are you here for?" 

He clears his throat. "I'm staying with my mother, then I have a flight back to the Netherlands in a few days. I have to go back for an ecology camp." 

"That's nice," you say. A couple of days. That knowledge causes an unwanted sinking feeling to take place in your stomach. 

"Do you…" He raises his thumb to his mouth, nervously biting his fingernail. "Can we maybe talk more before I leave?" 

It's an open opportunity, but what would it lead to? What would come of it? Would it be worth the pain? 

"What's there to talk about? You're leaving soon, and then we'll never speak again." 

You've taken logical truth more seriously over the years. You've learned that holding on to false hope is dangerous for the heart and mind.

"That won't happen," he replies with a pensive gaze. "We've grown and know how to communicate now. There's so much we've missed in each other's lives that we can talk about. I don't know where you live or the places you like to go anymore, who your friends are, or what new songs you like to listen to. It kills me." 

A shaky breath escapes you. "It doesn't matter. We're not right for each other. Call me selfish, but I don't want a relationship where we barely see each other. I'm sure that's not what you want either." 

"So, that's it?" he asks, staring at the sky. "Do you not want to give this another chance?" 

You can't imagine a more complicated question to answer, but it seems you've known the answer for a while. Gently grabbing Harry's chin and tilting his face down, you say, "Right person, wrong time. It would never work with the distance, and you know that. Deep down, we both know, as much as it hurts to admit."

"What now? Are we back to being strangers?" 

"Harry, I don't think we'll ever be strangers. I know too much about you." 

You're trying to lighten the mood, but Harry's sad eyes aren't helping at all. Instead, you focus on the stars twinkling brightly across the black sky and the single car driving by on the otherwise empty street. Every second that ticks by, he seems to move closer to you. 

"If this is the last time I see you," Harry says apprehensively, "can I hold you for a little while? Give me that, and I won't ask you for anything else." 

It'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't it? You need to feel him just as much. He's too significant of a person to let go of without saying a proper goodbye.

"You can hold me." 

And so he does it for the last time. 

Harry closes the distance and embraces you like he always used to—his cheek resting on your head and his arms completely around you, squeezing the sides of your body. He's breathing you in, like he's scared of losing you. It's just you and him standing on a rooftop and holding on to any last bit you can get of each other. 

You're tucked so far into his chest that the only thing you can hear is his heart pounding. He's warm and sentimental, and the nighttime chill makes you melt into him even more. He eases you—every laugh, every tear, every moment you share with him was brought about by the ease of being around him. 

"You still feel the same." A pang ripples in your heart because of your own words, and a sob desperately tries to crawl up your throat. 

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Yeah? You still smell the same." 

You laugh, but it's choked with sadness. "What, like shitty teen store perfume?" 

"No, you smell like home. Like when I used to go to your house for sleepovers, and you'd always light those vanilla candles." 

Another pang, this time from his vulnerable confession. "I should go," you say, deterring the conversation from any more agony. 

He doesn't argue. "Yeah, me too. I never really liked those people in there anyway." 

You smile, stepping away from his arms. "I'll walk you to your car." 

He nods, and the both of you retreat down the stairs, exiting the building through the back way to avoid any distractions. After reaching the front of the diner, you find his black Jeep sitting alone in a parking space. It's nice to know he still has it, considering it's a car with good memories, like Harry driving you to school every morning and picking up coffee. Or eating fast food outside the high school after a football game. Or nights of endless kissing and professions of love before he walked you to your doorstep.

Facing him under the moonlight tonight, it's time to officially move on. 

"Bye. It was really nice to see you." A tear unexpectedly falls from your eye. Maybe it's due to the chilly temperature, but you know better. 

Harry's face crumbles. Your composure shatters. 

"Please don't cry," he pleads, biting his lip to stop it from wobbling. However, it's too late, and both of you give in to the misery and drama of it all.

"Now we're both crying."

He rubs his eyes and leans against his car door. "God, this fuckin' sucks." 

"We'll be okay," you say weakly. "It's fine. We went two years without each other. You'll forget about me soon enough, and it'll be like this never happened." 

You're only trying to convince yourself at this point. 

"I never forgot about you. You were the first person I fell in love with. How do I move on from that?" 

His choice of words isn't something you gloss over. Is he insinuating that he hasn't moved on yet? Should you tell him you haven't either? 

Logical thinking, you mentally tell yourself. Don't say something that will make it harder to leave.

"I have to go home now." But isn't home standing right in front of you? 

"Okay," Harry says. "I guess… Good luck with everything. I hope teaching goes well for you." 

You kick away a pebble on the pavement. "Thanks. I hope you become one with the ocean." 

He laughs breathily, his dimples popping out for the first time tonight. He then inhales and gazes somewhere far away as his smile dies. When he looks back at you, he nods once before getting in his car. 

"Wait."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

Don't make it harder.

Leave. 

Don't hurt yourself. 

Yet the way he looks at you is enough to make you ignore those logical thoughts. You lean forward and kiss his cold cheek, and it's like his entire body deflates under your hesitant touch. "Thank you for making me happy during the time we had together," you say against his tear-stained skin. "I never got to tell you that."

Harry sniffles and nods, then kisses your cheek a little longer and softer.

A lasting pang. A lingering sting. A sharp twinge. 

Why? 

Because the words he whispers to you cause silent tears to fall down your face when he finally closes the door and drives away. 

You still mean so much to me. 

—— 

Opening the door to your bedroom, the silence echoes louder than usual. The small space is where memories of Harry can still be found. There's the blanket he used to lie on, the desk he would sit on to help you study, and the dresser you used to keep his shirts in to wear when you missed him. The most tragic thing is an empty photo book on the top shelf of your closet that was meant to be filled with future road trips that never got planned. Next to it are unused polaroids for dates that stopped happening. 

Piled at the bottom are a few that actually got used. A picture of Harry when the both of you went to a homecoming afterparty, and you didn't want to drink alcohol, so Harry drank orange Hi-C cartons with you to make you feel better. A picture of Harry on a floating water bouncer at the lake by your uncle's cabin when you went on summer vacation together after junior year. Your favorite picture of him is when he's turned around in the seat of the school auditorium, smiling widely. It was back in high school when nothing could separate you from him. 

The pictures remind you of a time when you were in love—not only with him but with life. They feel like home to you. 

That feeling of home seems impossible to catch now. It's like chasing a butterfly that keeps escaping from the loose grasp of your hands because you don't want to hurt it. 

Are you the hands, or are you the butterfly? 

—— 

The journal on top of Harry's suitcase mocks him. He shouldn't open it, but logical thinking has never been his strong suit. 

The first page has pressed and dried lavender taped to it from the first date he took you on. The next has your drawings in the margin from when you stole his journal while he studied. Yet most of the pages are filled with lovesick entries about you. 

January 29th 

Last night, I told her I was falling in love with her. She said no one had ever told her that before, and I couldn't believe it. How could someone not instantly fall in love the moment she walks into a room? 

Then she told me that she loved me too. I swear, I almost cried with happiness. She's the one for me. I see us being together for the long haul. 

I hope she sees the same thing. 

June 6th 

We graduated! We're finally done with high school!

When they called my name, my eyes went to hers first. She looked so proud of me. I wonder if I could convince her to rent an apartment with me instead of staying in different dorms. 

College will be strange, but we'll get through it together. I have no doubt we'll adapt and find time for each other. 

I always have time for her. 

August 2nd 

I think I'm going to tell her about the college I chose. She's not going to take it well. It's abroad, but it's the best school for marine biology. 

She wants to stay close to home, but I want to get out and travel. There's nothing hard about talking through some of our differences, right? Long-distance relationships can work if you put in the effort. We can do it. 

If this ends up biting me in the ass, you'll never hear from me again. 

Harry stopped writing in his journal after the breakup. It's almost funny, he supposes. He jinxed it in the last entry. He thought of the worst-case scenario, and it came to fruition right before him only days later. 

Blissful ignorance is what he'll call it. Two high school sweethearts who didn't know what would hit them. Foolishly in love and blinded by reality. But the thing is, it's not easy to just move on from it. Especially when he brought those damn vanilla candles from his dorm room to his mother's house so he could sleep better at night. 

So he can be reminded of home. 

It was never a place when he was with you. Home became a feeling that bloomed without warning. It took him by surprise when he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. Home was entirely, ultimately, and unconditionally you. 

Harry closes his journal and brings it with him as he heads out the door to search for a drop of that feeling in the places you used to go. 

The places he will write about until his hand aches as much as his heart. 

——

[bunny-corp]

Hi Everyone!

now THIS is what I was excited about, Hurricane kids from early 2000's (SPECIFICALLY late 2003) will remember this almost IMMEDIATELY! These are restored framed from the original Fredbear and friends ad campaign! I was SO SO excited when i recovered these, I swear they were like MY FAVORITE back in the day!

This ad ran from around 7/10/2003 to about 8/15/2003 being pulled after the Fredbear and Friends project was canceled by the subsequent disappearance of Henry Emily in October. [Specifically around 10/13/2003 - 10/16/2003, There are several dates here, but I personally couldn't find one that was not immediately disproven by another.] The ad featured the character designs from the 2007 Freddy Fazbears location, alongside Spring-Bonnie and Fredbear himself!

The ad's purpose was to announce new animatronic characters alongside an animated series in a more simplistic art style, a general expansion of the Fredbear family name, and for a while after the bite of '03 it was a hopeful statement that despite the tragedy, founders William Afton and Henry Emily would keep Fredbears Family Diner open!

Which, as you know, Didn't happen.

With Fredbear's officially shut down in November of 2003, William Afton would later reopen the business under another name in 2007! Putting these designs to good use in the infamous Freddy Fazbears Pizza!

By the way, sorry about the censorship and the semi-smear frame of chica, ALL the frames I could find with Fredbear or Springbonnie were blotted out, I believe this is because of the mass rebranding when the franchise was bought out and as for Chica? That was the clearest I could get, most of her frames are of her twirling!

Rest assured, this happens all the time! It just means I need to do a little more digging to find the uncensored version! I'll update this post when I find them!

~Bunny C

[jaidens]

You got that Long Hair, Slicked Back, White T-Shirt - Dallas Winston ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“James Dean day dream look in your eyes,”

pairing [s] : Dallas (Dally) Winston x Soc!Reader

warnings [s] : smoking | making out | beginning action of sex (pulling off pieces of clothes, humping, etc..) |

a/n [s] : my requests are open!!

wc : 1,076

When the famous Greaser; Dallas Winston approached you, you were confused about his actions. Why was he of all people asking you if you had anything planned that Saturday? Of course, people thought he was handsome. Cherry, your best friend, had told you even though she thought he was cute and that if he came back around she'd fall in love with him. So, you gave him a chance.

He had taken you to a small diner around the middle of the ‘territories’. You never believed in the whole hatred between the classes. Your best friend when you were in elementary school had been a Greaser before she moved away from Tulsa.

The first date was nice and sweet. He had worn a cleaned-up white wife-beater and a slick leather jacket. You had worn a small, flower-printed dress and your black wedges. Dallas called you beautiful and set his hand on your lower back. It was protective, showing other people that you were his and to back off.

That's when you knew you had fallen in love with him. When you stared into his eyes as he shared a milkshake with you. When he gave you his leather jacket after the wispy, cold November wind went through the soft, white cardigan you thought would be enough. That was the night he kissed you on the porch of your Daddy’s house. As well as the same night you shared the three words that changed your life, “I love you”.

You had been dating for twelve months and you were celebrating your anniversary at the same diner you had your first date at. You decided to go on a late-night drive in his Thunderbird. You had stopped at a cliff waterfall and watched the sunset. Now, he was smoking a cigarette while you lay on his shoulder with his leather jacket draped over your body. “Hey.. you awake?” His New York accent filled your ears pleasantly. “Yes, Love. Why?” You answered and picked your head up to stare as best as you could with your neck pulled up.

“Wanna hit?” He asked, holding the cigarettes closer to your lips. You shook your head no. You were never fond of smoking ever since your mother developed a horrible cough due to smoking. He smirked and said it was fine you didn't want to. Dallas put his cancer stick out and pulled your face into his. He kissed you desperately and you pushed your head against his.

His tongue touched your lips, tasting the cherry lipstick that you wore that night. It was always his favorite, and it gave him an excuse to “taste your lipstick” to make out with you. “It always tastes so good, you and your cherry lipstick baby..” Dallas groaned out and put his hands in your styled hair.

You jumped up and pulled yourself into his lap. His hands fell to your hips and he started helping you move back and forth. “Baby.. take it slow. You can take me back to your house whenever we do it..” You spoke out, after pulling away from sucking his face to take a breath. You stared into his half-lidded eyes that had lust slowly sucking into them.

His dark eyes followed around your face, admiring your slightly bruised lips and the lipstick that was smeared around your face. “Y’know you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen?” Dally was always a romantic, trying to make you cover your face in embarrassment or start giggling at his compliments. He got a total kick out of making you smile brightly and rub your soft thighs together. “Oh hush, Dal. Acting like you aren't the hottest and absolute hunk of a guy? Can't believe I'm dating you.. a James Dean duplicate.”

Dallas could've sworn that was the best compliment anyone could've given him. He had definitely based his look on the James Dean hit movie, “Rebel Without A Cause”. “With your slick back hair.. the white t-shirt.. could you be less obvious, baby?” You smiled at him and kissed his nose. “My James Dean boy..”

Dallas laughed and threw his head back. “You caught me, didn't you? But, now I gotta ask, who's hotter, me or Dean?” He watched your expression change as you started thinking deeply. “To be honest.. you. I'm not into blonde guys. I love myself a certain brunette boy.” You saw Dally’s eyes light up and he showed off his iconic smirk. “Oh yeah? Who’s that baby?” 

You pushed him backward in the seat and started kissing him again. You wiped that tease smirk that he gave you right off his face. It starts going further, and you slowly put your hands under his white shirt running across the firm abs he had been working on. The windows of his car started to become foggy, heating up with you and Dallas’ passion and love. Your limbs tangled up together as he started to kiss down your neck.

His hand travels past your pretty dress, touching your thighs. You pull away gently once more, as another car pulls up next to you. You know this is Dallas’ spot for taking you. It wasn't uncommon to see someone Dallas knew almost every time. You both look over, seeing his old high school friend and the friend's girlfriend. His hand touches your face making you look back over. The soft glow of the midnight moon casts a beautiful look on his face. You’re absolutely obsessed with him. The way he makes your heart rate speed up whenever he touches you, the way he’s touched every part of you and still makes you get excited to see him. 

This moment will forever be etched into your souls. 

As the intensity of their makeout session peaked, Dallas and you found yourselves breathless, lips lingering in a final, lingering kiss. Your bodies pressed against each other, the warmth and electricity of their connection still pulsating between them.

Dallas gently brushed his fingers along your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. "You're something else, darlin'," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I can't get enough of you.” You're staring into his dark brown eyes with a soft look. “I can’t either, Dally. You’re my forever.” You fall into a last kiss with him as you pull the switch to pull the seats back up. “Let’s get me home before my Daddy kills you. He probably will either way..”

[harpieisthecarpie]

I really, truly adore fics where Character A does visual art (maybe secretly) as a hobby and their feelings for Character B are revealed through pieces A's created of B. So much its my lifeblood.

But I feel like when A draws, their art style is almost always implied to be representational and realistic. 1:1 sketches in a notebook. And as a fic writer who's understanding of art is very second hand, I get it dude. I feel you /gen

I do love naturalism, don't get it twisted!! (I shan't milord /ref) But there's a lot to explore with styles, techniques, & subject matter. Soooo

I have some proposals that might better fit your ships/blorbos of choice. Or just be fun!

Artist ship fic prompts/ideas:

A hates portraiture. Haaaates drawing people. Doesn't make no damn sense. They love doing still-lifes & landscapes (objects & places) though, and their feelings for B are revealed in how many of their pieces are of B's objects, objects B gave them, or important places in their relationship.

A hates drawing people, but loves drawing animals. Animal forms just make sense, and they're cooler! They keep drawing 2 animals together over & over, and those animals have a striking resemblance to A and B....

A does animal focused drawings typically seen as "cringe" in the mainstream. This is my Warriors OC it's a medicine cat like you're a medic. This is how we'd look as a cool dragons. I love you.

A is struggling financially and has started doing furry art (maybe they're a furry themselves). They've refused to accept what they see as handouts, or don't want to owe favors, so B commissions A to design them a fursona. And keeps commissioning them. Perhaps even anonymously. Sugar Daddy but if that daddy were a meerkat/raccoon hybrid.

A has a very cartoony or simplified style, and when drawing their friends they must choose what to emphasize or simplify. What A thinks their most easily recognizable elements are. B has some self-perception & self-esteem issues, but seeing what A focuses on makes them look at themselves in the mirror differently.

A has synesthesia and all their works that B is drawn to are actually how A perceives B's voice. Laughing, singing, talking fondly, even screaming.

Abstract or color-focused artist A. You are yellow to me because yellow is the happiest color. You keep changing colors in my mind's eye because you're always showing me new sides of yourself. This is your motif, it is in all of my works.

I am the kiki to your boba, and I think that's beautiful.

A does mixed media or collages, and they keep putting in physical elements from their life with B. Music sheets of B's favorite songs, corners from letters B's written, receipt paper from late-night diner trips, etc.

B is very expressive or physically active. They move through the world with intensity. So when A needs practice with gesture drawing, their chosen subject is usually B.

B is the only person who can accurately guess what the hell A's trash sculptures are supposed to mean (or they help them come up with fake meanings to please an art prof).

Here's a little bird paperweight I made. I love you. Here's a clay figurine of your favorite video game character. I love you. Here's a piece that's too flawed to sell, but you thought it was cute so have it. I love you.

I only ever doodle in the margins of my notebooks but our little doodle selves are going on an adventure. Also all these singular eyes are based on yours.

Hmm this got away from me. Maybe I should actually write fic,,,, nah.

If anyone sees this and likes any of it, feel free to use or just ramble about ur blorbos in reblogs/comments. Or add on with ur own ideas!!!

[littlexlioness]

Reason’s different factions would make interesting partners for Emmerich:

 

Lords of Fortune:

I head cannon my LOF!Rook being a history buff who helps appraise artifacts

She and Emmerich geeking out over ancient finds together

Emmerich having to convince LOF!Rook to only take back stolen artifacts taken by the Venatori, or the Antaam from their rightful resting places

Emmerich trying to get those goods back to their families or into a museum

For GOLD and Glory

Love language would absolutely gifting one another gold jewelry even if Rook doesn’t understand what exactly Grave Gold is supposed to be  

Emmerich gifts her a blade with the biggest ruby she’s ever seen in the hilt and she wears it like a badge of honor strapped across chest for the rest of her days

I’d imagine they travel a lot together, Emmerich takes a sabbatical from the university and LOF!Rook shows him around Rivain and encourages him to finally rest and enjoy life above ground

She’s a total show off, and makes him watch as she  and Tassh fight in the fighting pits

He’s absolutely horrified, both at her blatantly risking her life for fun and at Isabela’s crude announcing which only gets worse the further she gets into her cup

Going to the Hilt after a fight and trying to convince the old man to drink with the rest of the Lords

Drunk Emmerich is probably one of my favorite things to think about

He doesn’t even mean to, but it was so hot outside during the fights, and he’s dehydrated, and he was drinking during the fights to numb his nerves and next thing he knows he’s, corpse whispering to long dead Lords of Fortune so they can tell their best drunken stories in the packed bar

Word gets around fast that Emmerich can talk to the dead, and he gets a reputation as someone who can tell the best drunken stories by corpse whispering to long dead Lords of Fortune

Emmerich if mortified that he used such an important gift for something as silly as drunk, boastful stories at a bar

LOF!Rook thinks it’s hilarious, and loves that Emmerich is trying to build a good relationship with the other Lords

Grey Warden:

I head cannon GW!Rook has being a warrior and the two of them being very opposites attach

Quite nights with Emmerich reading and GW!Rook sharpening her sword

GW!Rook teaching Manfred who to weild a sword and Emmerich being HORRIFIED

But someone has to be able to protect the professor while she’s away on missions!

GW!Rook being close with Davrin and the five of them ( Rook, Emmerich, Manfred, Davrin, Assan) having family diners together

Having an ongoing “Best Child ”competition where Davrin and Rook are always trying to show each other up and show off what new tricks and skills Assan/Manfred has learned

Both of them would be facing their mortality together

Emmerich with old age and Rook with facing her calling sooner rather than later

I think this could be a really sweet and angtsy dynamic that could absolutely destroy Emmerich if he forgoes lichdom to save Manfred

I can see Rook being the sunshine in the relationship and trying to teach Emmerich that mortality isn’t something to be feared, but something natural and that you have to life your life to the fullest in the little time you do have

GW!Rook eventually adopting one of the griffon babies and when her calling comes, Emmerich continues to raise the cub as a memory of the woman he loves

He becomes very protective of the cub and spends most of time either grading papers or trying to break up the mischief the griffon cub and Manfred would be getting into. Single dad style

Or the opposite, Emmerich passing before GW!Rook and Rook raising Manfred like a son and living with the fear of passing away and leaving Manfred without someone to take care of him

(Davrin would absolutely take in Manfred if anything were to happen to Rook or Emmerich) ((or of course, any of the Veilguard would, but Davrin would be first in line))

Mourn Watch:

Emmerich being horrified to learn that Rook was the crypt baby the undead found decades ago in the catacombs when he was a student himself

I think the shared dialogue a MW!Rook has with Emmrich is really sweet, watching them geek out together over shared interests is the best

I really liked the scene where Taash and Emmerich are arguing and MW!Rook comes to Emmerich’s defense by asking Taash if they have an issue with Rook’s necromancy

Memorial Gardens dates

Rook helping Emmerich face his fears of mortality by promising to always be there for him

I think this is the one relationship where Emmerich could chose Lichdom and it isn’t a dealbreaker, because to the Mourn Watch Lich’s are just a higher standing of mages

I could even see MW!Rook being super proud of their partner being a lich and boasting about Emmerich’s ascension to other Mourn watchers

Emmerich being horrified and delighted that MW!Rook’s “Father” is Vorgoth

On one hand, the vast plethora of knowledge he must hold!

On the other, an eternal being of darkness is the father of the woman he loves and probably dwarfs his power in comparison

Imagine having to ask an ancient spirit of unknown knowledge and power if you can marry their adopted daughter? Emmerich isn’t a coward, but he has enough wherewithal to be rightfully cautious of dangerous situations

Plus Myrna’s rest bitch face is v. intimidating

I think of a lot of late nights reading together, practicing magic and preparing of Emmerich’s classes by the fireplace

MW!Rook’s favorite activity would be helping Emmerich grade papers and making fun of the students who obviously have no idea what’s going on in class based on their answers

She writes the most encouraging little notes and feedback on these papers, and it makes Emmerich’s heart swell that she’s so involved

You can’t convince me that at least once MW!Rook and Manfred make a dramatic entrance during on of Emmerich’s classes, in the middle of a lecture or a test of something important, steal a kiss, drop off his lunch and just saunter out without any explanation

None of the student believe that Emmerich was actually a hero of the Veilguard in the first place but when Rook the Hero just walks into class and plants one of their professor? Now they’re all confused.

Rook LIVES for this confusion and makes it her mission to interrupt class as often as possible ( Usually once a week, on Friday’s when Emmerich said he would take the day off but snuck off to his early morning class anyway instead of staying in bed)

Emmerich is half mortified ( he understands the salacious gossip around a man his age, with his position at the university, and a beautiful young woman who is also the hero of the Veilguard) and half peacocking in pride ( Because yes, his wife is the beautiful young woman who saved the realm! And she chose HIM!)

MW!Rook teaching Manfred “Human” things and how to use magic

Being proud parents together, especially as Manfred learns how to speak more fluently and learns about magic

Crows:

I just love the idea of Viago being horrified that Crow!Rook chose an old necromancer of all things to be her husband

Like, can you even poison someone who can raise the dead?

I can also imagine Viago and Emmerich EVENTUALLY developing a nice relationship, where they both make fun of how impossible Rook is and talk about poison, and death

Maybe Viago sends some of the bodies of his victims to Emmerich as a thank you gift for taking are of little sister/daughter

I think they would be really interesting because they both have such a close relationship with death but in different ways

With Emmerich being that death in inevitable, but always treating the dead with respect and appreciation

Crow!Rook treating the death like something that in inevitable and constant

I think she could teach and demystify a lot of Emmerich’s fear of dying by talking about how they both face death everyday, (Especially while they were in the Veilguard) and they walked away triumphant together

It helps a little, but Emmerich fear of dying of old age never quite leaves him especially with a younger partner

Emmerich being able to corpse whisper to targets who were taken out before the Crows could get whatever information they needed out of them, and helping fulfill contracts

Crow!Rook being so proud of her partner helping out even if the other Crows are a little wary of making skeletons talk

Viago begrudgingly adopting Manfred and teaching him about poisons

This works out well because how do you poison a skeleton?

Manfred is very excited to work with uncle Viago and tries his best to be on good behavior

Crow!Rook is stupid proud of Manfred and gets very nostalgic of her time as a fledgling

Teia absolutely LOVING Manfred and being obsessed with the little skeleton boy who will help with errands and serve tea? Precious

She especially loves that Manfred can get under Viago’s skin just like fledgling Crow!Rook did/does

There’s something about potential contractors being served tea by a little skeleton boy that puts people on edge and makes them nervous that Teia just EATS UP

She more than once has asked Emmerich if he can raise undead for the Crows to use on missions

Emmerich says no and Teia is actually upset (she loves the intimidation factor) ((what a showman)

[daisyrandoneisme]

hello!!

welcome to my blog!! my name is julia and on pinterest i’m a girlblogger and a whisper girl. i just started this blog and i’m still a minor. i’ll post some of my pinterest posts on here. some movies i like:

the virgin suicides (1999)

girl, interrupted (1999)

priscilla (2023)

almost famous (2000)

uptown girls (2003)

sixteen candles (1984)

the crush (1993)

breakfast at tiffany’s (1961)

meet me in st. louis (1944)

some books i like:

rosemary’s baby by ira levins

go ask alice by anonymous

just kids by patti smith

the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides

girl, interrupted by susanna kaysen

my year of rest and relaxation by ottessa moshfegh

daisy jones and the six by taylor jenkins reid

some musicians and bands i like:

lana del rey

motley crue

solya

suki waterhouse

the beatles

fleetwood mac

hole

amy winehouse

mazzy star

the little dippers

elvis presley

frank sinatra

nancy sinatra

patti smith

abba

chappell roan

warren zevon

the beach boys

david bowie

daughters of eve

the doors

sabrina carpenter

fav songs:

bette davis eyes by kim carnes

sleep walk by betsy brye

heartbreak beat by the psychedelic furs

merry go round by mötley crüe

home sweet home by mötley crüe

one headlight by the wallflowers

dancing with myself by billy idol

tonight you belong to me by either patience and prudence or nancy sinatra

prom song gone wrong by lana del rey

highschool lover by air

valerie by amy winehouse

coney island baby by the excellents

born too late by the poni tails

don’t answer me by the alan parsons project

goodbye to you by patty smyth

the ghost song by the doors

the end of the world by skeeter davis

dead flowers by the rolling stones

other things I enjoy:

gilmore girls

dress to impress

bloxburg

art museums

old fashioned restaurants

my gogo boots

twin peaks

hair ribbons

the 50s-80s

my fur coat

buttons

writing stories, essays and poems

long car rides with music in the middle of nowhere in the midwest (doesn’t have to be the midwest; it can be somewhere else)

making my friends watch my favorite films and they end up enjoying them

vintage coquette

vintage americana

60s mod style

60s/70s rock n roll style

playing the drums

beverly hills 90210

1980s john hughes movie fashion and style

light pink

lost media

liminal spaces

diners

new wavy 80s art and style

bianca1207

duncanyounot

love ya!! 💋🎀

DNI: Racists, Homophobes, Transphobes, Creeps, and anyone trying to spread hate. I will block you.

[distressxox]

Hiii!!! Ur work has me kicking my feet and giggling into my pillow😩. Could you write some Wakatsuki sfw/nsfw ?🙈🙈

Better prepare that pillow then, eh?

Headcanons: Wakatsuki Takeshi

!Nsfw after the cut: Afab body reader, no pronouns

• Yeah he's big and mighty and all that. But he's really jittery and afraid before a fight. He needs to have someone in the waiting room with him otherwise he will panic. That someone includes you.

• But after a fight it's easy sailing. You're there waiting for him outside of the ring, he scoops you up bridal style and carries you away proudly. Avoiding the press.

• Can only look at his tablet with a pair of glasses, how middle aged man of him.

• He is rolling in money, like? Winning over 200 matches clearly could have him retire early if he wanted to. He could marry you, move to another country, and afford to buy 7 large properties with how much he had. Decides not to though, fighting is what he does best.

• Buuuuttt he does like traveling with you. There is so many things in your house from exploring different countries for when he has another fight.

• Enjoys napping with you the most out of everything else you do together. Bonus points if you both are naked and skin to skin.

• Likes it when you wash his back for him. It can be difficult to reach at times. Apart from that, enjoys sitting between your legs while you wash his hair. Gently massaging his scalp with shampoo as he closes his eyes and almost falls asleep.

• Passionate and soft kisses. His soft lips pressing and moving against yours as his goatee brushes against your skin

• Face first in his man tiddies when he hugs you, unless he slightly bends over. They are the squishiest things ever when he's not tense.

• Let's you play with and squeeze his muscles. He can move every single one of them individually due to the mass of them.

• Singing in the car with you to your favorite songs. He has a pretty decent voice and if anything, could be the next Frank Sinatra in your honest opinion.

• Corny romantic dates all the way. Prefers taking you to small restaurants and diners rather than bigger and fancier supper clubs.

Nsfw

• Soft Dom/ Service Top. Yuuuppp. Lives for your pleasure.

• Has had a few partners before, so he knows what he's doing. KNOWS WHERE THE CLIT IS WOOHOOO

• It's a must for him to be gentle due to his strength. The last thing he wants to do when topping is hurt you.

• Prefers giving than receiving. He's very good at oral and enjoys it so much that you almost have to pry his face away from between your legs. Your juices shining on his lips while he looks up at you, humming into your pussy. Sending all the right vibrations through your core.

• When you finally convince him to let you go down on him this time, he struggles with not immediately cumming inside your mouth.

• Not very vocal. He doesn't shout our swear, but he definitely moans / groans. They're on the softer side and yes they are sexy.

• Extra big and strong fingers. His digits almost abusing your gspot as his thumb presses down on your clit. Watching as you clench around him.

• Makes sure you orgasm ATLEAST once. So that you're loosened up and turned on enough. Unless you ask for more...

• He has a decent sized penis, it's around 7 inches and pretty girthy. Pink tip with a few veins and some short light brown pubes.

• Missionary is his favorite position. His arms caging your head, making your face expressions more visible as his hips rock back and forth into yours.

• Slowly paced thrusts, with a bit of roughness to them.

• Desperate sex. Kissing you all over your neck and sucking on your breasts/nipples while his thrusts get sloppy. Letting out moans of praise into your skin as your moans and whimpers almost drown out his. His lips never leaving your skin like you were his last meal, his last love, and his last time.

• His thrusts get shorter and quicker when he's about to cum. Prefers to do it inside of you, if not, does it on your stomach or chest.

• Throws his head back as he climaxes, choking out a moan.

• Aftercare king. That's all I gotta say.

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Andy here again! Can you imagine a scenario wherein Constance and Ford are bickering about Constance going out on a date soon and Ford is doing his whole “concerned brother” act until he gets fed up, picks Constance up in his arms, before pining her hips to the bed, and Constance immediately understanding what Ford wants, opens her legs for him!!!

I just want to see Ford sexually dominating Constance so fucking badly for once I think it would be really hot, especially since Ford is such a dweeb.

-Andy

Hi Andy! <3

And YESSSSS okay so firstly Ford hates Stan's partners in every universe but also the Carla thing. Carla was only seen twice once when Stan was 14~ and once when Stan was like 19~ so in my heart of hearts he had a long-term relationship with her and so in a genderbend she had a long-term relationship with Carlos/Carl so Ford is even more irrational for being protective because they've both known this guy for years--

So she thinks it's ridiculous that Ford has The Audacity to tell her he wants to go with her to the diner she's going to. Just so he can keep an eye on the guy they've known since grade 9. And Ford expects her not to laugh at him for asking for a ride in Stan's car so he can do this. Stan doesn't really take Ford being protective that seriously because she's always been the one standing up for him, it's just how it was when they were younger. After a lot of bickering she just straight up says 'What would you do if he was a creep, huh? Cast fireball?' and Ford can't let that stand she made fun of his favorite TTRPG, DDNMD :( it's iffy on if he can pick Stan up like full princess style because Stan's got heft to her and Ford... Well carrying textbooks has to count for something. But Ford's smart, he's strategic abt it, he shoves Stan into a wall and brackets her, then just drags her thighs up to his hips so her and the wall are technically doing most of the supporting but still hot and why am I overanalyzing weight distribution on a horny post--

Anyways Constance sees her brother in a new light and immediately loves it I mean sure she thought the little pencil-pushing goober was hot but also she likes getting pushed around a little, also it's a perk that Ford's been learning little hand dexterity tricks as a form of teenage rebellion to show off his hands (cue that one die scene) and he's got very big hands---

[doublegrinch]

Do you have a favorite bit of hypno-community media?

Oh gosh, don't make me choose XD

Okay, to even have a chance at answering this, I'm gonna have to divide by type. Get ready for an avalanche of shoutouts.

Literary media

My personal niche! The cop-out answer here is "pretty much everything Jukebox ever wrote", since there's so much to pick from.

I can't pick just one, so

Subroutine by @kallie-den is single-handedly responsible for me having a "drone phase" (yes it was a phase, mom!)

If we go older, a lot of Trilby Else's stories go waaay too dark for me, but Purpose strikes just the right balance of enticing and pitch dark. Very much CW: noncon, implied self-harm and other very dark stuff

Gotta mention the OG fave and inspiration for Mind Play, Busman's Holiday by Wiseguy

Going Down Gamblin' by @h-sleepingirl is genius

@modren83's Whiteout, one of the all-time greats

@skaetlett's Bouquet Bound is peak Skaetcore and I love it for that reason alone (and also it's very good)

And of course, The Love and Trances of Madison and Belladonna by @misscammiedawn. No I'm not just saying that cuz it's you asking, it's legit an inspiration for my personal "lovey dovey scenes between partners" style :)

I'm forgetting some others (like, I can't pick just *one* @ellaenchanting story, that's impossible). I just like a lot of smut okay??

Audios

Okay, so I have a bias for my friends here. I have a number of people I know who do files on occasion (yourself included!) that I adore. Also shout out to my friend Pling (who isn't on tumblr) for his very very good files on Patreon. And of course, the ridiculously talented and prolific @secret-subject.

My go-to "underrated fave" though is Secret's Please Hold, a very cleverly produced track about a help line with very interesting hold music. Extra bonus points for the version where the person you're trying to reach picks up the phone at the end ^^

Visual Media

There's a specific comic by Sleepymaid that's not online anymore about a "hypnosis diner" where two ladies go to dine. One asks for obliviousness, the other for robotization. Just a very nice combo.

Also this piece by Keeper of Pots. Something about the expression on the girl with the fan.