#this whole snippet is so intriguing!!!!

[crossbackpoke-check]

nosy anon again making a return because i think what my brain did was read that i helped find some kind of writing and then did not fully process what the writing was?? but upon rereading i am very intrigued if you ever get the urge to share i will be all eyes/ears/senses required to enjoy things!!

I GET TO DO WIP WEDNESDAYYYYYY!!! the writing exists mostly in the form of a tag (fantastic! 'verse) and also a thirty-two page doc of snippets and planning, so the sense you will be using most is imagination:

don't think i have ever actually formally written out anything about fantastic! 'verse but! the tl;dr of it is that it's a semi-college au: joel is still a hockey player for the lv phantoms, but morgan is a college student-athlete. it's incredibly relevant to the plot that joel falls in love with morgan in the check-out line of a wegman's, lies a little bit, and ends up going back to get his degree.

most of it is just good fun about college kids growing up, but i think there's a lot of parallels between making your way through a development system where traditional "success" isn't always guaranteed (ahl -> nhl, completion of higher education -> pursuit of a career) because that development system isn't always designed for you to "succeed" or have opportunities. heavy quotation marks around success because part of that struggle is learning what you want in life and how you define success. are your dreams achievable? are they still the same dreams you always used to have? it's infinite branching universes of would you still love me if i was a worm (ahl player forever) (a college dropout) (a college graduate) (older) (realizing the fallibility of your body) (uncertain of the future) (human).

silly little snippet:

[77zrose]

ZB1 REACTION TO S/O MUMBLING DURING THEIR SLEEP

genre : fluff , ot9

김지웅 kim jiwoong

jiwoong would be intrigued and surprisingly attentive. At first, he’d glance over to make sure you were okay, and then he’d sit quietly, listening to the sounds you were making. If it was something funny or unusual, he might smirk to himself, finding the moment too precious to forget. He’d likely record a small snippet—not to embarrass you but to tease you lovingly the next morning. “You were having quite the conversation in your sleep last night,” he’d say with a teasing grin. However, if your mumbling sounded upset or worried, Jiwoong would immediately reach out, caressing your cheek gently and whispering, “It’s just a dream, love. You’re safe.” His calm, steady presence would be enough to make sure you slept peacefully.

장하오 zhanghao

zhanghao would find the whole situation amusing and irresistibly cute. When he hears you mumbling, he’d stop whatever he’s doing and lean closer, trying to catch what you were saying. If it sounded like you were saying words, he might even join in, playfully responding in a hushed tone, “Oh, really? Tell me more.” He’d treat it like a one-sided conversation, chuckling softly at how unaware you were. If you were completely unintelligible, he’d still find himself entertained, marveling at how endearing you looked in such a vulnerable state. The next morning, he’d bring it up with a mischievous glint in his eye, teasing you gently. “So, were you practicing for a debate in your sleep last night?”

성한빈 sung hanbin

hanbin would find your sleep mumbling heart-meltingly adorable. The moment he hears you muttering softly, he’d pause whatever he’s doing and lean in closer to listen, a fond smile spreading across his face. He might try to make sense of your words, whispering to himself, “What are you dreaming about?” If it sounded like you were dreaming of something silly or nonsensical, he’d chuckle quietly, feeling endeared by this rare glimpse into your unguarded state. If your tone shifted to something distressed, though, Hanbin’s protective side would kick in—he’d gently stroke your hair or whisper soothing words like, “It’s okay, I’m here,” until you seemed calm again. No matter what, he’d make sure you were tucked in snugly and comfortable.

석 매튜 seok matthew

matthew would instantly think it’s the funniest and cutest thing ever. He’d try so hard not to burst into laughter, covering his mouth to avoid waking you up, but his shoulders might shake with quiet giggles. If your mumbling was particularly strange or funny, he might whisper something like, “What are you even dreaming about?” just to amuse himself. At the same time, he’d find it so endearing that he’d lean in closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face and marveling at how precious you looked. In the morning, he’d tease you endlessly but in the softest way, laughing, “You were saying the weirdest things last night—do you even know what you were dreaming about?”

김태래 kim taerae

taerae would immediately be charmed by your sleep mumbling, his heart melting at how peaceful and vulnerable you looked. He might sit quietly for a moment, just watching you with a soft smile, trying to catch what you were saying. If your words didn’t make sense, he’d chuckle quietly to himself, thinking about how cute it was. If your mumbling sounded restless or distressed, Taerae would spring into action, softly humming a tune or even singing a quiet lullaby to soothe you. His voice would be calm and reassuring, and he’d hold your hand or gently stroke your hair to help you relax. In the morning, he’d bring it up gently, asking, “Were you dreaming about something funny last night? You were talking in your sleep.”

리키 ricky

ricky would be completely fascinated, though he’d act cool about it. The moment he heard your sleep mumbling, he’d perk up and lean closer, trying to figure out what you were saying. If it was something funny or nonsensical, he’d smirk to himself, tempted to record it but ultimately deciding against it. Instead, he’d memorize the funniest parts to tease you about later. In the morning, he’d casually bring it up with his trademark playful confidence: “You were saying some pretty weird stuff in your sleep last night. Should I be worried?” If you got embarrassed, he’d reassure you with a grin, “It’s cute, don’t worry.” Deep down, he’d find the whole thing incredibly endearing.

김규빈 kim gyuvin

gyuvin would have no filter—if your sleep mumbling was funny, he’d burst into laughter almost instantly. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giggling, even if it risked waking you up. If you stirred, he’d try to stifle his laughter, whispering, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just—you were saying the weirdest things!” He’d lean in closer, hoping to catch more of your words, and might even attempt to interpret your dream based on what he heard. If you woke up and caught him laughing, he’d try to explain through his giggles, “You were having the funniest conversation in your sleep!” While he’d definitely tease you about it later, he’d still find the whole thing ridiculously cute.

박건욱 park gunwook

gunwook would be both curious and shy about the whole situation. Hearing you mumbling in your sleep, he’d tilt his head and listen carefully, trying to make sense of it. If it sounded funny or random, he’d quietly laugh to himself, thinking about how adorable you looked. However, if it seemed like you were dreaming about something stressful, he’d gently nudge you or whisper softly, “It’s okay, I’m here,” hoping to comfort you without waking you up fully. He might spend a few extra moments watching you sleep peacefully afterward, his heart full of affection. In the morning, he’d tease you lightly, saying, “So, what kind of dream were you having last night? You were mumbling a lot.”

한유진 han yujin

yujin would be caught between confusion and amusement. At first, he’d stare at you, blinking as he tried to figure out what you were saying. “What are you even dreaming about?” he’d whisper to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. If your mumbling sounded particularly strange, he’d quietly laugh, covering his mouth so he didn’t accidentally wake you. If he couldn’t understand what you were saying, he’d just let it slide and watch you for a moment, thinking about how funny and cute you were. The next morning, he’d shyly bring it up, saying, “You were talking in your sleep last night… Do you even remember what you were dreaming about?” If you got embarrassed, he’d reassure you with a shy laugh, “No, it was cute, really!”

hi people im back from the small hiatus ill be posting more. if you’d like you can make a request i write for groups like: zb1, p1harmony, seventeen, project7 ( upcoming group ), bts, straykids, ateez, evnne, onepact, riize (ot7), bnd & many more just request don’t be afraid ! i dont write smut only fluffs and more. smut maybe in the future -3- (I’ll make a masterlist soon)

[hoe4hotchner]

Aaron Hotchner x non bau rich reader. Like a part 2. Reader meets the BAU but they are impressed like reader is so rich but humble and loves Aaron and Jack so much.

The mystery woman | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: nothing it's fluff

A/N: I loooveeeeddd working on this!!!!!

Hotch's relationship with you had always been something of a mystery to his team. While he was naturally private about his personal life, the snippets they’d heard over time painted a picture of someone warm, grounded, and, to their surprise, immensely wealthy. It was something they hadn’t expected — someone who seemed to belong to an entirely different world yet had seamlessly become a part of Hotch and Jack’s.

They never pried — Hotch would have shut that down in an instant — but curiosity lingered nonetheless. For all his long hours, endless casework, and rarely taking a day off, somehow Hotch had managed to meet someone so different from the chaotic nature of the BAU. It wasn’t just your wealth that fascinated them; it was how easily you fit into his life. If anything, it only fueled their curiosity. How had someone as busy and emotionally guarded as Hotch caught someone like you?

It wasn’t lost on the team that Hotch rarely spoke about you unless someone specifically asked. Even then, he was usually brief — mentioning how you’d taken Jack to the park or baked cookies for a school event. But the way his expression softened at the mention of your name hinted at something deeper, something they all could sense but couldn’t quite pin down — something that hinted at a human connection he hadn't felt since Haley.

That curiosity finally found an outlet when you joined Aaron and Jack at Rossi’s dinner party.

Rossi had insisted that the whole BAU team come together, spouses included, determined to create an evening to wind down, where hopefully work could be forgotten for a while. Naturally, the team had been eager to meet you, though they hadn’t dared to push Hotch for details.

Hotch had paused just long enough for the team to notice before replying, almost offhandedly, that he wasn’t sure if you were coming when Rossi announced the party. Your schedule that week had been especially hectic, and he didn't want to pressure you to join if you didn't have the time. “She’s… busy,” he had said, the slight hesitation in his voice giving away a faint uncertainty about whether you’d even be able to attend.

It was enough for the team to conclude: you, too, were a workaholic. Of course, you were — you had to be, considering the kind of lifestyle and responsibilities they imagined you must manage. The thought only added to their intrigue. What kind of person juggled such an overwhelming schedule yet found time to date?

But what they didn’t know — what Hotch himself hadn’t quite expected — was how enthusiastic you were about attending. The moment you’d heard about the dinner, you had set to work rearranging your obligations, clearing your calendar, and delegating tasks. While your schedule may have been packed, you never hesitated to prioritize moments like these.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you had told Aaron firmly, brushing aside his protest about how much effort it would take to move things around. The excitement in your voice had been unmistakable. It wasn’t just about meeting his team—it was about being there for him and Jack, stepping into a part of their world that mattered so much to them, about meeting their family, and showing how much you truly cared for them.

It was a side of you that Aaron cherished, though he rarely spoke of it to others: your ability to make time for the people you loved, no matter how busy life got. And now, as the dinner drew closer, the team’s long-standing curiosity was about to be answered.

When you arrived, dressed impeccably but not overly flashy, the team’s first impression was of someone who exuded elegance. The second thing they noticed — impossible to miss really — was the way Jack clung to your hand, his small fingers wrapped around yours like he never wanted to let go. His face lit up the moment you stepped through the door, his excitement bubbling over instantly.

“Uncle Dave, this is Y/N!” Jack declared proudly as he tugged you forward. “She’s the best. She makes the most awesome pancakes!”

The team exchanged amused glances, charmed by the adoration in Jack’s voice. Even Hotch, standing off to the side, looked relaxed with a rare smile on his lips as he watched the interaction.

You laughed and crouched slightly to tousle Jack’s hair. “Jack’s biased,” you teased as you glanced up at Rossi. Straightening, you extended a hand to greet him with a polite, confident handshake. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Rossi grinned, shaking your hand firmly. “Well, anyone who can win over Jack is already a favorite in my book.”

The casual ease of the interaction left the rest of the team intrigued. While they had expected someone polished, they hadn’t anticipated such genuine warmth. You seemed entirely unaffected by the fact that you were meeting a room full of highly trained profilers. Instead, you carried yourself with a natural charm that immediately put everyone at ease, making it clear that, to you, this wasn’t a performance or an obligation.

And as Jack dragged you over to show you a plate of cookies Rossi had set out, the team couldn’t help but exchange glances. This was someone who had Jack’s trust and admiration. If there had been any lingering doubts about what kind of person had captured Aaron Hotchner’s heart, they were already starting to dissipate.

As the evening unfolded, the team couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly you navigated the gathering. You shared stories of your philanthropic ventures but downplayed your role in running them. When asked about your background, you focused on your hobbies and interests rather than the lavish lifestyle they knew you could easily flaunt.

But what stood out most was your connection with Aaron and Jack. You weren’t just present; you were integral. When Jack pulled you to sit with him, you leaned in to listen as if whatever he was saying was the most important thing in the world. And Aaron had a softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

At one point, JJ leaned toward Emily. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”

“Or Jack this smitten,” Emily added, watching as Jack giggled uncontrollably at some joke you whispered in his ear.

Later in the evening, Spencer approached you hesitantly, curious but respectful. “I hope this isn’t intrusive, but… how do you balance everything? Your work, your family, and, well…” He glanced at Aaron and Jack, who were chatting nearby.

You smiled, thoughtful. “It’s not always easy, but with him, it’s worth it. Jack too. They remind me that it’s not about how much you have or do — it’s about who you share it with.”

As the night ended, the team left with a newfound understanding of the person who had captured Hotch's heart. You weren’t just wealthy; you were kind, and deeply in love with Aaron and Jack. And for the first time in a long time, they saw their unit chief not as their leader who had gone through so much but as a man who’d found something extraordinary — someone extraordinary.

[vitalverstappen]

The Bolter - L. Norris

summary: as she was leaving, it felt like breathing

pairing: Lando Norris x heiress! situationship! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, allusions to sex, angst, pining

word count: 5k

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

Sponsorship events were never your thing. It was a bunch of frumpy old business men with race car drivers glued to their hips, begging for money. Not exactly your ideal Friday night. But unfortunately, having the Hilton name attached to you, you were forced to attend a few every year. 

You never did the negotiations - that was all your father. Your job was to simply be the pretty face needed to help sweeten the deal in the company's favor. The idea of smiling and nodding through endless small talk wasn’t your idea of a good time, but it was worth it for the unlimited free stays, free room service, and much more. 

Tonight’s event was hosted by Hilton, an invitation to show off why the company was the best in the business, and why drivers should want to be sponsored by them. With McLaren being based in England, it was only fitting that the event was held at the Waldorf Hilton in London. 

You didn’t want to be there, but it was a necessary evil. The Hilton name had been intertwined with McLaren for years, and you were expected to show up and play your part. As you made your way through the crowd, glancing around for your father, you could tell it was going to be a long night.

Snippets of conversations - racing deals being discussed, numbers being thrown around like they were nothing - were heard as you scanned the crowd. It was all so transactional, so hollow. But before you could find the man you were looking for, your eyes landed on another. 

Lando Norris, stood near the bar, chatting animatedly with a group of people, his signature grin never wavering. He was easy to spot in the crowd, his messy mop of curly hair now styled a bit, but he still had a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You weren’t sure why, but something about the way he stood there - engaged but not entirely invested - caught your attention. It was rare for someone in the racing world to have such an air of self-assurance without trying too hard. You weren’t usually the type to seek out drivers at these events; they all blended together in the same corporate PR machine. 

But you felt yourself being drawn in. 

“Hey Lando” you said, strolling toward him with a soft smile, your voice cutting through the chatter around you. 

His head snapped around, his eyes narrowed for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “Well, if it isn’t the Hilton heiress herself” he said, his voice casual, but warm. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” 

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. “I like to keep people on their toes, I guess.” you replied, glancing around the suited-up crowd. “I’m just here to make the room a bit more interesting.” 

Lando chuckled, clearly amused. “I think you’ve already accomplished that. The room just got a whole lot more interesting.” 

There was something in his eyes that told you he simply wasn’t making a polite compliment. He was genuinely intrigued, or at least, willing to entertain the idea of more conversation. 

“Well, I guess it’s good to know I’m not the only one bored out of my mind.” you said, offering him a knowing smile. “It’s all business. But at least you get to drive the fast cars and make everyone love you. I’m just stuck shaking hands with people I’ve met a thousand times.” 

“Same here, in a way” he said, leaning back slightly, his tone a little more relaxed now. “I’m usually the one doing the handshakes and smiling for the camera. I guess we both get our fair share of small talk.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “So I’m guessing you’re a pro now?” 

Lando grinned, a playful look in his eyes. “You could say that. But I’m always up for some better conversation. You know, something a little more… real.” 

His words piqued your interest. You didn’t need to be in the racing world to know that Lando was a bit of a heartthrob. The media loved him - he was approachable, funny, and charming. But it was rare to see that side of him in a space like this, surrounded by corporate faces and press agents. 

The conversation between you two grew more effortless, as if the world around you had melted away. You exchanged stories about the absurdity of these events, each of you poking fun at the cliches that came with it. But as the night wore on, you noticed something - something about the way Lando looked at you, something that was more than just playful banter. 

It was the kind of look that made your pulse quicken, just a little. You weren’t sure if he was just playing along, or if he was genuinely interested in you, but the chemistry was undeniable. 

For a moment, you considered pushing him away - making some witty comment to keep things light - but you were curious. Curious to see how far you could take it, how much you could toy with him before he realized what you were doing. 

Some people would say you had a problem, bouncing from one guy to the next, as if they were toys you could discard at your own discretion. Your best friends always poked fun at how you dated, getting them hooked, and then leaving, prompting your nickname The Bolter. 

But you liked to think of it as a talent - an art, really. A talent for keeping things interesting, for keeping people on their toes, and for never getting too attached. You weren’t a stranger to flirtation, to games of wit and charm, and this was no different. 

By the time the event came to a close, Lando had asked for your number. You smiled as you handed it over - just another name to add to your list. You’d let him chase you for a bit, see how far he was willing to go, but in the end, you knew how it would play out. 

The next time you saw Lando, it was at a house party. Your house party. You hadn’t planned for it - you didn’t even invite him. But there he was, leaning casually against your kitchen counter, a beer in one hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew something you didn’t. 

It wasn’t until he caught your eye from across the room that you realized he had been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to notice. 

You took a slow sip of your drink, eyes narrowing slightly as you surveyed him from across the room. Your eyes stayed locked on his as he made his way across the room, stopping next to you. 

“You know” he said, his voice low enough to be a private comment but loud enough to be heard over the music, “you throw a good party�� 

You couldn’t help but laugh, though there was an edge to it. “I didn’t expect you to be here” 

Lando just shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smile still on his lips “You didn’t expect half of these people to be here. But here we are.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. The house was packed - people spilled out into every corner. You hadn’t planned for it to be this big, but somehow the word had gotten out, and no one was going to say no to a Hilton party. 

“You never struck me as the type to crash a party” you said, leaning up against the counter. The marble was cold against the bare skin that was peeking out under your crop top. You knew he didn’t just stumble into here. 

Lando leaned in slightly, “What’s it matter to you?” His voice was playful, but you could hear the underlying challenge in it. Like he was daring you to admit that maybe you were glad to see him.

You shifted your weight, crossing your arms as you did so. “Nothing, Norris.” you teased, but your eyes still tracked him, just a little too interested. 

Lando chuckled, unfazed. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to ruin your party.” His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, then returned to you, taking in all of you. “Though I’m sure I could make it more interesting” 

“I’m sure you could” you said, your flirtatious tone returning to your voice. You wanted him to drag you up the stairs. You wanted him to make a mess out of you right then and there. 

But you couldn’t let him. He couldn’t have that satisfaction quite yet. You couldn’t boost his ego that quickly. He had to put in a little bit more work than crash your party. 

Before you could respond, someone in the crowd shouted your name, and you turned away to find one of your friends weaving through the sea of people, clearly looking for you. Without a second thought, you walked towards her, leaving Lando alone in your kitchen. 

Your friend wanted you to be her partner for beer pong, which to the surprise of no one, the two of you dominated. But as quickly as the two of you got to the table and played, you had left it, your focus set for your living room, which had turned into the dance floor, complete with a live DJ. 

Your hips moved to the beat as the bass pulsated through you. The alcohol flowed through your system as you danced, not caring who saw you. The crowd around you blurred into the background, the flashing lights casting everything in almost a surreal glow. The DJ was pumping out track after track, each one pushed the energy higher. 

Then, without warning, you felt an arm wrap around you. Turning, you came face to face with him again. His beer was replaced by a new one, and the same grin tugged at his lips. 

“I wasn’t done with you. I was just getting started.” he said, his voice low and almost raspy. 

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you were flattered or annoyed. “What does that even mean?” 

Lando’s grin only widened, and he took another step closer. “It means, darling, that I think you’ve been ignoring me for far too long.” 

The simple sentences, spoken so casually, spent a spark of heat right through you. You bit your lip to keep from reacting too obviously, but the tension in the air was palatable.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you said, playing it cool, though the way your heart was racing told a different story. “You’re just not as interesting as you think you are.”

Before you could speak again, you felt his lips crash into yours. You were caught off guard at first, not expecting him to make the move then and there. Lando was intense, wanting to know all of you instantly. But as quickly as he had control, he lost it. He got lost in you, allowing for you to take over.

Your hands found their way to his jaw, fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. It was raw, and unstrained, an electrifying push and pull that left you breathless. 

Lando groaned softly, his breath hitching as you took the lead, a grin playing at the corners of your lips when you felt the slight tremor in his body. He wasn’t expecting this - he was used to being in control. 

But now, as your lips moved against his with increased urgency, it was clear that the tables had turned. His hands, once firm on your waist, now roamed relentlessly, as if trying to regain some semblance of power. You could feel the struggle within him, the way he fought to take control again, but you weren’t having it. 

You pushed him back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath. His eyes were darker now, full of desire and a flicker of challenge. “Can’t handle it?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips 

“If that’s what you want to think” you replied before you disappeared back into the crowd of people that managed to fit into your house, leaving Lando with the remnants of your smudged lipstick on his face. 

You saw Lando again a few weeks later, but this time in a nightclub out in Singapore. The lights flashed in sync with the beat, the bass reverberated in your chest as you moved through the crowded dance floor. It was a completely different scene from the house party, yet Lando still managed to find his way to you. 

The two of you had been texting off and on, but not nearly enough for you to expect him to know where you were. But there he was, surrounded by a few other drivers that you couldn’t name, the same uber confident smirk on his lips. 

But the moment you caught his eyes, the smirk faltered for a moment, briefly being replaced by furrowed brows. The smirk returned instantly, but you definitely caught the slip. 

Lando didn’t waste a second as he cut through the sea of people effortlessly. The moment he reached you, the noise of the nightclub seemed to fade, the beat of the music thumping in the background as everything else fell away. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. 

“We must stop meeting like this.” you teased, shaking your head slightly 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Lando asked, his smirk ever wavering as he leaned in slightly. “Besides, I wouldn’t wanna leave a charming woman like you alone and helpless.” 

You raised an eyebrow, the teasing tone lingered in your voice as you took a sip from your drink. “You’re really starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” 

Lando chuckled, that glint of mischief never left his eyes. “You have no idea.” He glanced over your shoulder, seemingly scanning the crowd before focusing back on you. “What are you doing in Singapore anyway?” 

You tilted your head, pondering his question, “A bit of fun, a bit of escape.” you said, messing with the straw in your drink. “And you?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step closer to you. “Just work. Wrapped up the weekend yesterday, but we all wanted to stay a few extra days.” he explained “Can’t say I expected to run into you here though.” 

You smirked, watching him carefully. “Right, you were just hoping for it.” 

His grin widened at your boldness, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Maybe. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit, I’ve been trying to figure out how long it would take for us to cross paths again.” 

As you took in his confession, the smirk on your lips widened. You had him right where you wanted him. Lando’s confidence, the way he seemed so sure of himself, was usually enough to keep people on edge, but right now, just like it had back at your house, only fueled your amusement. He was enamored by you, drunk on not only the liquid in his cup, but on you. 

Your arms crossed over your chest, careful not to spill the drink in your hands. “Well you certainly have a knack for finding me, don’t you?” 

Lando’s gaze softened for a moment, the playful smirk fading into something more genuine. “Guess I know where to look.” 

Before you could respond, he offered a hand. “Finish your drink, let’s get out of here.” he insisted 

You glanced at the drink before looking back at the Brit in front of you. You knew what he wanted, and honestly, you wanted it too. So, you poured the liquid down your throat, ignoring the burn that came with it, and took his hand out into the streets of Singapore. 

Lando expected to wake up with you, the two of you tangled in sheets and memories from the night before. After all, that’s how it happened when he stayed the night at your place a mere few weeks ago.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of the slam of a door. He shot up, the bed empty, but sheets still warm next to him. 

His heart sank for a moment, confusion mingled with a twinge of disappointment. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the music still echoing in his mind. 

The floor was cold under his bare feet as he stood and walked around the cramped hotel room, looking for any trace of you. But there was nothing. Your clothes had been picked up off the floor, and the McLaren t-shirt he had given you to sleep in was nowhere to be found. 

“Fucking whore.” he muttered as he realized what you had done.

And that’s how it went for the next few months. The two of you would somehow run into each other, leaving with him as the night ended, only to leave his place before the sun rose in the morning. And no matter what Lando said under his breath about you when he woke to an empty bed, you knew he’d always be coming back for more. 

The first time you saw Lando and neither of you took the other home was in New York. 

You were there for work, or at least be the Hilton family representative at all of their executive meetings, as your father was busy doing the same out in London. In between the long, boring meetings, you found yourself tapping through social media, ultimately ending up on Lando’s Instagram story. 

The photo was of Lady Liberty, with the simple location tag carelessly slapped on it. Based on the angle, you could tell it was taken on the New York side of the bay, most likely from Battery Park.

You don’t know what came over you, but you opened your text messages, and typed in Lando’s name. You stared at your phone for a moment, unsure of what you were doing. It had been a while since you last saw Lando, and while you had been fine with keeping it that way, now that you two were in the same city, the urge to see him again crept in. 

You quickly typed out a message, second guessing yourself with every word.

You: you’re in town? How long?

You pressed send before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger hovered over the screen as you waited for a reply. You didn’t expect an immediate response, but a part of you was eager to hear from him, to see if he’d bite. 

Seconds later, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen, a smirk playing on your lips as you read his response. 

Lando: til friday. Might need a tour guide for the rest of the week. 

You paused, considering your options. It was the last day full of meetings, and you had no places to be until next week, giving you plenty of time to show Lando around the vast city. But did you actually want to. 

You: send me your hotel address. I’ll pick you up at 11am tomorrow

You weren’t surprised to find that he was staying at the Hilton in Midtown, thankfully only a few blocks away from Central Park - taking a taxi or the subway with a famous athlete never ended well. 

When you arrived at the hotel, you spotted Lando standing in front of the revolving doors, looking very much like himself in a hoodie and sunglasses, his usual smirk plastered on his face. The second he saw you, the same cocky grin appeared. 

“You actually showed up.” he teased, arching an eyebrow as you approached 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile formed on your lips. “I’m not that unpredictable” 

Lando raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I beg to differ” 

“Whatever” you mumbled 

You led Lando through the bustling streets of the city. This place was a part of you, you knew it like the back of your hand. As you walked, you pointed out the places in the city that you held a little closer to your heart, the little corners of the city that tourists passed by with no thought.

“So this place,” you said, pointing to a hole in the wall Japanese restaurant, “serves the best ramen, and they’re open incredibly late. It’s a perfect spot or dinner or after a night out” 

Lando glanced over at the restaurant, eyeing the neon sign above the door. “I guess I’ll have to check it out sometime.” 

You continued down the streets, pointing out the bodega you go to religiously to cure your hangovers, and the coffee shop you stop at when you need a pick me up before meetings. 

Eventually, the two of you found your way to Central Park, specifically to the boathouse. After paying to rent a boat, you made your way down to the shore. 

“A rowboat?” Lando asked skeptically 

You smirked as you handed him an oar, leaning back against the edge of the boat with a casual air. “What, you’re afraid of a little manual labor?” 

Lando shook his head before taking the oar in his hands. “I just wasn’t expecting something so calm from you.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, settling into the boat and adjusting your own oar. “There’s more to me than you know” you said, your tone playful.

The sounds of the bustling city faded away as you rowed out to the middle of the lake, leaving you, Lando, and your thoughts. Conversation with him wasn’t the worst, but as you spent more time with him, you could see the water in the floorboards start to trickle in.  

You had no problem with Lando’s confidence - it was the thing that drew you in in the first place - but it had a tendency to tip into arrogance, and that was something you didn’t tolerate. Maybe it was because you weren’t a stranger to that kind of behavior. You’d been surrounded by it your whole life. Whether it was your father’s business dealings, or the people who ran in your circle, self-assurance often crossed the line into entitlement. 

And so, instead of taking him to that Japanese place you had mentioned earlier, you walked him back to his hotel. You stopped in front of the doors you had met at hours earlier, and Lando faced you, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. 

“Well,” he began, his grin reappearing. “I guess this is where I leave you.” 

You nodded, taking a step back as you gave him a small smile. “Guess so. You don’t need a tour guide anymore.” 

Lando chuckled, the light sound of it echoed in the space between you. “Maybe not. But you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Ouch. 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, masking your hurt with amusement. 

“Maybe,” Lando said with a shrug, his voice much lighter than yours. “But I’m still figuring you out.” 

You met his gaze, steady and unflinching. He was never going to figure you out. “Good luck with that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you almost expected him to say something more, something that would tip the scale between this complicated, almost-friendship and whatever else had been simmering under the surface. But he didn’t. 

Instead, Lando flashed that trademark grin. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

You nodded, your own smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe. Take care, Lando.” 

With that, you turned and walked away, not looking back as you heard him call out your name once more. The door to the hotel clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself standing on the sidewalk, the sounds of the city closing in once more. 

The last time you ever saw Lando was in Las Vegas. 

It had been a few months since New York, and in the time between, you hadn’t spoken much. Sure, there were a few messages here and there, the occasional “how are you” or drunk “wish you were here” texts, but nothing meaningful. You kept yourself occupied with the next guy you had chosen, some up-and-coming actor no one really knew the name of. 

You were in Vegas for a friend’s birthday, and your group had been bouncing from casino to casino letting your money and the night run wild. 

It was late when you saw him - at a bar on the Strip, a neon-lit, smoke-saturated lounge tucked away in the back of a casino. The crowd was loud, music pounding through the floor, but Lando was easy to spot. Even in the haze of the flashing lights, his smirk was unmistakable. He was leaning against the bar, surrounded by a few faces from Formula 1 that you still couldn’t name if you tried. 

When he saw you, the world around you seemed to pause for a second. His eyes found yours, a flicker of recognition flashing before that stupid fucking smirk retured, like he had been expecting you the whole time. 

Though, as easy as it was to meet his eyes, it was easier to tear your gaze away from them. 

You looked away quickly, engulfing yourself back into the conversation you were having with your friends about the worst name to give a child. Even though your back was turned to him, you could feel his eyes still on you, piercing through you like daggers. 

Your friend made some remark that made your laugh, but it felt hollow. You could sense him closing the distance between you, even though the crowd still swirled around you like an endless blur. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice broke through 

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. You’d recognize that cocky tone anywhere. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder, just enough to meet his gaze without letting the full weight of his presence hit you all at once. 

His smirk softened just a fraction when your eyes locked. “Thought you were avoiding me” he added, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. 

You forced a shrug, turning back to your friends. “I’m just here with some friends.” 

Lando didn’t move. You could feel his eyes lingering on the back of your neck, the weight of them familiar, too familiar. It was almost suffocating, the way he managed to make you feel like the only person in the room, even in the midst of a crowd that seemed to pulse with life. 

“Right,” he drawled, the mischievous smile never quite leaving his face. “Just here for the party, huh?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you tried to focus back on your group. They were still talking, but your mind was clearly somewhere else. You could feel the tension between you building, thick and unspoken, and it was making you restless. 

“Look,” you said, finally turning to face him fully. “It’s been a while, alright? I’m just not in the mood for all… this.” You waved a hand in his general direction. 

Lando’s smirk flickered for a second, but he didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he seemed to find your discomfort amusing, which only made the knot in your chest tighten. He was putty in your hand, but he wasn’t something you wanted to play with anymore. The need to have you in his arms made you nauseous. 

“I get it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “But you’re still not gonna pretend like we don’t have unfinished business, are you?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his words. “There’s nothing unfinished between us, Lando.” 

For a second, the playful air between you two dropped, replaced by something heavier. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction. When he finally decided what to say, his voice lowered, as if you two were the only ones in the room. 

“Is that so?” he said, the question hanging in the air, sharp and loaded. 

You weren’t going to do this. Not here, in the middle of the bar. So, you grabbed his hand, and dragged him to a hallway away from the noise and the lights. When you got to the hallway, Lando’s smirk returned, expecting you to make a move now. 

“You don’t get to decide what’s unfinished” you spoke instead, trying to keep your voice firm. 

“But what if I think we do?” he asked, his tone now tinged with something more sincere. It was subtle, but you could hear it. A hint of something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten what happened between us.” 

“Yeah, well,” you began, keeping your eyes locked on his. “I’ve moved on. I’m not… whatever that was. I had a fun few months, but that’s all it was, just a few months.” you admitted, the words felt a weight being lifted as they came out of your mouth. 

You watched as Lando’s face dropped, for the first time in a while, the smirk that was usually on his lips was nowhere to be found. The silence between you two was overwhelming as he took in your words. You almost walked out then and there, needing to be taken away by the alcohol and music around the corner, but your feet wouldn’t budge. 

“You really believe that?” he asked softly, his voice almost disbelieving, the cocky bravado slipping further away. “You think we were just… a few months?” 

You swallowed hard, your heart beating a little faster, but you held firm. It was never easy to let go of them. No matter how many times you bolted, it was still hard to say goodbye. But you knew that the feeling of fresh air and freedom outweighed the suffocation of staying. 

“Yeah” you said, the words coming out with more conviction than you felt. “I do.” 

And with that, you picked your feet up, and walked away. You let the smoke and neon lights greet you like an old friend as you returned to the bar, your friends still in the same place as where you left them. 

“I have the best story for you guys” you said, excitement filled your voice as you returned to the group.

“Is it another one about a boy?” one of your friends teased

“Maybe…” 

[ohthethingswedoforlove]

Warnings: yandere character; scopophobia; a whole lot of fear/paranoia being described;

  Yandere!Wally Darling, in which you find an old collection of VHS tapes and are able to communicate with the characters in the show. Or, at least, one of characters in the show.

  When you found those tapes out in the wild, in someone's garage sale or a dingy little shop full of dead stock of years passed, you almost felt pulled in by the colorful little world depicted on the sleeve keeping the VHS' together.

  Maybe you have some vague, blurry memories of watching the show as a child, or maybe you are simply a collector of these kinds of things. Maybe you even heard about a certain restoration project involving the likeness of this world and characters, fully aware you had just stumbled upon something very exciting.

  So you decide to pay the small price written on the paper sticker and bring it home with you. 

  It doesn't take many online searches to understand exactly how rare of a find you now have in your possession, all that has ever been recovered from the old obscure show being images and corrupted audio tracks, some merch and a puppet or two. Never full episodes, not even snippets of footage. Aren't you lucky?

  You consider sending it to the team of the restoration project, but curiosity got the better of you before that choice could fully take shape. How could you not? You just had to see it for yourself.

  When you finally arrange the means to play the first VHS out of the collection you bought, you couldn't help but notice the odd black stains covering the tape, barely noticeable beforehand as it nearly blended with the color of the plastic. You half-heartedly try to clean it, but with the persistence of the stain and your growing impatience, you end up simply shoving it inside the VCR player, giving up. 

  Marking your first mistake as you miss the way the stain quickly grew and infected the sleeve of the tapes and the hem of your shirt with the same sunken dark.

  The screen flickers and you're cheerfully greeted with what you would expect from a children's show of that era, all bright colors, silly eccentric characters and possible life lessons. Quiet and intrigued, you watch as a day in the neighbourhood plays out before you.

  Until the episode introduces you to Wally Darling himself, your supposed new best friend. He monologues a bit about the premise of the episode, always acting as if having a conversation with you, the audience, directly. That by itself didn't give you much pause, you know it's common for shows like this to treat the audience as their own character.

  But then he asks you for your name.

  You assume it's supposed to have a short quiet moment, to give the kids at home the illusion that the characters are listening and waiting for their answer, but it starts to drag out for a really long time. Longer than it should.

  Af if he was actually waiting for your answer.

  Some possibilities rush through your mind. Is the cassette faulty? It didn't show any signs of it aside from those weird stains, and the footage itself didn't appear to be tampered with, certain elements of the world behind Wally are still moving, as if that pause is indeed intentional.

  The entire time you couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the puppet, his gaze not even flinching for a second away from you.

  You finally say your name out loud, as if giving up under some sort of pressure, even if you immediately felt silly for doing it. It's not like he's going to-

  "What a wonderful name. I'm sure we'll be the best of friends. Ha. Ha. Ha."

  The rest of the episode continues to play similarly, with it going along as you'd expect, only to pause for excruciatingly long times anytime Wally would direct a question to you. Even when other characters did their own bits, their moments of quiet would last but a few seconds, not aware of when or what you might be saying to your TV.

  But not Wally. He diligently waits for your response, even as everything and everyone around him keeps moving without him and they start to question why he's just standing there. Staring. Unresponsive to the activities they're trying to involve him with.

  And his responses seem weirdly... appropriate to what you're saying. Frank didn't react to your displeased expression to being told that bugs are friends, Julie didn't actually guess your favorite game, but Wally... 

  He repeated back what you said your favorite color was, adding that it's one of his favorites, too. He only joined in on the game that Julie suggested once you agreed that you'd like to play as well. He has to make sure his friend is having fun, afterall. You find yourself wondering if the way he's constantly smiling is by the design of his puppet or if it's somehow a conscious choice.

  It's like you're transfixed, almost hypnotised by what you're watching. Fascination keeping your eyes glued to the screen, even as a part of you is practically screaming that something's wrong. You're being watched as much as you're the one watching.

  Your breaking point finally reaches at the end of the episode. Wally makes his way back to Home after the misadventures of the day, and the house greets him, in creeks and onomatopoeias, with eyes for windows that make you just as uneasy as Wally's. The door opens for him for the both of you? to enter. And it's dark. So impossibly dark, in a way that feels unnatural and alive. Like a creature patiently waiting for you to place yourself in its jaws.

  And you finally snap out of it, rushing to turn off your TV in an action so abrupt and panicked it felt like fight or flight.

  You barely sleep that night. 

  Stuck in between a state of awake and asleep, constantly being brought in and out of a dream you can't seem to fully grasp. Until you're shaken completely wake by loud noises coming from your living room. From your TV.

  It had, somehow, flickered to life as if by its own volition, replaying the tape all over from the start as a now familiar audio plays out. You stumble your way through your house in a half-wake disoriented panic, and once again coming to face... Him. 

  There he was again, Wally patiently waiting for you, the tape stuck at the segment where he would ask a question to the audience and wait. His eyes bearing into you, you stood frozen at the doorway as he stared unflinching back at you. Has your living room always looked this dark? Engulfed, consumed by it?

  Fear takes over your actions again as you fidget with the VCR, this time with the intention of ripping the tape out of it, caring little of the state it would be left in by doing so. You only started to feel some semblance of relief once you disconnected all of the TV cables and rushed to turn on the light.

  After that night, you didn't even dare watch the rest, throwing the tapes in a plastic bag you left in a corner of your room, hoping it had all been some weird dream fueled by the exhaustion and stress of your everyday life. 

  But it never left you. He never left you.

  You keep having strange dreams, dreams where you are the new resident of a bright, colorful neighbourhood. Dreams where you are so warmly welcomed by kind neighbours, new friends who would like you to join them! And him as well, always so strangely quiet compared to the others but so fixated on you.

  The thought of getting rid of the tapes consumes your mind, but you just can't bring yourself to do it. You can't. You can't.

  You can't. 

  And you watch as the dark that once only stained the tapes now grows and festers in your floor, your furniture, creating a stain seemingly deeper than the wall itself.

  You swear you start to see him as well, in the dark. You're growing oh so familiar with those eyes.

  Wally doesn't understand why you look so scared. He just wants to be your friend. You two could have so much fun in the neighbourhood, together! He's sure that the others would agree too.

  Why are you being so difficult? He knows you can hear him. See him. He can see you too.

  You just have to let him in.

[teeskzagain]

okay, so, I had an idea a while back for this bully!wooyoung drabble, but I haven't touched it in a minute.

I just wanna know if this is something I should continue so down below you'll find a snippet of it, let me know if it's worth pursuing!

OUT NOW HERE!

pov: bully!perv wooyoung couldn’t resist an opportunity to mess with you

warnings: brief mentions of bullying (nothing severe), mentions of sexual frustrations, elements of cnc, but again, nothing extreme

wc: ~500 words

no explicit smut in this HOWEVER final upload WILL include the following 18+ content: fingering, forced mutual masturbation, unwanted ejaculation on reader....amongst other things

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s been sexually frustrated for the past few days, grumbling to himself as he hops up on the public bus right after a dance lesson.

not only is he ticked off at how shitty his sex life’s been going (he was supposed to meet up with a girl tonight, yet she flaked) but now he has to endure a 40 minute long drive back to his home city with a now dead phone. how annoying.

scuffling down the aisle, he’s mumbling lowly to himself at these facts whilst darting his lower lip out in a pouty way. he's about ready to take his seat when he spots something that makes his whole body go rigid.

you. near the back. staring idly out of the window. hands clasped together, watching the nightly glow from outside. wooyoung cocks his head to the side. what are you doing here? had you always taken this route and he’s never noticed before? but that couldn’t be the case, surely he would’ve recognized you at some point during his few weeks of riding the bus here and had back.

wooyoung mulls this over.

well, knowing you, you’d probably ride all the way back on the dirty bus floor if it meant evading him completely.

he really wouldn’t put it past you to do such a thing. the dynamic between you two have always been skewed since the start of university. it’s almost laughable the extreme measures you’ve gone through to make sure to never associate with him.

and just like that, his lips form into a crude smile. he knows that you dislike him to no end. he knows you always try to avoid him at all costs. and, yeah, maybe he’s a little crass acting when he’s around you, but you make your hatred towards him so obvious it’s sort of hard not to take advantage of that. hence, the constant taunting courtesy of him.

and yet, he also knows that the work uniform you’re currently wearing is doing wonders for him right now. a pretty pink pastel dress that stops mid-thigh, with a crisp white collar around your neck. how it curves at your chest so nicely.

the way it cinches your waist, practically sculpting your body in perfect portions that he’s honestly never seen you in such a way before. makes him practically want to start salivating.

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s been just so damn horny that he’s willing to do anything for a release. a chance to relieve some of the pent up stress he’s been feeling for the majority of tonight, at the very least.

which is why moments later, you find the vacant spot right next to you being now occupied with a body. a body, that at the recognition of his face, makes you visibly shudder in disgust.

he wastes no time in sparking conversation, though it comes off as one-sided with your lack of participation. wooyoung wouldn’t expect anything less from you. he deems your cold act towards him something that intrigues him. a challenge almost. and he wants to see you break.

......and that is all, please let me know if should continue this.

[leashybebes]

not trying to add to the pressure but. leashy. i have to express to you my undying love for allying. i genuinely think about that fic so much, when i'm at work, trying to fall asleep, anywhere you could think of. i adore this version of buck and tommy, like it's very clearly them but it's also distinctly not canon current day bucktommy, and i think you perfectly captured the dynamic that would exist between pre-118 buck and barely post-118 tommy. even if i didn't already love bucktommy i think i would be obsessed with these two guys and their relationship / story bc omg they're just so tiny and sweet and adorable and hilarious (and a little stupid, buck). i haven't been this excited about updates to a fic for a while, so thank you and i have 100% faith in you that you'll wrap it up in a satisfying way. either way pressure's off because it's already so brilliant as it is that you can't really go wrong. i'm so intrigued as to what tommy's been thinking this whole time, every time buck says something stupid and insane and incredibly not straight and tommy's eyes just go wide for a second before being like "yeah... okay then, sure" i'm screaming like how are you even putting up with this loser without grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him like dude. like does he know?? does he actually believe buck's straight? not likely but the guy seems pretty secure of himself so you never know. does he think he's ever gonna work it out or has he accepted that it's never gonna happen? the switch to tommy being the oblivious one all of a sudden is hilarious, he's entirely unphased by any of buck's antics atp because he's basically already been dating him for months. anyways just wanted to know that reading that snippet absolutely made my day, i'm so excited to read the last chapter in its entirety whenever that does come 💕

💛💛💛james!!!💛💛💛

this was such a gorgeous message to receive, i appreciate you so much! i'm so flattered that this ridiculous fic arising from a peep show gag has made such an impression on you

so far this chapter has like...2.2k words and none of them are the two of them actually communicating (canon lol) so tommy's internal processes are still largely a mystery to me but my overall feeling is yes he believes buck a) because they are dumbass4dumbass and b) because when he mentioned the four dudes he's slept with in chapter 1 he wasn't including the straight guys he jerked off with in the army so like. sure, a dude can touch another dude and not be queer, that is something that absolutely computes for him.

as i said, i don't have any of their actual conversation written yet (wish them/me luck) but in my head it goes something like this

buck, finally resorting to spelling it out: i would like to date you romantic style. i want to hold your hand and bring you breakfast in bed and buy you flowers (romance 101 baybee!) tommy, bluescreening internally: but...you're straight?

and then buck does this face

(christ, the amount of time i spent trying to find a gif of what i thought was the most memed hemsworth face of all time lol)

ANYWAY thank you so much for enabling my yapping and loving this fic and just generally being such an absolute sweetheart 🥰

[intothedysphoria]

Billy crawls out of the Upside Down in the end. In theory it isn’t hell but that doesn’t explain why some prick kept playing Agadoo.

He feels stronger now. It’s not like he’s been able to work out in a nightmare dimension but killing monsters must have made a fine substitute. His hearing, eyesight, smell. Everything is elevated.

The thirst for human blood is new.

Neil is the first to die. Bummer. He was hiding out in Texas somewhere, but Billy knew it was him.

Billy doesn’t fully remember but he’s pretty sure he kills Karen too. Maybe a cop.

It makes him feel shockingly revitalised. Like the Sunday roasts that would wait for him after Church on a Sunday, before the move to America.

That whole damned thing is bullshit though. Billy can wear his pendant just fine.

Seeing the state of his Camaro is the first time in over a year where he actually cries. The state it’s in. Undrivable.

The twenty pack he hid in the glovebox is still intact. Smoking doesn’t give him the same buzz anymore annoyingly. He just does it out of habit.

A hum of conversation makes Billy’s ears perk up. He chases the route of the conversation to it’s source and sees him. Steve.

He’s dragging a carcass of one of those hell monsters over his back, talking to Buckley and Munson. They all have their heads buried together and snippets of conversation drift over to Billy’s hiding spot.

“Neil Hargrove…………throat torn out……..”

“No it definitely wasn’t a demodog”

“Who in the fuck could have done this?”

Steve’s still beautiful. He always will be. Being covered in blood isn’t a dealbreaker for Billy, far from it. His big, brown eyes are darting around, staring down corners and alleyways. He’s got hair on his chest now which is intriguing. And he’s wearing a jacket with patches on, which is more so.

Billy remembers the last time they talked. The night before the thing got him. Steve had been on his lap, playing with his jacket lapels and they’d been talking about college.

Steve had kissed Billy and told him they would never be brought apart. Ironic.

He waves away Buckley and Munson and walks back down the street, whistling a grim little tune to himself. Billy’s a madman so he follows.

The logistics of climbing up into Steve’s bedroom are shockingly easy. It’s a matter of seconds before Billy’s climbing through the window and Steve’s staring at him with a baseball bat clutched in his hands.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Yeah, holy shit works.

Steve creeps closer to him, cautious but curious. Billy permits himself to be inspected, Steve looking this way and that until he’s convinced he’s not hallucinating.

“Is it…………..I mean, is it really you Billy?”

Billy makes an attempt at smiling, which is really quite hard with a set of fangs that don’t want to retract yet.

They also make it pretty hard to talk, so Billy just gestures to his pendant.

Steve’s still suspicious. Billy doesn’t blame him. He smells scared and two years ago Billy didn’t even know that fear had a smell.

When he does answer, it feels clumsy. Billy’s voice is raw and hoarse and unused to communicating with humans, rather than bats.

“Harrington”

That seems to seal the deal for Steve.

He practically leaps into Billy’s arms, kissing all over his face and Billy can hear his elevated heart rate. Blood rushing.

If it had been anyone else, bar Max and the weird kid that had saved him, Steve probably would have been dinner. As it was, Billy just pulled Steve down onto the bed, soothed by the familiarity.

Steve lies there, in his arms and finally stills, asleep. Billy doesn’t know how this is going to work, this relationship, finding Max, how he was going to feed.

Those were tomorrow’s problem. For now, Billy had the love of his life back and he was happy once again.

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @harringroveobsessed @thatgirlwithasquid

(The person playing Agadoo on repeat was totally Steve in s4)

[inexplicifics]

Oooh, Gweld/Serrit college AU sounds so good! Is Serrit a Fine Arts major? What's Gweld studying? Also, Gen x 10 intrigues me!

The modern college AU was contributed by several members of the AWAU server! It's pretty much entirely bullet points at the moment; here are a few.

Gweld is a cheerleader - he tried out on a dare and discovered it’s actually a) extremely athletic & difficult and b) a lot of fun. All the girls enjoy the fact that he can and will throw them very high and then catch them again reliably. He has gotten a lot more flexible since he joined the team. He has absolutely no shame about any of this and definitely wears the skirt (with shorts under it).

Serrit is majoring in History and is the star player of the women’s field hockey team. She is vicious - people call her the Viper for her speed and terrifying accuracy. She mostly doesn’t pay attention to the cheerleaders until one of her teammates points out the guy, and then she’s Very Confused. More so when it turns out he’s kind of a puppy?

They’re taking Statistics together and it’s an eight am class and Serrit Does Not Like Early Mornings and Gweld keeps showing up with two coffees? One for him and one for her? Is he drugging them? Is he trying to bribe her for something? What could this possibly mean? (Flirting. He’s flirting.)

Aiden is an art student and gymnast. He’s very good at both. He meets Gweld at the gym and is Baffled but Delighted by Gweld’s good nature. He’s also delighted by Gweld’s little brother, who is ever so much fun to tease.

Lambert is triple majoring in Chemistry, Nilfgaardian, and Forestry, because he is batshit. He Deeply Resents his brother dragging him to the gym on a regular basis, except for the two facts that a) he really does need the exercise, and b) Gweld has introduced him to Aiden, who is Terrifyingly Bendy.

Geralt is in vet school, planning to specialize in horse medicine. He is very happy.

And as long as I'm doing school AUs, here's a snippet of a gen high school AU that I'm not entirely sure where it's going:

Of course. Of course Jaskier’s locker is right next to a jock’s. And he had been so hoping that this year he wouldn’t be making a close acquaintance with the inside of his locker. But there’s a whole cluster of big young men in letterman jackets clustered around right next to where Jaskier needs to go, laughing and shoving each other, and Jaskier knows from painful experience that the introduction of an outsider - an outsider who is so very out of place - will likely mean that they turn their play into something much, much nastier. He could just…carry all his stuff, and not use his locker at all. For the whole year. But he has a lot of very heavy textbooks, and his viola, and he can’t just carry that around all day. He’s hesitating, wondering if it’s best to just bluff it out or to retreat and come back later - even being late to homeroom might be better than being cornered - when one of the jocks looks up and spots him. “Oh hey!” the jock says - the biggest of the four, a broad-shouldered fellow with chin-length dark hair and brown skin and a really good jawline. “Shit, are we in the way?” “Ah,” Jaskier says, because that was not the opening gambit he expected.

[suzukiblu]

I kind of want to try your method of posting wips a snippet at a time while writing them, but on the other hand I am nervous about it. Can you give me some advice?

I've been trying to nail down the mixed feelings, and this is what I've got so far:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares?

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?

in direct response to your listed mixed feelings, in my personal experience of writing this way:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter: yes it will, and it feels great! and personally it also helps me keep momentum and helps soften the sting if I drop a fic/chapter later and people don't have much to say about it. I KNOW it's good, other people already told me they liked it!! no, I'm not gonna throw out the whole story because of one mediocre reception, SHUT UP IMPOSTER SYNDROME AND GET BACK IN THE WRITING TRENCHES.

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more: yes it does, and WAY more people consistently (and more gratifyingly!) engage with me since I've made a habit of posting this way, especially when they're especially interested in a specific WIP over my other ones, and a lot of people just seem to be more engaged and invested in my writing in general. or at least more willing to tell me that they are, if nothing else, haha.

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic: yes it will, and if you post larger scenes and tag them, then more people are likelier to find you/your writing than would if you only post one chapter in the tags however often you update those. also, if you have a fic-specific WIP tag that you link to, it's very easy for people who are just discovering the WIP to go back and catch up all at once ( or for people who aren't into it to blacklist, if that's a concern, as opposed to them feeling like they have to unfollow/block you ).

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares? good news: they probably won't care! at least to start. that's just kinda how it is, to start. I get a lot of engagement because I am REAL prolific and do my best to be responsive, plus I've been updating this blog and in this specific fandom pretty consistently for over a year, and also have also been in online fandom spaces on and off for, like, legit twenty-five years at this point. so I am just very used to being in these spaces, and I also have readers who've followed me for a decade+ or even since I was an actual literal TEENAGER in at least a couple cases, so like, they're already kinda invested in my writing, haha. there are people following this blog who not only read my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles but also still REMEMBER reading my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles, to say nothing of everyone who found me through AtLA or the MCU or the Witcher ( or so, so much Star Wars meta, the Star Wars meta has also definitely been a thing ). also I update my blog pretty consistently and I do writing memes that reward the people who play with me with new content and more progress in their fave WIPs, and also they're technically "voting" for what they wanna see more of, so that also adds to them feeling engaged/invested and me feeling motivated/energized, because they feel like they've affected the growth and progress of the story ( which they have ) and I feel like they're enjoying the story and genuinely appreciate it ( which they do! ). so everyone wins!

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all: yeah that is the sunk-cost fallacy trying to fuck you up and you can and should tell it to fuck off. if you try it and you don't like the change, you can just stop doing it. you're free! no one can stop you!! hit the bricks, do your thing, the past is gone and it is NOT in charge of your ass! your ass is all yours!! whatever, we do what we want! I am in fact giving you explicit PERMISSION to do what you want.

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?: then you've changed something! if it's a major change, you can repost the updated scene or mention you're making a change in a separate post or just say there's been a significant change when you post the chapter and therefore people who've already read the WIP posts might wanna reread it, but personally I change and tweak and fiddle with stuff I've already posted all the time. usually it's just bits of phrasing or formatting or adding in little details to round stuff out or correct mistakes, or to clarify things that confused people or that I forgot about, but sometimes it's adding multiple paragraphs or even additional little scenes. it's absolutely a thing I do and a thing that I consider fair play. you're literally posting "work-in-progress" excerpts, it is in the NAME that stuff might/will change or be adjusted. shit, if you feel like it, throw the whole story out and start over with a 2.0 WIP tag!! art is meant to be fucked with!!!!

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?: the past is gone! you are free!! it's a writing blog that is for your writing and you can write whatever you want on it. the rules are made up and the points don't matter!! if you want a WIP blog too, you can totally start a WIP blog too, but you also don't have to feel obligated to bloat your sideblog collection or to have to go to all the effort of building up a brand-new following for a brand-new blog when there's already people who followed another blog of yours specifically for your writing. it's your writing blog. it's for your writing. write on it how you please!! if you're SUPER-concerned about the change, include a specific tag on all your WIP snippets that people can just blacklist if they only wanna see your full finished updates. for example I use "rintalk" so people can skip my random talky posts/asks if they wanna but also won't accidentally be filtering out anything they DO wanna see from anyone else on their dash; they can specifically avoid just mine. so like, maybe "octo WIPs" or "nb WIPs" or just whatever you're into would work for you, or just something like that.

unrelated to your for/against: posting stuff like this is not an approach that'll give everyone the same results or even WORK for everyone, obviously, but it works for me because again, I'm prolific, responsive, tend to follow my readers' interests, and have been doing this a lonnnggggg time and have built up an audience both from past fandoms and in specifically DC fandom. and also I'm super, super ADHD. definitely also because of the ADHD. there is . . . there is just so much ADHD lol.

but yeah, like, I'm pretty sure I've been updating pretty consistently for the past . . . what, year or so of DC-hyperfixation? something like that?? I've also published over 300k to AO3 in that time and GOD knows how much more word count I've put up on Tumblr, so like . . . tl;dr, I absolutely think you should give it a try and see if it works for you/if you like it, I just also wanna include the caveat that you shouldn't be discouraged if you don't get an immediate return on or big response to said try. like, I dunno what your followers are like or how much they talk to you, obvi, but I personally had to kind of . . . cultivate, basically? I had to cultivate the communication and the back-and-forth, it didn't just happen immediately. we have cultivated, all of us here, hahaha.

for actual practical excerpt-posting advice, generally speaking, the best start I've found for starting out with posting a WIP as you write it is to take, like, the starting scene of the fic/chapter up until either a narratively-interesting/satisfying end point ( or better yet, a cliffhanger ) and post that as a WIP excerpt in the relevant tags. then you're likelier to introduce the story to new people and bring them by your blog to see more, and they'll come in both primed for and LOOKING for WIP excerpts. then, you know, you can post subsequent scenes or bits in chronological order, ideally. personally when I do WIP Wednesday or anything like that, I don't tag little posts like those in the main tags, just with a WIP tag specific to their story ( which, like, obvi you know I have those, haha, I know you've been around MORE than long enough and even if you hadn't pretty sure I already mentioned them somewhere up there anyway, I'm just being thorough ), but anything that's pushing 400-500 words or longer gets fully tagged with ships/characters/fandom/etc and gets chrono/non-chrono links included in the post and then sent out into the world as my lil' story ambassador, haha. just, you know, use a cut or at least a "long post" tag if it's much longer than that, because like, Tumblr manners and all, hah.

ummmmm . . . so yeah idk how much of that was helpful for you, obviously, but if you have follow-up questions or anything, feel free to hit me up, I'm always down for those and I'll do my best to answer!

[confused-reading-ink-rat]

Chapter 2; Poppies With Heart-Shaped Petals

(Snippet from the previous part:)

Galinda froze, feeling the skin just below her ear start to tingle. She hurriedly sat herself in front of her mirror, eagerly staring at her reflection, waiting for the colors to mark her body. 

As the door opened and her roommate invited herself inside, Galinda stared in disbelief. 

A simple green poppy with heart-shaped petals. 

Then, Galinda spoke in a soft tone she didn't know she could say with the name she had laced with malice so many times slipped out of her lips. 

"Elphaba."

______________________________________________________

Elphaba stood there, blinking in confusion. Galinda looked away from the mirror on her vanity, turning to her with soft eyes, looking at her almost longingly, like she was something to be missed. Of course, it wasn’t, at least that’s what she told herself.

“Elphaba.” The blonde repeated, whispering softly as if she was talking to a frightened child. She was, in a way, young Elphaba would have rejoiced at the tone her name was being called. However, the current Elphaba remained frozen and confused. 

The first time could have been an accident, a slip-up, Galinda Upland wouldn’t be caught dead calling her name like that. In truth it probably was a mistake, taking Galinda’s shock when she heard herself. But here she was, doing it again, and consciously? Why, she feared her roommate might have actually lost it. What she would have thought if she ever truly believed the girl had it in the first place.

“Galinda.” She echoed, keeping her tone as dry as possible. She felt a tingle just below her ear, something that called for her attention. She brushed it off as she walked to her part of the room. She kept her attention on her tasks, swiftly fixing her drawers with her books and limited school supplies. Even occasionally walking across the room to organize her very few possessions. She hardly changed anything, but she had to move.

Galinda stared at her the whole time, her eyes tracking every movement, glazing over little details. There was something in her gaze that Elphaba couldn’t quite read, and she prides herself in being able to read people easily. It was a very useful skill when everyone only looked at you in disdain, but she soon learned there were nuances to that disdain. That was the only reason she knew of any other emotion, Dulcibear tried to teach her, but she was a bear and only knew so much of human expressions. Where was that skill when she most needed it? She’s had people stare before, different muddled gazes of disdain, fear, confusion, amusement, and if she's lucky, intrigue. Intrigue but not in a way one would show a person they want to mingle with but intrigue the same one holds for study, for an exceptionally rare insect they were fascinated by.

Elphaba Thropp had people stare at her, her whole life was filled with strange looks and barely hidden disgust.

But she had never been stared at like this, she doesn't recognize this.

This was something different, something new.

And she hated it.

She hated she couldn't understand it. She'd always been that way with things she didn't understand.

Eventually, Elphaba had enough, no, more than enough.

She turned her gaze to Galinda, silently hoping a glare would communicate enough and she’d stop staring at her in that way. But instead, she did something Elphaba never and couldn't have expected, because of course she did. She always did.

“We’re soulmates.” the blonde whispered gently, then gave her a small but sincere smile. She spoke softly as if she’d just shared her heart’s deepest secret, their deepest secret. One that was just between the two of them. If that's what this is, Elphaba intended to keep it that way.

“Excuse me?” Elphaba asked harshly, she feared her tone was a lot more accusatory than necessary, it was. She saw it in the way Galinda’s expression fell. The way her soft smile was wiped from her face almost immediately.

Disappointment, Elphaba thought.

Disappointment, Galinda’s mind echoed. But not in Elphaba, but herself, Oz knows how many horrendible things she's done to the poor girl. The words slipped out before she can register what she’s saying, but that seemed to be the theme of the night, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry.”

Gentle, apologetic, and most of all, sincere.

Elphaba stared at her as if she had gone and did three cartwheels, professed herself enemy of the state, then had tea with a tiger. Galinda isn’t sure what conjured the imagery that passed through her head just now, mad would have sufficed. Maybe she was mad. She chose to blame it on the exhilaration of finding her soulmate. And the bewilderment of who it was.

“We’re soulmates,” Elphaba muttered, not loud, but loud enough for Galinda to hear what she was saying. 

Galinda nodded in reply, but she wanted to do more. So she spoke, “Yes, we are.” she affirmed.

“This,” The green girl stepped forward, each step calculated and measured as if entering a predator’s territory. “Changes nothing.”

The Gillikinese girl stares at her and nods. Elphaba stares back, trying to decipher the unreadable expression in her eyes and failing. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispered again helplessly.

“Sorry? Of course, you’re sorry.” The sad, angry, and bitter part of Elphaba reared its ugly head, she hardly lost control nowadays, and she hasn’t since arriving at Shiz. Years of bullying and being neglected can do that to you. She hardly lost control, but that didn’t mean she didn’t.

“You’re only sorry because I’m your soulmate.” she hissed, clenching her fists. “If I wasn’t, you would keep throwing insults left and right! You'll keep calling me names, artichoke, green bean- you’d keep interrupting me like I had nothing important to say, ostracizing me like I didn't belong. Alright, maybe I didn't!" Maybe she was projecting far too much, but the moment she lost control, it was impossible to get it back. "And I can deal with that, I always have! Insults, social isolation, I had that, and more. But you didn't have to go so far as to start destroying my things!” she uttered the last sentence with more conviction than intended.

She hardly had any possessions to begin with, much less at Shiz, and certainly very few compared to Galinda’s mountain of souvenirs from home. So the very little she had, she cherished. From the small notes in pieces of paper and parchment, she took in class to the books borrowed from the library and down to her black-dyed school uniform and prestigious magick volumes and spells. 

And to have them trashed? Destroyed? For what? Because others couldn’t believe she was on top of the class? Because she was the only one in Madame Morrible’s Sorcery class? Because she was green? That was too much, even for her.

“Doing what?” Galinda asked, her own fists clenching. She stood up abruptly, her eyes boring into Elphaba’s. Had she been unaware? Elphaba blinked, her composure faltering before she remembered what she was talking about.

"What?" Oh great, Elphaba thought to herself. Now that she no longer had the rage to pull from, she had shrunk back to her old self. She had run out of resolve and didn't quite know how to respond.

“Do you not- today, someone dumped their coffee on my notes. It’s not all gone, nothing a drying spell wouldn’t fix-” She didn’t know why she was downplaying it, especially when it's something that hurt her so badly. Yet something told her that the anger in Galinda’s eyes was dangerous, and she had to distract her from it as soon as possible.

“Also, you did bully me and loathe me for my whole stay up since the start of the school year.” she reminded the blonde.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed.

“I’m sorry,” Galinda repeated, her anger melting back into apology.

“You sound like a broken record.” More poison than necessary.

Galinda stiffened.

Then, as Elphaba began to walk back to her bed when the girl added, “I’ll take care of them.” 

She almost felt bad for the victim of Galinda’s wrath, but you know what? They deserve it. 

She does not see the mark behind her ear, the pink reflection of Galinda's own mark.

She doesn't have to.

She knows Galinda is her soulmate.

It's just a question if Elphaba would let herself be Galinda's.

(Part 2?)

To the people who commented they wanted more;

@nether2010

I unfortunateky can't seem to tag kekescalope

Shout out to the anon who asked me about this earlier today!

Part 1 : Here

Part 3: Here

Masterlist for all parts ; Here

If you want to keep following the story, just follow the tag "poppies with heart shaped petals" and "poppies with heart-shaped petals"

[mangotangerine]

Shifting Variables and Charting New Paths: Chapter 5 is UP!!

You get political intrigue, you get THREE horny scenes, you get a baby Vik & dad Silco flashback, you get Viktor's internal monologue about how he really feels about all these rich people, and you get feral alpha behavior!!

Fandom: Arcane

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jayce, Beta Viktor, Service Top Jayce, Body Worship, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Fluff and Smut, Mel Medarda & Viktor Friendship, Humor, Viktor is a Menace, Mating Bites, Cultural Differences, Zaunite Viktor, Pre-Hexgates Piltover, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breeding Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Possessive Viktor, Possessive Jayce, Size Kink, Political Intrigue, Viktor is Raised by Silco

Chapter 5 Snippet:

Viktor’s gaze sweeps the ballroom, looking for Jayce.

When he spots him, he understands why Mel had them get ready separately.

He is in dark, Zaunite green, with gold and black accents, and his clothing is tailored to the point of obscenity. The shirt is tight around his shoulders, clasps running down the front of it instead of buttons, with a high collar. No cravat or tie, which is certainly a choice, considering how it puts the mating mark on display.

A quick glance Mel’s way confirms that was not part of the plan, and it warms him, Jayce’s small act of rebellion. The pants—black, tight, tucked elegantly into the boots Jayce wears, the jacket on his shoulders light-weight and structured, House Talis symbol emblazoned on the shoulder in green and gold instead of maroon.

He’s talking to an investor Viktor vaguely recognizes from early on in their Hextech adventure, smiling politely with a glass of wine in hand. Viktor thinks he hears Mel say something, but he ignores it in favor of moving in a wide arc to place himself squarely in Jayce’s line of sight, if he so much as looks up.

And he does look up. He looks up, and his lips part, and he hands his glass of wine off to the bewildered potential investor, walking toward Viktor (and Mel, now that she’s caught up with him) with urgency. Viktor catches a giggle nearby, a fragment of conversation involving the words Councilor Medarda and Jayce, and then Jayce is there.

In an incredibly inappropriate display of desire, he slides an arm around Viktor’s waist and reels him in, the other hand occupied with tilting Viktor’s head and tugging the collar of his shirt open so he can fit his mouth around the mating mark.

There’s a gasp, and Viktor clutches at Jayce’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of Jayce’s tongue.

“Jayce,” Viktor whispers, an attempt to jog some decency into his mate, but of course it doesn’t work. Jayce just holds Viktor tighter and kisses up to his ear.

“Yeah, say my name, Vik, gods, you sound so pretty,” he groans. Viktor’s face flushes as Jayce starts scenting him, rubbing his cheek fully along Viktor’s neck, up one side and then the opposite cheek down the other. His hands slide up Viktor’s back, then down his arms, and for a brief moment, Viktor fears Jayce is going to get on his knees in front of the entire gala.

Read the whole chapter here! Or start from the beginning here.

[doumadono]

Requested by: @leven-and-ashley on my discord

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Dabi first notices you in a crowded market. The contrast of your unique appearance against the mundane surroundings catches his attention. He observes you from a distance, intrigued by the way you navigate the world with confidence despite your distinctive albinism.

Intrigued, he discreetly follows you, observing from the shadows, his interest growing with each passing day. Dabi is drawn to the way you carry yourself despite standing out, a feeling he intimately understands.

He overhears snippets of your conversations, noting your insecurities about your appearance. Dabi finds himself silently empathizing with your struggles, seeing a reflection of his own societal challenges.

One day, as you navigate through a dark alley while getting back home from work, you notice a faint scent of smoke and an eerie, blueish glow nearby. Before you can react, a voice cuts through the shadows, "You look lost, sweetheart." It's Dabi, leaning against a wall, his blue flames flickering at the tips of his fingers.

Startled, you eye him cautiously, but Dabi's smirk and casual demeanor somehow put you at ease. "Couldn't help but notice you've got that unique look. I appreciate uniqueness."

The guy suggests walking you home, considering it's not safe to be alone in your neighborhood at this late hour. You agree, and during your casual chat, he brings up the challenges of looking unconventional. You're surprised a stranger would delve into such personal topics.

Dabi starts engaging in casual conversations, appearing randomly wherever you go. He subtly drops compliments, making you blush with his unexpected flattery. "You seem to be everywhere I am. Are you following me?" you ask openly. "Nah, it's just a coincidence. But who wouldn't want to be around someone as interesting as you?"

You're still blissfully unaware that you're dealing with a dangerous villain.

Discovering common interests, you find yourselves having longer conversations every time you fall on him while minding your businesses in the city.

Dabi opens up about his own struggles with societal expectations, creating a connection between your unique experiences. He expresses admiration for your resilience. "People judge us based on appearances, yeah? But I see you, and I appreciate what I see."

After encountering him once more, you release a sigh. "Hey, Dabi, chatting with you is cool and all, but… Maybe I'm crazy, but do you fancy grabbing coffee at my place? It'd a bit more relaxed for a chat," you propose.

He agrees, and shortly afterward, he takes a seat at the small table in your minimalistic kitchen while you prepare coffee.

As you sit and chat with him, he's captivated by your incredibly pale face, white hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. Delicate freckles adorn the base of your nose and cheeks, and your pinkish irises draw him in. You're stunning, and he can't help but be entranced, unable to take his eyes off you.

"Are you okay, Dabi?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He nods, "Yeah, you're just really pretty," he compliments, "and I gotta be honest with you. I respect you, and you deserve the whole truth."

You frown and nod, awaiting his confession.

"Did you hear about the big fire in the convoy taking a villain to Tartarus?"

You nod.

"That was me, I caused the fire and helped him flee. I'm a villain too, and I work for the League of Villains."

You blink, your blood running cold. After a moment, you simply nod. "I had a feeling you might be something else. You never liked crowds in the city, always trying to keep a low profile. Just so you know, I'm not wealthy, and I don't have much, but you can have…"

He frowns. "I ain't here to steal from you or cause harm, Y/N. Just thought you should know who you're dealing with."

You nod slowly, "Even as a villain, you were one of the few who didn't bully me because of my looks," you tell him. "Thanks for not being scared or disgusted by me."

His scarred hand gently reaches out, caressing your cheek, causing another blush to tint your cheeks. "I've mentioned it before, haven't I? I find you beautiful," Dabi says, smirking shortly after. "And I appreciate you not being disgusted by my scars as well."

Since that day, you started seeing Dabi regularly. You even let him crash at your place whenever he needed to lay low or had enough of the League of Villains' shit. And you didn't regret it. With him, you felt like the most beautiful princess. He constantly reminded you that, despite your unique appearance, you were beautiful just the way you were.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

hiii again, I was the person who wrote about the dbd hc post and to write more hcs about kyle, when i wrote that i wasnt really thinking about something in specific, just general hcs about kyle hahaha, howeverr If you don't Mind there Are some ideas i've never seen and i think would be pretty cool (If you don't mind, of course):

- general hcs about His gaming taste (which games he likes,plays,his fav, etc) kyle plays (also would love to ser main 4, but since hes my pookie i focused on him XD)

- how he would be dating a brazilian reader

- main 4 + butters dating (or being friends) with a reader who has autism

you don't need to write all of them (or even write at all), just would love to see more of kyle 🙏🙏

ha. hahaha. ha.

anon, you are ve ry familiar with my game, aren't you?

because i swear this was me when i read idea #2:

for the uninitiated (which anon probably isn't), i AM brazilian, so this is right up my alley lol

unfortunately, i don't think i'm doing idea #3. i'm not autistic, i don't have a lot of knowledge on the subject, and to depict that properly it would require from me a type of research that i'm just incapable of doing at the moment

#1 might happen at some point though. we have a few snippets of the boys' gaming tastes in canon already, but i can always tell canon to fuck itself and just say my own thoughts on the subject

with that out of the way.

KYLE BROFLOVSKI HEADCANONS - DATING A BRAZILIAN READER

Admittedly, he was very intrigued when you first moved to South Park. Why the hell would you come from a tropical country all the way on the opposite hemisphere to a small town in the middle of nowhere in the states? And that’s like, one of the first things he ever asks you - because obviously he volunteers to be the one to hang out with you and show you around. As time passes and you two get together, he’s just secretly grateful that whatever it is brought you to his arms.

Confusion is this guy’s middle name for a while when he starts getting closer to you. Brazil is so very different from the US, but it’s also very different from other latin american countries - even though there are several similarities, some aspects of the culture are very unique, so there’s a lot of him questioning you about it going on.  

Obviously starts taking Portuguese lessons immediately, even if you’re fully fluent in English. It’s an investment, really - God forbid you two break up, he’d at least have the knowledge of a new language.

Once he gets a better grasp of it, starts saying love declarations to you in Portuguese in front of everyone else since they don’t understand the language, making you giggle and blush. Has the cutest little accent, too. The guys keep on asking what the fuck he was talking to you about, he just tells them to piss off.

He gives you gifts on Brazilian Valentine’s Day (which, to unaware readers, is not February 14th! It’s actually June 12th) as well as on American Valentine’s Day. He’s just always looking to spoil his lady, honestly, and an extra excuse for that is very much welcome.

Brazilians are big on family and community. So if you’re close to yours, he’s gonna be so happy and basically bend over backwards trying to get along in order to feel properly included. (Biological or found family! He’s doing that regardless.)

Somewhat disinterested in Brazilian music, to be honest. He’d hate Brazilian Funk and Samba with a passion. More classical MPB is fine, he likes it from an intellectual point of view.

Our literature, on the other hand? He likes it beyond belief. If you’re a reader, you two can have a little book club of your own because he keeps on finding and reading new books that he wants to yap about.

Avoid explaining Brazilian politics to this dude. He’s already at high risk of heart disease due to stress, we are not trying to cut his lifespan in half. (He ends up doing research on his own, and then it’s a whole mess because he keeps on asking rhetorical questions to show just how stupid some parts of it are)

Not fond of the tropical weather, I don't think he fucks with the beach at all for several reasons. If you’re from a coastal city, he’ll visit with you for sure, but he just prefers to do other stuff while he’s there.

Turns FERAL if he sees you in a Brazilian bikini. Crazy possessive if it's around other people, can't get his hands off you if it's in private. (I mean, that goes for any bikini, really. But there's something about the extra skin...)

Carnaval kinda triggers his Jersey side a little bit, lol. He will go with you to a ‘bloquinho’, complain for a while like he’s not enjoying himself, and then all of a sudden Kyley-B is there, wearing a tinsel wig and flip-flops and trying to fight a street vendor because the beer is too expensive.

The amount of proximity and public displays of affection in Brazilian culture freaks him out a little bit at first. He’d get jealous if you greet other men with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, stuff like that. That’s just not how he was raised - but he’ll get around to it eventually, especially if you reward him with a few kisses of his own in front of everyone

All in all, he’s actually adorable about it. He likes knowing stuff, so new cultures interest him greatly - and if he can learn everything there is to know about you, then that’s just the best way.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[dear-mimii]

lest x enforcer!reader

pairing! lest x enforcer!reader

about! after that attack on the council building, your arm was nearly shot. good thing that you're working for Councilor Salo, because you picked up some helpful information...

cw! mentions of nerve pain/ damage

word count! 1.1k

an! reblog because tumblr had the AUDACITY to give me a content warning!!! HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS PEOPLE!!! this is a official/unofficial gift to you all for the support! ok I KNOW a thousand words is a bit more than usual, but i didn't want to write three whole parts and i just HAD to write in the details about the injury, attention to detail people.

why must you be so… determined? prideful? stubborn? stupid?

those were the words swirling in your head as you sat in carriage with Councilor Salo— your principal. ever since the attack on the council building by jinx, which resulted in Councilor Salo’s inability to walk, he was especially paranoid and requested a personal security detail from the Enforcers. seems easy, right? following around a councilor to a bunch of cushy parties and just standing around places. it would be if you weren’t also injured from the attack.

trauma to the brachial plexus, is what the doctor told you. apparently it wasn’t severe, but it definitely felt severe. some days were better than others, with just numbness, tingling and just regular weakness in your non-dominant arm and hand. other times, in the middle of the night you’d wake up to shooting pain, often followed by your arm being asleep for nearly an hour after you woke up. you struggled to hold your gun properly, reloading was a battle of its own, but of course, you wanted to prove yourself capable after your mandatory time off. so when this job came up, you eagerly agreed.

working for Salo, you heard some… interesting things. most intriguing for you, a mysterious… healer? you often heard him and his assistant talk in whispers about his “next session” or something about his legs, it was mostly snippets of finished conversations, so you didn’t pick up much. until you did piece it together. sometimes, Salo would request to go out to brunch or shopping with just his assistant—insisting that the constant presence of Enforcers made these activities “less entertaining.” but, you found out instead of going out to a cafe, Salo was going to the undercity, or rather, a place undercity adjacent. along with that, you heard the word “shimmer” more than a few times.

a healer from the undercity, who has something to do with shimmer? because that sounds trustworthy.

yet here you were, as skeptical as you were, quietly following Councilor Salo towards this healing place. you saw him go in, heard the faintest murmur of voices, but you couldn’t go in just yet—surely he would recognize you. so, you were just standing outside, trying to look busy to people who passed.

“tch, what the hell am i doing here? i just need to go home, it’s probably just a scam for rich people.” you grumbled to yourself as you waited idly outside.

finally, what felt like an hour passed, and you heard the familiar rolling of Salo’s wheelchair obliviously roll past you. with a deep breath, you made your way to the entrance, opening the creaky door. a woman was there, walking back and forth between rooms, not really noticing your presence (intentionally or unintentionally, who knows?).

your voice came out a bit higher than you wanted it to, “hello?” you cleared your throat, already feeling out of place. “i came for a… treatment?”

the woman with large… almost cat like ears finally looked up at you, and it felt like in a few seconds she knew exactly why you were here.

“left side of the hallway, third room.”

words caught in your throat as you tried to come up with some kind of response, even a small “thank you”, but for some odd reason you were really clamming up.

you pushed past a curtain, entering a calming room, much like the atmosphere of the building as a whole. candles emitted a soft glow and comforting aroma throughout, casting blurry shadows across the walls. a long, red sofa was in the center was embroidered with scattered flowers and leaves. various things were strewn about, curtains, a small end table, hanging lanterns and so on and so forth. you took a seat on the sofa, keeping your hands in your lap nervously as you waited, eyes flickering to different objects in a mostly futile attempt to occupy yourself.

a few minutes later, she entered with two pristine, folded white towels in her arms. the cat eared woman put the towels on the sofa next to you. “please take off your clothes. when you lay down, use these to cover yourself.”

before you could question her, she slid the curtain that acted like a door, not walking far. this was probably on the top five stupidest things you’ve ever done, yet, after making sure the woman really couldn’t see you, you turned around and slid off your shirt. your arm barely made it halfway up before a jolt of pain forced you to stop, breath stuttering. you cursed under your breath, wrestling the shirt off with your good hand, praying she couldn’t hear the struggle.

your trousers weren’t as much as a problem (at least the nerves there weren’t fried). settling on the sofa carefully as to not jostle your arm too much, using your other to drape the towels around your chest and juncture of your thighs. after a few minutes, what seemed like on cue, she entered once again, this time with a small brass jar and a paintbrush. sitting down the jar and brush, she kneeled on the floor by your chest.

“it”s Lest,” she paused, her voice sure yet soft. “my name is Lest, i meant. may i? i just need to feel where it hurts.”

hesitantly, you nodded, allowing Lest to touch your arm. her fingers grazed your inner bicep, and you let out a hiss from the pain of what felt like a live wire imbedded in your muscle. it was embarrassing—to be in some random building in the undercity, shirtless, and from the faintest touch your nerves burned. you’re sure Lest could sense the pain, embarrassment, but she just hummed in response. she gradually went down your arm to your wrist, earning some of the same reactions; jerking, flinching, sudden tension. it didn’t seem like a way to diagnose anything specific to you, but Lest looked like she knew more than you when it came to this.

Lest picked up her jar and paintbrush, and you breathed deeply before closing your eyes. as soon as the first bristle of the brush hit your skin, an immediate, blinding white sensation bloomed outward all throughout your arm. it wasn’t the usual pain—far from it more than anything. and it wasn’t inherently… euphoric either. for once since the incident, you didn’t feel anything, no pain or discomfort, and that alone was better than anything in the world. the tension in your body melted away like ice on a hot day, and a sigh left your now relaxed lips without you even realizing.

the next time you came back, it was for the pain again

the third time, totally for the pain… is what you told yourself.

and at this point you simply lost count, you couldn’t even think of an excuse to give yourself.

and every time you darkened her doorstep, Lest just gave you a small, indulgent smile.

[inkprilled]

I love your writing and I just read your "Dead above" snippet/excerpt and I'm so intrigued and interesting in your plans for it as a whole, is this a snippet of a book your writing or another project.

Thank you! Dead above is the title of the book I'm writing and the post was a snippet from it, I intend to finish the first draft and be on the second by the end of this year and hopefully (fingers crossed) publish it. I have very limited knowledge about how to get published, but at the moment I'm just excited about the writing process. Thankyou for taking an interest, it's very motivating 💛