#I do not have a lack of cheese though. he got cheese pizza

[gothneighbor]

Worst Aunt Ever doesn’t have ingredients for grilled cheese. 0 dead 1 wounded

[maraschinomerry]

Hey I would love to have some more george x reader fanfictions, I totally agree that there are not enough around her👀 can you do the sparring prompt 1 and 8 (but instead of hair maybe some clothing that's more revealing than usual?) And friends to lovers and mutual pining and awkwardness and all that🥺 thank you in advance 🩷

How To Stand

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: After losing another fight, George offers to give you some training with your rapier. When things get more intimate than expected, he has to keep you on your feet in a different way.

Content: injury mention, friends to lovers, mutual pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: thank you again for the request and all the love on my other fics!! Sorry it's taken so long to get this one done, work has been super busy 😣 Also this fic has taken me past the 12,500 word mark since I started writing last weekend so thank you to everyone who has requested or read for inspiring me to be creative again, I'm blown away by all the support!

Word count: 2.8k (exactly, which is very satisfying)

You winced at the bite of the antiseptic.

"Sorry," George mumbled, dabbing lightly at the cut on your arm.

Last night's case had led to a nasty run-in with a relic man who turned out to be more proficient with a knife than you were with a rapier. You'd only recently begun your training, to be fair - after running away from home, you'd reunited with your childhood best friend, George Karim. Both of you were talented, and you had nowhere else to go, so despite your lack of experience George had managed to blag you a place in Lockwood & Co. In the weeks since you had joined your skills with Touch and Sight had proved invaluable, but as your injuries continually demonstrated your skills with the blade left much to be desired.

"We really should think about getting you some more training," George half-joked as he carefully applied a dressing to the wound.

"Only if it's from you," you replied.

"Really? Wouldn't you be better off with Lockwood? He's a pro, or even Lucy is better than me."

"Hey," you interrupted, sharper than you meant, "don't sell yourself short! I've seen you in a fight, you're amazing! Besides, you really think I'm not going to be super intimidated trying to learn from Mr 'I beat Quill Kipps in a tournament and framed the article on the staircase'?" You both laughed.

"Fair point. Okay, rest up, it's been a Iong night. We'll start tomorrow afternoon, wear something comfortable."

—

The two of you spent an easy morning together in the library, George with research for the next case and you with your favourite book. Almost in time with the clock in the hallway chiming one, a low rumbling came from the chair opposite you. George had forgotten breakfast again. Quietly, trying not to distract him (though it would take more than a little movement at this point), you snuck out to prepare lunch.

Five minutes later, the familiar scent of tomato soup and cheese toasties had George out of his seat and loitering in the kitchen doorway.

"You're the best," he sighed. Much as he loved his Iranian dishes and the personal time he got preparing them, he secretly loved when you cooked for him. You'd been doing it ever since you two were children - simple things like pizza or your signature toasties to begin with, warming stews or toad in the hole now you were older. Whatever it was, it was always homey and comforting. Kind of like your presence, if he was being honest with himself. Even the most stressful situations were easier to deal with when you were around; he knew you trusted him with your innermost secrets and in turn he could talk to you about anything. Well, almost anything. He wasn't sure he would ever work up the courage to tell you about the way he got butterflies every time you smiled, the way his knees went weak whenever your hand brushed his, the way he almost lost his resolve last week when you wiped a stray crumb off his cheek. If only you'd…

"Hey," you prompted lightly at a very zoned-out George. No use tapping his shoulder or raising your voice when he got like this, it would only startle him, you just had to wait for him to ride it out. After a moment, his eyes slowly refocused.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"Ah," you smiled, not knowing the effect it had. "Go anywhere nice?"

Incredibly, he thought. "I'll bring you a postcard next time."

Your giggle brightened up the whole room as you set two bowls and a plate down on the table. You weren't sure when you'd started the tradition of your toasties being on a shared plate, but down the line the two of you had realised you ate slightly less and George took the leftovers, so it was easier to put them together in the first place. Somehow he always managed to leave you just the right amount.

—

After lunch, George began the washing up (another tradition, whoever didn't cook would clean) while you went to get ready for your first training session. You weren't particularly sporty, but you did have a gym wear set that you thought would be okay to practise in. Besides, you'd never actually worn it since joining the agency and that was simply not acceptable, you felt far too cute in it to let it sit there gathering dust. Hopefully George would think you looked cute in it too.

No, no, no. You couldn't go down that road. You'd always loved George as a friend, but it wasn't until you reunited and started living together in 35 Portland Row that you really fell for him. All the little quirks that had drawn you to him as a child, that felt like you were looking in a mirror, now made your heart flutter. Even little things like the way he pushed his glasses up was cute and made you fixate on his hands a little too much. One time, you'd tried to be more flirty with him, and the poor boy had seemed so perturbed that you hadn't tried again. Message received.

Heaving a sigh, you redressed the wound on your arm, which was healing nicely, and made your way down to the basement.

—

Your eternally bouncy footsteps echoing down the steps drew George's attention from polishing his rapier. A rapier which he almost dropped straight into his foot, jaw closely following its descent.

The first thing he saw was a pair of brightly coloured trainers. Next came toned calves, on show beneath cropped, tightly-fitting leggings. Above those leggings, which had sculpted themselves round your hips, was the cause of George's lapse in dexterousness: a glimpse of previously unseen bare skin, your stomach, exposed by a loose crop top. Having temporarily forgotten how to breathe, George used the last of his oxygen-fuelled sanity to force his gaze up to meet yours, and you shifted nervously under his scrutiny.

"Will this be okay?" you asked, thinking he was concerned about your ability to fight in it.

"Ye- uh, yes. You look…" Amazing. Radiant. Divine. Unbelievable. Incredible. Hot. "Comfy." What the hell, George, get it together. He frankly wondered how he ever expected you to like him the way he liked you if that was the best he could do.

Nonetheless, you relaxed back into yourself as you beamed at him. "Good, you did say to wear something comfortable."

George smiled back, pleased to know you paid so much attention to his words, before finally taking notice of the fresh dressing peeking out from beneath your short sleeve. As if guided by an invisible force, he moved closer to you, raised fingers ghosting over the bandage.

"Will you be okay working out with this? I don't want to risk reopening the cut." His voice wavered, barely noticeable had he been talking to anyone but you. You responded with a simple nod, trying to disguise the way your voice had caught in your throat and hoping the movement would dislodge it. A flash of realisation crossed his face as your eyes met and he hastily stepped away, the mask of Researcher George descending once more.

"Okay, let's get started. The first thing we need to work on is your stance and grip - although they seem trivial, they are in fact vitally important to your success rate."

—

You spent the next half an hour drilling stances, mimicking the way George held himself and him in turn glancing back to give pointers on how far apart you'd placed your feet or whether you were leaning too far in any direction. Sometimes the pose would call for raised arms and his directions would come out a little fumbled as your top rode further up your stomach. He tried not to let his gaze linger too long. It was more difficult than he expected.

When he was satisfied you’d got the hang of the stances, he announced it was time to fix your grip. You weren't entirely sure what he meant - your grip was firm, knuckles clenched around the hilt.

"Grip isn't about how tightly you hold your rapier, but how effectively," he explained, tone the same as if he were explaining the history of an artefact. "If anything, it should be a little loose to enable you to pivot to meet an unexpected blow. Make it an extension of your arm." He demonstrated, and you watched in mild confusion as he swung it further than the natural movement of his wrist would seem to allow. Then, he turned to try and advise you on how to improve. His head tilted left, then right. He moved round to your left, then right. Your position wasn't bad, per se, but as he compared your hand to his he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to explain what needed adjusting. Perhaps partly due to the lingering thought in the back of his mind about how much he wished it was his hand you were holding instead of the rapier. Willing his brain to cooperate, he flexed his hand to figure out what exactly it was he did to get it how it needed to be. Got it. Sort of.

You watched the gears spinning behind George's eyes as he moved around you, hand shifting occasionally. Eventually he settled almost over your shoulder.

"Do you mind if I…?" He trailed off, miming putting his arms around you.

"Sure." Your response was far quicker than you expected. You prayed he didn't notice. What you noticed was the shaky breath he drew in as he repeated the action around your waist, hands coming to rest over yours. The cold metal of his belt buckle against the exposed skin of your back made you gasp, both from shock and from how close it meant he was.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay," you returned, beginning to turn but stopping yourself when out of the corner of your eye you were confronted with his face just inches from yours. You'd been in each other's personal space before, hugging when one of you was upset or falling asleep slumped together after particularly gruelling cases. It would be so easy to turn just a little further, to where your noses and lips were level, to… You snapped your focus back to the rapier you were both holding, giving George a clear view of the rosy flush spreading across your cheek. Those fingers that you had fixated on so many times, as they flicked through pages upon pages of research or skimmed over the spines of books in the Archives, now folded over your own and gently nudged them into the correct position. It astounded you, the care he once again took to not cause you any discomfort with his actions. First when he’d dressed your wound, and now this. His thumb had come to rest on the inside of your wrist, and it was only your own knowledge of first aid telling you he would feel his own pulse that kept you from panicking about the way yours was racing beneath it. Subconsciously, you leant into him a little, marvelling at the pressure on your back from the rise and fall of his chest. Your hold on the rapier felt better now, more flexible and somehow stronger for being loosened up. George gave your hands a small squeeze as if to set them in place.

“How does that feel?” His voice ghosted over the shell of your ear, huskier than you’d expected and so, so close. You knew he was talking about the grip, but between his hands still over yours and his body pressed so close, your thoughts got away from you.

You couldn’t help it.

Your knees buckled.

George reacted immediately. His hands never left your body for a second, trying to support you through whatever had just happened, but they slid from your hands up to your elbows and then jumped to a firmer grasp at your waist, twitching involuntarily against the tingle of warm skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, moving with one hand gliding over your stomach and the other following across your back until you were facing him. He wanted so badly to be respectful of your boundaries, conscious of how this would look if anyone were to walk in at that moment, but he was far more concerned about keeping you steady with the way you’d almost collapsed against him. Was it exhaustion from the endless string of cases? Blood loss from your injury? Something more major?

“I’m fine, it’s nothi-” The words died in your throat. George was staring at you, his cheeks burning. You were used to him looking at you differently to the rest of the agency, throwing longsuffering glances when Lockwood and Lucy were up to their usual antics or a nostalgic smile when you talked about your childhood together, but this was something altogether different. His lips were slightly parted like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening (neither could you), eyes warm and sparkling with surprise, tenderness, and something else… Hope?

“Please tell me it’s not nothing.” The words fell from his lips quietly and freely as his gaze flickered down for barely a second. His eyes widened a little. “I mean, don’t say you’re fine if you’re not. I want to be sure you’re alright.”

That sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a backpedalling into dullness that always came with feared rejection. You’d seen it many times over the years - in his eyes the first time he spoke about being the weirdo of his family, in your own in the hallway mirror when you registered Lockwood’s hesitation about hiring you. But it hadn’t entirely taken him over yet, and you’d be damned if you were going to be the reason it did.

“Is that really what you mean?” you asked softly.

“Yes. No!” His blush darkened and his eyes closed for a beat as he took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say, I guess, is yes, I mean I want to make sure you’re alright, but no, that’s not what I didn’t want to be nothing. I, um…” He searched your eyes again for any indication that you knew what was coming and didn’t want to hear it, but when all he was met with was genuine expectation and a slight nod of encouragement, he continued. “I like you, you know I do, or we wouldn’t be friends. But I like you, and we’ve never been as close as we were just then, so with all the little things that happened I was trying to figure out if I was reading too much into it or if… if you feel the same.”

An astonished smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you processed this revelation. The boy you’d been silently pining for all this time, the boy you knew had trouble articulating his feelings when they were too close to his heart, had just told you in no uncertain terms that he reciprocated the feelings he didn’t even know you had. It was too good to be true.

You lifted your hand from his arm and pinched yourself. Ow.

George let out a baffled chuckle. “Okay, what was that all about?”

Your hand didn’t return to his arm; instead it cupped his cheek, thumb grazing his lower lip and pinky curling under his chin. This time he didn’t try to disguise the way his eyes were drawn to your lips as your smile grew.

“Just making sure.”

You rose onto your tiptoes, closing the gap between you. George’s steadying hands continued to do their job, moving to wrap around you and tug you closer to him. Your rapier clattered to the floor, forgotten, as you brought your other hand up to his arm, thumb rubbing across his bicep and ruffling the sleeve of his oversized T-shirt. The kiss was sweet and gentle, a little clumsy, but tinged with the fervor of finally being able to act on the desires you’d been holding back for so long. Everything you’d hoped it would be. Through the haze of euphoria, your brain urged you to concentrate, to remember every little detail, every emotion and impression: the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands on your bare back, the tickle of his curls as they brushed your forehead, the rush of air as you pulled apart just enough to catch your breath and he grinned against your mouth. But it was okay, you reminded yourself. You doubted you’d ever forget, but even if you did all it would take is for you to kiss him again. So, just in case, you did.

[thecutestlittlebunbunfairy]

You Better Watch Out

Pairing: Krampus!Loki x Reader

Summary: You've decided to spend Christmas alone this year, but someone is going to pay you a visit

Word Count: 3100

Warnings: Mosnterfucking, Slight Dubcon, Bondage, Degredation

a/n:Hey all! My last fic of 2022! And my last fic i'm going to publish on this blog! Staring in 2023, all of my fics will be published on my new writing blog @thebunnyslibrary! I wanted to do something Christmas-y and this just scratched the right itch for me! Enjoy and have a happy new year!

Ho. Ho. Ho. Your brain had all but tuned out the Christmas music as you drove further into the woods. You’re not sure why, but for some reason this year, the holiday spirit had missed you completely. You had a feeling, though, it was the loneliness.

It seemed your friends were all busy spending their lives with spouses, partners, and their families; Leaving your only option as going to your parents. Which was usually okay; mom always cooked the best food and the huge tv was nice. But this year you opted for some personal quiet time. If you were going to be alone, may as well do it in style. You’d booked a little cabin in the woods, bringing only your laptop and a large stack of books. You’d taken from the 23rd through New Year’s off and you intended to make the most of it.

                The cabin itself was gorgeous. An A-Frame listed on AirBnB by some architect who was spending his winter in Switzerland with his little wife. Little being the operative word, you thought looking at a photo of the two of them that hung in the kitchen as you let yourself in; he was a giant hulking man and she a curvy brunette with big round glasses. But you could see the love between the two of them. Something you’d been seriously lacking as of late. Every relationship you’d had this year crashed and burned and you felt ready to give up.

                You explored more around the cabin until you came across the thing that’d made you book this place. The jacuzzi. It was on a convertible deck; set up to be outdoor in the summer, but now in the winter, a wall of glass enclosed it, giving sight out to the woods. You could see the sun was already starting to set, damn winter, and knew you still had to get your groceries inside and your things put away. The rules for the cabin they’d left were nothing major. Don’t trash the place or set it on fire. Easily manageable

                You opted for a frozen pizza for your first night’s dinner. You’d stocked up PLENTY at the local grocery store before arriving at the cabin. Cocoa packets (with marshmallows), those Pillsbury sugar cookies with the snowmen, and even a Christmas classics collection on DVD you’d fished out of the bargain bin. You’d decided to make a small roast beef with some baked potatoes for actual Christmas dinner, and you were even going to make a small vat of homemade mac and cheese tomorrow to go with it.

                As you walked more through the cabin, you found a cozy reading room with an impressive library. One half architectural and art books. The other poetry and literature. You looked through the shelves and unsurprisingly found “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens. You unpacked your stuff and the groceries while you ate dinner, then lit a fire and settled on the large sofa in the reading room. It had been sometime since you’d read it and thought it would be fun to re-read some tonight, and some tomorrow on Christmas Eve.

                You made it to the ghost of Christmas Present before you’d started to yawn, knowing it was time to head to bed, unaware of the eyes watching you from the forest.

                The next day, you’d slept til nearly 10 in the morning; waking up to find the outside world covered in a slight dusting of snow. Having a quick cup of tea, you got to work on fixing the few things you needed to do for Christmas and Christmas Eve dinner. For Christmas Eve, you were following the family tradition of a lasagna. While it cooked you seasoned the roast, prepped the mac n cheese for baking, and even found time to make a cheesecake. All the while, Christmas classics played from the record player in the den filled the house with warmth, even helping to restore a little Christmas cheer. You would have to leave a note to the owners to see if they were interested in becoming friends; they had impeccable taste.

                The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. You’d bought a box of cheap Texas toast garlic bread, which in your opinion was better than homemade, and afterward had leftovers for the rest of your stay.

                You opted to spend the rest of evening in the jacuzzi with the book. The parts about Scrooge and Belle tugged at your heart a bit. While you knew Scrooge was greedy and selfish of his own volition, you could understand the loneliness and rejection that had turned him so. You yourself had never had many friends growing up, often finding yourself more in the company of books than your peers. You longed for someone to call yours who would call you theirs. It’d been so long since you’d actually been with someone.  

                The story finished with Tiny Tim’ s famous line, and you closed the book. You stared out into the woods, but the dark forest offered no solace to your loneliness. But you thought you saw…was that…?

Was that…something moving in the forest? You swore you had seen a pair of red eyes staring at you but…it couldn’t be, you told yourself. Just a trick of the light. You sighed and leaned back in the jacuzzi, staring up into the stars. You were in awe at just how many more you could see out here in the woods. You closed your eyes and with something last shred of hope you made a simple Christmas wish, that someone would make you feel something…

                Suddenly, you did feel something as a massive gust of cold air blew through the porch area. But that was impossible! This was a completely enclosed area…right? You made a note to tell the owners that their porch might have a draft. You checked your watch; 12:01. Merry Christmas. You pulled yourself from the hot tub, wrapping yourself in a towel as you padded through the cabin. Your parents had given you a small stack of presents to open. You stacked them carefully under the tree before changing into the new pajamas you’d bought yourself. Extra soft and covered in little stars.

                “Merry Christmas” you whispered to yourself as you fell asleep, but as you fell asleep, you felt that same rush of cold air.

                Cold. That was what you felt as you opened your eyes. Where was the blanket? You reached to pull the covers back up but found you couldn’t. Instead, your arm felt…restrained. You frantically turned and saw your wrists had been shackled to the headboard. Oh shit…shit shit shit… you looked and saw your legs were spread wide, bound with black silk ribbon. And your clothes; gone were the warm fuzzy pajamas and instead you wore a midnight blue babydoll and black silk panties that matched the ribbon binding your wrists. You squirmed, trying to undo yourself from the restraint. You looked at the nightstand tables, desperately searching for your phone.

                “Oh, don’t struggle, pet. Wouldn’t want you harming that beautiful skin of yours….at least not before I get my chance.” A raspy voice purred. Sounding like a freshly sharpened skate gliding across an icy lake.

                “Who…who’s there?” you asked, meekly. You could see a figure lurking in the shadows.

                “I am here to fulfill your Christmas wish. To feel something.” There was a mischievousness in his voice, but it was not playful or comforting. He stepped into the moonlight beaming in the windows and you instantly wanted to shrink away.

He was tall, his…horns, nearly scraping against the ceilings. They were black and curved, with some small chains with decorative stones wrapped around them. His skin was a pale, icy blue. But his face was marked with ridges and lines and he had ritualistic tattoos up his arms and all over his chest. His hair was inky black, a few plaited braids hung against a massive mane. Crimson red eyes raked over your form. You wanted to cover yourself, hide; but with the restraints, you had no chance.

“Please…please…this has to be a dream.” You closed your eyes and shook your head, making the chains rattle. “Whoever you are, please just leave. I’ll never say a word…” You gasped as a long-crooked nail, more like a claw…ran down your cheek.

“Hush, little pet. No harm will come to you on this night.” He paused, smiling wolfishly, revealing sharp pearly fangs. “At least none that you cannot stand.”

“Who-who are you?” You were starting to feel even more of a chill with this man, this creature, being so close.

“I am Loki, a spirit of Winter and the woods. One who seeks out and tries to restore a warmth to those who are lacking it.”

“And you do that by chaining people to their beds?” You demanded. Still afraid but trying to not to show as much.

“Well, my methods can be a bit…unconventional at times. But it seems you are in need of some truly unconventional methods.” His fingers grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his crimson eyes.

He stared at you, as if studying you. “So alone…” he mused, as if he didn’t quite mean to say it aloud. The fingers holding your chin, ran down your chest to where your nipples had hardened from the chills. “Is this all from the cold pet, or are you excited at the feel of my touch?” He purred as he tweaked your nipple, making you inhale sharply.

The more you looked upon him, the more you couldn’t help being entranced by the angular jaw and his piercing eyes. His chest was exposed, as he wore only dark black pants and boots, and there were more markings and tattoos all over his body.

His fingers trailed down, rubbing over your panties. “And your little quim is getting so wet.” You bit your lip and shook your head, wanting to resist and fight. But his hand slipped under the panties and his long nail rubbed your clit, making your hips buck. The slight edge of pain drove the intensity of the pleasure.

“My wanton little slut. I think I know just how to fill you with Christmas spirit.” He said, emphasizing the fill in a way that made your breath hitch. He climbed up on top of you in the bed, kneeling between your spread thighs, but still managing to push them even further apart.

“Please…no…this has to be just a nightmare.” you protested weekly. But he ripped away the panties like they were made of tissue papers.

“Perhaps…perhaps not.” He said, his voice low. “But if it is, let us make it one you never forget” He adjusted himself, bringing his face close to your cunt, letting out a small breath of icy air. “So sensitive, little one.” Giving a slow gentle lick, you could feel his tongue felt cold on your hot cunt. But the feeling drove you wild with pleasure and you let out a low moan. He chuckled and went about his work, laving small licks against your clit. He brought two fingers up, just to ease them into your cunt, his touch just as icy as his tongue.

“My little pet, your little quim is absolutely divine.” He growled. “And it’s all mine.” His tongue and fingers were bringing you the most blissful pleasure you’d ever felt. Reaching the most intimate spots that you never could.

“Loki…I’m…I’m gunna…” you panted, getting closer and closer to climax.

“Yes, my pet. I feel your cunt tightening around my fingers. Cum on my face; let me taste you.” He ordered. His commanding voice drove you over the edge. You called out his name as you came, bucking your hips as far up as you could in the restraints. Your hands long for something to clasp, seeing his horns right in front of you… Why were you enjoying this so much? But why did this monster seem intent on pleasing you?

He licked up every drop of cum he could, sucking lewdly on your clit as he fingered you through the orgasm. When he finally pulled away, breathing heavily, you could see his chin in the moonlight, completely soaked.         

                Without a second thought, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you fiercely. He ground his hips against you, his form making you feel small. He broke the kiss, panting heavy.

                “Well well, for someone on MY list this year, you sure do TASTE like a good girl. Tell me, my little snowflake, why so glum?” He asked, tenderly stroking your cheek with his finger.

                “Why…why would you care?” You breathed. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” you said, confused and dazed.

                “Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be sensitive and…frankly, cute.” He said, grinning. Your face heated up.

                “Well…I suppose…I just didn’t expect you to be so…nice?” You said, sheepishly. “You seem to WANT to make me cum.”

Loki stared at you in disbelief. “Are you saying you’ve never had a partner who was trying to please you?” he asked, incredulously.  You looked away, not wanting to answer. A sigh left his lips.

“How foolish mortals can be. Constantly in search for beauty but ignoring it when it’s in plain sight.” He gave you another kiss, much gentler this time. And you both paused for a moment, he even laid gently on top of you so as not to hurt you.

After a brief moment of kind silence, you spoke. “Perhaps I ended up on your list not because you were here to punish, but because you were NEEDED. I did wish to feel something. And I’ve certainly felt some things tonight.” You let out a small chuckle.

“I suppose that could be possible.” He smiled a true smile this time, but that mischievous glint was in his eye. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream, but why don’t we make this my best Christmas, yet?” you asked

“As you wish,” He purred. “Shall I keep the restraints on?” he asked, genuinely.

“Yes, I wanted to feel. Make me feel.” You said, your voice now heavy with desire.

“Well, who are you ordering me around, little thing?” he said, reaching down to tweak your nipple, HARD.  “I am the one who commands you. I am your god.” He leaned down, squeezing your cheeks and holding your mouth open to spit into it. “Swallow that my sweet cum whore.” You did so, your eyes rolling back. He smirked.

“I take it back. You ARE a naughty little girl.” He said, kissing you as he pulled his pants down, freeing his cock. Big, and blue. Just like the rest of him. Your toys back home could barely hold a candle to his. You bit your lip.

“You want this, don’t you my sweet girl? You want to be my little whore? Beg for my cock.” He said, sliding his cock along your cunt, feeling you get wet.

“Please…please fuck me Loki. Please.” You bs egged.

He pushed his cock in, making you gasp at the feeling of being split open by him.

“Fuck…this tight little quim…” he grunted, rocking his hips and fucking you deeper. “So perfect around my cock.” His cock was cool, like the rest of his touches, but you felt yourself getting hotter and hotter from his touches. As he fucked you, he peppered your neck and face in kisses, growling sinful things in your ear. “Such a naughty little girl…I’m going to claim this cunt as mine…you will always remember…you belong to me…” He promised.

“Loki please…fuck me….” Your please were cut off when Loki wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough.

“I. Told. You.” He growled, each of his words being punctuated by a hard thrust, driving the full length of his cock inside you. “I don’t.” Thrust “Take orders.” Thrust. “From bratty little whores.” His last thrust had your eyes rolling back as he resumed a punishing pace. You were already so sensitive from your last orgasm, and his other hand was circling your clit and driving you even crazier.

“I can your cunt tightening around my cock AGAIN.” He degraded. “But if you want to come this time, I better hear you ask nicely for it. Go on…tell Loki what you want for Christmas.” He mocked. But it seemed to make you want it more. His hand was still squeezing your throat, but you choked out

“Please…please can I cum…for Christmas?” you whimpered, tears leaving your eyes out of desperation. He leaned close to you and whispered.

“I am going to cum within you, so that you always know, always remember, who you belong to. Now. Cum.” He ordered. You came hard, harder than you’d ever truly thought possible. Every nerve was on fire with pleasure and passion. Above you, Loki stilled as he filled you with his cum, squeezing your throat so hard you thought you’d pass out. He gave a few more thrusts, riding out his orgasm, then slowly lowered himself to meet your body, kissing you again, but with all the tenderness of a lover.

As you two lay there in post coital bliss, you could feel the bonds fall away from your arms and legs.

“Loki?”

“Shhhh.” He breathed, adjusting you two to lay on your sides, still connected. But as he held you, you did not feel cold. You felt safe and secure.

“You mortals have some interesting customs nowadays. Not bad, just interesting.”

“I suppose. But some of the old customs were pretty odd too. Candles on a dried tree? No wonder London was constantly on fire.” You both chuckled.

“I wish there was some way to tell if this was all a dream.” You said; your eyes heavy with sleep.

“Perhaps. But even if it is, I’m sure you shall remember it.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then remember the good times and fret not about the details.” He mused.  You wanted to respond, but his soothing voice and gentle touches pulled you into sleep.

The next morning you awoke, feeling better rested than you’d had in some time now. You looked around the room and all was as it should be. Your clothes, your bed, the sun was shining bright on a beautiful Christmas morning. But as you looked, there was a small blue box sitting on the night stand.

“No….it couldn’t be.” You opened the box and there, encrusted with your birthstone, was a small silver “L.” In the box was a note.

Merry Christmas, my darling pet. I hope I’ve made this one to remember.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

the moon will sing a song for me

The first of two chapters of my fic for @fandomtrumpshate is up! It's a gift for Kali, a modern with magic AU featuring werewolf!Jaskier, lots of pining, questionable taste in pizza toppings, and angst with a happy ending (in more ways than one.)

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: E

Warnings: none

Summary: When Jaskier returns after a full moon trapped in his wolf form, Geralt knows something is terribly wrong with his best friend and roommate—who Geralt may or may not have been pining over for the past decade. But as the days pass and Geralt, his fellow witchers, and Yennefer fail to figure out what's wrong with Jaskier, Jaskier starts to lose himself to the wolf. Can Geralt get him back before it’s too late?

You can read the first couple of scenes below or the whole thing here on AO3!

***

"So, are you going to kill me?" the werewolf asks through a mouthful of pineapple and pepperoni pizza. There's a string of cheese hanging from his bottom lip.

"Do I need to kill you?" Geralt hopes he sounds less uncertain than he actually is.

Nothing about the call they received at headquarters an hour ago about a vicious werewolf on Hierarch Boulevard prepared him for this. Not because he found a vicious werewolf, but because he found a young man busking outside a pizza parlor, wearing a seasonally inappropriate flowered shirt and a pair of jeans with so many holes in them, they may as well have been shorts.

When the kid—he only looks a couple of years younger than Geralt’s age of twenty-three, but he has a baby face that makes Geralt think ‘kid’—realized that the man standing over him was a witcher, he seemed more resigned than terrified.

“If we’re going to do this, you’re going to buy me a slice of pizza first,” he said and bewildered, Geralt agreed. And somehow ended up buying him an entire pie.

Now, the werewolf shrugs. He's doing everything he can to look casual, though Geralt can smell his anxiety. "I sure hope not."

"We got a call that you were menacing people on Hierarch Boulevard."

The werewolf's eyebrows draw together. "Look, I know my cover of 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' wasn't my best work, but calling it menacing seems like an overreaction."

“Hm.”

“First of all.” The kid raises his piece of pizza as if making a point. “You’ll notice that I was playing my guitar. That’s impossible to do in my wolf form. I’ve tried. Second of all, we’re two weeks from a full moon. Even a baby werewolf probably won’t lose control this time of month. I’m twenty. I’ve been able to control my shift since I was like fourteen. Third, if I was going to go berserk, I wouldn’t do it in my favorite busking spot. I have a rapport with all the local business owners and mauling people is bad for business.”

“Then why would someone call and report you?”

The werewolf lets out a laugh entirely devoid of humor. “My guess is that it was that fuck Earl de Stael. He’s my girlfriend’s other boyfriend. We’ve never gotten along and lately he seems to have a bug up his butt, thinking Victoria likes me more than him. Which she probably does, but he has a trust fund, which more than makes up for the lack of personality and the terrible taste in clothes."

“Hm,” Geralt says again, because he really doesn’t know what to say.

“So.” The werewolf grabs a fifth slice of pizza. “What’s it like, being a witcher?”

“Not sure yet,” Geralt says mildly. “Only got my certification six months ago.”

“Is it true that you’re like a super soldier?”

“I don’t know about that.” Geralt shrugs.

“I mean, they did something to you.” The werewolf gestures at his face with a pizza crust. “Unless you were born with golden, slit-pupiled eyes?”

“I wasn’t. My eyes were green.” Geralt isn’t sure why he says that, but the words just come out.

“Fascinating.” The werewolf wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “So, am I your first werewolf?”

“No.”

“Did you buy the last one pizza?”

“No, I killed her.”

The werewolf’s heartbeat picks up and his eyes flick towards the door. “Ah.”

Geralt grimaces. “She had killed one person and was an active danger to three others. I had no choice.”

And he still threw up afterwards.

The werewolf smells afraid and Geralt hates that. The hardest thing about waking up after the Trials was suddenly being able to smell how scared everyone was of him. He tries to sound gentle, or as gentle as he can sound with his fucked up, gravelly voice, as he says, “Look, I’m not going to kill you. From what I can tell, the most monstrous thing about you is your taste in pizza toppings.”

The werewolf’s relief morphs into outrage, his mouth dropping open to reveal a ball of chewed up cheese, bread, and meat. “What in Melitele’s name is wrong with my taste in pizza toppings?”

“Pineapple and pepperoni?”

“The sweetness of the pineapple and the spiciness of the pepperoni—”

“No.”

“Just try it.” The werewolf shoves the tray of pizza at him. “It will change your life.”

“Hm.”

“Come on.” Blue eyes twinkle at him with mirth. They’re pretty blue eyes, Geralt can’t help but notice. “Do you trust me?”

“I’ve known you for fifteen minutes.” But Geralt takes a slice of pizza. Because he’s hungry and a little curious. Not because of the blue eyes.

“What do you think?” The werewolf sits forward.

“It tastes like shitty pizza with pineapple and pepperoni on top.” Geralt drops the rest of his slice back on the tray.

“So amazing?”

Geralt only grunts in answer.

The werewolf puts a hand over his heart. “How disappointing to learn that my new best friend has shit taste in pizza.”

“We’re not friends.”

“You saved my life. Well, spared it. I think that makes us friends.”

Geralt wants to say that the werewolf’s life was never in any danger, that no witcher he knows would have walked up to an innocent person who wasn’t even in wolf form and killed them. But then he thinks of some of the older witchers he’s met—like fucking Varin—and rethinks that. “I don’t even know your name. We can’t be friends if I don’t know your name.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” the werewolf says. “I’m Jaskier.”

***

Ten Years Later

The house is always too quiet on full moons.

When Geralt and Jaskier first moved in together eight years ago, it took Geralt months to adjust to all the noises his new roommate made. He and Jaskier had been friends for just over two years at that point, but Geralt had still been taken off guard by the sheer volume of noise that Jaskier could make. He even brushed his teeth loudly and his snores kept Geralt awake every night until he invested in a white noise machine and a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

But over the years, Geralt has grown so accustomed to the noise that the silence that greets him when he steps through the front door may as well be a roar. He’s used to coming home from his hunts to the sounds of Jaskier puttering around the kitchen on a mission to make late night pancakes, strumming on his guitar, or snoring in front of the TV. He always waits up for Geralt to come home from his hunts—or tries to, at least—even after all these years.

“If I go to bed before you get home, how will I know if you’ve had your insides torn out by a wyvern and are lying in a ditch somewhere?” Jaskier demanded the last time Geralt told him that the waiting up was unnecessary.

“That was one time.”

“Oh, you’ve only been disemboweled one time. How silly of me, I won’t worry anymore.”

The silence of the house is broken by a meow as Roach comes to greet Geralt, tail twitching in irritation at the indignity of being left alone for hours.

“Hey, girl.” Geralt scoops her up, scratching under her chin. “How’s it been?”

Roach meows at him again. She never likes full moons either. 

“I know,” Geralt says. “He’ll be back in the morning.”

That earns him an unimpressed look. Geralt almost reminds her that he’s the one who found her in the basement of a wraith-haunted abandoned house when she was just a tiny ball of fluff and brought her home to nurse her back to health, and then remembers that arguing with his cat that she should love him more than she loves his roommate probably isn’t a good sign. Anyway, he can’t begrudge Jaskier Roach’s love; his friend is far too lovable for anyone’s good, including Geralt’s.

Geralt carefully puts that thought out of his mind as he makes his way into the kitchen, Roach tucked under one arm. If Jaskier were here, he would be peppering Geralt with questions about tonight’s alghoul hunt, fussing over Geralt’s nonexistent wounds, and complaining loudly about the stench of necrophage that lingers on his armor. Geralt tries not to pay attention to the pang of regret in his belly as he heeds Roach’s pitiful meows and adds some fresh wet food to her half-full food bowl.

He checks the fridge to make sure they have enough eggs, then takes a rib-eye steak out of the freezer to defrost. When Jaskier comes home around dawn, exhausted and smelling like rabbit blood, Geralt will have breakfast waiting for him so Jaskier can wolf down an entire steak, a dozen eggs, and a pile of toast before going to bed to sleep off his full moon hangover. Geralt will spend the day curled up in bed with him, keeping him warm and comfortable.

If Jaskier were part of a pack, he would spend his full moon gamboling around the woods with his fellow werewolves and spend the day after collapsed in a puppy pile with his packmates. But Jaskier doesn’t have that. He spends his full moons alone and the day after, all he has is Geralt. While Jaskier usually is usually sanguine about his estrangement from the Novigrad and Lettenhove packs, it always seems to weigh on him in the days after the full moon. It’s the least Geralt can do to try and ease his loneliness.

Roach meows at him again and Geralt realizes he’s been staring out the sliding glass door at the woods behind their house, watching for a glint of blue eyes in the dark. He looks down to find his cat staring up at him in clear judgment. “Fuck off,” he tells her. “You miss him too.”

With an irritable twitch of her tail, she returns to her food and Geralt heads down the hall to wash the alghoul blood out of his hair before he goes to sleep.  Dawn—and Jaskier—will be here before he knows it.

***

Geralt wakes to sunlight streaming through the window and Roach stepping on his face. He groans as he relocates her to the pillow, glancing at the clock to see that it's well past 8 AM. It takes him a moment to realize what’s wrong with this picture: the sound of the sliding glass door in the kitchen should have woken him hours ago when Jaskier returned home. Jaskier is never sneaky, especially when he’s clumsy with exhaustion the morning after a full moon.

“Fuck.” Geralt stumbles out of bed and across the hall to Jaskier’s room. He’s unsurprised to find the door ajar and Jaskier’s bed still empty, the blue and yellow comforter crumpled on the floor, just like it was the night before. Jaskier’s scent of eucalyptus and mint is present, but faint. He didn’t sleep here last night.

There are plenty of good reasons that Jaskier may not have returned home last night, Geralt tells himself, even as his sense of unease grows. Maybe he met another lone wolf last night and they’re off somewhere, cuddled together as they sleep off the moon’s effects. It wouldn’t be the first time Jaskier has forgotten to tell Geralt when he was going off with some new paramour.

But lone wolves like Jaskier are vulnerable, both to trophy hunters and to other werewolves. Jaskier has no pack to protect him if he gets into trouble. Hell, Earl de Stael alone has tried to kill him at least a half a dozen times in the past decade. The thought of Jaskier in a hunter’s snare or falling under another werewolf’s claws sends a nauseous feeling crawling up Geralt’s throat. Not panic. Witchers don’t get the luxury of panic.

A scratching noise from the kitchen distracts him from his not-panic. Heart pounding a bit too hard than a witcher’s should, Geralt hurries down the hall to the kitchen and finds Roach standing at the sliding glass door, meowing insistently. There’s a bear-sized wolf with brown fur and bright blue eyes standing on the back porch, panting in clear agitation. Geralt only occasionally sees Jaskier in his wolf form, because Jaskier rarely shifts outside of full moons, but he would know those blue eyes anywhere. He can see the fear in them.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” Geralt slides the door open and immediately winds up with a face full of fur as Jaskier jumps up, nosing at his face insistently. Geralt stumbles back under the unexpected weight and Jaskier backs off, whining apologetically. His ears are pinned back and his tail is tucked between his legs. Even trying to make himself look as small as possible, he takes up most of their tiny kitchen.

“What happened?” Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s fur, searching for signs of injury. There’s a bit of dried blood crusted around his mouth, but that more than likely belongs to whatever forest critter was Jaskier’s dinner last night.

Jaskier only whines in response.

“Why are you still a wolf?” Geralt asks.

Big blue eyes stare up at him mournfully.

A horrible thought occurs to Geralt. “Can you not shift back?”

Jaskier shakes his massive head from side to side.

Geralt knows that young werewolves often have this problem. Jaskier likes to laughingly tell the story of shifting into wolf form in his middle school bathroom after a pretty girl asked for his number and not being able to shift back for the rest of the day. But Jaskier isn’t a pimply preteen, but a thirty year old man. Outside of a full moon, he should be in perfect control of his shift. Most of the time, the only signs that he’s not perfectly human are his penchant for extra-rare meat and his superhuman stamina (which Geralt has only heard about secondhand.)

“Did someone do something to you?” Geralt demands.

Jaskier whines and shakes his head again.

Geralt has a thousand other questions, but Jaskier can’t answer any of them right now and seems to be growing more agitated by the minute. Running what he hopes is a soothing hand down Jaskier’s back, Geralt says, “It’s going to be okay, Jask. I’ll call Yenn. Whatever happened, she can help us sort it out.”

***

“What the fuck have you gotten into now, Jaskier?” Yennefer demands, arms folded over her chest in clear disapproval.

From the wreckage of what was once their couch—it turns out that the couch they picked up at a yard sale six years ago wasn’t structurally sound enough to support the weight of a full-grown werewolf leaping onto it—Jaskier grumbles.

“Don’t start,” Yennefer snaps. “I just had to get up early the morning after a full moon for this.”

Normally, Geralt is amused by Jaskier and Yennefer’s bickering. When he first met Yennefer, she and Jaskier couldn’t stand each other. By the time he and Yennefer broke up, she and Jaskier were such good friends that Geralt was a little worried that Jaskier would choose her friendship over his. But he and Yennefer managed to make it through their breakup and become better friends than they ever were lovers, and now she and Jaskier meet up for brunch every other weekend. They bicker constantly, complain about each other endlessly, and would both happily kill anyone who so much as looked at the other one wrong—including Geralt, he often suspects.

But Geralt can’t find any amusement right now, not when Jaskier still looks so frightened. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t think he can shift back.”

Yennefer frowns down at Jaskier.

“Can you fix this?” Geralt hears the thread of desperation in her own voice.

“You’re assuming there’s something to fix.” Yennefer walks over to the werewolf, putting a hand on his snout. Jaskier closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Her expression softens. “I’m going to have to look into your mind, Jaskier. I’m not going to see something that will scar me for life, will I?”

Jaskier huffs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” But Yennefer still slides her hand up to rest on top of Jaksier’s head and closes her eyes. Geralt’s medallion starts to hum around his neck while she works her mind-reading magic. He tries not to look visibly impatient as he watches the two of them for what feels like an eternity.

Finally, Yennefer steps back and Geralt asks, “What did you see?”

“Nothing.” She frowns down at Jaskier. “He doesn’t know why this has happened and neither do I. If there’s a curse on him, it’s subtle enough that I can’t detect it. He has no memory of being attacked. He’s not injured. There’s no explanation that I can figure out.”

“Then how do we fix it?” Geralt’s voice comes out rougher than he intends.

Jaskier whines, ducking his head.

Yennefer shoots Geralt a sharp look. “Of course I’m not going to let you stay a wolf, Jaskier. You’re coming with me to the Conclave at Thanedd next month, remember? I can’t tolerate that many sorcerers without you there to scandalize them.”

Jaskier makes an annoyed grumbling noise.

“What’s he saying?” Geralt asks.

“He says he’s more worried that he’s going to miss his gig with Priscilla on Friday night,” Yennefer says. “Maybe he was cursed by someone who wants to have a nice night out without listening to his warbling.”

Jaskier barks and Yennefer reaches over to scratch his nose, which causes him to huff, even as he leans into it.

“So what do we do?” Geralt asks. “If it’s most likely not a curse, how do we turn him human again?”

Jaskier whines softly into Yennefer’s hand and she frowns, all the humor leaving her face.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt demands.

Yennefer hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nothing. He’s just being his dramatic self.” Pulling away from Jaskier, she turns to Geralt. “I’ll see if I can find a spell to safely force a shift. In the meantime, I’m sure there’s someone in the Novigrad Pack who will know something.”

“You’re assuming we can find someone in the Novigrad Pack that will help us,” Geralt says and Jaskier barks an agreement.

“Wave your swords around if you have to. Most people find that sufficiently motivating.”

Geralt is about to argue, then notices Jaskier looking at him with big, worried eyes. He knows he’ll wave his swords at whoever he needs to if it means hearing Jaskier’s voice again and seeing his eyes spark with laughter instead of worry. With a sigh, he crosses the room to kneel down in front of his friend, leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s. He doesn’t even complain when Jaskier licks him on the chin, even though his breath smells like dead rabbits and worse things.

“We’ll figure this out, Jask,” he murmurs, burying his fingers into soft brown fur. “We’ll fix this, I promise.”

***

Read the rest on AO3!

[theapprenticeofthanatos]

TAoT: Chapter 34: Kindred Spirits Part 3

WE LIVE!!! ACK.

We are truly sorry for the lack of updates on this fic, life has been rough (still is) and we lost motivation there for a bit. Sorry about that!!! Hopefully IRL things will calm down a bit, but it’s unlikely. BUT we are still going to do our best to update at least once a month (even though we didn’t manage to last month… or the month before 😬).

To everyone who made it this far, thank you for sticking with us, y’all are the best! 😭

~~~~~~~~~~

Danny POV:

As Danny returned to consciousness, he groaned miserably. His head felt like a little elf was taking a sledgehammer to his skull. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was…

Ellie.

She… she had literally shot him in the back! Why that little… Danny blinked, hissing as pain shot through his eyes. When he got his hands on her—

But then he froze. Where… was he?

Immediately, he could see that he was trapped in the same black and green containment cube that Vlad had imprisoned him in the first time they met, in what he assumed was one of Vlad’s many secret labs (how many secret labs could one billionaire have?). To Danny’s right sat a large computer terminal, and on its screen were pictures and videos of him; fighting, flying, morphing… it looked somewhat like a video game character info screen. There were even simulated strands of his DNA.

Eww.

The next thing that Danny noticed was the fact that there were lit candles scattered all over the room. They smelled like stinky cheese and rotten eggs, and they made Danny’s eyes water. What was that all about? Had Vlad decided to do a bit of redecorating? Spice up his lab a little bit? Because it wasn’t working.

There was movement in the corner of his vision, and Danny craned his neck to see as Vlad emerged from the shadows, with a pleased grin on his face; he looked every bit like the cat that caught the canary.

“You’ve been spying on me?” Danny said immediately, disgusted. “Y’know, am I even really surprised? Of course a fruitloop like you would keep files on me.”

Vlad’s smile fell instantly, replaced by a look of indignant rage. “I am not! A! FRUIT! LOOP!” He snapped.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Danny retorted with a smirk. “What with this whole villainous lair setup you’ve got going on.”

Vlad growled, but then his anger seemed to fade as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed tiredly. “I am not a villain, either. All I am, Daniel, is a man… that wants to be loved.”

Vlad pressed a button on the wall beside him, and there was the sound of machinery moving behind him. He stepped to the side, revealing a tube-shaped containment pod, inside of which was…

Me?

No. A clone. A seemingly perfect, identical copy of none other than Danny Phantom was standing in the pod. Its eyes were closed as if it were asleep, and would wake at any moment.

A chill ran down Danny’s spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. This was beyond creepy.

“It has taken months,” Vlad rambled on. “But now, at last, the good clone is nearly ready to accept your DNA.”

The good clone? That meant… “Wait, Ellie’s a clone? Of me?”

“If by Ellie, you mean Danielle,” Vlad drawled disdainfully. “Then yes.”

“And the others…” Danny was connecting the dots now. “Frankenstein, and the bedsheet ghost! They were clones, too?”

“Yes,” Vlad confirmed. “Bad clones. Mistakes.” He snapped his fingers, and the miniscule specter Danny had been chasing around town suddenly darted into the room. It whizzed around Danny’s head like an annoying fly, before coming to a stop at Vlad’s side.

Suddenly, the tiny ghost grew in size, until it was Danny’s height. And now that Danny could see it in close, gruesome detail, he felt like he was going to be sick.

The ghost looked… well, the best way to describe its appearance was that it looked like it had spent a few minutes inside of a microwave. Its skin looked like melted cheese on a hot, greasy pizza, and bits of it fell away, slopping onto the floor where they bubbled away into nothing. The ghost bared its fangs at Danny and hissed, and its left eye suddenly fell out of its socket, landing on the floor with a wet splat before it disintegrated into goop.

Vlad continued monologuing as if nothing had happened. “And I would watch a hundred more failures dissolve into ectoplasm to get the perfect half-ghost son.”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny chuckled dryly, scowling at the other halfa. “Nothing loopy about that. Y’know, once I get outta here, maybe I can help you find a nice cat to care for, instead of growing humans in your secret lab!”

Vlad merely smirked at Danny’s taunting. “Are you under the impression that you’re getting out of this? I need a DNA sample of you mid-morph to complete my work. And then…” Vlad sneered as he snapped his fingers, and the goopy clone shrunk back down before darting towards Danny. “You will be obsolete.”

The miniature ghost struck Danny in the center of his forehead, and burrowed into his flesh like a tick. Pain immediately flooded Danny’s body, igniting every inch of his nerves like lights on a Christmas tree. It felt like every one of his muscles was seizing, and he struggled to fight against the ghost as it attempted to overshadow him.

“Get… out… of me!” Danny growled, his teeth grinding together as his eyes rolled back in his head. But then a spark of cold flickered to life in his chest, and Danny felt stronger. It was like his core was trying to burn away the invading spirit, and Danny worked with it, gathering every bit of strength to push the clone out. Out, out! Get out!

But then Vlad pushed a button on his computer console, and Danny screamed as electricity shot through his body. It arced along his spine and made him feel like he had been dipped in battery acid. The shock stopped after only a few seconds, and Danny’s head slumped forward as his vision went black, and he fell unconscious.

.

Sam POV:

Sam and Tucker stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the brick facade of FentonWorks. They needed to get inside, but 1) they didn’t have Danny with them as an excuse, and 2) school was still in session. A peek through the window revealed Jack and Maddie Fenton sitting in the living room, and the two teens knew that they would be questioned immediately on sight for their truancy.

“How are we going to get inside now?” Tucker lamented.

“Back door.” Sam answered simply. “Come on.”

She led Tucker around the street corner and to the backyard, where she proceeded to boost him over the fence before climbing over herself. Together, the two teens scurried across the backyard and came to a stop at the back door. Tucker peered through the kitchen window, before giving Sam a thumbs-up: the coast was clear.

Carefully, Sam slowly turned the doorknob. The latch released without a sound, but the hinges did squeak as she pushed the door open. Luckily, the sound was drowned out by Jack’s voice in the living room.

“Why, when I get ahold of those kids, they’re gonna get the scolding of a lifetime! They’ll be cleaning out beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks for weeks!”

Maddie sighed. “Let’s just hope that a summer at Camp Delphi will teach Danny to be a little more responsible with his learning.”

Sam tuned out the rest of the adults’ conversation as she closed the door behind Tucker. Moving as silently as they could, the two of them made their way across the kitchen and down into the basement. Once they had made it down the stairs, they abandoned any pretense of stealth in favor of quickly grabbing what they needed to rescue Danny.

Tucker hopped into the Specter Speeder and started its warm-up sequence, while Sam grabbed the Boo-merang from its spot on one of the counters. Spying the Specter Deflector, she decided to snag it as well; maybe it would come in handy later on. Sam really wanted to stay and grab just a couple more gadgets—they were going up against Vlad, after all—but they were already running on borrowed time. So with both devices shoved into her backpack, she ran back to the Specter Speeder and hopped in.

“Ready to go?” Tucker asked her.

“Sure,” Sam muttered testily. “Let’s go with that.”

Tucker wisely kept his mouth shut and returned his attention to the controls in front of him. Sam moved to close the door of the Specter Speeder, but she froze when the familiar, booming voice of Jack Fenton came from the top of the stairs.

“Sam! Tucker! Get out of there!”

Frick.

“Uhh, whaaat?” Sam called back, her heart pounding like a timpani as a nervous sweat trickled down her back. They were gonna be so dead when they got back. “I can’t hear you over the, uhh, roar of the rockets!”

Sam slammed the door shut and whirled around to face Tucker. “Could you activate the roar of the rockets, please?” She hissed.

“On it!” Tucker squeaked, his hands flitting over the controls.

Sam could feel the vehicle coming to life under her feet, and she took her spot in the passenger’s seat just as the gateway to the lab’s underground tunnel slid open, and the Specter Speeder shot forward like a bat out of Hell. They flew down the tunnel and surfaced outside, quickly taking to the skies and leaving the Fenton household far behind them.

.

The two teens and their stolen hovercraft came to a stop once they had cleared the tallest of the buildings in Amity Park, and Sam powered on the Boo-merang as Tucker opened the windshield of the Speeder.

“Okay.” Sam stood and looked down at the tracking device in her hands. “Find Danny.”

And with that command, Sam drew back her arm, and threw the Boo-merang as hard as she could out into the open air. The device took to the air like a bird, and it immediately zipped off towards the horizon, in search of Sam and Tucker’s ghostly best friend.

Sam sat down as the windshield slid shut. “Tucker, follow that stupidly named tracking device!”

.

Danny POV:

Danny awoke with another pounding headache. Whether it was the same one from before or something new, he didn’t know or particularly care. And as he blinked his eyes open, he saw that he was now inside one of the containment pods he had seen earlier. His wrists were cuffed to the sides of the pod, and a light tug revealed that the metal restraints weren’t going to break easily.

Scowling, Danny gritted his teeth, preparing to rip the handcuffs from the walls. But then he heard the clicking of a dial, and suddenly his world lit up in blinding, electrifying pain. Danny screamed as his muscles spasmed, and he could feel his body trying to transform against his will.

The cold in Danny’s core tried to protest, but it was quickly smothered by another presence. A presence that felt like an invader, that was trying to take over his body and make him bend to its will.

The clone. It was still inside of him.

White rings of light formed around Danny’s waist, but he bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood as he fought against the transformation. With a great deal of effort, the rings shrank, but they didn’t dissipate like he had hoped. It was clear that the clone was fighting against him, intent on obeying Vlad’s orders so the crazed fruitloop could get Danny’s mid-morph DNA sample, and then… what?

Make a new, more obedient Danny? And put the old one out of commission?

Yeah, fat chance, pal.

As Danny fought against the clone within his body, he could just barely hear voices outside his containment pod. It sounded like Vlad, and… his mom?

The shock of hearing his mother’s voice caught Danny off guard, and it gave the clone a chance to take over. The transformation rings crept over his skin again, before Danny managed to push them back down with a pained scream.

The sound of two more clicks reached Danny’s ears, and then the pain was suddenly amplified. He could hear the electricity buzzing in his skull, and feel it as it shot up his arms and down his spine, rooting him to the ground where he stood. It was like thousands of fire ants crawling under his skin, their touch like battery acid to his flesh.

But Danny wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to let Vlad win. He couldn’t, because if he did, then Vlad would kill him. He didn’t want to die!

The cold in Danny’s core grew stronger, and the clone doubled its efforts. He could feel it inside of him, its essence trying to smother the cold in his core and force his ghostly transformation to take over. But he couldn’t let that happen. He needed to get out. He needed to get away.

Suddenly, a surge of cold erupted from Danny’s core, freezing the metal restraints holding him captive, and covering the window of the pod in frost. Through the pain coursing inside of him, Danny could just barely make out the voice of his mom again.

“Containment chamber beginning to overload.”

The clone in Danny’s body seemed to be frantically trying to change him, but Danny wasn’t going to let that happen. The white rings crept up and down his torso, and out of options, Danny dug into his core, searching for every last ounce of strength that he had. If he could just break these chains, and escape the pod, then he would be free. He just needed to push… a little harder…

All of a sudden, the electricity zapping through Danny’s body grew stronger—so strong that the pain it was causing was almost unbearable—and then a split second later, there was a deafening BOOM, followed by the shattering of glass, and the electricity was gone. A billowing, acrid smoke filled the air, and with his restraints now broken, Danny had to fight to keep from collapsing right then and there.

He couldn’t feel the clone in his body anymore. Whether that meant it had been pushed from him in the explosion, or it had disintegrated like the others he had fought before, he wasn’t sure. But far more importantly, he was free. Now, he just had to…

Mustering what strength he had left, Danny finally allowed his ghostly transformation to wash over him. Feeling strangely detached from his body, Danny floated up from the wreckage of the containment pod, and drifted forward into the smokey room. Vlad emerged from the smoke in front of him, looking completely shocked at the devastation Danny had caused to his lab, but Danny didn’t care. He just turned intangible and passed right through the elder halfa, ignoring the angry shouts that echoed after him as he glided up to the ceiling, and left the confines of the underground laboratory.

.

It took Danny a bit to find his way through the maze that was one of Vlad’s many mansions. He was so exhausted that he had to stop, falling to his knees as he reached what looked like a den of some sort. It was complete with a roaring fireplace, a lush armchair, and stuffed animal head trophies hanging from the walls.

So, they were in Vlad’s Colorado mansion, then. Danny remembered it from back when Vlad had stranded Danny and his mom out in the mountain wilderness, only to “rescue” them and make a move on his mom.

Danny weakly shook his head. Not important right now… need… to get away…

But how? He didn’t have the strength to fly away now. He couldn’t even stand. He was thousands of miles away from home, how could he possibly get back…?

Shadow-travel. That… that was an option. But he definitely didn’t have the energy for that. He didn’t want to risk trying to shadow-travel home, only to be ripped apart if he wasn’t strong enough to hold himself together…

Thanatos. He could shadow-travel to where Danny was, and take him back home. Yes, that… that would work…

Exhaustion weighed on Danny’s shoulders like a heavy stone as, with a trembling hand, he pulled off his right glove. His apprentice mark glowed brightly against his skin as he brought his fingers to the silvery letters…

But just as Danny’s fingertips brushed against his forearm, a blast of green ectoplasm shot up through the floor, striking him in the gut and sending him flying. Danny hit the wall on the far side of the room and fell to the ground, cracking his head against the stone floor.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Danny’s head spun, his eyes watering as he looked up and saw Ellie standing in front of him. The girl glared at Danny, but as she raised her hands he noticed that there were tears in her eyes. Before Danny could question her, she shot another ecto-blast his way, and Danny barely managed to throw up a weak ecto-shield that cracked immediately on impact.

A green cloud of smoke filled the air between the two halfas, and Ellie’s ecto-blast flickered out as Danny’s shield shattered and fell away. As the smoke cleared, Danny watched as Ellie growled and immediately began charging another blast between her palms.

“Stop fighting!” She shouted, and a smirk formed on her lips, but it was clearly forced; a weak attempt at looking confident. “I know you’re too weak to beat me,” Ellie goaded, but the words fell flat in the air between them.

Something… something was wrong. If Danny didn’t know better, he’d say that Ellie seemed scared.

Danny’s gaze fell to the floor, and his eyes widened in alarm as he saw that Ellie’s feet were beginning to melt into goop—just like the other clones had. “Ellie, stop!” He cried.

Ellie sneered; the expression looked rather out of place on her childish face. “Why? Are you scared?”

“No! But every time I’ve fought a clone, they’ve turned to goop.” Danny pointed a shaky hand at Ellie’s feet. “Like you are now.”

The cockiness fell away from Ellie’s face instantly, replaced by shock, and then fear as she looked down and saw the green ectoplasmic goop leaking from her legs and onto the stone floor. She shrieked as she stumbled back, the ectoplasmic charge flickering away in her hands as it was completely forgotten. After a few tense seconds, Ellie’s boots resolidified, and it was like nothing had even happened; she looked completely normal.

Ellie looked at Danny then, and the look on her face was that of a terrified child. Danny’s heart ached for her as he got to his feet with a grunt of pain. “Ellie, please,” Danny wheezed; he was pretty sure that his ribs had been bruised at minimum. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then let my father have your morph DNA!” Ellie pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. “So he can save me! I-I don’t…” Ellie sniffled, and Danny was sure that his heart was going to break in two as she tearfully whispered: “I don’t want to die.”

“Neither do I, Ellie,” Danny told her. “But if Vlad succeeds in getting what he needs from me, then I will die.”

Ellie frowned, seemingly confused by Danny’s words, and she shook her head. “No, he… my dad wouldn’t let that happen. He’s not that kind of guy.”

Clearly, Ellie didn’t know Vlad as well as Danny did. “Oh, yes, he is.” Danny argued. “And once he gets what he wants—the perfect half-ghost son—then he’ll forget all about you.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say. Ellie’s expression immediately soured, and her face flushed with anger. “You’re a liar!” She snapped.

“Oh, yeah? Then why is there another clone?” Danny countered. “The one in the containment pod. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

Ellie’s lack of an answer was confirmation enough.

“If you were what he really wanted, then why aren’t you the one in the pod?” Danny asked her, hoping she would realize that he was telling the truth. “Why aren’t you the one all prepped and ready to receive my DNA sample? Why are you the one doing Vlad’s dirty work?”

But despite Danny’s earnestness, Ellie wasn’t having it. She shook her head furiously as she covered her ears with her hands, and when Danny took a step forward Ellie screamed. Before Danny could react, Ellie threw up her hands and shot him in the chest with a two-handed ecto-blast that sent him crashing into the wall behind him.

The impact caused white spots to fill Danny’s vision, and his limbs to stop listening to him. Danny fell, unable to catch himself as he collapsed on the floor. He could feel himself fading from consciousness, and as his vision faded, he just barely caught a glimpse of Ellie kneeling down beside him.

“You’re a liar,” Ellie whispered, but Danny could still make out the tremor of fear in her voice. “And I’m going to prove it.”

.

Thanatos POV:

Clockwork didn’t even look up as Thanatos appeared in the center of his clock tower. “Doors exist for a reason, you know,” he said wryly to the death god. “You’re supposed to knock on them.”

“Can you find Danny?” Thanatos asked, completely ignoring the Primordial’s comment.

Clockwork raised an eyebrow at the question, his expression slightly insulted. “I can find anybody in any timeline. Why do you ask?”

“According to Danny’s friends, he has been kidnapped.” Thanatos ran his fingers over his mark again, his brow furrowing with concern as he felt nothing in response. “I would prefer to just find him myself, but… for a reason unbeknownst to me, I cannot sense him.”

“I see.” Clockwork glided over to one of the seeing glasses and placed his hand on its surface. “Then I will just…”

However, Clockwork trailed off. Thanatos looked up at him, concern growing in his chest. “What is the matter?”

Clockwork was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again he sounded rather confused. “I cannot sense him either.”

Thanatos felt his stomach drop. He walked over to Clockwork and glanced at the screen in front of them, which was swirling with green mist. “What do you mean? You are a—”

“Yes, I am a Primordial,” Clockwork cut him off, sounding more intrigued than frustrated by the problem. “But Clockwork is only a small part of my true form. An astral projection, if you will. I can only do so much in this state. And right now, someone is interfering with my search.”

“What? Who?” Thanatos asked.

Clockwork was quiet for a long moment, his expression screwed up into one of concentration. “A god…” He muttered, his frown deepening. “But as for whom, I am not sure.” He slid his hand across the glass, and images of Danny—at various points in time—began to scroll by quickly. “I can still see Daniel’s past. I will look at the last point in his timeline that I am able to see before my sight is blocked. Perhaps that will shed some light on this situation.”

Not a second later, the screen froze on an image of Danny in his ghost form, standing beside a girl with white hair and a jumpsuit just like Danny’s.

“Ah,” Clockwork hummed thoughtfully. “It’s time already, is it?”

Thanatos was becoming annoyed at the lack of answers. “What are you going on about now?”

Clockwork sighed and backed away from the seeing glass, his hand falling to his side as he gave Thanatos a sympathetic look. “Apologies, my grandson. But I cannot help you in this search.”

Feeling his heart rate suddenly spike, Thanatos closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He then looked at Clockwork and managed to politely ask, through gritted teeth, “Why?”

“My hands are tied,” Clockwork said simply, but Thanatos could swear that there was a pleased tone to the god’s voice. “I am not to interfere.”

“Couldn’t your apprentice help?” Thanatos suggested, feeling desperate.

“No,” Clockwork replied firmly. “She—They cannot be involved. This moment… it is crucial to their timeline.” He gave Thanatos a small, frustrating smile. “But don’t worry. Everything will turn out as it is supposed to.”

Thanatos bit back a growl of frustration and turned away from the ghost. Why had he even bothered going to Clockwork in the first place? He had thought that maybe Clockwork would be kind enough to assist him in finding his apprentice, but no—all the ghost had done was try his best to get under Thanatos’ skin.

Thanatos would just have to find Danny on his own. And when he did, he was going to have a talk with Vladimir Masters.

Suddenly, to Thanatos’ surprise, a flicker of faint magic sparked to life along his right forearm. His apprenticeship mark.

Danny.

The sensation disappeared just as quickly, but it had been enough. Thanatos had been able to get an idea of where his apprentice was being held: Colorado, USA.

And that was a start. It didn’t matter who was trying to keep Danny away from him, be they god or mortal.

No one could hide from Death.

.

Danny POV:

Danny was getting sick of waking up with pounding headaches. Why couldn’t he wake up gently after being so violently knocked out? Twice, might he add! Here was a better question: why couldn’t people just not knock him out? He was sure he had some form of brain damage by this point. Being knocked out so often couldn’t possibly be healthy.

Through the pain, Danny managed to crack open an eye, and he was dismayed to see that he had been placed inside a brand-new containment pod. The one he had destroyed was off to the side, still billowing bluish-gray smoke. And in the pod directly across the room from him was the so-called “perfect clone.”

Great. Fantastic, even. Well, at least he knew where he was this time.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

Danny opened his other eye, and saw none other than Plasmius floating in front of his pod-shaped prison. The older halfa looked… perturbed. Annoyed, perhaps?

Good. Let him be annoyed. Danny thought. All he cared about was escaping, but first…

“Where… where’s Ellie?” Danny croaked. Would it be rude of him to ask for a glass of water?

“Whatever Danielle is doing is not important right now, Daniel.” Vlad answered dismissively. “What is important is you telling me where that tattoo came from.”

“Tattoo?” Danny repeated, confused. He didn’t have a… wait a minute.

Danny looked down, and saw that his elastic bandage was gone, leaving his right forearm bare and exposed. Vlad must have removed the bandage while he was unconscious.

Vlad scowled and rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Daniel. I know a tattoo when I see one.” He turned to one of his various computers and pressed a button, and on its screen appeared a picture of Danny’s forearm, with the black lettering of his mark on display in high definition for anyone to see.

Danny’s blood ran cold. Thanatos had warned him of the dangers if others were to ever learn that he was Death’s apprentice; they would want his powers for themselves, and they would do whatever they could to get it. And Vlad… definitely seemed like someone that would fit into that category.

Thankfully, it seemed that Vlad hadn’t figured it out just yet. And Danny hoped he would be able to throw him off the scent.

“It’s not a tattoo, fruitloop,” Danny scoffed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Or, uhh, not a permanent one, anyway. It’s just, y’know, one of those temporary tats you find in cereal boxes and stuff.”

It was clear that Vlad did not believe him. “Oh, really? And in what cereal box did you find that?” He asked incredulously with a wild gesture towards the computer display.

“What, you don’t know?” Danny retorted snarkily. “Being a fruitloop yourself, I thought you knew all about different types of cereal.”

It took a second for Danny’s comment to register in Vlad’s mind, and when it did the elder halfa’s face flushed green with indignation as he realized that Danny was intentionally messing with him. Danny smirked, and if he weren’t trapped in such a dangerous situation then he might’ve even laughed.

Vlad clenched his fists, and then he sighed tiredly. “Sometimes, I truly wonder how you have survived for so long with that smart mouth of yours, Daniel.” He muttered bitterly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s all thanks to my charming personality,” Danny responded cheekily.

Vlad growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not having this ridiculous conversation right now, Daniel.”

“Seems to me like you are, actually,” Danny pointed out.

But Vlad didn’t rise to the bait that time. Shame. Danny still had more sass to dish out. Though really, he knew he should be more focused on escaping than antagonizing; he didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed to be.

But he hadn’t been able to contact Thanatos. He hadn’t been able to speak the summoning phrase—he had barely managed to brush his fingers against his mark before he was captured again.

Hopefully, somehow, Thanatos had still noticed Danny’s meager call for help. But in the meantime, Danny would have to try his best to escape on his own.

“Y’know, you really should let me go,” Danny said coolly as he glanced down at his restraints, looking disinterestedly at them as if they were irritating slap bracelets at best. “I’m sure that my friends are looking for me, and when they find out that you kidnapped me—”

Vlad cackled, sounding every bit like the two-bit villain he appeared to be. “Oh, please. I’m not afraid of a couple of teenagers.”

“W-well, I’ve got another friend!” Danny shot back. Thanatos was his friend, right? Acquaintance, at least? … boss, perhaps? Whatever, it wasn’t important right now. “And he’s, uhh… he’s pretty scary. And he’ll definitely be looking for me, so you better let me go before he gets here.”

Danny had known that it was a long shot that Vlad would cave to his vague threats, but he hadn’t expected the other halfa’s demeanor to immediately turn cold and serious.

“Oh, another friend, you say?” Danny could hear the venom and hatred in Vlad’s voice, and it made him wonder just what exactly had happened between Vlad and Thanatos at the airport just… what, eleven days ago? Seriously? It hadn’t even been two weeks from his return, and Vlad was already causing him problems? Come on!

Danny looked up at the sound of squeaking metal, and he watched as Vlad dug through a filing cabinet. The halfa pulled out a piece of paper covered in strange scribbles, along with a couple of those awful-smelling candles.

“Luckily for you,” Vlad called over his shoulder as he taped the paper to the nearby wall and sat the candles on top of one of his work desks, setting them alight with a snap of his fingers. “I’ve prepared for your new friend.”

Seemingly satisfied with whatever he had done, Vlad turned to face Danny with a triumphant smirk. “I know how to hide from the Ancients, Daniel. You learn a trick or two when delving into things that you shouldn’t be.”

“… what?” Danny said bewilderedly. “Ancients?”

Vlad gave Danny a rather unimpressed look, as if to ask: how stupid are you? “Well, duh. Obviously that’s what your new buddy is. I’ll admit he’s a little… different from most old ghosts I’ve met.” If Danny didn’t know better, then he would’ve sworn that he saw a shiver run down Vlad’s back. “But I have measures in place for protecting myself. After all, you don’t learn as much as I have by being nice and asking permission. Of course I’ve upset a few mighty spirits along the way,” Vlad emphasized with finger quotes. “But there’s nothing ghostly that a few stinky candles and ancient runes can’t keep at bay.”

Well, Danny was pretty sure that a few stinky candles were going to do absolutely nothing to stop an immortal god of death, but he certainly wasn’t about to tell Vlad that.

But before Danny could think of anything else to say, he noticed a flicker of movement behind Vlad, and he watched as Ellie phased through the back wall of the lab. Their eyes met, and Ellie quickly placed a finger to her lips in a silent command: don’t say anything.

Oh, Danny was going to say something. And certainly not something that Ellie wanted to hear.

Ellie was a good person; Danny could tell. She was just misguided, and she refused to believe that her “father” could possibly be as evil as Danny claimed him to be. Danny couldn’t blame her—he had seen time and time again that Vlad was an expert at manipulating others into trusting him. But Danny knew that Vlad didn’t care for Ellie in any way; it was obvious in the disdain that crossed Vlad’s face whenever Ellie was so much as mentioned. It was more than clear that Ellie was expendable, considering Vlad had sent her to do the dirty work of capturing Danny, instead of doing it himself.

Ellie was an unstable clone—she could have died obeying Vlad’s orders. But it was as clear as day that Vlad just didn’t care. And the clone in the pod across from Danny was the most damning evidence of all. If Vlad really cared for Ellie, then why wasn’t she the one waiting to receive Danny’s DNA sample? And why couldn’t she see it for herself? Why couldn’t she see that she was being used?

If Ellie couldn’t believe the truth from Danny’s mouth, then he was going to make sure that she heard it from Vlad’s.

“So, what’s the deal with Ellie?” Danny saw Ellie’s eyes widen in alarm at his question, but he pressed on anyway. “She’s different from the other clones I’ve fought.”

“What about her?” Vlad drawled with a roll of his eyes, clearly irritated by Danny’s inquiry. “All of my previous attempts at cloning you have yielded one mistake after another. She just happened to have fewer mistakes than the rest.”

“What mistakes?” Danny pushed back. “She seems just fine to me. Why did you even bother making another clone after her?” Ellie drifted closer, but Danny was careful not to look at her as he glared into Vlad’s red eyes. “Why isn’t she good enough for you?”

“Because she’s a brat!” Vlad finally snapped, his eyes flashing bright with anger, and his shouting echoed through the room around them as he went off on a tirade. “Biologically she’s like you in almost every way, but mentally and emotionally it’s like—like dealing with a toddler! Throwing tantrums, having meltdowns, just—being a dolt! A simpleton! With this next clone, I made sure to put a lot more effort into their brain power.”

Ouch.

Danny had a front row seat as he witnessed what he was pretty sure was Ellie’s heart breaking, and it hurt to watch. Tears welled in her eyes, and the tiniest hiccup broke from her mouth.

And it was deafening.

The anger fell from Vlad’s face instantly, replaced by shock, and he turned to see Ellie standing right behind him.

“Is that… what I am to you?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice just barely above a whisper as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “An imperfection? A mistake?”

For what was likely the first time in Vlad’s life, the elder halfa seemed to be at a loss for words.

And Ellie wasn’t taking that silence for an answer. The tears continued to fall, and the hurt was still written as clear as day across her face, but the sadness in her eyes changed, morphing into anger. She grit her teeth as she wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, and her cheeks flushed green with fury as she glared hatefully at Vlad.

“D-Danielle,” the sorry excuse for a so-called father finally managed to stammer out. “How… how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Ellie growled. Her hands started to glow a dangerous green, and Danny frantically began to struggle against his restraints. No! Was she crazy? She couldn’t fight Vlad on her own!

Vlad seemed to have finally gotten over his shock, and he cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s enough.” He said coldly. “Danielle, listen to me—”

“No!” Ellie shouted. “I’ve listened to you enough!”

And with that, Ellie darted forward, running at Vlad with both fists glowing bright green with ecto-energy. Vlad seemed to be startled—if only for a split second—but then he widened his stance and raised a single hand, and Danny watched in horror as the older halfa’s fingers flared to life with blindingly pink ecto-fire. Was he going to kill her?

No! Danny couldn’t let that happen, but he couldn’t break free of these stupid chains—

Ellie screamed in rage as she leapt forward, and Danny felt like he was watching a devastating car accident in slow motion. Vlad aimed his ecto-blast right at Ellie’s chest, and fired. The beam of hot pink ecto-energy shot forward, and Danny cried out as he watched it make a beeline for Ellie’s core.

But the shot never landed. At the last second, Ellie ducked down and slid across the tile floor between Vlad’s feet, completely missing the attack that would have undoubtedly killed her. She slid to a stop at the foot of Danny’s containment pod, and got to her feet just as Vlad turned around to face her, his face one of complete surprise.

“How’s this for a mistake?!” Ellie shouted, and she slammed her fist into the release button on Danny’s pod.

“NOOO!” Vlad roared.

But he was too late. Danny’s restraints clicked open and fell from his wrists, and Danny punched through the glass door with an ecto-charged strike. It shattered on impact and fell away instantly, leaving nothing standing between Danny and his captor.

Danny leapt from the containment pod, only stumbling a bit when his feet hit the floor. He felt lightheaded as he turned to look at Ellie. She sniffled as she wiped the tears from her eyes, and Danny’s heart sank at the sight. “Are you… okay?”

He regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course she wasn’t okay. But thankfully, Ellie didn’t smack him upside the head for asking something so stupid. Instead, she turned to him with a tired, yet confident smile and said: “Do you wanna ask questions? Or do you wanna kick some butt?”

Danny only had to think about it for a second before giving his clone a nod. After the day he’d had, kicking butt sounded pretty good right now. So Danny took a deep breath and allowed his ghostly form to wash over him as he and Ellie turned to face Vlad.

The oldest of the three halfas still seemed to be reeling from his shock, and Danny wasn’t going to give him the chance to recover. He looked at his clone, and they both gave each other a nod. Together, they raised their hands, and before Vlad had a chance to block or dodge the two Phantoms shot him in the chest.

The combined power of their ecto-rays sent Vlad flying backwards, and he slammed into the containment pod that held the other clone. Vlad slumped forward and faceplanted onto the concrete floor, and Danny wondered if that was it; had Vlad been knocked unconscious that easily?

But he didn’t get a chance to check. The loud creaking of metal echoed across the room, and the containment pod holding the perfect clone tipped forward. It seemed to fall in slow motion, until it landed on Vlad with a resounding CLANG, accompanied by the shattering of glass and the fizzling of electrical circuits shorting out.

Ouch. Vlad would sure be feeling that in the morning. Danny almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Danny turned to congratulate Ellie, but faltered when he saw her face. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and her eyes looked… tired. Hurt. Distraught. When Danny rested his hand on her shoulder, he could feel the slight tremor that shook her frame, and he could only imagine what she was feeling in that moment. Betrayal, loss, fear for the future…

What would happen to Ellie now? Because there was no way Vlad would let her stay after this betrayal. Not that Ellie would possibly want to stay with him after what he had said.

Speaking of the devil, it seemed that Vlad wasn’t down for the count just yet.

The sound of creaking metal began again, and Danny watched in disbelief and Vlad pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. The destroyed pod fell to the side with a thunderous crash that shook the floor, and rolled onto its side, revealing what was left of the clone it had once held.

And it wasn’t a pretty sight. The air in the room seemed to be poisonous to the clone’s skin, judging by the way that its flesh was quickly bubbling away into slimy green goop. The clone reached for Vlad with a feeble hand, but there was nothing that could be done; its entire body disintegrated away into nothingness within mere seconds.

And that seemed to break something inside of Vlad. His solid, blood-red eyes were almost manic as a deep, guttural scream tore itself from his mouth. “NO! NO! NOOOOO!!!”

Danny didn’t know why Vlad was so upset. Sure, he had probably just seen months of his time and effort fall apart before his very eyes, but he wasn’t the one that had just watched an identical clone of himself melt like a popsicle in a microwave. Danny was sure that that scene was going to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Vlad turned on the two teens then, and he looked every bit like a bloodthirsty tiger that had cornered its prey. He snarled as he got to his feet and stalked towards them, his cape billowing behind him and making his presence just that much more intimidating.

Ellie clenched her fists and brought them up in front of her, but the way that they shook didn’t go unnoticed by Danny. “I can do this,” she whispered, and Danny wasn’t sure if he was saying it to reassure him, or herself.

Danny stepped forward and put his arm out in front of Ellie protectively. “You don’t have to,” he told her. “Get behind me, and cover your ears.”

Danny opened his mouth and took a deep breath, and he could feel the bitter cold forming inside of his ribcage, swirling into an angry blizzard that was ready to be freed. Ready to bury the man that had caused so much pain. Not only to him, but to Ellie, and to the other clones as well. He could feel his core thrumming with anger—with power.

So Danny gathered all that power into the center of his chest, closed his eyes, and released his Ghostly Wail.

The sound was deafening in the enclosed, underground room. It reverberated off of the walls and came back, seemingly growing louder and louder as it threatened to destroy all that stood in its way.

And it was pushing Vlad away. Despite the man’s best efforts, he was knocked off his feet by the sheer strength of Danny’s ecto-charged voice, and sent careening into the brick wall behind him. Cords and various instruments were ripped from the walls, and Vlad’s multi-million dollar cloning lab was destroyed in mere seconds.

Good.

Danny could feel cool liquid trickling from his ears, and his throat burned as if he was breathing fire. All too quickly, the last of his energy faded away, and Danny fell to his knees as his ghostly form fell away and left him weak and human. His arms shook with effort, and he couldn’t hear anything through the deafening ringing in his ears. He felt ready to collapse.

But it was worth it. All the pain and suffering was worth it to take this place down, and make it so that Vlad couldn’t hurt him anymore, or Ellie, or any more clones that he had planned to make.

It was worth it.

Danny’s head spun as he looked up and saw Vlad lying in a crumpled mess against the far wall. The elder halfa had reverted to his human form, as well. And it didn’t look like he would be getting up anytime soon, which was a relief. Danny didn’t have the strength left for another fight.

Ellie wrapped an arm around Danny and helped him to his feet. He could see that her mouth was moving as if she was speaking, but he couldn’t hear anything. And as he finally managed to get his own feet under him, he noticed a thin trail of green ectoplasm leaking from her ear.

Was… was that because of him?

But before Danny could say anything, a rumble shook the entire room, and the ceiling suddenly caved in. Danny knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of the way of the falling debris (and the Specter Speeder? What?) and he was sure he was about to be crushed.

But… that didn’t happen. Instead, he felt someone’s arm wrap around his waist, and pull him out of the way of the Specter Speeder with surprising strength and speed. Danny watched in shock as the Specter Speeder crashed into the wall, right where he and Ellie had been.

There… there was no way Ellie had moved him. She didn’t have the power to do that. Certainly not after their fight. So who…?

Danny saw movement from the corner of his eye: Ellie. She looked like she was yelling at someone behind him, but Danny was more distracted by the sight of Tucker and Sam climbing out of the Specter Speeder. They… they had come to rescue him? What? And how?

Honestly, Danny didn’t care. He just knew with a surety that he had the best friends in the world—scratch that. The universe. And if he could stand in that moment, then he would’ve run over and tackled them in a bone-crushing hug.

The arm that had grabbed Danny sat him gently down on the floor, and it was then that Danny remembered there was a stranger standing behind him, who had dragged him out of the way of certain death. So Danny slowly turned his head, looking away from his friends (who had run over to check on Vlad, apparently), and back at Ellie. She was still shouting, but Danny couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears. And the person she was yelling at… despite the blurriness of his vision, Danny could still tell who it was.

“Thanatos…?”

The god turned at the sound of Danny’s voice, and the glowing gold of his eyes left afterimages in Danny’s vision that made him feel like he was going to be sick. Yeah, okay, so he might have a concussion… but that was better than being crushed by a two-ton flying machine.

Ellie’s eyes bugged out as she gestured wildly towards the death god standing next to her, and Danny could finally make out what she was saying. “Woah, woah, wait a minute! You know this weirdo? Who the heck is he?!”

Danny flinched as her shouting sent a shot of pain through his head. “Yeah… but could you tone it down a bit? You’re too loud…”

Ellie looked at Danny incredulously. “Could I tone it down? You’re the one making people’s eardrums rupture! Now who is this guy?! And why is he here?!”

“Oh, uhh…” Danny glanced at Thanatos, who looked equally confused, but about Ellie. He was staring at the ghost girl with a perplexed expression—as if there was something about her that he couldn’t quite place. “Thanatos? Are you—”

But Danny was cut off by Sam and Tucker, who tackled him to the ground in a group hug. He didn’t even care that them doing so reignited the pain of his many injuries; he was just so glad that they were okay; that they had come to rescue him.

“Danny!” Sam exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as she pulled away from the hug. “You’re okay!”

“Well, somewhat okay,” Tucker commented dryly. “You don’t look too great, if I’m being honest.”

Tucker barely dodged a smack from Sam, and Danny chuckled. “What? Nah, I’m fine,” he said weakly. “Couldn’t be better. How did you guys find me, anyway?”

Tucker held up the Boo-merang with a proud smirk. “We followed this little guy across the country, and he led us right to you. It actually landed over there, with Mr. Moneybags.” Tucker jerked his thumb over his shoulder in a lazy gesture towards Vlad. “By the way, don’t worry about him causing us any trouble. I left him with the Specter Deflector as a parting gift.”

But Tucker’s triumph was disappointingly short-lived, as a pained groan echoed from the other side of the room. They all turned to look, and saw Vlad slowly pushing himself up from the rubble. Honestly, Danny was kind of impressed—the man was like a human cockroach.

Okay, that was a little rude. But Danny was allowed to be rude after the day he’d had.

Thanatos took a step forward, but Ellie was quicker. She stormed over to Vlad, her fists clenched by her sides, and delivered a swift, football-launching kick to his face before anyone else could react. There was a sickening crack when her boot met his nose, and he fell to the floor once more, definitely unconscious, and Danny was pretty sure he wouldn’t be getting up quite so quickly this time.

“Stay away from me, and my cousin,” Ellie growled.

… wow. Honestly, Ellie was kinda scary when she wanted to be.

A hand gently grabbed Danny’s shoulder, and he turned to see Thanatos kneeling next to him. The god was holding what looked like a slice of lemon bar, and he offered it to Danny. “Here. It is for your ears.”

Huh? What was wrong with his ears? Confused, Danny gingerly brought his hand to the side of his head, and when he pulled it away he saw that his fingertips were slick with a shiny red and green liquid.

Oh. That… that wasn’t good. Maybe using his Ghostly Wail in an enclosed underground area hadn’t been the best idea.

Danny took the proffered food from Thanatos and turned it over in his hand, wondering how exactly a sugary pastry would help his ruptured eardrums.

“It’s ambrosia,” Thanatos explained. “From Persephone. She told me to give it to you, since… well, you seem to get injured rather often.”

Well, Persephone certainly wasn’t wrong…

Hesitantly, Danny nibbled at the corner of the ambrosia bar. And to his surprise, he felt better almost instantly. The buzzing in his head cleared immediately, and his hearing returned to normal as all of his aches and pains quickly faded away.

Surprisingly, the ambrosia did not taste like lemons, like Danny had been expecting. Instead, it tasted like… oranges. Sweet oranges, and honey, with a hint of… cinnamon?

Strange, but the taste filled Danny with a warm, fuzzy, happy feeling. One that made him feel like a little kid again, before all the stress of school and fighting took over his life.

It reminded him of his mom.

Danny moved to take another bite, but Thanatos reached over and smoothly snatched the ambrosia away from him.

“That’s enough, Danny,” Thanatos said as he dropped the little bar into a small white satchel, which held a couple more slices of the godly food. “I don’t need you spontaneously combusting yet again.”

Thanatos handed the bag over to Danny, and gave the halfa a stern look. “This is for emergencies only,” he warned. “Use it sparingly, and do not give it to anyone else.”

Danny took the little cloth bag and stared at it, feeling rather confused (it seemed that ambrosia didn’t cure plain old stupid). “Uhh, okay… Thanks…?”

Thanatos nodded as he stood, and turned to leave. But he froze when he saw Ellie standing in his way. She was back to her human form, and scowling as she placed her hands on her hips and stared down the god of death.

“Okay, great. Danny’s fine,” she said. “And my psycho of a dad’s got a broken nose. Awesome. Now who are you?”

Thanatos seemed to be at a loss for words, but Ellie didn’t give him a chance to speak either way. “Why are you so spooky?” She continued, pointing a finger at Thanatos threateningly as she proceeded to straight up interrogate him. “Why are you wearing a dress? Why are your eyes weird? And why do you have giant pigeon wings?!”

“Hey!” Danny leapt to his feet and stepped in front of Thanatos, holding his hands out towards Ellie in a placating gesture. He knew that most ghosts seemed to become pretty spooked around Thanatos for some reason, but that didn’t mean she had to jump straight into insults. “Ellie, be nice. This is Thanatos, my mentor. Thanatos,” Danny began, turning to face said god. “This is Ellie, my…”

He trailed off. Thanatos was staring at Ellie with a haunted look in his eyes, as though he had seen a ghost (Danny facepalmed internally at the comparison; this was not the time for jokes). “Uhh, Thanatos?” Danny said, concerned. “Are… you okay?”

Thanatos flinched as if he had been struck, and glanced at his apprentice for only a split second before returning his attention to Ellie. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first; it was like he didn’t know what to say.

But at last, he spoke, his voice no more than a whisper, and said:

“… Dianthe?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Danny passed out, like, three times this chapter. Poor guy. People need to stop knocking him out, he doesn’t have that many brain cells left to spare!

And just so you know: DANNY IS NOT THE REINCARNATION OF DIANTHE. Promise. We know it may look like that, but that is not the case. However, please allow us to reference a line from Chapter 22 that may help you put the pieces together, if you haven’t done so already:

“Once, Danny and his mother had looked almost the same[…]”

Danny and his mother looked very similar??? Hmm… And Thanatos has seemingly mistaken Ellie for his first apprentice??? Hmm… interesting. 🤔😈

First: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 33

Next: Coming Soon!

[bots-and-cons]

Predaking, Shockwave, and Hardshell with a human s/o doing simple domestic things? Like grocery shopping(with Holoforms ofc), slow dancing, or just reading together?

That sweet shit just makes me heart go brrr

I didn't do Hardshell, because I’ve never written him before and he’s such a minor character I honestly don’t feel like I’ve got a good grasp on his character, so I did Megatron instead. I just did it as a mostly holoform. I’ve been having a bit of a hard time with inspiration lately, hence the lack of content, and even this took me hours. I’m hoping my inspiration returns soon

~Megatron~

•The first time Megatron came to your apartment in his holoform he was pretty intrigued by a lot of the items you have

•Books are interesting to him because for cybertronians everything is on datapads and he’s never read a paper book in his life

•You went to get some groceries, which is a bit of a pain with him, because if someone looks at him wrong, or by Primus looks at you wrong, he will throw hands

•You’ve gotta get in between him and whoever he’s about to beat up and just tell him he doesn’t want to get you in trouble too

•He’s super intrigued by a lot of the food items, and he would like to try a lot of the stuff that looks weird to him, which would be like all the very normal stuff like cheese and meat

•You teach him to cook and he sucks at it, he doesn’t understand the point of spices in human food, since energon is basically just fuel and doesn’t really taste like anything and you can’t change the taste

•It’s a fun time though even if he’s barely listening to anything you’re telling him, but the end result isn’t really edible so you order pizza

•You end up watching a movie and Megatron notices how nice it is to hold you when you’re pretty much the same size

•You fall asleep in his arms and he just held you the whole night until you woke up in the morning

•He leaves after you wake up, because he’s needed at the Nemesis, but when you come by later that day, he’s pretty affectionate

•He’s not really sure what he’s feeling, like just for a moment he wonders how it would be to be a human with you, but he quickly shakes off that thought

~Predaking~

•Predaking wasn’t really into the idea of using a holoform at first but when he realized he could just spend a day with you and see how humans live, it piqued his interest

•He gets to see your home too, and when you ask him what he would like to do, he just asks what you normally do in a day

•You tell him it’s cleaning day, but you also ask him if he’s sure he wants to do that and not something else

•Predaking just tells you he wants to know how humans live and he wants to experience some of it

•So you put him to work, he’s a huge help with moving the furniture so you can just vacuum and not have to change between the two

•You also do the dishes and collect all the laundry so you can wash it later

•You decide you’re too lazy to cook that day, so you just order some chinese food

•Predaking is a bit of a sappy mech, and he’s seen some older movies with slow dancing, which he thought was just a common thing for humans to do

•So he asks for your phone, to put on some music, and grabs your hand, pulling you close

•You two just sway together, while he quietly talks into your ear, telling you how he’s never gonna leave you and he’ll always love you 

~Shockwave~

•Shockwave was a bit against the idea of spending a day in his holoform, he had a lot of work to do, but you convinced him anyway

•He sighed and told you that he’d agree to 12 hours of uninterrupted time with you, but then he’d have to get back to work

•You got to your place and Shockwave was mildly interested in pretty much everything

•You have some plants and he asks you what they’re for

•You just tell him they’re decoration and that they’re actually plastic, because you can’t keep real plants alive

•You ask him if you’d like to cook with him, and he’s like “Create sustenance? I do not think I’d excel at such a thing”

•You just tell him it’s kinda like chemistry, combining different components to achieve the desired result

•Shockwave agrees and he actually gets quite into it too

•The food actually ends up being really good, even if it does have some odd nuances in the taste

•You made the food together and ate together and Shockwave actually enjoyed it surprisingly much

•He’s never really done anything like that before and he didn’t really think he would like it, but he was pleasantly surprised

•You just end up cuddling on the couch after eating and he’s picked up one of your books, just because he’s interested in what you’ve been reading and what you’re interested in

•The book is something pretty raunchy and he just sets it on the table beside the couch, like “I did not just read that”

•He’s blushing a bit and you’re just snickering, because he has such a funny expression on his face

•Since you’re laying on top of him, hugging his waist, he just presses your head to his chest and tells you “be quiet”

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Of Nights At Home and Potato Chips

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @rubybecker-rb2

They’d just fired him.

How could this be? What kind of injustice is this?

At first, Jesse Marsch had been angry. He’d blamed the U.S. government, the Premier League, the wind, coffee, referees—you name it, he blamed it. But after a full fifteen minutes of ranting to his wall, Marsch’s fury vanished, leaving behind a giant Leeds-shaped hole in his heart.

He’d thought Leeds would keep him forever. And now it was all gone, stolen from him by some money-loving—

Jesse Marsch! He scolded himself, slapping his own thigh. He was sure the heavy slam had left a bruise, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of this house, away from this city, somewhere. But where?

Judging by how the news had just come out, news of his sacking was probably on Monday Night Football. That meant wherever Marsch would try to go, somebody would recognize him. That bars out the pub.

He couldn’t breathe anymore. Everything around him served as a symbol of what he’d lost, the life he’d lived for little over a year. He threw together some things in an overnight bag and jumped into his car.

*

Klopp blankly stared out the window of his room. Not his room in Kirkby, which had truthfully become more of a home to him, but the house he’d rented from Rodgers.

He wouldn’t admit this to anybody, but Klopp had completely run out of ideas as to why Liverpool were doing so horribly. So after the Wolves game, Klopp went straight back to his house. He needed to step away from his job, even for half an hour.

As soon as he’d shut the door, though, Klopp had a new problem. The house lacked the sounds of daily life.

There was no sound of Nemmer or Thiago dropping a baking sheet or pot. No sound of Robertson and Alexander-Arnold chattering away, or Tsimikas remixing his rap songs, or Adrian’s snoring. There was no la-la-la from Van Dijk singing in the shower, no boom from Alisson’s ball cannon, not even a hiss from the coffee maker.

It was too quiet…until car tires screeched through the night. Then a car door slammed, and a trunk opened, and something wheeled across the driveway.

Then the doorbell rang.

Klopp jumped from his seat to answer, thinking it was one of the boys or even Lijnders. What he didn’t expect was a groveling American in blue jeans and a gray sweater.

“Take me in, please!!!”

Jesse Marsch was at his doorstep.

Jesse flipping Marsch.

*

“Jesse Marsch!” Klopp exclaimed. “How the hell did you find my house?!”

Marsch didn’t get off the ground. He clung to Klopp, temporarily immobilizing the German. “I don’t know how I got here! I just did!”

Klopp couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So you arrived at my house without even knowing my address?”

“I was fired,” Marsch moaned, finally removing himself from the ground. “So I came to your place. You’re the only one who let me in—everybody else turned me away.”

“Who did you go to?” If it was one of his boys who’d turned Marsch away and made him this hysterical, then Klopp had a serious talk to give out.

Marsch shrugged, calmer than he’d been at first. “Well…Erik’s, Antonio’s, Ole’s and Gary’s.”

“You do realize that three of those four are Man. U affiliated and the fourth isn’t even in the country, right?”

Klopp could spot Marsch’s flushed face from a mile away. “I guess you’re right. But as long as you’re up…I brought Budweiser.”

“Come in.” Klopp shook his head, opening the door. “You’re lucky I’m not Jose or you wouldn’t have lasted two minutes.”

*

Marsch sat at the counter, watching Klopp grated cheese over a frozen pizza. For a while neither one of them said anything, to each other or to themselves. The only sound was the Parmesan rubbing against the grater and the oven warming up. Once the oven timer signaled that it was ready for the pizza, the talking began.

“So they sacked you,” Klopp began, pouring potato chips into a serving bowl. “I think that sucks.”

He regretted the word choice almost before the words left his mouth. But it seemed like the best way to put it.

“I just don’t get it. I mean, I did the best I could!” Marsch lamented. He didn’t even seem interested in the potato chips. “I saved Leeds from relegation on the final day, and I fell in love with them. Haven’t you ever been sacked?”

“I stepped down from Mainz and Dortmund. But I never got sacked.”

“Well, imagine if they ripped you away from your boys,” Marsch said, slowly nibbling on a chip. “And you left in disgrace from the people who once chanted your name.”

Klopp nodded in understanding. “I hate the thought of that. Couldn’t they give you something? More time, understanding, remembering what you’d done for them before? You were only there for one year.”

Marsch shook his head. “Leeds owners aren’t that understanding. I wish I had your owners.”

“Trust me, you were better off. I speak from experience. At least Man. City's owners allow them to buy players.”

“Their owners got hit with more than 100 charges against Fair Play rules.”

“Fair.” Klopp reached into the bowl only to hit the bottom of it. “More chips?”

Marsch flashed him a lopsided thumbs-up. “Only advantage about this is that we get to eat as many chips as we want.”

[cupids-chamber]

i'd like to give matchmaking a try (for twisted wonderland in particular). i seem to lack a connection if left to my own devices ^^'

personality: i'd describe myself as ambitious and thoughtful. when i put my mind to something, i get it done no matter what. however, there are times where i do have a short temper that clouds my judgement. i'm not proud of it but i'm working towards improvement gradually throughout the years. i follow my emotions rather than following logic which can get out of hand but also lets me be passionate.

some hobbies: writing, crocheting, custom dollmaking, video games, reading (particularly comics and ya novels)

likes: animals (of all kinds), staying hydrated, movies, building houses in the sims, honey nut cheerios

dislikes: mayonnaise, alcohol, spring (allergies), cheese, pizza, hot dogs, poor color coordination in movies, human kids

mbti: infp-t

something extra: in the future i want a hairless cat, a dog, a crow, and a snake. they'll be my children.

YOU'VE GOT A MATCH

IDIA, admires your efforts to better your temper, and he does share similar hobbies with you, making the two of you a rather suitable match! Though if you do choose to adopt that many pets, please make sure their house trained.

[jamethedealmaker]

Hello Tumblr here is one of my weird as fuck dreams that I just had. I can feel it slipping.

Some things to note

Everyone except pokemon, the Scooby gang, and rats look real

So I am staying in the same hotel as Scooby-Doo and the gang and a random Scooba diver. I'll start with the Scooby sub plot, some how shaggy got teleported to Antarctica but it's not Antarctica but a generic pokemon town and he decided to fight the champion. So when he got there and made the decision he asked a random goth woman who said something about "being the night" (I think). When shaggy got smacked by the pokemon I just drew he ended up actually in Antarctica but is also back in the hotel and for some reason I'm using the thermometer I have for one of my classes to cheak his tempature.

That's it for scoob and the gang to the Scooba diver

They ordered a pizza and casually has a fish unknown to science crunching through their poket (u woke up with a soft but sharp stabbing pain in the same spot when I awoke)

I who somehow became a pizza delivery person had came to give this person a pizza, when they opened the door there room was covered in weird fish chewing the walls. They started telling me the story of how they got there.

The story was, and I quote, "I was in my boat and found this weird fish in my oxygen tank and came up with a plan to take down the African slave trade"

Anyway they open the pizza pox and the inside of the lid had a picture of a goblin shark

Anyway here are what some of the fish looked like, keep in mind these fuckers were like fully rendered and "realistic"

Now for my subplot (technically I am telling these in revers order, but whatever), it was late at night and I go to the bathroom and there is a random blocky robot and a tower of rats (in the artstyle of the coraline gn) and the robot informed me "the rats are now your freinds but they lack a soul like you" what I had to do was bring the rats cheese because even though they have no soul they still desire cheese. (I do both know if I got them their cheese)

Thank you for reading my word vomit

[thoughtsofnowandagain]

16 March 2023

Not much to report. It's been a week or so since I last posted and the whole time I just wanted to get on here and post even though I didn't have much to say.

Megan's wedding was gorgeous. There was only 20 guests and it was so low key, it was perfect for Megan. She had an outside ceremony (moments before it started snowing!) and although it was cold when the sun was out it was stunningly warm. She had her wedding party at the weekend and that was really lush too though I was coming down with a cold that morning, so I didn't drink much but that didn't stop me dancing all night!

It's Thursday today and its the first day that I've woken up and felt okay and not so sick. This might be a false sense of security and I don't want to jinx anything but I feel good right now. Usually, I'm sick for weeks but I think I've managed to shake most of it off in a week which is amazing for me! I did not something different this time. As well as taking cold and flu medicine on time and paracetamol on time, I've been drinking warm drinks constantly whether that be a camomile tea or a mint tea, no dairy products (like cheese, chocolate, cream, tea), A vitamin C fizzy at least once a day, and hre's the stickler...

Good food and good mentality. I've given into every craving I had, usually mum's cooking. I made my own Chicken and sweetcorn soup, and Silky steamed eggs, and yesterday I had mum's chicken fried rice. THE TASTIEST.

Good mentality. That was a hard one but it is something that I've been practising for the past few months or so. So instead of wallowing in self pity thinking 'i feel so rubbish, I'm not well, I don't feel good, etc' I've been thinking 'I cant wait to feel better, I'm going to feel so much better once I'm over this, Once I rest I'll feel strong again' but honestly just getting on with it because although I'm sick, life still goes on. Money still needs to be made, laundry still needs to be done, food still needs be cooked and eaten. This week, I did cancel a client because I knew she had health issues already, I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. But that's it.

I also had a 'sick day'. Sam is sick too at the minute, though you'd think he was much much worse than me by the way he's going but alas, we do indeed have the same illness and sorry but, I am stronger than him. I've said to him, he has to carry on. He can have one sick day and you can use that day to moan and really wallow in self pity but after that, you're done. Now you can opt to have a sick day but then not take it and save it for when you're worse, but if you take it you can't take another one, even if you're 10 times worse the next day.

I think also by having good mentality, you're willing yourself to feel better. I've been embarrassingly been thinking to myself 'come on white blood cells, you can do it' and I think it's working. I'm sure there's a study somewhere about 2 plants. Completely identical plants being looked after the same way at the same time. But one plant has encouraging words spoken to it and the other with discouraging words and guess which one flourished. The encouraged plant blossomed much better and I'll take that as a new motto.

Not long until our holidays! 6 Weeks until Cyprus! I'll have to find a dress soon now that I've got Megan's wedding out the way. I wore my sage green satin cowl neck dress to megan's and I was hoping to reuse it for Cyprus but I don't think the fabric will survive another go in the washing machine. I'm also not going to diet to get holiday ready which I'm quite nervous about. I mean, I wont engorge myself but I'll eat like I normally eat. Though I will stay away from pizza and kebabs which aren't foods I crave or want ever but Sam does and when Sam does, I'll order one and eat it out of lack of energy.

From the kebab/pizza/curry house I'll tend to get a plain boiled rice, with a chicken curry. Nothing too saucy, but something that's like grilled chicken with seasoning. That'll do me.

[lanaintheskydreams]

Dream Journal for Thu Dec 15, 2022

I haven't written in a while. Lots of random dreams since last post but this was worth writing about because it was so strange. First of all, I have decided to dedicate all of next year growing deep in my consciousness through diet, meditation, and learning. I will not be in sharing teacher mode but in learning, cultivating, discovering, documenting mode. It is important to do one thing at a time, and I need to focus all of my energies on this.

I only had magnesium last night though I did eat a few bites of tofu after I worked out. The only meal I had prior was for lunch -- sushi and ice cream. Not the healthiest. I actually have been eating sweets, bread, and cheese each day since the prior Thursday. Been so bad because holidays.

So last night (or this morning's dream). There was a man who was trying to pursue me but I knew he was trying to hurt children. He had a bunch of nails and other items in his hands and I was trying to stop him. He was headed to the school house.

The next part of the dream switched to an omniscient viewer like an audience member in a theater. The dream was very visual like it was a superhero movie.

A little girl about 10 years old in a witches outfit went out to a giant field with a wooden fence, and a big trailer vehicle drove on up to meet her. I have the feeling it floated down from the sky and then finished off driving on the ground. Another little girl about the same age in a witches outfit came out. I think they both had dogs. She said "We were going above, but now we are going below." Farm witch seemed to not want to comply with trailer witch and this pissed her off.

Before I knew it, the ground opened up into a massive hole portal and farm witch got grabbed by a metallic claw which was built into the earth, and she was threatened by a half dozen other metallic appendages that were weapons and they surrounded her from every direction. They were an inch away from her face and body and included giant sharp scissors, a rotating sharp cog wheel, a giant pizza cutter, a giant hammer, a spear -- they were all different. This was all happening about 10 feet underground. I could see the grassy land and the barn behind her, and the ominous night sky with the trailer vehicle to the right.

The instruments didn't kill her but retracted and then out of nowhere about 5 other little 10 year olds were side by side to farm witch and were also being held up by metallic claws. I guess these were her friends. But all the instruments that spared farm witch came back and now each little girl had just one of their own instruments hovering over them menacingly.

And the next part -- each instrument sliced up each of the friend's bodies methodically like a fruit in Fruit Ninja into about 6 different pieces and they all fell apart or went flying towards the ground and towards me.

Farm witch was very sad and hated watching her friends die. I remember seeing the beheaded faces still moving and expressing themselves. I had the thought that this happened often. Even though I was watching farm witch, I empathized with her and thought I was her. I did not recognize myself as a separate consciousness watching a movie at the time. I did not feel like I was the witch but I moreso felt a resonance with her. I felt very disturbed the moment I saw the bodies being cut up but in a numb way the way one sees a body in a movie being cut up. There was some sort of numbed separation or lack of reaction because I know if I had witnessed the same event in my waking life, I would be hella freaking out. I had felt like the trailer witch was evil and felt a clear evil and good aura divide. Whoever was in that trailer was also evil.

I then woke up and realized it was a dream but it was all so detailed. This is the second time I've dreamt of "witches". This is the second time in a short period that I have dreamt of a group being evil.

When I awoke I had the thought that there was a dream gun beaming visuals and stories into our minds the way a movie light projector projects images onto a screen and we get lost into that world. The dream had no meaning to me, but it affected me.

Right now, it is hard for me to determine if a dream is a real memory or if it is just visuals. Everything I dream I can tell the difference between a normal dream and a significant dream based upon the levels of memory, feeling, detail, symbolism, consciousness, creative ability, messages received, and knowing. In my waking life, I know a memory because I can remember my feelings in the moment, why I did something, and the before and after that led up to and followed the event. I know the people that were associated with the memory. On the other hand, everything I dream is in puzzle pieces and I don't remember names but there are many dreams that are real experiences with real feelings, messages, and even more intense profound feelings than my waking life. I will just leave it at that right now. Not determining if something is something or labeling something as real or fake but I can only describe what happened, what I felt, what I learned, and how to move forward.

*Correction I have been taking the Amenazol Bitters each day and that has Irish Moss in it, which makes me remember during dreams so has very likely affected my dreaming.

[highdramas]

your lips, my lips | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers

word count: 2404

summary: is there a more divine thought than being kissed by bucky barnes?

note: here's another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don't have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn't like!

enjoy! <3

how do you know when james bucky barnes is going to kiss you?

you’ve learned that you’re not good at figuring out when, how, or if he is going to kiss you. there have been countless moments outside your door, inside your apartment, inside his apartment, down the street at the pizza place, where you thought… this is going to be it. he’s going to hold your face in his hands and you’re going to feel the cold sting of metal that has somehow become so warm to you. he’s going to pull you in closer to him and your eyes are going to roll back into your head and you’re going to experience the bliss that is kissing james bucky barnes.

the time has never come.

because every time you tip your head back slightly and think this is the moment, it has simply never been the moment. sometimes, bucky clears his throat and gives his head a little shake, as if ridding himself of the thought that you both just shared. the thought that you could kiss right now and never look back and hope for the best. but you know bucky, you really know him, and you know that though he may not admit it often, he is fearful. and if he’s anything like you, he’s afraid of ruining this good thing that sits between the two of you, like a glowing ball of energy and goodness and understanding.

despite your fears of never wanting this feeling to subside or fade or crash and burn in some fiery death, that doesn’t mean that every moment you’re around bucky, you’re not thinking of him kissing you. because you are. and it’s driving you slightly insane.

right now, you sit with bucky in central park. you have learned many things about him, but one of the more recent things is that he has never been on a picnic. you had gaped at him then, and you think you said something along the lines of-- “you were wooing women in the 40s and never took one on a fucking picnic?”

that’s another thing about you and bucky.

you may fear a lot, but you do not fear him.

there has never been a moment where you have pushed bucky to tell you more than he was comfortable with. at the start, once he knew that you were already well aware of who he was and some pieces of his history-- it felt like you both started with a mutual understanding. an understanding that says, i know, and it won’t make me run.

but he has told you what he wants to, in bits and pieces. the first time, it was about yori. it was about the look in yori’s eyes when he talked about his son to bucky, it was about how bucky doesn’t know how he can make amends here, how he can say or do anything to possibly help a man who has lost his son at the hands of a man who he has come to call friend.

you have watched as guilt and anger have made a mess of this beautiful man.

and what did you do in return?

sometimes, you didn’t speak. you didn’t think that was what bucky was looking for. you were simply there, with a listening ear and a careful touch.

other times, you did. other times, you couldn’t help yourself.

it was hard to sit and watch and listen to bucky torture himself over and over and over-- you would burst, you would take his metal hand in between yours and you would squeeze and you would say-- “you are not the things that they forced upon you.”

and bucky halted at that. bucky halted and he stared at you, eyes that were moments ago frantic and full of fright, trying to blink some of those feelings away. he would blink and he would try to slow his breathing and he would finally say to you, “how can you know what i’ve done and not walk away?”

“bucky, ever since i’ve known you, the only direction i’ve wanted to walk is towards you.”

he tells you the hard things.

but he also tells you the good things. the things before hydra.

like the dates he went on, the way his life looked in the forties.

so, naturally, when you found out about the lack of picnics in the life of the winter soldier-- you had taken it upon yourself to decide that a picnic was exactly what you two needed.

it was four months ago that bucky asked if you needed help building your cat tower. later, you would call him a creep for spying on you, but you would say it with a smile on your face and a light nudge to his ribs. and in four months it has been hard to stay away from him. that is, when he wasn’t away himself-- you know of his work with the falcon, and really, you think it’s a good thing. you met sam briefly a week ago, after they returned from god knows where, and sam had been nothing but a gentleman. out of the corner of your eye, you even think that you might’ve seen sam nudging bucky and murmuring something that you couldn’t quite make out.

so when he is here, you try and savor every moment, every laugh, every brush of his fingers against yours and every sweet look you two share.

and you hope that maybe one of these times, he will kiss you.

“damn-- this is good.”

the corner of your mouth turns up as you watch bucky sip on the sickly sweet wine you brought. there is a wide assortment of food before you-- strawberries and brie, crackers and cheese, plump purple grapes and chocolate that makes your mouth water. you had made sure to go all out for bucky’s first picnic.

“i didn’t know if you would like it,” you say, taking a sip from your own. “it’s like juice. so sweet.”

bucky furrows his brows. “you know i have a sweet tooth,” he mumbles and it makes your heart sigh because, yes, you do know this. you know him.

for a moment, you turn your focus on the scene in front of you. there are kids running around the park playing, couples laying in the grass, a dog owner throwing a frisbee to a black lab. everyone with their own little lives, their own quiet eternities that you will never know of. when you look at bucky, you wonder what these strangers wonder about you.

you stare and you are not embarrassed to do so, not even when bucky meets your gaze with a firm smirk. “can i help you?”

“no,” you shake your head defiantly. “just looking. is that allowed?”

“i guess,” he says and leans back on the palm of his gloved hand. “don’t know i’m much to look at.”

a snort leaves you. his brows furrow. “are you serious?” you finally ask.

“yes, i’m serious.”

“bucky, i don’t know how else to tell you this, but you are certainly not hard on the eyes.”

you watch as his face goes red and you have to halt yourself. “oh my god,” you say. “you’re blushing.”

“i am not. that’s ridiculous.”

“yes, you totally are! you’re blushing because i said you’re easy on the eyes!”

“it’s a natural bodily response.”

“sure, buck.”

there’s a beat of silence and you chuckle, if only to fill the air and to avert your eyes from his gaze. he’s staring at you with a slightly slacked jaw and a gleam in his eyes that you don’t think you’ve seen before-- and it feels like a bucket of ice water has been dumped atop your head. “you’ve never called me that before,” he says quietly.

“oh, yeah, well--” you chuckle again and you shrug. “i don’t have to--”

bucky shakes his head instantly. “no. i don’t mind.”

you smile at him and you look down at your empty cup and back up to him. “we should start heading back.”

the two of you make quick work of gathering together your picnic. you laugh as bucky takes a swig from the bottle and you swat at him, saying public intoxication is very illegal, to which he rolls his eyes. you take the last sip of the bottle and then you’re on your way back to your apartment building.

the earth is on the cusp of spring-- where the nights are finally starting to get long and the air smells crisp, smells like pollen and change. you lean against bucky as you walk and you let out a sigh. “i love spring,” you murmur to him. “the world always feels so new.”

bucky looks over at you and he nods his head. “it’s nice,” he says in quiet agreement.

that’s one thing that you like about bucky-- he doesn’t fill silence unnecessarily. you do. you’ve been trying to break the habit in the months you’ve known him, much to his amusement. he has called you out plenty of times. “i can tell you’re itching to talk. i don’t mind. i like listening to you.”

he’s carrying the majority of your things and you offer to take something off his hands at least three times in five blocks, and every time he screws his face up as he looks at you, as if to say-- funny.

he’s good at saying things without really saying anything at all. you don’t like to think too hard about how he picked up that skill.

bucky helps you into your apartment with your things, and he goes a step further and he helps you put away leftovers and wash the dirty dishes you two had created. “i know if i don’t help you now, they’ll be in your sink until i come over again.”

so you stand side by side, he washes and you dry and put away. you play the bee gees and you’re surprised by how much bucky enjoys it. you’ve been traveling through decades of music with bucky, and now, you’re on seventies. bee gees, fleetwood mac, blondie, abba-- you’ve curated a perfect playlist for him. when you come home from work and hear him listening to it through the thin walls of this old apartment building, you try to ignore the way that your heart swells.

and just as fast as you got swept up in your day with james buchanan barnes, it is coming to an end. you walk him to your doorstep and you lean your head against the doorframe as he stands in it, lingering still, staring at you. “can i help you?” you mimic him from earlier.

bucky laughs.

you love that laugh. you want to earn it again and again and again.

“just looking,” he says in a voice that you have a suspicion is an impression of yours. your jaw drops, and he laughs again, and you don’t know if your heart could swell anymore.

your laughter mingles with his, like a waltz floating through the air until it dissipates above your heads. all that’s left is you and him and the dim light of the hallway and the god awful carpet. “well…” he motions behind him. “i should…”

“yeah.” you bite down on your lip and push back off the doorframe. “night, buck.”

“night, doll.”

your breath hitches and you put on your best smile and you watch as he begins to step down the hall, and finally, you click your door shut.

it’s like pure energy courses through your body. you place your hands on your hips and you pace, looking down at kitty who has emerged from your bedroom. she meows up at you, and you sigh. “oh, honey,” you murmur as you bend down to scoop her into your arms. “why won’t he kiss me?”

you stand there for a few moments before you begin to grow frustrated with yourself. why do you have to wait for him to kiss you? you know that the lines have been blurred long ago, that there is simply no way that he can look at you like that and not want to kiss you too. setting kitty down, you wipe your hands on your jeans and you decide that you are going to be bold, you are going to be brave. and if it blows up in your face… well, you’ve always been somewhat impulsive. you’ve found your way through things blowing up in your face countless times.

you swing your door open and bucky is already there.

with all of your momentum, you almost collide into him. he catches you by the elbows and looks at you, pupils slightly blown, concern on his pretty face. “were you going somewhere?”

“no!” you stammer out immediately. “no… no. i was--” you sigh and you lick your lips and you finally fix your eyes on him. “i kind of-- i kind of thought that you were going to kiss me, back there. and i was disappointed that you didn’t because… well, i don’t think i’m reading into things, but i really think that we might be on the same page about--”

bucky will never know how you were going to finish that sentence, and frankly, with all the frantic nonsense you were spewing, you don’t know if you even knew to begin with-- because he takes your face in his hands and his lips brush yours.

he’s rid the gloves. that’s the first thing you notice, that delicious cold of smooth metal again your cheek. the next is that his lips are so soft. the third is that you could kiss him forever and you think you could never grow tired of it. he is gentle yet demanding, passionate but so incredibly tender that it breaks your heart. it breaks your heart over and over again thinking about the way he thinks about himself, the things that were forced upon him.

you part. a string of spit connects your lips and it makes you laugh and it makes your cheeks grow warm. bucky reaches out with the hand made of metal and wipes your bottom lip and it makes your heart thump, thump, thump in your chest.

“we’re definitely on the same page,” is all he says before he takes your face once more. this time, you shuffle backwards and into your apartment, the door clicking shut. "there's just a dance to these things, doll."

[leggerefiore]

Since it's apparently Italian hours on this blog today, here's a relevant ask for you. I wanted to know where you thought our eligible bachelor and bachelorettes opinions were regarding pineapple on pizza, but then I realized that we have an opportunity for knowledge. Does Italy have an equivalent food to the pineapple on pizza debate? And if so, who likes it and doesn't know what all the fuss is about, who hates it and makes a big deal of hating it, and who's just causing trouble for the memes?

i answer this because i am not a pizza elitist and believe you can genuinely make some interesting dishes by deviating from the norm... that being said pineapple on pizza doesn't work well usually because the sauce doesn't pair with the sweetness provided by the fruit. the only pizza i won't forgive is that korean corn pizza (the texture seems so gross 🤢🤢)

also i can't be an elitist because my cousin in italy told me about "american pizza" they have over there and well, uh - do you put fries and hot-dogs on your pizza? maybe i'm american-ing wrong.

i'm giving pizza hcs. don't ask:

Elesa is a bit adventurous in her pizza endeavours. After all, you can only eat the same three flavours a few times before you get tired of it. She becomes a pizza extraordinaire around Nimbasa, hunting down the most rare and delicious of pies. A nice pizza alla napoletana has become her favourite, despite its lack of cheese. People (Emmet) stare in horror at her dairy-less abomination with fish. (Thinks pineapple on pizza is alright, but she didn't really like it.)

Emmet won't eat a pizza unless it's just a cheese as a topping. Something about the texture of toppings outside of it disgusts him and makes him shudder. He's also extremely picky about where he gets it from because he claims some are 'too spicy'. No one knows what he's going on about. (Actually likes pineapple on pizza because it's sweet but hates the texture.)

Ingo is down for any kind of pie. If he's hungry, he's hungry. Unlike his younger brother, he's down for toppings. He actually was Elesa's main companion on her pizza journey. His favourite is a spicy sausage pizza. Him and Emmet often down a half/half pizza and the younger twin cries if any of Ingo's sausage ends up on his side. (Thinks pineapple on pizza is DISGUSTING, he is ashamed Emmet likes it in flavour.)

Grimsley either orders a pizza capricciosa or a plain, basic cheese pizza. There is no in between. The pizza capricciosa is from some high-end genuine cuisine place and the cheese is from like Little Caesar's. It's reflective of how his gambling went that night. (Doesn't care about the pineapple on pizza debate. He doesn't like it on his pizza, though. Likes watching people argue because he thinks it's funny.)

Cyrus doesn't have any strong opinions on pizza. The admins talked him into throwing a 'pizza party' for Team Galactic once after a lot of progress had been made. All the grunts watched as he ate, seemingly in denial that he actually needed nutrients. Jokes on them, he got them the cheapest pizza he could find. Some off-brand of an off-brand at a big-box store. (Thinks it's stupid to debate toppings for a food. This is why his perfect world needs to come to fruition.)

Nanu eats the pineapple pizza. He doesn't care. It's food. He doesn't prefer it or anything. In fact, his favourite is a plain pepperoni pizza. (Watches the pizza debate in boredom. What he wants to know is why it is titled after his home. They don't eat that here.)

Volo doesn't know what this 'pizza' is. Or what a pineapple is for that matter. He tries it and the dairy on the food makes him sick.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

WIP ask game, what does FTH stand for?

FTH stands for Fandom Trumps Hate! It's a Geraskier modern with magic AU featuring a werewolf!Jaskier who gets stuck in his wolf form under mysterious circumstances. Geralt, his roommate and best friend who has been in love with him for the better part of a decade, has to race to turn Jaskier back into a human before he's stuck in his wolf form forever. It will be out sometime before December 31st, though I'm not sure exactly when.

Snippet under the cut!

"We got a call that you were menacing people on Hierarch Boulevard."

The werewolf's eyebrows draw together. "Look, I know my cover of 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' wasn't my best work, but calling it menacing seems overblown."

“Hm.”

“First of all.” The kid raises his piece of pizza as if making a point. “You’ll notice that I was playing my guitar. That’s impossible to do in my wolf form. I’ve tried. Second of all, we’re two weeks from a full moon. Even a baby werewolf probably won’t lose control this time of month. I’m twenty. I’ve been able to control my shift since I was eight. Third, if I was going to go berserk, I wouldn’t do it in my favorite busking spot. I have a rapport with all the local business owners and mauling people is bad for business.”

“Then why would someone call and report you?”

The werewolf lets out a laugh that doesn’t sound particularly humorous. “My guess is that it was that fuck Duke Beauclaire. He’s my girlfriend’s other boyfriend. We’ve never gotten along and lately he seems to have a bug up his butt, thinking Anna likes me more than him. Which she probably does, but he has a trust fund, which more than makes up for the lack of personality and the terrible taste in clothes."

“Hm,” Geralt says again, because he really doesn’t know what to say.

“So.” The werewolf grabs a fifth slice of pizza. “What’s it like, being a witcher?”

“Not sure yet,” Geralt says mildly. “Only got my certification six months ago.”

“Is it true that you’re like a super soldier?”

“I don’t know about that.” Geralt shrugs.

“I mean, they did something to you.” The werewolf gestures at his face with a pizza crust. “Unless you were born with golden, slit-pupiled eyes?”

“I wasn’t. My eyes were green.” Geralt isn’t sure why he says that, but the words just come out.

“Fascinating.” The werewolf wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “So, am I your first werewolf?”

“No.”

“Did you buy the last one pizza?”

“No, I killed her.”

The werewolf’s heartbeat picks up and his eyes flick towards the door. “Ah.”

Geralt grimaces. “She had killed one person and was an active danger to three others. I had no choice.”

And he still threw up afterwards.

The werewolf smells afraid and Geralt hates that. The hardest thing about waking up after the Trials was suddenly being able to smell how scared everyone was of him. He tries to sound gentle, or as gentle as he can sound with his fucked up, gravelly voice, as he says, “Look, I’m not going to kill you. From what I can tell, the most monstrous thing about you is your taste in pizza toppings.”

The werewolf’s relief morphs into outrage, his mouth dropping open to reveal a ball of chewed up cheese, bread, and meat. “What in Melitele’s name is wrong with my taste in pizza toppings?”

“Pineapple and pepperoni?”

“The sweetness of the pineapple and the spiciness of the pepperoni—”

“No.”

“Just try it.” The werewolf shoves the tray of pizza at him. “It will change your life.”

“Hm.”

Ask me about my WIPs!

[luvdsc]

doing the bf tag with my bf.

hey, siri, does bf stand for best friend or boyfriend? (or both?)

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + youtuber au word count :: 4,691 words warnings :: none playlist :: mean it (lauv & lany) ⋆ always, i’ll care (jeremy zucker) ⋆ fearless (taylor swift) ⋆ fingers crossed (coin) ⋆ cardiac arrest (bad suns) author’s note :: this fic is a tiny bit different than my usual writing because i emphasize more on dialogue than description in order to mimic a youtube video. happy birthday to this absolute darling angel! you have the biggest heart in the universe, and thank you for sharing so much of it with the world ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

Your subscribers have always wondered if you would do this type of video countless of times, and you never thought you’d ever actually record one due to the state of your love life (or lack thereof), yet here you are.

Unfortunately, the romantic department of your life still remains very much empty though. But lucky for you, so is your best friend’s. And that pretty much works out perfectly because he could stand in for your nonexistent boyfriend in order to complete the popular GF/BF tag (along with a hidden challenge that was popular by demand and personally requested by a certain friend with a flair for baking. Now if only the frantic butterflies in your stomach would settle down just enough for you to do it).

After all, BF could stand for either boyfriend or best friend, right?

It’s also no secret that yours and Jaemin’s subscribers shipped you two together either. Heck, you may be a little delusional as well because you ship yourself with your best friend, too. Blame the massive crush you’ve been secretly harboring. But two best friends sharing an apartment and frequently appearing in videos on each of your respective channels? In the eyes of your fans, that’s basically the perfect setup for a modern day love story.

It would 100% be the greatest love story since Kat and Patrick in 10 Things I Hate About You, but at this point in your life, your story is going to be marked down as a tragedy. You feel even more hopeless and dramatic than Romeo was about his unrequited love for Rosaline. Also, that dude got over her way too quickly at the sight of another pretty girl. You wish that would happen for you, too, but your heart is much too stubborn over Jaemin.

When you had asked him if he would do the video with you, Jaemin immediately agreed much to your initial surprise. The publicity would be good though, you surmise later on, and both our fan bases would grow, so of course, he would agree. It’s not like your best friend liked you back. That would be absolutely absurd.

“Are you ready?” Jaemin speaks up, breaking your train of thought, and you’re slightly startled. He plops down in the plush pink rolling chair next to you, the chair moving back a few inches. He scooches it closer to your own chair, buzzing with excitement. You smile at your best friend, pushing down the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You nod before reaching forward and pressing the record button on the camera set up in front of you. You pull up the list of questions on your phone.

“Yeah, let's do this.”

How did we meet?

“Oh, this is an easy question,” Jaemin says, flashing his award winning smile at the camera before he throws his arm around you happily, hugging you affectionately. “It was freshman year. You ran into me. Literally. We were in the same class, and it just ended. You were trying to shove your textbook into your bag and didn’t notice where you were walking until you face-planted into my back.”

The memory is still fresh in your mind, and you remember how you had already resigned yourself to your fate of becoming good friends with the floor. But Lady Luck was on your side for once, and she sent an angel in the form of Na Jaemin to save you from embarrassment on your first day of university.

“Yeah, I almost fell flat on my butt, but luckily, Nana has great reflexes and when he turned around, he grabbed my arm before I hit the ground,” you add on, still squished into his side. He beams, eyes crinkling into half moon crescents before placing a kiss on your cheek and turning back to the camera.

Your heart skips a beat, but you ignore it. Jaemin has always been affectionate, and kisses were all in good fun. You continue on, plastering a nonchalant smile on your face. “And he said, ‘Looks like you just fell for me.’ And then he insisted that we get lunch together.”

“And the rest is history!” he exclaims happily, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You smile fondly before going onto the next question.

Where was our first date?

“The dining hall immediately after you ran into me.”

“That wasn’t a date,” you interject. “We can skip this question since we aren’t dating.”

Jaemin shrugs, waiting for you to read the next question. He murmurs faintly under his breath, “It was supposed to be one.”

We’re going out to eat, where are we going?

Jaemin answers immediately, leaning back in his chair. “The little pizza place down the block! They always make three different types of unique pizza everyday, and once they sell out, they close for the day.”

“We always go on Wednesday because they make both of our favorite pizzas then.” You chime in, and he nods enthusiastically, moving closer to the front and throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “They have corn and potato pizza that day!”

You wrinkle your nose slightly before leaning towards the camera. “To my subscribers, for the record, I assure you that I have better taste than that, and I love the artichoke pesto pizza with ricotta.”

What food do I dislike?

“... Corn and potato pizza,” he says reluctantly with a pout. “And kiwis. The outside is furry and creeps you out, and the fruit makes your tongue itch.”

You flash a thumbs up at the camera, and your best friend grins, puffing up his chest. Chuckling quietly, you shake your head before answering the question yourself. “And this dork absolutely hates anything strawberry flavored. And he’s lactose intolerant, so dairy is his enemy.”

“I love cheese, but cheese hates me,” he says mournfully, hanging his head down low before he jumps back up and reads the following question listed on your phone’s screen aloud.

Who is my best friend?

“Me!” Jaemin shouts gleefully, throwing his hands up in the air, and you can’t help but laugh, grinning widely at your best friend, a fond expression on your face.

“You.”

Am I a morning person or a night person?

“We’re both night people,” you say, and Jaemin nods in agreement. “You won’t catch either of us waking up before noon if we can’t help it, and we each have to set up like five alarms just to wake up.”

“It works out because we can stay up together watching movies or editing our videos,” he adds in, turning to you and smiling fondly. “And I always have a partner when I want to go on a midnight snack run to the convenience store nearby.”

Do we have a song? What is it?

“Jeremy Zucker’s Always, I’ll Care.”

“That’s our song?” You’re surprised. You were going to mention one of the go-to karaoke songs the two of you liked to belt out on the top of your lungs after a movie and wine night. Jaemin makes a great Sharpay Evans when you both want to bop to the top.

“It’s the song that reminds me of you,” he says, voice growing softer as he reaches the end of the sentence. Curse your heart for melting into a puddle. His cheeks turn pink under your gaze, and he becomes uncharacteristically shy, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, what’s the next question?”

What’s my nickname?

“Nana!” You reach out to poke his cheek, and he puffs them up before pouting at you. He reaches out and pinches your cheek.

“I call you ‘angel’ sometimes. It’s why your channel is called peachyangel.”

What's my weirdest habit?

“Jaemin eats way too much cilantro,” you state, swinging around side to side in your rolling chair.

“I do not!” he protests loudly, and you give him a blank stare. The two of you sit there in silence, not breaking eye contact until he finally relents.

“Okay, maybe I do. But you pour cereal before milk!”

“That’s not a weird habit!” You defend yourself. You are appalled at your best friend. Neither of you have ever woken up early enough for breakfast, so this has never come up before. If you would’ve known this in the past, maybe you wouldn’t be so ridiculously in love with him in the present.

“Yes, it is! Your cereal gets all soggy that way!”

“Only idiots pour their milk first!”

He clutches his heart dramatically. “Are you calling me an idiot?!”

“... So moving onto the next question—”

What do you think I’m talented at?

“Making people fall in love with you,” Jaemin blurts out, and your eyes widen at his answer as your grip on your phone loosens considerably.

“I—I mean, you’re just so approachable, and you’re kind to everyone. You care so much about everyone and everything. People feel comfortable around you, they always gravitate towards you, and you just— I don’t know, you make people feel loved,” he explains, unable to meet your eyes, and his cheeks darken. He fiddles around with the loose strand on his sweater sleeve.

Your heart swells ten times bigger and beats faster than ever. You wonder if Jaemin knows he has the same effect on everyone, too. You hope he does.

You wonder if he knows you’re in love with him and if he would love you back. You hope he does.

When was the first time you said “I love you”  to me?

“Uh, we can skip this one, too,” you say awkwardly, but he throws his arm around your shoulder again, hugging you tightly. “Nope, not skipping! I have the answer to this one!”

He grins toothily at the camera before pinching your cheek for a second time affectionately. “I said ‘I love you’ when you showed up at my dorm and brought me pop tarts at three in the morning after I accidentally drunk texted you, instead of Jeno. That’s when I knew you were a keeper.”

“I did that because I felt bad about throwing up on your shoes at the party we went to the weekend before that,” you mumble, face growing warm when you remember your best friend’s drunken confession a few years back. “Besides, you were drunk. It doesn’t count.”

“Okay, fine, but we say it to each other all the time. The second time I said it was when you brought me chicken nuggets, and I was hungover, but sober.” He says, spinning in his chair.

“I can see the pattern now. You say it when I bring you food,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest with a fake pout. “You love food, not me.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaims, halting mid spin and facing you. He turns your chair towards him, moving forward to clutch both of your hands in his, and stares directly into your eyes seriously. “I love you.”

You inaudibly gulp, helplessly gazing back at him as you feel your face begin to burn, your heart speeding up in your chest. Jaemin grins, leaning back and letting go of your hand. “See? I love you!”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow hard, fumbling over your words. “You love me.”

What is your favorite thing about me?

“Your laugh,” Jaemin replies honestly, reaching out and absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand as he looks at you. “Hyuck told me the other day that whenever I try to do something funny or make a joke, I have a habit of turning towards you for your reaction. It makes me kinda proud that I can make you laugh.”

You know that you’re stupidly grinning like an absolute idiot at this point, but you don’t care. You even almost forget about the camera.

“Your smile,” you answer, maintaining eye contact with him. Your smile widens when you see one appear on his face, his eyes shining brightly. “You have the prettiest smile, and I’m grateful that I’m able to see it everyday or be the cause of it sometimes.”

What film always makes me cry?

“Oh, The Lion King.” Jaemin responds automatically. “We both cry our eyes out at the stampede moment and when Simba tells his dad to wake up.”

“When we saw the live action version together, we brought along a ton of tissues with us, and he used almost all of them.”

What drink do I always order?

“Jaemin is crazy and always gets a venti iced americano with no water and eight espresso shots. He used to drink it six times a day until I yelled at him about it,” you say, shaking your head at the camera before glancing over at your best friend. “It’s seriously bad for your health.”

His lips jut out into a pout as he whines, “You wouldn't let me cuddle with you until I changed it!”

“It was for your own good! Plus, that drink tasted like battery acid!” You exclaim, and he sulks quietly before begrudgingly agreeing. You pat his head in consolation, and he grabs your hand, naturally interlocking your fingers with his.

“I drink it less now and with only two and half shots.”

If I could, what candy could I eat all day long?

“Chocolate,” you blurt out immediately. “Jaemin is a chocolate fanatic. But he’ll take anything with sugar. He has such a sweet tooth. He eats brown sugar when he’s bored. Even his boba drink has 100% sugar.”

“It’s as sweet as you.” Jaemin winks at you exaggeratingly, and you roll your eyes, turning your face away slightly to hide the smile that begins to spread across your face.

“Y/N likes matcha green tea Kit Kats.” He leans closer to the camera, peering into the lens in a serious manner. “If any chocolate companies are watching this, we are both open to sponsorships.”

If I could live anywhere in the world, where would I live?

“Here,” Jaemin says confidently, beaming at you, “You’d want to live here with me. And I want to live here, too. Because this is the bestest place in the world.” He hesitates, faltering for a moment before searching your eyes. “Right?”

Who are you to say no to that?

You smile at him. “Right.”

What am I deathly afraid of?

“You’re afraid of spiders,” he announces, “You make me take care of all the spiders in the apartment.”

“Yeah, it’s the only reason I keep you around,” you say casually, and he gasps, insulted. You give him a cheeky smile. “I’m just kidding.”

He scowls at you, lips pulled into a frown. “You better be.”

What is the first thing that I do in the morning?

“Jaemin is never awake before I am,” you inform the camera, crossing your legs. “I have to wake him up first if we go anywhere.”

“Even if you don’t have to go to an event, you still wake up early to make sure I’m awake, so I won’t be late. So that’s what you do first thing in the morning: wake me up.” Jaemin nudges your leg. “You always come into my room as a blanket burrito with your comforter wrapped around you.”

“That’s because I have to face the treacherous cold to make sure you aren’t late to your events. But you still end up late anyway because you drag me down onto your bed and refuse to let me go until we lay there for twenty minutes,” you grumble, pulling up your legs onto your chair and wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Cuddling is a good way to conserve body heat and start the morning,” Jaemin states, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.

“Really? Do studies show that it’s beneficial to cuddle in the morning?”

“I don’t know.” Jaemin shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. He smiles at you, causing your stomach to do flip flops and your heart to do cartwheels. “But it makes me happy every morning, so I’d say that’s enough proof.”

Who usually wins our arguments?

“Y/N does,” Jaemin sighs heavily, leaning back against his chair in resignation. “You always win.”

“It’s true.” You nod, patting Jaemin’s arm consolingly. “It’s tough always being right, but someone has to do it.”

“You always pout, too, and I just give in because you’re too cute,” he says casually, and you freeze in your seat. Never mind the fact that he’s implying you’re wrong, Na Jaemin just called you cute.

Good thing this is caught on camera because this means you can secretly watch this multiple times in private. And also cringe over your awkward reaction, but let’s not talk about that right now because once again, Jaemin just called you cute. You! Cute! Jaemin! Your mind is honestly short circuiting, and you can’t do anything, except nod and smile like a complete fool.

What do we usually argue about?

“Adopting,” Jaemin says solemnly. Eyes widening, you wait for a moment, but he offers no explanation. You lightly shove his chair, and he rolls a few inches away. “Nana, you can't just end it like that! You have to say more than that!”

Turning towards the camera, you hurriedly explain, “He’s talking about pets. He wants to adopt five dogs and name them after Jisung, Chenle, Jeno, Renjun, and Mark. And then he wants to adopt a snake and name it after Donghyuck.”

“She said we could only get one dog and the snake.” Jaemin scowls, slumping in his seat as he stares into the camera. “I can’t believe she isn’t letting me get five dogs. I love Jisung and all non-Jisung’s equally.”

What’s my favorite clothing item?

“It’s not even yours. You always steals my white hoodie. I haven’t been able to wear it for the past month,” Jaemin complains, and you have the decency to look a little guilty.

You play with the strings of said hoodie that’s currently engulfing your body, curling into yourself as you tuck your face into the sweater like a turtle. “Your clothes smell nice.”

“But we use the same laundry detergent.” Jaemin wrinkles his eyebrows, confusion evident in his eyes. “All our clothes smell like snuggles and cotton.”

“It’s not the same,” you insist, wrinkling your nose, and he shakes his head, lips curling into a smile. He reaches over and tugs the hood of the sweater over your head playfully.

“Okay, whatever you say, angel. You look better in them than me anyway.”

Where am I on a Friday night?

“You’re here with me, eating Chinese take out and watching Criminal Minds,” you answer, and he agrees, nodding.

“We just finished watching all twelve seasons on Netflix, so if anyone has any show recommendations, please send them in!”

What is my weirdest interest?

“Once again, my clothes,” Jaemin says, and you begin to protest but he wags his finger at you. “No, no, no, you don’t get to disagree! You hoarded like six of my sweaters in your closet. I bought you the exact same sweater for your birthday, but you still take mine!”

You silently decide that it is better to accept this defeat than correct him because you actually have seven of his sweaters and a few tee shirts as well.

Who’s my favorite YouTuber?

“Me!” Jaemin’s hand shoots up in the air. “I’m your favorite YouTuber. Next question.”

Your hands start to get clammy as you look down at the final question you have been saving for last. It’s been a good fifteen minutes, and the butterflies still haven’t subsided. If anything, they seem to have multiplied and transformed into a whole rampaging zoo complete with elephants and monkeys.

“Uh, are you sure about that, Nana? ShowMeTheMonet is really good. I also really like itsmebetch a lot.” You stall for time, staring at the last question until the words are stamped in your mind. “Dream Unsolved and Worth It are amazing, too.”

Suddenly, Jaemin is right in front of you as he spins your chair around to face him, frowning and complaining, “What do you mean I’m not your favorite? You’re my favorite! What kind of best friend are you? This is a betrayal! An insult! This is worse than Jisung not calling me his favorite! How could you do this to m—”

“Okay, okay, you’re my favorite! I’m sorry! It was a joke,” you interrupt, but he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, go make a video with ShowMeTheMonet instead.” He sulks, shoulders hunched over. “If you like her so much, go be best friends with her.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you all the chocolate you want after this,” you plead with him, placing your phone on the table next to you. “I’ll even buy you boba everyday for a week!”

Jaemin brightens up at that immediately. “Oh, yeah! I want some milk tea after this! Okay, what’s the last question?”

You swallow hard, nervously fiddling with the hoodie strings once more and shoving all the butterflies down to the pit of your stomach. Twisting in your seat, you move your chair and spin his around until you’re both facing each other, knees touching.

“‘Where and when was our first kiss?’”

At the immediate thought of kissing you, his cheeks explode in various shades of pink, the tips of his ears catching fire. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about kissing you daily. Heck, he had to stop himself from doing so earlier when you were burying your face in his stolen hoodie. It’s so unfair that you’re always so cute and looking so… so… kissable.

“I, uh, I don’t think I can answer that,” your best friend stammers out as his eyes dart towards your lips before meeting yours.

“But you got all the other answers right.” Your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you pause for a moment, balling your hands into fists before uncurling them and asking hesitantly, “Should I help you out?”

“Yes.” He wonders how exactly you can help him out. Oh god, did he kiss you before when he was drunk? But you would’ve told him if he did that. What if he had ki—

A soft pair of lips lands on his.

You’re kissing him. Oh my god, you’re kissing him! Jaemin wants to jump up and shout it from the rooftops. His heart leaps from his chest, and he’s wildly cheering in his mind as fireworks explode around him before he suddenly remembers that he has to kiss you back.

And so he does.

Jaemin tugs you closer until you’re pulled onto his lap, a muffled squeak of surprise coming from you, and he laughs as he presses his lips against yours more firmly, hands gripping your thighs as you straddle him. Your arms loop around his neck, and your heart ricochets in your chest as you kiss him back until your lungs are screaming for oxygen and you have to pull away.

Jaemin positively beams at you, eyes sparkling as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours affectionately. He laughs breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, that was really helpful. Our first kiss just happened right here a few seconds ago. And now, our second kiss is about to happen.”

Your best friend closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours once more, and you kiss him back just as fervently, smiling against his lips as he does the same. Never in either of your wildest dreams did you think this was going to happen, but you sure as heck aren’t complaining, and neither is he.

When the two of you finally break apart, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered, and Jaemin laughs giddily, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. He hugs you tightly to his chest before nudging you to look up at him. “So did I get a 100% on the boyfriend tag?”

“Yes,” you say, sitting up straight on his lap and grabbing both of his hands in each of your own, intertwining your fingers with his. “You got twenty five out of twenty five. Congratulations on your perfect score.”

“Technically, you did do the boyfriend tag with your boyfriend then, right?” he says slyly, squeezing your fingers. “Shouldn’t I get some bonus points for helping you do the tag correctly?”

You chuckle, failing to contain your smile. “Okay, fine, you get bonus points, too. You did an A plus job, Nana.”

“I’ll take those bonus points in the form of kisses.” He puckers his lips at you, and you easily comply, wordlessly leaning forward to give him one, two, three kisses.

Jaemin grins at you, positively delighted before he attacks you with kisses, peppering soft kisses onto your cheeks, forehead, chin, the tip of your nose, and everywhere else in between until he finally kisses your lips gently.

If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts floating around his head and shooting from his eyes. He leans forward again to kiss you one more time for good measure. You smile mischievously, tilting your head to the side slightly as your hands curl around his shirt. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want for your bonus points?”

His eyebrows furrow for a split second before his entire face lights up. Jaemin carefully cradles you, picking you up as his grip tightens under your thighs. You let out a quiet squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he stands up enthusiastically.

“Cut the cameras!”

One new notification: peachyangel uploaded a new video!

nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ commented:

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANGEL 🥺💗💞💖💗🤩💝💕💜🤧💖💘😭💘🌼💐🥺💖🥺🥺🥺

peachyangel replied: ily too baby 🥺🤧💖💖

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is this allowed?? there are minors here 😫 jisung look away

peachyangel replied: get your mind out of the gutter, ya nasty 🙄 we turned off the cam because he wanted to go get milk tea

jisung pwark replied: I’m 18!!!!! Stop treating me like a child!!! 

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark stop making me cut the crusts off of your sandwiches then

big head king replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck how come you don’t cut the crusts off of my sandwiches 😭😭

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ big head king because you are a grown adult and jeno already does it for you

jenojam commented:

congrats jaemin!! :)

Starbucks Official commented:

we would love to sponsor you, Mr. Na!

FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:

OH YOU ARE NANA!!1!1!!! 🤯🤯

ShowMeTheMonet commented:

um hello i would love to do the gf tag with you! i accept!!! it would be an honor 🤩

peachyangel replied: omg yes!!!! 🥺🥺 let’s do it soon 💖

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ did… did we just lose our gfs 🤧

mork lee rawr xD commented:

hahaha nice guys ! this was really cute haha

ty track commented:

the babies are all growing up too fast ):

jeno is my favorite commented:

.... i feel so single @.@

DonutKillMyVibe commented:

let it be known that I was the friend who challenged @ peachyangel to do the challenge and hence, I am the reason these two are together 👀👀

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck commented:

someone should make an updated version of that jaemin complaining video compilation with this

big head king commented:

ayyy you all are the GOAT 🐐🐐🐐

jenojam commented:

so are we just gonna let it slide when he called everyone except jisung “non jisungs” ?

jisung pwark replied: 😎😎

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is no one gonna comment on how he called me a snake?????

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle is no one gonna comment on how much of a clown hyuck is???

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck wtf? where did this even come from

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle sorry I thought we were stating the obvious here

big head king replied: LOLOLOL

apado gwenchana god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[pascalpanic]

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality.  Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal