#after like the next three sessions we're doing something new

[thanatoseyes]

I forgot we were planning new characters and I sent my DM a message.

It just reads, the devourer "nature's wrath"

No context, no explanation, just that.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 9, Unselfish - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Jade Carthage (now officially a warning!), petty behavior on both sides, oblivious!Bucky, jealousy, insecurity.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previously On...: While on a cute little coffee date, you gave Bucky your seal of approval to start training Jade. You trust him and his love for you. This is definitely not the worst decision you've ever made in your entire life that will probably end up haunting your nightmares. Nope, not at all.

A/N: If I was Pocket, and this was real life (ah, if only!), I don't think I would have made it this far with Bucky (let's be real, though, no one in my real life is that good looking, or that seductively tragic). I would have washed my hands of him all the way back in Chapter Six, but! this is fiction, and fiction needs drama. Welcome to The Drama. We're glad to have you here. Mainly so that we don't have to suffer alone. All that to say, I definitely don't advocate for putting up with the kind of behavior Bucky will be displaying from this point forward. Toxic behavior is acceptable only in fiction, and only when we can recognize that it's toxic, and not something to emulate in real life.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready

You weren’t going to admit it, but you regretted giving your okay to Bucky training Jade almost immediately. If she wasn’t asking him for extra training sessions, she was calling him with some stupid request or another.

First, it was that the lights in her room weren’t working:

“It was weird,” said Bucky when he’d come back from looking at them. “All the bulbs in her room were loose. Only thing I needed to do was tighten them.”

You kept your mouth shut, simply arching an eyebrow at him and hoping he genuinely believed that.

Next, she was constantly wanting to eat with him. “She’s lonely,” Bucky had told you when he’d left to have breakfast with her for the fourth morning in a row. “She hasn’t made many friends here yet. I’m just keeping her company.”

You let it slide; it was just breakfast following training, after all, and you were usually already at work by then. You still had lunch and dinner with him everyday.

Until she started sitting next to him at dinner, as well. At first, it wasn’t that big of deal; she was just a body at the table, and you could ignore her with no problems. But she slowly began monopolizing Bucky’s attention throughout the meals, asking him questions about combat training, protocols, any and everything innocuous and Avengers-related that made you feel like you couldn’t speak up against it without coming off as irrationally jealous.

After three evenings of being completely iced out of their conversation, you started engaging solely with Steve. It wasn’t your classiest move, knowing how Steve felt about you (and how Bucky felt about the way Steve felt about you) and using it for your own advantage, but he was still your friend, your family; it would have been weirder if you hadn’t spoken to him, at all. Of course, Bucky noticed this, and in seemingly no time at all, dinner returned to its normal dynamic, though you felt guilty about your behavior and tried to include Steve more than you had before.

But soon, she took lunches, too, and you couldn’t really find away around that.

Then she was complaining that the Tower was so boring and could he show her around the city? At least Bucky always insisted that you accompany him if he was going to go somewhere with Jade. It wasn’t your ideal way of spending the diminishing amount of time you had with Bucky, but you tried to make the best of it, though she went out of her way to make jabs and backhanded comments at your expense.

“It was so generous for Stark to have paid for your college education,” she cooed when you were all walking around Central Park together. “I can’t imagine what you must have done to warrant such generosity.”

“I’ve paid him back tenfold by working for him,” you told her through clenched teeth. You were usually able to brush off these disguised accusations with ease, but there was something about Jade’s insinuation that your relationship with Tony had some sort of seedy beginning that filled you with white hot rage.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve worked very hard to get where you are today,” she oozed. “I bet Stark had you practically crawling on all fours to get you in your position.”

You felt the blood rising to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. You shot Bucky a glance, looking for him to tell her off, to defend you, something, but if he noticed the hidden barb in her words, he gave no indication of it.

“Pocket’s a genius,” he said instead, beaming at you and kissing the crown of your head. “Stark knew she was the best of the best, so it makes perfect sense that he would do whatever he needed to do to get her on his team. What was it you said, sweets? He got a good return on his investment in you.”

From outside of Bucky’s line of sight, Jade rolled her eyes, not pleased that her subtle attack hadn’t had its desired effect.

“Oh, Sarge,” she cried, grabbing on to his arm and tugging him away toward the pond, “look at the ducklings! Let’s go see them!” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as Bucky turned to you with a shrug, as if to say “what can I do?” as he let Jade drag him away.

Annoyed, you chose not to follow, instead, walking along the path to buy yourself a hot pretzel from a nearby vendor.

“Hard being the third wheel when your friends are on a date, huh?” the vendor asked with a chuckle as he handed you your drink order.

“Excuse me?” you asked, pausing in the process of putting mustard on your pretzel. “That’s actually my boyfriend.”

The vendor looked taken aback. “You sure about that, honey?” He nudged his chin in the direction of the pond, where Jade was hanging onto Bucky’s arm as though he were a life preserver and pointing enthusiastically at the ducklings.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you snapped, grabbing your items and turning away from the rude man. You found yourself a bench where you could observe the two of them from a distance.

You had finished your pretzel and your iced tea before Bucky seemed to notice you weren’t alongside him. You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as he looked around for you, his face beginning to show panic when he couldn’t find you right away. Jade seemed to try to calm him down, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There was a small part of you, not so deep inside, that you weren’t proud of, that was glad to see him freak out at not being able to find you. Serves him right for ignoring you for her. You watched as Bucky jogged back to where he had last seen you on the path, calling your name, Jade following behind him.

“She probably just went back to the Tower,” you heard her say to him. “Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of our day, and you can meet up with her later? No point in letting her ruin our fun,” she added.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky snapped at her. “She wouldn’t do that! Fuck. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted.” He pulled out his phone and you knew he was going to call you.

You answered the phone before your ringtone could even begin. “Yes?” you asked, your voice cold.

“Baby! God, where are you?! I turned around and you were gone! I was worried sick.”

“I’m exactly where you left me half an hour ago, Barnes,” you said. “The two of you looked so fucking cozy; I didn’t want to interrupt your little date.”

You watched as his head shot up, scanning the path until he saw you sitting on your bench. When your eyes met, the relief on his face was unmistakable. You disconnected the call and sat waiting for him to make the next move.

He ran toward you, getting down on his knees in front of you before throwing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

“God, doll,” he murmured into your hair. “You were right behind us, and when I turned around after a second, you weren’t there, all I could think was that something terrible had happened to you.”

You glanced behind his shoulder to see Jade, hip cocked and arms across her chest, looking annoyed. “I didn’t mean to make you worry; I just got a pretzel. But that’s the thing, Buck,” you said as you pulled back from him, “I didn’t follow you at all and it took you thirty fucking minutes to notice.”

His face fell as the realization hit him. “Thirty minutes? Fuck. ‘m so sorry, Pocket,” he said, sincerity lacing his voice as he ran a hand through his hair. “That was shit of me. I don’t have an excuse.” He took your hands in his.

“See,” Jade said as she came up behind him, “she’s fine. Just being dramatic. I told you not to worry about her.”

“Vix,” Bucky said without looking at her, “go back to the Tower.” His voice was low and gruff as he spoke to her.

“What, like, by myself?” she asked, shocked that he would suggest such a thing.

“Yes. Alone.” Bucky said. When she made no motion to leave, he turned to look at her. “Now!” he growled before turning back to you.

“Fine, I’m going,” she said as she started to walk away, but not before sneering at you and flipping you the bird.

Once he was confident she was out of earshot, Bucky stood up and came to sit next to you on the bench. “This is the kinda shit you’ve been worrying about, isn’t it?" he asked you.

You didn’t respond for a while, just looked at him, trying to get your words in order. “I told you that I’m not going to control who can or can’t be friends with, Bucky,” you said eventually. “And I do still mean that. I don’t control you– no one controls you. But no girl is going to love seeing their boyfriend go off with someone else and completely forget about them.” You took a deep, sad sigh. “It hurts, Buck. It makes me feel like… like you only brought me with you out of some kind of obligation, and you’d rather I wasn’t here.” He tried to say something, but you kept talking. “I’m not saying that was your intention; I know it wasn’t. That’s just what it feels like. And maybe I’m being irrational, overly jealous. Maybe I’m being selfish. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, this relationship thing. Ever. I’m just kinda… flying blind here.” You blinked away some tears that were threatening to fall. “Maybe I am too dependent on you. Maybe you’d be better off with someone who has their shit together and doesn’t freak out whenever another girl gets near you.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling defeated.

Bucky fiercely wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you to his chest. “Stop,” he said, his voice almost a sob. “Stop saying things like that. It’s not true. I am begging you, never think that’s true. Pozhaluysta, lyubov' moya.” Please, my love. Bucky’s voice was raspy, as though he were choking back tears of his own. “Ty — vse, chto ya kogda-libo khotel. Vse, chto mne nado.” You are everything I ever wanted. Everything I need. “You make me so damned grateful that I fell off that train,” he whispered.

You pulled your head back, studying him in surprise. “Buck, you don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, not after everything—”

“It’s the truth,” he told you, hands coming up to cup your face, making sure you were looking at him, really looking at him. “If I hadn’t fallen, I’d have probably died in a German trench long before you’d ever been born, and the idea of it makes me sick. And everything—everything-that happened after, all of that led me to you. I can’t resent a single second of it, because it brought me here, now. Do you understand how fucking precious that makes you? How fucking special you are?”

You stared at him, stunned at his revelation. Bucky took your silence as an opportunity to pull you into him in a bruising, desperate kiss. If you’d been more self-aware, you’d have pulled back, embarrassed at being so brazen with your affection in public, but all you could do was kiss him back with every ounce of love you felt for him. And it felt so absolutely right.

Far too soon for your liking, you both had to come up for breath. Pressing your foreheads together, Bucky sighed contentedly. “What do you need me to do? I’ll do anything you need, you know that, right?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bringing his along with it and you both giggled. “I know,” you said. “Maybe no more outside-the-Tower excursions?” you asked timidly, hoping it wasn’t too big a request. “Or, if you still want to do them, maybe I don’t come with you? Being around her sets me off. It’s too much ”

“Consider them ended,” he said, without hesitation or pause. “Not even a question. I wouldn’t even consider going out of the Tower with her without you with me, and I’m not going to force you to spend time with her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly. “I feel like such a controlling bitch.”

“No, baby, no.” He tucked your head under his chin as he held you to him. “That is the exact opposite of what you are.” You believed him, you really did, but it did nothing to quell the disgust you felt with yourself.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[sissylittlefeather]

Let's Forget About the Stars: Chapter 10

A/N: I told you we weren't done with Dove and Jumbee! This is right after their wedding and kind of leads into the next phase of their relationship. I hope you all are in this for the long haul with us!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, they'll be smutty from now on probably. Cussing, kissing, references to oral sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pregnancy

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Word count: ~2.1k

"Goodnight, Mrs. Presley."

"Goodnight, Mr. Presley." They go to sleep wrapped in each other and never look back.

******

Elvis and Dove go to New Orleans for a week-long honeymoon before he resumes filming King Creole. They spend most of their time in bed together talking and having sex as often as physically possible. They don't leave the room except occasionally in the middle of the night to eat at a restaurant or see a movie at a place Elvis has paid to stay open late for them. By the end of the week, all nervousness about being together intimately has completely faded and they don't hesitate to walk around naked in the hotel room. By day three, they don't even shower separately anymore. They are wholly and completely married.

Dove goes home to Memphis while he finishes the movie and wanders around the house dreaming of decorating a nursery. She cries when she gets her period at the beginning of March, having hoped that they might have a honeymoon baby. It's early, she knows that, but with him leaving, she'd like to have something of him to keep with her. Something to keep her occupied wouldn't hurt either.

Gladys notices that Dove's mood has changed and tries to see if there's anything she can do to help. She hasn't been feeling well recently, but maybe a problem to solve is exactly what she needs. It would be nice to have a distraction from the worrying.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She pulls Dove aside one night after dinner. Elvis will be home for a few days soon before he leaves for basic training. Dove should be excited, but she's moping around the house like he's already gone again.

"Oh, nothing, mama." She's taken to calling Gladys 'mama' since the wedding. It's just easier and she feels so motherly that it's natural.

"Now, you've been mopin' around this house like a kicked puppy. What's goin' on?" Dove looks up at her with teary eyes. She hesitates, but decides she needs someone to talk to and Gladys feels like the right person.

"I'm just... I'm not... there's no baby yet and I..." She chokes on the words. Gladys wraps her in a hug and she sobs on her shoulder for a bit while the older woman strokes her hair. Eventually, she pulls back and holds Dove's cheeks in her hands.

"Hon, it's been one month. Really it's been one week. And it probably wasn't the right week. I know it's hard, but you'll have a baby before too much longer. I feel it in my soul."

"The right week?" Dove's eyes are wide with confusion.

"Oh, hon. Alright then." Gladys launches into a monologue about reproduction and cycle tracking and everything else Dove needs to know. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes, mama. I think it does. So I need to figure out the right week."

"If you'll tell me when your cycle is I can help you." Dove smiles and nods, feeling some hope for the first time in days.

******

Elvis is home for a few days between filming and having to leave for the army. Dove has established it's not the right week, but she doesn't care. They tumble around naked and sweating an impressive number of times in the days that he's home.

The night before he leaves, they lay together in bed after a spirited lovemaking session, both of them naked and panting. She lays in the crook of his arm with her hand on his chest.

"I love you so much, Jumbee."

"I love you too, honey."

"I don't want you to leave." He looks down at her and tips her chin up to look at him.

"I don't wanna go. But I'm gonna find a way for us to be together. We're married. Surely that means something to the army." He leans down and kisses her lips gently. She thinks about telling him that she wants to get pregnant, but decides against it. They'll cross that bridge when they come to it.

******

Elvis goes to Fort Chaffee and then on to Fort Hood in March of 1958. He writes to Dove that he's been spending a lot of his free time with some friends that live in Waco and that if she ever wants to visit, she's welcome there.

April comes and goes and Dove decides that letters and phone calls aren't enough. She and Gladys establish that the last week of May is the one where she's most fertile and she makes plans to visit him in Waco. When she finally arrives, he's so glad to see her, he can barely contain himself.

Eddie Fadal and his wife happily welcome her to their home and that first evening is spent around the piano. Elvis struggles to keep his hands off of her, eager to get her back to his bedroom. When they finally do get back to the room he asks a question as they kiss and start to strip each other's clothes off.

"Why did you wait so long, baby?"

"I was waiting for the right week." She says it without really thinking about it, but he pauses and pulls back.

"Right week for what?" Her cheeks turn bright pink as she stands there in his arms, half-dressed.

"It's... not important."

"No, Dovey, right week for what?" He looks down at her inquisitively, loosening his grip on her. She looks down at her feet and whispers.

"Right week for making a baby." Understanding hits Elvis. He doesn't know the details but he's heard about women not having sex at certain times to prevent pregnancy.

"Wait, are you tryin' to get pregnant?" She nods, keeping her eyes down. He tips her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Dovey?"

"Yeah. Is that not what you want?"

"Honey, I'm about to be gone for 2 years. It's not really the best time." She knits her eyebrows together.

"But I would like to have some part of you, something to keep me busy while you're gone."

"I don't really wanna miss my kid's first two years." His voice is more intense than she expected. She never dreamed he wouldn't be on board.

"You really don't want this?"

"Not yet, honey. Is this the right week?"

"Yes. That's why I'm here."

"Then I can't make love to ya." He puts his hands on her upper arms and moves backwards away from her.

"Elvis, please!" She whines pleadingly.

"I'll go down on ya baby, but I'm not doing anything more."

"Elvis!"

"I'm sorry, honey, I'm sayin' no." He walks to the bed and lays down on the right side of it. She looks at him with her eyes wide and her lips in a full unintentional pout. "Oh, now c'mere. Don't be lookin' like that."

She crawls into his arms on the bed. He does exactly what he promises and nothing more. She's reminded of all those nights they were together before the wedding and it makes her sad, but he doesn't break his resolve through the whole trip.

Until the last morning she's there. They have to take her to the airport later that day, but they shower together like always in the little white bathroom. They've done this everyday since she's been there, but Elvis woke up in a mood on that particular day.

In the shower, he presses himself up behind her and runs his hands over the front of her body. He whispers in her ear as his hands roam.

"You're so sexy, honey." She whimpers as he runs his hand down between her legs and starts to rub circles on her.

"Somebody is awake this morning." She reaches back and palms his rock hard member as he touches her. He moans softly and his hips buck into her hand.

"God, Dovey, it's been so long." She swears she can feel the throbbing ache in his cock.

"I'm not the one stopping you." She half-moans as he nibbles on her neck and earlobe, his fingers still rubbing against her clit. She feels her orgasm gather in between her legs and whimpers.

"You gonna cum for me, Dovey?"

"If you keep that up, I will." She bites her bottom lip to stifle a moan.

"Good. Good girl. Cum for me, honey." She's so close to the edge and he's so good with his hands that it only takes a few more seconds for her to fall, electricity coursing through her like lightning out to her fingertips. Her orgasm is too much for him to stand.

"Fuck it." He bends her over a little, lining himself up from behind and pushes into her. She yelps with the sudden overstimulation, but doesn't protest when he starts to slam into her. She's needed it so badly for so long, she's not about to stop him now just because her clit is a little sensitive.

He holds her hips so tightly she worries he might leave marks, but it feels so good to be taken like this that she doesn't complain. He moans loudly with the sensation of her wrapped so tightly around him. He's not sure he'll ever get enough of having her like this.

His hands run up to her breasts and squeeze gently as he fucks into her frantically from behind. But he wants to see her face when he cums, so he pulls out and flips her around, pinning her back against the shower wall. He slides his cock back into her and resumes pounding her. Sometimes they make love slow and gentle, but she kind of loves when it's like this; when he needs her so badly that he can't do anything other than fuck her silly.

She moans as he slams into her and then leans forward to whisper in his ear.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me."

"Ohhhh!" He moans loudly as he freezes , his cock pulsing and throbbing inside her, filling her with his release. She sighs, satisfied as he pants and holds her against himself. "Well fuck, baby, I meant to pull out."

"I'm sure one time won't hurt. We've been good all weekend. And I'm sorry. We can wait until you'll be home to have a baby." He kisses her forehead and holds her close.

"We'll have babies. Don't you worry about that Dove Presley. We will." She smiles and snuggles into him, hoping he's right.

******

Elvis continues basic training through the summer. He comes back to Nashville in June to record and Dove is there in the studio with him. They also get word from the army that since he's married, and he's Elvis Presley, he'll be able to live with his wife and family instead of in the barracks. This holds true for when he's in Germany, too. Dove is positively ecstatic that she's not going to have to be without him for two years. But she's unusually tired and not really up for celebrating too much. The champagne makes her nauseous and she's dying to crawl in bed.

When they do finally make it to the bed in their hotel room in Nashville, Elvis wraps himself around her. She's already fast asleep and he wonders if she's okay. She doesn't usually sleep like this. He chalks it up to excitement that he's home, or close to it anyway, and the knowledge that she'll be reunited with him very soon.

At the beginning of July, Dove moves into a house in Killeen, Texas with Gladys and Vernon. Elvis lives there too, anytime he's not busy with army business.

Overall, things are going along quite well.

Until Dove realizes she's missed her period for June. She tells no one. It's too early to know for certain and she's not sure how Elvis would take the news anyway. Maybe it's just her body adjusting to the increase in sexual activity.

When she misses her period in July too, though, she knows it's time for a professional opinion. She finally goes to the doctor and the tests confirm what she thought was true: she's pregnant.

She comes into the house one August day bustling with excitement and nervous to tell Elvis about the baby. But instead, he's sitting on the couch in tears.

He explains that Gladys is ill and they've put her on a train to Memphis. The army should give him emergency leave, but it won't be for another couple of days. His eyes flash with terror and Dove tries to stay strong for him.

"I can't lose Mama. I just can't." He leans against her and sobs. All thoughts of her pregnancy fall by the wayside as she comforts him. She strokes his hair as he weeps and tries to swallow her own tears.

"It'll be okay, Jumbee. Whatever happens, I'm here. It'll be okay."

But she's not sure she believes it either.

******

Now what?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@wildhorseinkansas @ccab @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity

[guccifrog]

THINK FAST

chris sturniolo × f!reader

summary: where a silly dare leads to a lot of unexpected events

disclaimer : ⁱ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ⁱ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᵍᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ⁱ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵗʰᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ

part2 part3

think fast ᵈᵒᵐⁱⁿⁱᶜ ᶠⁱᵏᵉ//ᶠᵉᵃᵗ.ʷᵉᵉᶻᵉʳ ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

y/n's pov ☆

"y/n are you even listening?" she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. I smiled apologetically and looked around. The hallway was crowded with students, all hurrying to their next class. The lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow over the sea of backpacks.

It was the middle of the day, but it felt like the end of the world. I glanced back at the girl standing next to me, her hands on her hips. She was shorter than me by a good six inches, with dark brown curly hair that was currently pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her eyes were a piercing shade of blue, and she had the most perfect nose I'd ever seen.

Her name was Jane, and we'd been friends since freshman year. We'd bonded over our love of music, and shit talking sessions in the back of the class. In fact, it was because of her that I decided to learn the guitar in the first place. She also had this uncanny ability to know what song I needed to hear at any given moment. I smiled as I looked up and noticed her expression soften. "You okay?" she asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Yeah, I'm fine" She nodded. "You know where we're going after school?" she asked, changing the subject. I shook my head. "No, what are we doing?" She grinned. "Remember that one abandoned park Dylan was talking about? I think we should check it out." I grinned back. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. That could be fun." Jane grinned wider. "someone said they're bringing alcohol too." we started laughing.

"Oh, this should be good." we continued down the hall, already making plans for the rest of the day. As we turned the corner, a loud commotion caught our attention. A group of 3 boys and 2 girls who I recognized as the annoying rich kids from our school were arguing outside of the principal's office.

Jane nudged me with her elbow. "You know they're gonna get into something they can't handle," she whispered. I just shrugged. "Probably," I agreed. "We should probably keep walking" Just as we were about to continue down the hall, one of the three boys seemed to notice me and jane standing there. His eyes narrowed and he shot me a hateful look before turning back to the others. I recognized him as Chris Sturniolo, the most popular jerk in our grade. he was always surrounded by a bunch of fake friends and girls who were too dumb to realize he was using them.

I glanced at Jane, who was watching the scene unfold with a knowing expression on her face. "You okay?" I asked, reaching out to take her hand. She squeezed it reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just keep walking." we continued down the hall, avoiding eye contact with the group in front of us.

As we turned the corner, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. "You know, Jane, I've never liked those little bitches," I confessed, "but I don't think they're worth starting anything with." Jane shrugged. "Maybe not, but you never know what they're capable of." She paused, then added with a grin, "Besides, I think you could take them in a fight."

We continued down the hall, our conversation drifting to other topics. Jane told me about this new band she'd discovered, and I filled her in on a funny meme I'd seen online. The school day seemed to fly by, and before we knew it, it was time to head to our lockers to gather our stuff for the abandoned park. We met up with Dylan and the others, exchanged a few quick hellos, and made our way out of the building.

The sun was beginning to set by the time we arrived at the park. It was deserted, just as Dylan had promised. We found a spot near a large tree and started to unpack our things. Jane and I sat down, leaning against the tree, while the others began to pass around a flask. Soft music filled the air, as Jane pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I took it, and she lit us both up. The smoke curled up into the air, mixing with the scent of the grass.

"I'm getting bored let's do something," Dylan suggested, tossing a tennis ball into the air."let's play true or dare," one of the girls that I didn't remember the name of chimed in. "it's more fun than just sitting here." the others nodded in agreement, and we gathered in a circle around a patch of soft grass. dylan was the first to volunteer for truth or dare, and Jane grinned, looking him up and down before she spoke. "truth or dare?"

"Truth," he replied, confidently. "pussy" I teased making him roll his eyes. "Do you like amber?" Jane asked, nodding towards another girl in the group who was passed out on the grass. Dylan grinned, and everyone leaned in a little closer to hear his response. "No, I don't like her," he said, looking amused. The others burst out laughing, and Jane smiled, shaking her head. "Your turn."

The game continued in this way, with everyone taking turns answering truths or dares. The dares became increasingly risque as the night went on, but everyone seemed to be having a good time.

"y/n truth or dare? You've been looking rather quiet tonight," Jane teased, nudging me with her shoulder. "Dare," I replied "I'm not a pussy like some people," she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"wait Jane I have an idea for a dare," the girl with the flask suggested, a lazy grin playing on her lips. "this is gonna be a little risky but it's fun" She looked around the circle, getting everyone's attention.

"I dare you to…" she paused, her voice lowering to a whisper, "break into Christopher Sturniolo's house and steal a pair of his boxers" The group erupted into laughter, some finding it hilarious, others just amused. "are you serious?" Dylan asked, his eyes wide. "yeah, it's just down the street, and his parents are always out of town" she shrugged, taking another sip from the flask.

I glanced at Jane, and she looked nervous. "I don't know, that sounds kinda sketchy, and you know we don't really fuck with the populars" she said, her voice shaking slightly. "But if you think you can do it, go for it." The others murmured in agreement.

"Alright, a dare is a dare," I said, standing up. "let's go bitches" The others cheered, and I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

the group and I walked down the street, the air cool against our skin. It was getting darker, and the lights in the houses began to flicker on, casting long creepy shadows across the sidewalk. I felt a knot of nervousness in my stomach as we approached the house in question. It was huge, and there was a fancy car in the driveway. I had no idea how we were going to get inside.

"follow me" the girl that dared me whispered, taking off at a jog towards the side of the house. I hesitantly followed, my heart racing as we snuck around the corner" How do you know your way around" Jake one of the guys from our group asked, his voice low. "none of your business" she snapped back, not taking her eyes off the house.

The girl stopped at a window, looking in for a moment before grinning and reaching out to twist the handle. The window slid open with a soft click " This is Chris's room" she whispered, gesturing for me to climb inside "We'll wait for you here you go get the boxers and try not to take too long," Jane hissed, leaning against a tree with the others.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling the cool glass against my palm, before carefully pushing off and climbing through the window. The inside of the house was dark and silent, and I had to squint to see anything.

I crept across the room, careful not to make a sound. There was a large bed with a black-and-white comforter, and two doors on opposite sides of the room. One of them was closed, but the other was slightly open. I inched closer, peering inside. It was a walk-in closet, with rows of clothes hanging neatly from the walls.

I scanned the rows, searching for a pair of boxers. After a moment, I spotted them: a bright blue pair with a white waistband. I reached out to grab them, but as I did, I heard a noise from outside the window. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Had we been caught?

As I listened intently, the noise grew louder. It sounded like…footsteps? Great, now what? I debated what to do for a moment, then quickly ducked back into the walk-in closet, hiding behind a rack of clothes. Peeking out, I saw a tall figure moving through the room, searching for something.

I held my breath, hardly daring to move. The figure paused by the window, seemingly unaware of me hiding just a few feet away. After a moment, they turned and left the room, disappearing down the hallway. My heart raced as I waited for what felt like an eternity, but eventually, I heard nothing else.

I poked my head back out of the closet. The room was still empty. Quickly, I made my way out of the closet with the blue boxers in hand, hurrying back to the window. It was closed. I frowned, wondering how that was possible when I'm sure I left it open. I glanced around, There was no time to waste, the others would start to worry. I reached up and tried to open the window again, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked.

Panic started to set in as I searched the room for another way out. There was a door on the other side of the room, but it was also locked. I checked the closet again, just in case there was another window, but there wasn't. Desperate, I began to look around the room, searching for anything that might help me escape.

"what the fuck are you doing?" a familiar voice behind me asked, making me jump.

.･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ

taglist ☆

@lvr-111 @mattestrella @sleepysturnss @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @1horrormoviewhore1 @b2cute

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Three: Inspiration

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masterpost

៚ wc: 4k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ The thought of entering the world of fashion and modeling seemed daunting, but you’d rather have your suffering come from getting perceived than not having at least a sufficient amount of money to make sure your last days won’t be spent in Paris. Looking through the stolen-but-not-really sketchbook in your possession for outfit inspiration, you’re caught in a state of shock when something you thought had finally left you behind suddenly came back to bite you. One question hung heavy in your mind: Why?

a/n: all i have to say is: everything about this chapter that confuses you will eventually make sense through time

tags: @beabatiny

Seonghwa must have been dreaming—either that, or he has absolutely lost his mind. Sure, he already carried a surge of hope with him after he attempted to pursue you into getting interested in the upcoming casting for Hongjoong’s autumn collection he’ll be showcasing at Fashion Week, but he wasn’t expecting you to immediately call him just a few hours after your interaction.

Well, you did say you were walking around Rue de la Paix with the purpose of landing a job, so... maybe that’s why it didn’t take too long for you to consider his offer? It was an opportunity, after all.

“Am I dreaming?” Seonghwa asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

On the other end of the line, your face contorted into an expression of both confusion and amusement. “Hasn’t it been established that it’s bad to ask people in your dream if you’re dreaming? I heard doing that turns the whole thing into a nightmare.”

That was all it took for Seonghwa to be certain that he was, in fact, not dreaming, and you were, in fact, actually calling him.

He chuckled, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. “Alright, alright, you got me. I’m definitely not dreaming. So, about the casting…”

You could hear the shift in his tone, becoming more professional and focused. “The casting is for an upcoming autumn collection showcase that will be part of Fashion Week. We're looking for new faces, someone who can bring a fresh perspective to the runway. It's a fantastic opportunity, especially for someone who’s looking to break into the industry.”

You listened intently, your curiosity piqued. “What would I need to do for the casting? I mean, I’ve never really done anything like this before…”

You weren’t exactly far off the truth. Sure, you’ve watched modeling shows and all that, but you’ve never immersed yourself in its world, figuring you were fine with settling as all but a distant viewer in an outsider’s perspective.

Seonghwa’s voice was reassuring. “That’s alright. Don’t worry, we’re not expecting you to have a ton of experience. What we’re looking for is potential. During the casting, you’ll be asked to walk the runway and maybe do a short photo session. It’s more about seeing how you present yourself and how well you can embody the spirit of the collection.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “That sounds interesting. So, when and where is it happening?”

“The casting will be held this Friday at 10 AM,” Seonghwa began. “It’s going to be at a studio on 15 Rue de Rivoli. When you get there, just head to the reception and mention you’re there for the casting, they’ll guide you to the right place.”

“Alright,” you responded, taking mental notes of the details, hoping you won’t forget them as the days progress and pass by.

“Make sure to bring a few things with you,” Seonghwa continued. “Firstly, a portfolio if you have one. It doesn’t matter if it’s small or even if it’s just some photos of you; it’ll help us get a better idea of your look and style. Secondly, wear something comfortable yet stylish—something that shows off your personality but is easy to move in for the runway walk. And finally, bring your positive attitude and confidence. Just be yourself. That’s the most important thing. We want to see your unique qualities.”

“Got it. Thanks, Seonghwa. I appreciate you explaining everything.”

“No problem at all. I'm glad you called. I really think you have a lot of potential, and I’m excited to see what you can bring to the table.”

Once the call ended, you let out a soft sigh, feeling your hopes lift. You still weren’t certain if this was the right path to choose—but hey, some risks are bound to be taken, aren’t they? That’s just how life works.

The excitement mingled with apprehension, and you couldn’t ignore the lingering uncertainty. Modeling was an entirely new world for you, one you had never seriously considered before. Even though Seonghwa had reassured you to just be yourself, you knew that you couldn’t walk into the casting completely unprepared. You needed to put in at least a little effort in preparation, especially given your lack of experience and nonexistent confidence.

You mulled over your thoughts, realizing you had a few days to get yourself together before the casting. You decided that the best way to spend this time was by trying to practice modeling. It wasn’t just about walking on a runway; it was about presenting yourself with poise and confidence. You had never been one to strut around in front of others, and the thought of it made your stomach churn with nerves. But this was an opportunity you couldn’t afford to let slip away.

To start, you decided to look for tips and techniques online. You figured that getting an insight into the world of fashion and modeling would help you understand what you were getting into. You walked over to your desktop computer by the other side of the room and began to surf the internet, searching for interviews, documentaries, and any content related to modeling and fashion itself.

Your first stop was YouTube, where you found a plethora of interviews with successful models. You watched an interview with a famous model, where she discussed her journey from being an amateur to walking on the most prestigious runways. She spoke about the importance of self-belief and how she overcame her initial fears by practicing her walk and poses in front of a mirror. Her story resonated with you, and you considered following her methods.

Next, you stumbled upon a documentary series called “The Model Life.” The series followed aspiring models through their journey in the fashion industry, showcasing their struggles and triumphs. One episode highlighted a day in the life of a new model during Fashion Week, detailing her preparation, the chaos backstage, and the exhilaration of finally stepping onto the runway. The documentary provided you with a behind-the-scenes look at the hard work and dedication required to succeed in the industry.

You then found a documentary covering a veteran model’s experience in the industry, where she spoke about the power of authenticity in modeling. She emphasized that while technical skills are important, what truly sets a model apart is their unique presence and the ability to convey emotions through their expressions and body language. This gave you a different perspective, reinforcing Seonghwa’s advice to be yourself.

Switching gears, you browsed through various fashion blogs and websites. You came across articles that offered practical advice on how to prepare for a casting call. One blog suggested practicing your walk by placing a book on your head to improve your posture and balance. Another article recommended studying different poses in fashion magazines and practicing them in front of a mirror to build your confidence.

Finally, you explored fashion forums where aspiring models shared their experiences and tips. One forum thread caught your eye; it was filled with stories from individuals who had attended casting calls for major fashion shows. They discussed everything from the outfits they wore to how they handled the nerves. Reading their experiences made you feel a little less alone in your anxiety.

By the time you finished your internet deep dive, you had a notebook filled with notes and tips. You felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation, but you also felt more prepared. This week’s Friday could either be the turning point of your life or your biggest failure, and it’s within your hands to make sure the coin will flip and land on the side you’re hoping for.

—

The next day, you were gently stirred awake by the first light of dawn filtering through your window. The sun cast a golden glow across the room, illuminating the soft, pastel hues of your curtains. The city outside was beginning to wake, the distant hum of traffic mingling with the muffled sounds of citizens. You could see the Eiffel Tower peeking through the skyline, its silhouette majestic against the morning sky. For a moment, you lay there, savoring the tranquility of the early morning, feeling a sense of calmness wash over you.

Your peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone vibrating on the bedside table. Still half asleep, you reached out blindly, struggling to grasp it. In your groggy state, you accidentally pressed the decline button, sending the phone tumbling off the table. Your eyes shot open in alarm, and you quickly hung your body over the edge of the bed to retrieve it. With a sigh of relief, you saw that it was your mother calling, and you immediately rang her back.

Your mother’s voice filled with relief on the other end as she called out your name. “Oh, dear, I was beginning to get worried since you weren’t picking up.”

You let out a soft sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “No, it’s okay, Mom. But... could you please stop calling me that? I don’t think I want to hear that name anymore.”

There was a brief pause before your mother spoke again, her tone filled with understanding. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I still struggle with referring to you using your new name, but I understand why you had to do it.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” you replied, feeling a heavy pang of guilt. You knew better than to expect people to adjust to your comfort all the time, but you knew even better than to sacrifice your boundaries for the sake of not making others feel bad. Additionally, your parents never really minded you reminding them of these matters—it’s just like what your mother said just now, she understands. “I know it’s hard, but it’s important to me.”

Your mother sighed softly, her voice tinged with sadness and acceptance. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll do better. It’s just been so busy lately, but I’ve missed you. How’s everything going? How’s Paris treating you?”

You settled back against the headboard, feeling a wave of homesickness mingled with relief. “Paris is... different. It’s beautiful and overwhelming at the same time. There are so many things to see and do, but it can be lonely too.”

Your mother’s voice softened. “I can imagine. It’s such a big change. Have you made any friends yet?”

You hesitated, thinking about your interactions. “Well… not really. I’ve met a few people, but I’m still trying to find my footing here. It’s been mostly about looking for jobs.”

“That’s understandable,” she said gently. “Moving to a new city is always tough. Switching from Arcadia Bay to Paris is a huge step, but I’m sure you’ll find your place there soon.”

“Well, I hope so,” you replied. You’ve been telling yourself the exact same thing everyday since you moved here, and although it gets a little hard to believe your own words sometimes, you know there’s always room for better days. “It’s been a bit of a struggle. I know you told me I could always call you and Dad if things get really bad, but I want to prove I can handle myself.”

“We know you can,” your mother said with pride. “You’ve always been determined and resourceful. Just keep pushing forward.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you recalled your latest encounter, deciding to share it with your mother soon after. “Actually, I did have something interesting happen yesterday. I met this guy named Seonghwa. He told me about a casting call for a fashion show and gave me his number to call if I was interested.”

Your mother sounded both excited and apprehensive. “A casting call? For a fashion show? That sounds amazing! Although it does sound quite intimidating. I mean, you know how that industry works.”

“I know,” you admitted. Truthfully, even as you were discussing it with your mother now, you could still feel the nervousness in your veins. “But I think it could be a great opportunity. Seonghwa seemed really genuine, and he encouraged me to give it a shot. I’ve been researching and preparing, trying to learn as much as I can about the modeling world.”

“That’s wonderful. Life really is full of surprises,” your mother mused. Just like what happened years ago. “I’m so proud of you for taking this step. It’s a big leap, but I believe in you. Just remember to stay true to yourself.”

“I will, Mom,” you promised, hoping you’ll be able to keep it. “I just hope I can make you proud.”

“You already have,” she assured you. “No matter what happens, know that I’m always here for you, supporting you every step of the way.”

A warm smile spread across your face. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

“So, how are you finding the city itself?” your mother asked, curiosity in her voice. “Have you visited any famous places?”

You let out a hum of confirmation. “I’ve been to a few. The Eiffel Tower, of course. It’s even more impressive in person. And the Louvre... I could spend days there and not see everything.”

“That sounds incredible,” she said wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris.”

“Maybe you and Dad can come visit once I’m settled,” you suggested. “I’d love to show you around.”

“We’d love that,” she replied. “It’s been too long since we had a proper family trip.”

“Been too long since I last saw you and Dad in person, too.” You sighed, momentarily glancing at the picture frame of the three of you that you placed on your bedside table. It was a photo of you and your parents taken by a past family friend who had accompanied you one day when you all went camping, with you proudly holding up a blue butterfly that landed on the palm of your hand and your parents pointing to it with a wide smile on their faces. Well, that’s the story your parents told you, at least—you don’t exactly remember anything about this photo at all.

It always made you feel strange whenever you looked at not only the expression you held, but how you appeared to be in general. It was as if you were an entirely different person now. Well, given the circumstances, it would only make perfect sense for things to turn out this way.

You and your mother continued to chat for a few more minutes, sharing stories and catching up. As the conversation began to wind down, she spoke with a soft, loving tone. “Well, I should let you go now. I know you have a lot to prepare for. Just remember, no matter what happens, your father and I are incredibly proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. “I really needed to hear that. I miss you both so much.”

“We miss you too, sweetheart,” she said warmly. “Take care of yourself, and don’t forget to call us more often.”

“I will,” you promised. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, dear. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye,” you said softly, and then the line went dead.

Once the call ended, you stared blankly into the void, momentarily forgetting what you said to yourself last night you’d be busying yourself with today. After a few minutes, you finally remembered that you were planning on trying out the tips and tricks about modeling you found on the internet last night.

Sighing softly, you got up from your bed and walked over to your desk, where you had left your notes and the bookmarked pages from your research. You reviewed the various articles, interviews, and videos you had found, feeling a bit more confident about the steps you needed to take.

You decided to start with practicing your posture and walking. Remembering the videos of runway models, you found a clear space in your room and began to practice your walk, focusing on maintaining a straight posture, a confident gaze, and a smooth, rhythmic stride. It felt awkward at first; your steps were hesitant, and you found it difficult to keep your back straight and shoulders relaxed. After a few tries, you tripped over your own feet, almost crashing into the small table next to your bed. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. But with each attempt, you began to feel more comfortable and natural. You took note of every little adjustment—how to balance your weight, how to move your arms, and how to maintain a steady rhythm. Slowly but surely, you started to see improvement.

Next, you worked on your expressions. You stood in front of the mirror, practicing different looks—smiling with your eyes, projecting confidence, and experimenting with various poses. At first, your attempts felt forced and unnatural. You tried to mimic the intense, sultry look of the models you’d seen, but your reflection looked more like a grimace than a captivating stare. You tried again, softening your features and letting your natural expressions come through. This time, it felt better, but you still weren’t satisfied. You remembered the advice from one of the articles: “Modeling is about conveying emotion and telling a story with your eyes and body language.” You reminded yourself to relax and let your true self shine through. After several tries, you finally managed to capture a look that felt authentic and confident.

You spent the morning diligently working on these aspects, taking breaks to watch more tutorials and gather additional tips. You practiced poses you saw in fashion magazines and tried to emulate the expressions of professional models. It was challenging, and there were moments of frustration when you felt you weren’t making any progress. You tried a pose that seemed simple in the magazine but found it difficult to hold without looking awkward. Your arms and legs felt stiff, and you struggled to find the right angles. But with perseverance, you began to see small improvements. You reminded yourself that this was only your first day and that every bit of progress counted.

Feeling more confident after your practice session, you decided to take things a step further. You set up your phone to take some photos and videos of yourself to review your progress. Seeing yourself on camera was a bit intimidating at first, but it also gave you a better perspective on what you needed to work on. The first few shots were disappointing; your poses looked stiff, and your expressions lacked the confidence you were aiming for. But instead of getting discouraged, you used these as learning experiences. You analyzed what went wrong and made mental notes on how to improve. You tried again, this time with more focus on relaxing your body and letting your natural expressions come through. The results were better, and you felt a sense of accomplishment seeing the improvement.

However, as the day wore on, fatigue and doubt began to creep in. Your feet were sore from practicing your walk, and your face ached from trying different expressions. You started to question whether this path was truly right for you. The idea of facing professional models with years of experience made you feel small and unprepared. Just as you were about to call it a day, your phone buzzed with a message—one from Seonghwa.

Just wanted to wish you luck in advance. I hope you won’t back out. You’ve got this!

You couldn’t help but smile at the message. Seonghwa’s encouragement was exactly what you needed at that moment. You quickly typed a reply, thanking him and letting him know you were giving it your all. His words reignited the spark of determination within you, reminding you why you had decided to take this leap in the first place. You found the energy to continue, knowing that someone believed in your potential.

With renewed motivation, you resumed your practice. You reminded yourself of the progress you had made so far and focused on refining your skills. You practiced different walks, from the elegant strut of a high-fashion runway to the more casual stroll of a commercial model. You experimented with various poses, trying to find the ones that felt most natural to you. You spent time studying your facial expressions in the mirror, learning how to convey different emotions without saying a word. You even practiced changing outfits quickly, simulating the fast-paced environment of a fashion show.

Once you decided you were done preparing for the day, you let yourself slump down on the floor, lying on your back while you stared blankly at the ceiling and reflected on everything you have learned so far and your not-so-steadfast but definitely improving progress. Suddenly, you remembered that Seonghwa had mentioned you should wear a form of attire that is both comfortable yet stylish, something that shows off your personality but is easy to move in for the runway walk.

But what exactly was your personality?

A mild existential crisis set in as you pondered this question. You started to question who you really were and how your personality could be captured through clothing. You had always seen yourself as someone down-to-earth, but how could you translate that into an outfit? You thought about the different aspects of your character, but even with those traits in mind, it was still difficult to pinpoint a specific style that embodied all of them. You wondered if you had ever truly known your own identity or if you had simply been adopting different roles to fit in. The idea of presenting yourself in a way that met the requirements Seonghwa listed felt overwhelming. You began to doubt if you even had a personal style that stood out enough for such an occasion. The thought of walking into the casting room, all eyes on you, judging you based on what you wore and how you carried yourself, made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

Your mind spiraled further as you recalled past moments when you felt unsure about your identity. You remembered times when you changed your style to fit in with different groups or situations, never really settling on what felt authentically you. The fear of being judged, the anxiety of not measuring up, and the constant pressure to conform to societal standards—all of these thoughts weighed heavily on you. You started questioning whether you even deserved this opportunity. Was it really meant for you? Could you handle the pressure? What if you failed and confirmed your worst fears about yourself?

Just then, you remembered the sketchbook you had switched up with your journal. You were still mulling over losing the only thing keeping your thoughts sane—and on your very first day in Paris, too—but you figured that if the sketchbook was currently in your hands, then you might as well use it to your advantage, right?

You sat up, reaching towards the top drawer of your bedside table to take out the sketchbook. Sitting with your legs crossed and your back leaning on your bed, you began flipping through the pages, seeing if there were any designs that would resonate with you.

The designs of each sketch varied greatly from one another. Some were extravagant, some were minimalist, and some were avant-garde. As you carefully turned each page, you suddenly stumbled upon a design that caught your eye. It was a soft, elegant outfit that seemed to perfectly encapsulate the beauty of simplicity. It was a delicate, flowy dress with pastel colors and intricate details, featuring a gentle, cascading skirt that moved gracefully with each step. On the top left corner of the page, there was a small doodle of a pink rose, accompanied by a note that read, “For those days when you need a little extra magic.”

Intrigued, you continued flipping through the pages, looking for more designs that spoke to you. You found another outfit with a similar sense of elegance—this time, a cozy yet stylish ensemble perfect for a crisp fall day. It consisted of a warm, knit sweater paired with a soft, flowing skirt, both in warm, earthy tones that complemented each other beautifully. The outfit exuded a sense of comfort and charm, making it ideal for a day spent enjoying the autumn breeze. This sketch also had a doodle of a pink rose on the top left of the page, with a note that says, “Remember that day in the park? This is for you.”

Your curiosity was piqued, and you began flipping through more of the pages to see if there were more of these designs. Much to your surprise, there actually were—a lot, even. Each outfit that exuded this sense of understated elegance and beauty had a pink rose doodle somewhere on the page, almost as if it were a signature of sorts.

Another outfit caught your attention: a beautifully crafted dress made of light, airy fabric that moved effortlessly with every step. The dress had a gentle, off-shoulder neckline and was adorned with delicate lace details, giving it a timeless, ethereal quality. The pastel color palette added to its dreamlike essence, and the note beside the pink rose doodle read, “For when you want to feel like you’re walking on air, just like that day at the beach.”

As you continued to explore the sketches, you found outfits that ranged from whimsical to sophisticated, each with its own unique charm. One design featured a simple yet elegant blouse paired with tailored trousers, perfect for a casual yet polished look. Another showcased a vintage-inspired dress with a modern twist, complete with intricate embroidery and subtle patterns. Each design had a note that highlighted its intended mood or purpose, adding a personal touch to the sketches. You came across outfits with notes like “When we admired the stars,” and “The night I can’t forget.”

With renewed interest, you went back to the pages with the pink roses, taking your phone to snap pictures of each of them. You examined each design carefully, trying to determine which one resonated with you the most. Some were more whimsical, while others were more sophisticated. Each design had its own charm and character, making it difficult to choose just one. You decided to take your time, analyzing each outfit’s details and imagining how you would feel wearing it. The process was both exciting and overwhelming, as you realized that each design represented a different facet of your personality.

As you snapped pictures of each sketch, you found yourself feeling more confident and inspired. You realized that these designs captured a side of you that you had always cherished—a love for beauty, simplicity, and elegance. You felt a sense of connection to these designs, as if they were an extension of yourself. With each picture you took, you felt a little more prepared for the casting, knowing that you had found something that truly represented who you were.

While you were flipping through the pages and taking photos, you stumbled across the sketch of the bridal gown you saw the first time you looked through the sketchbook. Only now did you notice that it also had a small pink rose on the top left of its page.

Once you were finished, you closed the sketchbook and put it back in your drawer. You stood up and laid down on your bed, scrolling back and forth between the designs you had taken pictures of to see which one would be best to use as inspiration. You blanked out as you landed on the picture of the beautifully crafted dress with an off-shoulder neckline adorned with delicate lace details. Suddenly, a sharp, stinging pain pierced through your temples, making you hiss in surprise. Your vision blurred, and the room seemed to spin.

You tried to focus on the screen, but the pain intensified, spreading from your temples to the back of your head, pulsating with each heartbeat. You quickly turned off the phone, dropping it onto the bed, and clutched your head with both hands. Your eyes squinted shut, and you took deep breaths, trying to ride out the wave of agony.

After what felt like an eternity, the storm began to subside, leaving a dull, throbbing ache in its wake. You let out a frustrated sigh and slowly made your way to the bathroom, gripping the walls for support. Reaching the medicine cupboard, you fumbled for the bottle of painkillers, your hands trembling slightly from the residual pain. You swallowed a pill and leaned heavily against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

It had been years since you last had such an intense headache. You knew what triggered them, yet why would it happen now, of all times?

As you stood there, the memories of past headaches flashed through your mind. They were always tied to moments of extreme stress or emotional turmoil, but you were just looking at a design earlier, which makes it all the more strange.

Shaking off your thoughts and walking back to your bed, you sat down and continued to scroll through the photos. The image of the dress still haunted you, but you forced yourself to move past it. Despite the headache, there was something compelling about that design. It was almost as if it was calling out to you, urging you to give it a chance.

But why?

🪞 — lividstar.

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 3: Tandem (Prompt: Training)

Today we're going to see the first of three fics that I made by combining a prompt from this year's round with one from last year. Basically, in 2023 I had ideas for each of the Robstar Week prompts and managed to at least start on all of them, but ended up being too busy/distracted to finish. I still wanted to complete at least some of them, though, so this year I found ways to integrate my favorites into the new prompts. The prompt from last year that originally inspired this story was "Synchronization" from day 6.

There's honestly not too much to say about this one. I knew when I got the original prompt that I needed to do something other than Robin and Starfire being synchronized in battle because I'd done that the year before (the title of the fic was even "Synchrony"), and after running through a few alternate ideas I eventually landed on them working together during a training session. Then the prompt literally called "Training" came out and, hey, serendipity.

Tandem

“Aaand – start!”

Starfire was off like a rocket, buoyed by a joy so honed as to be instinctual. Training drones rose up around her, affixing her with their laser sights. Their shots would sting only for a moment on impact, but she had no intention of letting them get even that far.

One-two-three she flung her arms about. Not a second later, the first three drones fell into smoking husks from the impact of her starbolts.

Some ways away, another group of drones rang with the sound of impact and fell without her interference. Robin had gotten started on another part of the course, and as she rounded a bend she could see him jabbing his staff into the center of his final assailant.

Well, final for this stretch of the course at least.

Robin looked her way then, and his eyes widened just a fraction. “Star, behind you!”

Starfire didn’t waste a moment, dropping several feet in the air just in time for a volley of laser bursts to sail over her head. She wasn’t surprised – she’d thought three training drones had not been very many. With a small frown, she twisted her body so she was facing back-down and took aim at the offending drones.

The first three fell to her starbolts, and one of Robin’s exploding disks took out the last. She flipped back over and shot him a grateful smile for that.

Their paths were converging fast, and just past the joining she spotted a pair of turrets rising out of the ground on either side of the course. These were sturdier but slower than the drones, and Starfire needed no more than a brief shared glance with Robin to confirm he shared her thoughts on their next strategy. She curved around him, flying alongside him as he ran. Together they ducked and wove and deflected, parrying turret shots with starbolts and staff and covering for one another so they needed not to so much as slow down.

Then all at once, Robin let out a startled yell as the floor dropped out beneath him. Starfire dove down after him, grasping his outstretched hand in an instant and then letting them fall a half second longer to escape the turrets’ view while they were vulnerable. Robin grinned fiercely at her as she arced the dive into forward flight. In the split second before she twisted them both around, she grinned back.

Then they were climbing again, moving forward and up yet angled just enough to see the turrets that were now behind and above them. Robin had already grabbed a freezing disk with his free hand, and before the turrets could react he hit the one on the left with quick precision. Starfire used her eye beams to blast the sand and rock just in front of the one on the right, throwing enough debris up to block its computerized view until they got out of range.

Then they were out of the pit and on a straight path to the finish line. Starfire released her partner back into a sprint and resumed flying alongside him, but already she could see their final obstacle. It was the hardest to miss: a massive guillotine door, one that had already begun to drop and threatened to bar their way if it did not pin them painfully beneath its great bulk.

Well. It would pin Robin, perhaps.

With a glint of determination in her eye, Starfire poured on extra speed and pulled ahead. She landed and rolled under the falling door, then rose into a crouch just in time to catch it with her Tamaranean high-strength. This obstacle had been designed to give even Cyborg’s strength a run for its money, but with her partner here to fuel her confidence she hardly felt the strain.

Robin ran up behind her and dove, sliding through the low gap below the door before rolling back to his feet. Once he was clear, she hefted the door off of her shoulders and let it drop behind her. She broke into a run herself as she did — returning to the air would be trivial to her now, but she couldn’t rely on that all the time. And in any case, at the moment she wanted to run with him.

A buzzer sounded as she crossed the finish line, only a half second behind Robin. From his spot up at the obstacle course’s control panel, Cyborg let out a low whistle.

“Forty-one seconds, not bad at all for this course,” he commented, while Beast Boy cheered and Raven gave a short nod of approval. “Keep this up and you two are gonna beat your own record.”

Robin was breathing heavily, hands on his knees after the exertion. Starfire knew the feeling — her flight didn’t leave her quite as winded as running for more than the last stretch would have, but holding up that guillotine door was starting to catch up to her even with her high-strength. After a moment, though, he straightened up and shot her another smile.

“What can I say?” He asked. “We make a good team.”

Starfire returned his smile, and couldn’t hold back a little giggle as she took his proffered hand to join the others and let the next tandem group take their turn. She agreed with that sentiment completely.

[black-arcana]

LZZY HALE: New HALESTORM Music 'Will Be Worth The Wait'

During an appearance on the May 23 episode of SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk", HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale spoke about the progress of the writing and recording sessions for the band's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. She said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): It's a strange year because instead of us taking three months off to do a record, or 'hey, now we're only focusing on touring' or 'we're only focusing on other avenues,' we're kind of doing everything all at once. So we've had a couple just kind of three-week sessions in the studio, and we're finishing up new music, which has been so exciting. We've been recording with [producer] Dave Cobb, of all people, and he's just amazing and, I think, exactly what the doctor ordered for where we're at in our life. And so we're really excited about new music. But then we're touring all over the States this year because we spent so much time in Europe last year. So, yeah, we kick it off with I PREVAIL in July. And then in the fall, we're going out with EVANESCENCE to Canada, for all the people up there. It's how we live. This is life. We just keep the train rolling down the hill. So it's all very exciting. And I can't wait for you to hear the music, and I can't wait to see everybody this summer at all the festivals. And yeah, we just have a a great year coming up."

Asked how fan along she and the rest of HALESTORM are on the new music, Lzzy said: "This has been an amazing experience because Dave Cobb, he's like half wise old oak and then half A.D.D. five-year-old in the sandbox, which works very well with our little camp in HALESTORM, because we're all perpetually 15 years old anyway. And so it's been a beautiful process.

"We've been doing all the things," she explained. "So I've been writing during our off time, but then also we're writing and recording in the studio, but kind of all at once. So as it's being created, we're getting the final takes. So, half of the record is done, and then there are some things that we have one more session to kind of go in, after our next tour, to kind of just kind of finish everything up, put the icing on the cake, if you will, and make sure we have everything there and then it should be kind of sewn up. But it's been really beautiful because we've been recording, actually, out in Savannah, Georgia. Dave Cobb has a house [there]. And if you can imagine, it's just the four of us staying in one house. No distractions, 'cause it's Savannah, Georgia — they love their tea and they love their food and that's about it. And unsupervised, so there's no managers, there's no crew, no tour and nothing going on. So, in a lot of ways, this record feels like our beginning, when we were all just kind of living with each other in the same apartment and every day is something new, everything is ready to record, ready to go. So whatever you do, as long as you're chasing what gets you excited, it's going to get down on tape. So, it's just been a great experience. And I'm looking forward to the finished product and being able to tease everybody with dates as to when we're gonna unleash it."

Speaking about Cobb's somewhat unorthodox recording approach, Lzzy said: "There've been a couple of songs where we'll have forgotten to put on the click track as a guide, and then that ends up being the take because we were all playing with each other and there was a different energy. Or [Dave] really understands the line between when you're excited about something and it's happening, and then that post, after that line when you're trying too hard to rock, or you're trying too hard to be a singer, or you've memorized it too many times. There's a fine line with performance and getting magic on tape, whereas a lot of people are… I mean, we all do it, but you shoot for perfection. But somewhere, if you're shooting too hard for that perfection, the human element gets lost. And then the magic is lost, or it just sounds like you're reading it, or it sounds like you've played it a million times and you're tired, or you're thinking about something else. So, for a band like us, it's really worked. And it was actually nerve-racking in the beginning because we went in, and you always have your bank of songs you've written or riffs for days and, like, 'Okay, what do we start with? And Dave was very adamant about not having a plan, which was nerve-racking. I'm, like, 'Wait. No, we have to have a plan or it's just gonna be chaos. What's happening? I don't know how to work like this.' And then, after a couple of days, I'm, like, this is actually really nice because every day we just get in the sandbox and we play, and, 'Oh, I brought a LEGO set, you brought a rocket. Let's see what we can do with this.' And so it's been really beautiful to see these things develop and almost the music telling you what to do, not the other way around. I'm so used to going into a studio where it's, 'Okay, we have our 15 songs that we know we want on the record, and we're just gonna do a song a day and get them all done and recorded.' This is completely different because he doesn't want to lose — again — that intangible magic that comes with the excitement of when things are new and you're creating. You don't have time to think; you've just gotta get it done. And so it's been beautiful to kind of. see all of that come together."

Asked if she thinks HALESTORM will release some new music this year or fans will have to wait until 2025 to get something fresh from the band, Lzzy said: "You know what? I've learned this — I can make all the promises in the world. I would love to do that. I'm hoping that we will at least have something to show before the end of the year, but I know how this goes — I end up promising dates, and then something happens and some recall from mastering or something doesn't work out with numbers or with whatever it is. So I'm not making promises, but I will tell you it'll be worth the wait."

HALESTORM is working with Cobb after making three records with Nick Raskulinecz.

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

Lzzy and her brother Arejay (drums) formed HALESTORM in 1998 while in middle school. Guitarist Joe Hottinger joined the group in 2003, followed by bassist Josh Smith in 2004.

In May 2023, HALESTORM teamed up with country singer Ashley McBryde for a reimagined version of the band's song "Terrible Things", which was originally featured on HALESTORM's latest album, the aforementioned "Back From The Dead".

[thelittlestspider]

here's the rough draft of ch1 of the matt/peter bdsm fic

cw: graphic smut, bondage, spanking, multiple orgasms.

@hiitspath. @cassettetapecryptid.

Matt is horny.

Not the regular kind he can just jerk or fuck away and move on. No, he's too stressed. Too pent up. Tension coils inside him, tighter and tighter until he feels like he's going insane with it.

Which is why he's come to Rapture. To unravel himself under a Dom's expert touch. He limits himself to once every two months, fearing he will become addicted to the feeling it gives him.

It's more than pain. More than humiliation. He loves the way his mind quiets before the world flows back in. There are no screams. No responsibilities. He is whatever his dom wants him to be.

It's the closest he has ever been to peace.

Matt pushes through the doors to the front desk. The host greets him.

"Welcome to Rapture. How may I help you today?"

"I'd like the special service, please."

The host taps away on her tablet.

"Your name please."

"Matt Murdock."

"Thank you." She taps on her tablet. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but your usual dominants are unavailable. Would you like to try someone else today?"

She must see how crestfallen he looks, because she adds, "There’s a new dom who just started a few weeks ago. I've heard he's good. His name's Leo."

Matt thinks about it for a moment, then nods.

"Would you like a copy of your contract in braille?"

"Yes please."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

After the host leaves, Matt's mind wanders. He distracts himself from the club music pounding his skull by focusing on the private rooms. It's then he hears a familiar heartbeat.

Peter.

Peter is somewhere in the building.

Matt breathes faster. His mouth dries and his palms begin to sweat. Suddenly his temporary respite from the outside world doesn't feel so peaceful.

In fact, it's downright terrifying.

He hears the host's footsteps as she makes her way back with the paperwork.

"Thank you for your patience," she says. She picks up her tablet and holds it out to him. "I just need you to sign here. Do you mind if I touch your hand?" Matt shakes his head. She guides him to the line and Matt scribbles his signature. "Okay great, you're all set. If I could get your phone from you?" Matt hands it over.

"Thank you. I'll have it right back here for after your session." She taps something on her tablet. "Alright then, your dom is waiting for you in room three."

Matt goes to the door leading to the private rooms. The sound of Peter's heartbeat grows louder. Nerves fill Matt again.

One.

Thump, thump.

Two.

As Matt feels the numbers on the doors, the slow thump of Peter's heart gets closer and closer. Matt clenches his fists. Spit fills his mouth. He swallows thickly, reaching up to feel the number on the next door.

Three.

Peter's on the other side of the door. Matt thinks briefly of running back to the front desk for a refund, then faking his death and going into witness protection so he won't have to face Peter's rejection.

Stop being chicken, Matt berates himself. You're the man without fear! He takes a breath, steeling himself, and opens the door.

Peter stands in the middle of the room stock still, holding something flat and rectangular -- a tablet he assumes -- staring down at it with held breath. He looks up to see Matt standing in the doorway and just stares at him without speaking.

"Surprise?" Matt says, weakly.

The silence that follows is suffocating in its awkwardness. Matt wishes Stiltman or some other villain would crash through the wall to save him from it.

Peter sighs.

"Well, I guess I don't need this mask then."

He pulls it off and beckons Matt to sit next to him on a sofa by the wall. Matt goes, sitting at the other end.

"This is quite the pickle we're in," Peter says, sounding surprisingly amused for someone who has just been outted as a sex worker.

Matt sighs.

"I'm sorry for this."

"What are you sorry for? You didn't know I worked here."

"But I heard your heartbeat and I decided to come anyway."

"Does that mean you're interested in me?"

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? One Matt has pushed away for years now. He remembers all those nights he fantasized guiltily about Peter while they were both married to different people. The way he wanted to close the distance between their bodies when adrenaline was high and they stood next to each other a tad too close.

The question isn't whether Matt wants him. Matt wants him with a desperation that embarrasses him. Wants Peter to make him come over and over until he's crying with overstimulation. Wants Peter to tell him he's good. But does Peter want that?

Does Peter want him?

"Yeah," Matt manages to croak out.

Peter slides across the sofa until he's practically sitting in Matt's lap. His dick takes notice of Peter's proximity and begins to harden. Matt glares at his traitorous anatomy.

"So would you be interested in doing this outside of the club?" asks Peter. He rests one arm behind Matt's head, while he strokes Matt's chest with his other hand. It's very distracting.

"Yes," replies Matt, voice becoming breathy as Peter begins playing with his nipples through his shirt. "Please."

"I read your list on the pad, but I want you to tell me what you want in your own words." That beautiful, evil hand trails down, down until it rubs Matt's cock through his pants, making him rock up into it.

"I--I," Matt gasps. "I want you to tie me up and spank me." Peter unzips his pants. "I want you to call me a slut. I want you to humiliate me -- ah!" Peter strokes his cock from root to tip, using his pre-cum to slick the way. Matt bucks into his grip, groaning at the feel of callouses on his sensitive flesh.

"Nice dick," comments Peter.

Matt flushes.

"Strip."

Peter lets go of his dick so he can get rid of his clothes. He folds them up and places them on the sofa in a neat pile while Peter looks him up and down appreciately. When he comes to his glasses, he hesitates.

"Do want to keep them on?" Peter asks, softly.

Matt thinks about it for a moment, then decides no. He places them on top of his clothes.

"You're so handsome, baby."

Matt blushes, but he preens, too. He knows he's good looking. It's one of the few things he's never had complaints about. He flexes his biceps to show off, making Peter laugh.

"Alright, alright, you know you're pretty." Peter hops up from the sofa and strides over to Matt. "But I'm still going to tell you how beautiful you are. Just try and stop me."

"Why would I? It's good for my ego."

Peter slaps his thigh, making him gasp.

"If you wanna show off so bad, pose for me while I grab the stuff." He has Matt kneel on a cushion with his hands behind his head, back arched, legs spread. Matt feels like a pinup. Peter's own personal centerfold to jerk off to. He imagines Peter coming on his face, and bites his lip, squirming.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there?" Peter asks from where he's rummaging through drawers of what Matt thinks are toys.

"You. Coming on my face."

Peter sucks in a breath like Matt hurt him, cupping his cock through his pants. A little smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. Nothing like a little tit for tat to get the blood pumping. Or the hands spanking. He wonders how much attitude he can get away with before Peter slaps him, or makes him lick his shoes.

"You're gonna be the death of me," says Peter. He sounds resigned, but fond. Like he loves him. Matt quashes that seed of hope. This is just sex to Peter. It's something he has to be okay with, even if it breaks his heart.

He's pushed out of his thoughts by a warm hand cupping his face.

"What's wrong?" asks Peter.

He sounds so gentle and concerned. The complete opposite of his normally brash demeanor. It's a side of him Matt has rarely seen; the only other time being when he was gravely injured or so upset he couldn't hide it.

"We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable. Just...in my head I guess."

"Well, if you're sure..." Peter strokes Matt's chin with the pad of his thumb. "Is it against the bro code if we kiss?" The ridiculousness of the question snaps him out of his funk with a laugh.

"Pete, shut up and dom me," laughs Matt. "I'm in danger of losing my hardon."

Peter looks pointedly down at his dick with Matt imagines is an unimpressed expression.

"I don't think your boner's going anywhere."

It's true. With every inhale he smells Peter's sweat mixed with the heady musk of his arousal. Feels the heat of his body. If it wasn't so hot having Peter loom over him fully clothed he would want him pressed against him skin to skin.

"So I've got some choices," Peter says. He holds out a length of rope for Matt to feel. It's made of a soft, flexible material that won't chafe his wrists. "I could tie your wrists with this, and leave you kneeling here. Or I can tie you to the St. Andrew's Cross and have my wicked way with you."

"Can we try the cross another day? I kind of like kneeling like this. It makes me feel like a spoiled pet."

"Okay kneeling? Check. Rope? Check. Is there any other stuff you want, like toys or paddles, or anything like that?"

"For this time, can we just use your hands?"

"Can do," Peter says with a lazy salute.

"If you want me to spank you, you'll have to bend over the table or the sofa."

Matt shrugs. "That's fine."

"Do you have a safeword?"

"...Karen."

Peter doesn't react to the name, or is really good at pretending not to. He pulls Matt's hands behind his back, tying the rope around Matt's wrists. Matt tests the give of the rope, confident he could escape it if he needs to. Or snap it.

"I could get out of this easy, you know," Matt can't resist quipping.

Peter snorts.

"Yeah I know you can, Houdini. But do you want to?"

"No."

"Then let's get started."

Peter warms him up again by jerking him off at a glacial pace that makes Matt want to bite him. So he does.

"Um, ow?"

"You're going too slow. I want to come."

Peter grips Matt's hair with his free hand and pulls his head back, sending sparks of pain through his scalp. Matt gasps.

"I don't think that's your decision." His voice loses its usual smokey rasp for something more velvet. A voice fit for a creature of the night. Matt shivers in delight. "You'll come when I say. Got it?"

"Yes," answers Matt, rolling his eyes. Peter pulls his hair again.

"Yes, what?"

"...Yes sir."

"Are you gonna be good for me?"

Matt juts his chin out defiantly. He's being bratty on purpose, testing the extent of Peter's tolerance for bad behavior. But somehow Peter flips it around on him.

"If you're bad, I won't punish you." Matt blinks in confusion. If he isn't going to hit him, what is he going to do?

The answer is tease him so much he'll do anything to come.

Peter leaves light, sucking kisses all over his body, not using his sharp teeth to bite him like Matt desperately wants him to.

He teases Matt's nipples with his tongue, blowing on them. Matt whines as white hot pleasure courses through him. Peter brushes them with his thumbs, then gently twists them until Matt is aching with need.

"You're so sensitive."

Peter sounds delighted and a bit awed. He brushes his hands over Matt's body with the same light touch, making the hair on his body stand up.

"Sir, please."

"Please, what?" The amusement in Peter's voice is clear. If Matt had any pride, he would be bristling, but right now all he wants is relief.

"Please hurt me," begs Matt. "Please, I need it."

Peter begins pinching his skin in different spots, hard enough he knows there will be red marks later, or better yet bruises.

He scratches down Matt's chest, then slaps the inside of his thighs.

"Sir, please spank me. I've been good. Please."

Tears well up in Matt's eyes. He needs the extra pain to push him into that perfect place. Peter brushes his tears away.

"It's okay, baby. You're doing so well. Let's get you up, alright?" Peter pulls him up to standing and leads him to a cushioned table in the middle of the room. He bends Matt over it, then runs his hand down Matt's bound arms to give his hand a squeeze. Matt squeezes back.

Peter trails his hand over his hip down to his ass, groping at the plush give of it. Matt wiggles back into his grip, hinting for Peter to get on with it. Peter chuckles.

"Everyone always talks about my ass, but I think it's just they haven't seen yours." Peter smacks it to watch it jiggle. Matt hides his face against the table, face as red as his hair.

"Peter..."

"Ah, ah, ah. Address me correctly."

Matt sighs.

"Sir, please spank me."

"I would be delighted."

At first the hits are light. Peter takes it slow, gradually hitting harder to test Matt's pain threshold.

"Harder," Matt demands.

Peter lands a harsh slap that makes Matt moan.

"Yes. Oh, that's perfect."

The pain lights up his nerves like fireworks. In between slaps, Peter rubs the warm, aching skin, drawing the pain out even longer. Matt pants like he's been running. Tears run down his face. He feels so good.

"That's twenty," murmurs Peter. He plays with Matt's fingers. "You ready to come?"

"Yeah." Matt hums, rubbing his cheek against the table. He is safe and warm. The only pain he feels is the pain he asked for. And Peter is here. Touching him and being so caring. Coming feels like a bonus.

"How do you want it?"

Matt thinks about it. He's had many guilty jerk off sessions about what those strange callouses would feel like inside him. The way the whirls of his fingertips would feel stroking his walls and his prostate while he clenches around them.

"Finger me."

Peter strokes a hand down his thigh, then leaves to grab lube and gloves.

"No, I want it bare," whines Matt. "I want to feel your hands."

"It's gonna make cleanup take longer."

"Please?"

Peter sighs.

"Fine."

Matt whines even more when he feels Peter untying his arms.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm just moving them to the front. I want to see your face."

A smirk pulls at his lips. He smells blood in the water.

"You want to see me come on your fingers? See how bad I want it?" Matt turns over on his back, hissing as his ass presses against the table. He spreads his legs and arches his back. Tries to look inviting. "I'd look even better on your cock."

"I'm not fucking you with my dick this time," Peter says, firmly. Immovable. He laughs at Matt's exaggerated pout. "Oh c'mon, don't be like that. I want to, it's just I want to be able to do it in a bed."

He leans over to whisper in Matt's ear, "And if you're really good, you can fuck me." Matt swallows. He really, really wants that.

Peter squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. He drops his fingers to rub Matt's hole, making him gasp. Peter strokes his hole in slow circles, dipping his fingertips inside with shallow thrusts that make Matt aware of how empty he is. After teasing Matt for five minutes, he finally slips a finger inside to the knuckle. Matt closes his eyes, biting his lip at the feeling of the whirls of his fingertips stroking inside him.

"How sensitive are you?" asks Peter.

"Very." He rocks into Peter's thrusts. "I need another."

"I bet you like ribbed toys." Peter slips another finger in, curling them to rub Matt's prostate, making him moan. "Bet you can feel every ridge rubbing you inside."

"Yeah," Matt gasps. Little "unh, unh, unh"s escape as Peter fingers him harder, keeping it slow so he really feels it. His hips jerk with every thrust home. He feels his orgasm spiraling in his gut before he clenches around Peter's fingers, come shooting up to his chin.

But Peter doesn't stop. Just keeps fucking him with his fingers until Matt comes again.

He makes Matt come over and over. One orgasm rolling into another until he's sobbing. Peter's fingers fuck into him relentlessly, milking him until he's coming dry, hips jerking in overstimulation.

"Unh, Peter I can't again."

Matt winces as Peter pulls his fingers out of him, lube leaking onto the table. It's both hot and gross. He hears Peter unzip his pants and the wet sound of him jerking off.

"Wait," Matt says, arching off the table. "Come on me. I want to smell it."

The moan Peter lets out is of agonized ecstasy. Cum stripes Matt's thighs.

"Untie me," Matt commands. Peter snaps to attention, cock hardening again as he hurries to untie the ropes.

Once Matt is free, he slides off the table and kneels down on the cushion from earlier, tilting his head up in the direction of Peter's face. He reaches for Peter's cock, slowly stroking it.

"Now I want you to come on my face and my tits." He licks Peter's cock from root to tip, flicking his tongue under the sensitive head to hear Peter moan. "I want you to make a mess of me. Then I want you to feed it to me after."

Peter moans, high and desperate.

"I want that."

Matt jerks him off fast and tight, twisting his hand around the head on the up stroke.

"Matt, I'm gonna--" Matt closes his eyes and opens his mouth. Cum streaks his cheeks and hits his tongue in salty spurts. Another spurt hits his tits. Peter falls to his knees, pulling Matt into a filthy kiss. He sucks the cum from Matt's tongue with a desperate moan Matt echoes.

They part with panting gasps, foreheads pressed together. Peter pulls away with a chaste kiss to grab aftercare supplies.

Peter wipes cum from Matt's face with a damp washcloth, then carefully rubs salve on his ass while he hisses.

"Sorry babe."

"It's okay. I asked you to do it."

"C'mere, I wanna hold you."

Peter pulls him to the sofa, where Matt sits gingerly on Peter's lap, arms wrapped around Peter's neck. Peter strokes his hand over Matt's thigh in soothing motions. Soft lips press kisses on his neck.

"That was really hot," says Peter.

"It was," agrees Matt.

"Do you wanna go out sometime?" Peter asks hesitantly.

"Of course."

"Then it's a date."

Peter helps him dress, sending him off with another kiss and a promise to call the next day. Matt can't stop smiling all the way home.

[umgeorge]

George Russell Prepares For Life As Mercedes F1 Team Leader - Memes and All

George Russell parked his Mercedes car behind the P1 board in parc ferme, removed his steering wheel, and hoisted himself from his cockpit to stand before his cheering team. Russell had scored pole for Mercedes in Canada, his first in nearly two years. He had already planned how he was going to celebrate. Russell thrust his arms out to either side and flexed his hands outward to recreate his iconic 'T pose' from the 2023 F1 intro sequence, which has quickly become ingrained in the sport's meme culture. "That took off a lot more than I expected, that pose and the funny memes that came around it," Russell said with a laugh two weeks later in Barcelona. "I actually said before the session, 'If I'm on pole, I'm gonna do that.' I had a feeling it was coming." Russell's pose delighted the internet, but the result was what mattered. After a slow start to the year suggested Mercedes hadn't changed course after two rough seasons, Russell was finally in a position to feel pole was possible - and he actually made it happen. Nor was the performance a one-off. Russell led the opening stages in Canada before finishing third, and also led the two laps in Spain after a rocket start before ending up fourth behind teammate Lewis Hamilton at the flag. After Mercedes's false breakthroughs in 2022 and 2023, this surge feels different as it closes on a return to the front. It's there with McLaren and Ferrari in the hunt to catch Red Bull. "It definitely feels like something has clicked," Russell said.

The belief Mercedes has turned the corner

Russell got his long-awaited chance to race for Mercedes full-time in 2022 after three years at Williams. Given the team's streak of eight constructors' titles from 2014 to 2021, fighting for poles and wins looked set to become his norm. However, Russell's arrival coincided with Mercedes' performance downturn, as it lagged behind Red Bull and Ferrari under the new technical regulations. Suspected turnarounds, such as his maiden grand prix victory at Interlagos in 2022 or last year's brief mid-season revivals, proved misleading. Even entering the third season under this ruleset, Mercedes looked far from the front. But the picture has changed in recent races, fueled by Mercedes' recent updates that appear to have resolved some of the W15's greatest issues. "We've maybe been too big and bold with our decisions over these last two years," Russell explained. "We've almost just wound it in slightly with this last set of upgrades. On the simulator it's really performing well. I didn't believe it at the start ahead of Montreal because the gains felt too big, and then in Montreal we were flying." According to its rivals Mercedes was the quickest team in Canada, which left Russell feeling like he'd missed an opportunity to get his second win. He admitted to being "a bit hard" on himself over his mistakes in Canada, like the one that allowed Lando Norris to pass him or taking too long to overtake Oscar Piastri. Given Norris and Max Verstappen, the eventual winner, also struggled for mistake-free races, Russell couldn't feel too bad about missing out on the win. "It's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes." Following Canada up with another strong weekend in Spain, a very different kind of track, gave Mercedes further encouragement. Russell and Hamilton didn't have the pace to challenge Verstappen or Norris ahead, but they were a clear step ahead of Ferrari. This uptick has whetted Russell's appetite for the performance steps and opportunities that could follow in the coming races. "That's why we're all sat here in anticipation of what these next couple of weeks are going to bring," he said.

Handling social media negativity

As amusing as Russell may have found the memes surrounding his intro pose, he refers to social media as a "double-edged sword." It's not solely fun and banter. "There's a lot of hate and negativity," Russell said, "and it's almost impossible to avoid." That hate emerged after Canada when Russell was subject to abuse online and wild allegations of favoritism towards him after he beat Hamilton to the podium. It ran so far that an anonymous email was sent to high-ranking F1 personnel and the media, in which allegations of sabotage on Hamilton's car were made. Hamilton was quick to condemn the negativity shown toward Russell, while Mercedes has since referred the email to the police. Russell deleted all social media from his phone a while ago, not because of any particular incident or spate of abuse, but because he didn't feel it added anything to his life. He still signs off the captions and photographs posted to his official accounts and re-downloaded Instagram to watch F1 videos from races, only to be shocked by the number of negative comments on every single post. "It doesn't matter who it's about, I'd say fifty percent of the time it's negative," Russell said. "I find that quite tough to comprehend." He said platforms were going in "a very challenging direction" and "somebody really needs to take control of regulating it better," mainly to protect younger generations. Until then, Russell continues to limit his usage of such apps. Getting in a good headspace is something he has worked to prioritize more throughout his career. For the past four years, Russell has worked with a psychologist to help him deal with the mental demands of being an F1 driver. "I find it really beneficial," Russell said of having space to "just let my feelings out" and discuss race scenarios where having strategies in place can help. "This sport swings so quickly," he said. "One minute you're a hero, the next you're zero, and it can swing as quickly as from FP3 to qualifying or from race to race. I've been in a position where I've been on a roll for a couple of races, and then suddenly, the next race, I'm off the pace. And it's like, 'Shit, how am I dealing with this?' What's going on? And most of the time, it's up in your head." Russell feels stronger about handling setbacks, particularly from a race like Canada. "I feel like I'm able to bounce back very quickly from a tough weekend, or even a tough session," he said, putting it in part down to his growing experience. "You learn as you get older what you need as an individual," Russell said. "It doesn't work for everyone; Lewis and I are two very different characters as well, and we do things differently. You've just got to find what works for you."

Stepping up to lead Mercedes

Russell relishes racing alongside Hamilton at Mercedes. In their final season as teammates, he is 8-2 up in qualifying and 6-3 up in races, the kind of record few have gotten close to enjoying over the seven-time world champion. "I know that if this was a different era, I'd probably have eight poles to my name this season and a number of wins," Russell said. It's an encouraging sign that Russell is ready to lead Mercedes upon Hamilton's move to Ferrari next year, but Russell claims not to have felt any difference in the dynamic in the build-up to the change, with all the signs pointing to Mercedes' 17-year-old protege, Andrea Kimi Antonelli, becoming his teammate. "There's often a lot of noise externally, but from within, my job when I put my helmet on and walk into the garage, I try to drive as fast as possible," Russell said. "That's always been the case. It doesn't matter if I've got a seven-time world champion alongside me or if I've got a young rookie next to me or nobody next to me. It's how you deal with that external noise." Russell's confidence in Mercedes' leadership to build upon the recent turnaround is evident. He described team principal Toto Wolff and technical director James Allison as a "killer pairing." Allison returned to the F1 frontline last year as part of a reshuffle of the technical department at Brackley in response to its on-track struggles. "With James at the helm, steering the direction to allow the hundreds of people in the design office and aero department, and manufacturing, to do what they do best, it feels like something is clicking," Russell said. "It's taken time, but between James and Toto, I really believe in it." It fuels hope for the chance to fight for the wins and championships Russell long dreamed of achieving in Mercedes colors. But right now, he's willing to take more risks - like in Canada, where he admits to "pushing way beyond my limits, as I felt this was one shot at victory." "If I was in a championship fight against Max, I'd probably have said P2 is the result today, and I accept that, and I need to dial down the risk-reward of how hard I'm driving," Russell explained. "Whereas at the moment, in the race, that dial is turned up all the way because I want to get a victory to my name. That's the mentality I'm in at the moment." Ambitious? Yes, but not exactly comfortable, or, as Russell conceded, enjoyable. "I'd rather be more consistent like I was in 2022, but six years in I don't take the satisfaction from consistently finishing just in the top five," he said. "In 2022 I finished in the top five more than any single driver on the grid, but I'd prefer finishing P6 every race and having two victories rather than finishing P5, P4, P3 every race and not get the race victory. I hope that mentality can change next year if we have a car that can fight for the championship."

[scaralvr]

08. to find out a secret chapter eight to the secrecy of our confessions [masterlist]

note :: only one more chapter guys... how do we feel

synopsis: confused as to why your friends have been acting distant and with scaramouche suddenly ghosting you, you demand answers after growing tired of their behaviour.

"hu tao, i think one of your strings sound off," yoimiya points out, merely side eyeing the brunette. it interrupts the current music practice and you put down your drumsticks. hu tao adjusts the pegs of her guitar with a blank expression and you tuck your bottom lip beneath your teeth. "hey, i was thinking if we could go to the mall later. it's been awhile since we all went out," you ask in a hopeful tone. yun jin looks at you from over her shoulder, "sur-"

hu tao cuts her off, "i can't. i have plans with my brother today." you pause and nod, "it's okay. what about you, aya?" ayaka replies in a murmur, "sorry, me too. ayato wants to take me to a new boba tea shop." you turn to yoimiya and she gives you a solemn grin, "i don't feel like it today. maybe next time, 'kay?"

music practice has never felt like this. everyday, it would be the only thing you ever looked forward to but now, it seems to be something you dread. the pealing of the bell is something your ears ache to hear rather than the music you play with your closest friends coming together. as the rest get up to leave for the day, yun jin stays behind as you put away your drum set.

"i'm glad you were able to join me," you say to her, sounding genuinely happy after quite a while, which in this case, would be two weeks. in those two weeks, you've been texting scaramouche nonstop, asking him about how his day went or if he wanted to come over for another band practice session. every single text was left on open. the most you got from him was the three dots indicating he was typing, but all of that was unsent.

you wonder if that had something to do with your friends' glum mood as well. yun jin smiles, though it seems different from her usual one. the one that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle and the one that could light up the whole room. "so am i. after all, the rest have been quite busy, no? with the battle of the bands coming up and... what not." she looks away from you after her last few words.

the two of you walk down the stairs, exchanging small talk accompanying moments of awkward silence. not even the sound of her barely audible humming can calm you, as it causes you to tense up even more. how did things end up like this? was it something you said? something you did? either way, you intend on finding out. lately, the music you play with them isn't the same, either.

the changes of your life and theirs have always seeped through the crevices of your music and with this complicated time, the sound that you release from the drums aren't the same as they were from before.

"hey, yun jin?" you pipe up, fumbling with your fingers. the pretty milkshake set out before you is untouched and the same goes for yun jin. despite going to the ice cream parlor of the mall for a nice chat, neither of you made any move to drink the milkshakes you ordered. the other girl nods, waiting for you to go on. her lithe fingers play with the straw settled in the glass.

you're looking down at your lap and continue to wring with your hands. "you... noticed the atmosphere lately, right?" your words are small and sorrowful. at this, yun jin lets out a noise of surprise, her pupils dilating. "you know it, but no one's telling me why we're like this. did you four get into a fight?" you finally look up and her calm expression falters for a moment at the sight of your pleading gaze.

yun jin sucks in a breath before letting her shoulders relax. "hu tao, she — i mean, she totally blew up on us. we were preparing a surprise for you, involving the student council president, and because something interfered with our plan, she saw it as a way to finally get you away from him, from scaramouche," yun jin explains in a firm tone. you're struck by shock, "does she hate him that much?" you decide not to question the 'surprise.'

"her brother, xiao, already explained the reason when she wasn't around. i get where she's coming from but she refuses to see the changes scaramouche has developed." yun jin adds, "back in junior high, scaramouche spread a rumor in their class that anyone who got too close to hu tao would have something tragic happen to them. it was just a few days after her grandfather passed. of course, scaramouche apologized some time later, but she hasn't overseen it."

you furrow yours brows and gently clench your hands, "he said that?" yun jin doesn't say or do anything for a bit before nodding. "then, it's my fault — i didn't know that that happened to her and the fact that she knew this and allowed me to like him was... was wrong!" you harshly gulp and yun jin abruptly stands up from her seat. "but remember, (y/n). you mustn't let her feelings get in the way of what you want. we all know scaramouche has changed and despite those tiny flaws of his, those are things we can't take away from him. it's up to you on how you'll proceed with this situation."

she squeezes your shoulder and turns to leave the parlor. your eyes shift to her retreating figure before moving to her milkshake. you slowly drag her glass to your side and feel the unmistakable sense of guilt and sadness gnawing at you. you wrap your hands around the chilly glass and attach your lips to the straw. the milkshake tastes too sweet on your tongue and you come to a conclusion that food really does taste better when eaten with someone else.

"you've been leaving them on seen!?" mona says in disbelief, waving around her nail file. scaramouche is new to all of this, having a deep devotion for someone and letting the relationship fall to shambles with the choice he's made. he looks at his sister with an unfazed expression, "yeah. and?" she groans and grips at her hair, "you are so stupid! the last thing you want to do in that situation is exactly what you're doing right now! you should be talking to them, not avoiding them like the plague!"

scaramouche throws his bag onto his bed and sits on the floor by it. "what's done is done. i'll continue my studies, get into a nice university and graduate as a single, sexy businessman. i've got two of those traits already, i think i'll be fine," he flatly says, taking out his phone to open spotify. mona rolls her eyes, "okay, kunikuzushi. but really, you should at least apologize to them even if they find no interest in you and likes this other guy instead... uh, cyno."

scaramouche narrows his eyes at the name and his lips turn into a sour frown. cyno. he has the characteristics of a man someone like you would totally be into but scaramouche himself still cannot put his finger on your current crush. who has two sisters? his head begins to hurt just thinking about it all over again and he tucks in his earphones. scaramouche hesitates to press the play button on one of the songs your band covered where he last left off crying to last night. 'sprechchor.' he plays it anyway.

hu tao switches the channels of the television set with boredom portraying her features. from baking, to reality tv, to cartoons, but nothing piques her interest. she's starting to regret lying about having plans with xiao. she's about to go to her bedroom when the sound of rapid knocking at the front door stops her in her tracks. hu tao gets her wallet at the ready, thinking it's her favourite girl scouts qiqi and yaoyao coming over to offer some cookies. it'd be a nice way to make her day.

when she swings the door open, she wasn't expecting you of all people. hu tao blinks, "(y/n)." she shakes her head and repeats, "(y/n)," with a more steady tone. "what are you doing here? didn't you have plans to go to the mall with yun jin?" she asks, sounding a little more meaner than she intended it to be. you don't say anything and stand there, just... looking at her.

"okay, weird. well, if you have nothing to say, run along-" before hu tao completely closes the door, you lodge your shoe in between the door and the wall to keep it from shutting. you then use your hand to open it and firmly say, "we need to talk." before she can add, you're welcoming yourself into the house and taking off your shoes. hu tao closes the door and stomps after you. "and what do you think you're doing?" she interrogates and sets her jaw.

you sit on the couch of the living room and face her. "i know now, hu tao. i know why you despise scaramouche," you say with ease. hu tao places her hands on her hips and feigns a grin, "wow, i'm so proud of you for cracking the case, detective! get out." you stand up and approach her, "no, i won't. because," you grab at her wrists and pull her towards you. hu tao is taken aback and you engulf her in a hug. you tightly latch your arms around her and she awkwardly tenses up.

"i need to apologize. had i known you were that uncomfortable with me liking him, i wouldn't have done so in the first place. i'm sorry, i really am," you mutter in her ear as you bury your face into her brown locks by her neck. a few moments pass and before you start to regret it, she eventually returns the hug. "it's okay, (y/n). i guess i should have spoken up about it if i was that bothered." hu tao smiles against the skin of your cheek and you giggle, "i missed you."

"hu tao, what did i say about eating near the instruments!?" yun jin scolds. hu tao grins with a mouthful of cake, "mmh, sorry!" she picks up her plate and makes her way to the table near the corner of the music room. you're sitting with yoimiya and ayaka and a whole feast of desserts presents itself on the table. "my brother dropped these off for us today. oh, i told him he shouldn't have," ayaka sadly mumbles.

yoimiya loudly laughs, "who cares, let's dig in! we're finally back together again!" ayaka smiles, "i suppose you're right." yun jin adjusts hu tao's flower barette and tsks, "don't go making any more trouble again, okay? we only have four more days until the battle of the bands so we have to cramp in as much practice as possible since we got held up with the argument and all." you and hu tao exclaim in unison, "yes ma'am!" and continue eating the desserts.

you indulge in a fine chocolate cheesecake with hints of strawberry. a wide smile curls at your lips. "ayato sure knows how to shop for desserts!" you say, digging your fork into the cake. ayaka places a hand on your head and titters, "hurry up now, we should practice a bit more before leaving." the sound of the doors opening alarms all five of you and find yanfei entering the room.

she waves while approaching. "hi, guys! i'm glad everything's going smoothly now. i have the costumes prepared for the big day, i just need to create a few more headpieces and accessories," yanfei says, her eyes looking over the desserts. "please, enjoy yourself. you've done so much for us," yun jin says and gives the pink haired girl a cupcake. yanfei's shoulders lightly shake with her laughs. "thanks, yun jin. oh, (y/n), have you told them about that thing yet?" she queries.

you perk up, "i forgot all about it!" you stand up from your chair and rush to your locker to get your bag. hu tao quizzically raises a brow, "what thing?" you have a big grin as you run back to them with papers in your hands. you lay it out onto the table and yanfei proudly crosses her arms. "i helped them out with it last night. it's a great idea, isn't it? it'd be nice to try something new," yanfei states.

yun jin's eyes sparkle. "this is," she turns to you, "you wrote your own song, (y/n)!?" ayaka giggles and looks at another sheet, "this is so cute!" you nod, "i think with this, we'll win the battle of the bands again. because you, yun jin, always handle the vocals in our live performances and maybe we should do something that will bring out all of us. also," you begin to fidget with your fingers, "i also want this to be a special performance. we went through some difficulties along the way but the important thing is, we're all together again."

"(y/n)..." yun jin pauses before trapping you in a hug. hu tao snarkily teases, "you're so sappy, (y/n)!" yoimiya wraps her arms around you and yun jin, crying out, "i love you guys so much!" hu tao deadpans, "nevermind. someone's cornier."

on his very tippy toes, scaramouche is clutching at the door handles of the music room for stability while trying to peer through the small windows at the top of the door. he's been gathering the courage to apologize to you, but after xiao told him about what happened with hu tao, you must hate him even more. scaramouche settles back onto the floor with a solemn expression. why was he even rooting for you in the first place? you already have a crush on someone else, what chance would he stand?

he loves you. he loves everything about you, except your unusual taste in men...

your unusual taste in men, indeed.

© scaralvr.

@meowlumi @beriiov @apr1cityyyy @xtodorokismistressx @dollpoetwriting @bleedingwhiteroses222 @r0ttenhearts @sammy-hammy @atsukawolfcat @pooonyo @strawberryclumsy @emmaemoseila @kunikuzushiit @scaramouchesmoocher @lxry-chxn @koiir @rvoulte @kunihaver @slash3rcore @sup-zfam @cotton-eee @twistedrxses @dameofthorns @ayamvirus @thinkingotherwise @jameineliebe @thenightsflower @lumpywolf @whatamidoing89 @strawbxrrytiger @sunfloens @one-offmind @angryhope @gyros-cum-sock @celestair @sixscara @bewithmecats @mikathasquirrel @kunisbeloved @asthespirit @itsyourgirlria @lunavixia @elysiasbae @bsd-goes-brr @jewelscara @envder

[moondirti]

← chapter two

masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rated: Explicit Word Count: 5.1k Summary: The Mandalorian's quarries are always more trouble than they're worth. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, anxiety, language, self-loathing, pining Notes: the lot of you have been absolutely lovely so far in the response to this story<3 I'm so glad you're enjoying it. We're coming close to publishing all of the chapter's I have on ao3 so far, so after I get chapter four edited and on here, I'll be starting on five.

As it turns out, you haven’t broken new ground with the Mandalorian like you originally thought. In fact, he seemed to be quieter post your little gossip session than he was before. 

It’s been a while since the three of you departed from Nevarro. After the first few days, you stopped checking for the time. You found that all of it was useless out here, where it’s just you and Mando trying to coexist without driving the other insane, and a fussy baby quickly growing tired of the dried rations. You couldn’t blame him either, to be perfectly honest. If you have to eat one more portion of expandable veg-meat, you are going to curl in on yourself and opt to starve instead. 

But Mando didn’t seem to mind. He managed to occupy himself; always awake and ambling around, cleaning his weapons, fixing the ship, entertaining the kid. Your most interesting pastime is watching him from the makeshift couch you made using old crates and the worn out clothing within them. It wasn’t like you have much else to do; you had already unpacked your medical supplies into an empty cupboard in the hull, then reorganised them a hundred times over. Observing the ever-silent Mandalorian is the next best thing, especially since he doesn’t seem to mind.

You aren’t the best note-taker, nor do you have the deduction skills of anything smarter than a bantha; therefore, you gain little from your studies of the hunter. You gather he’s a neat freak in the most backwards way possible - everything has its place in the Crest, even if you yourself can’t particularly discern the order of things. His visor always lingers on you a moment too long when you don’t fold your blanket post-nap, and your shampoos are always tucked in a neat row by the shower when you go for a wash. Everynight, he stacks his armour (save for his helmet) in a tidy pile before turning in, retiring in only a simple black tunic and black pants. 

Which is why you’ve decided to sleep on your makeshift couch from here on out. Without his armour, his scent has bled into his bunk, imbued within the mattress and pillows. Your first night was restless - you couldn’t sleep, no, not when you were still so desperately horny and surrounded by him. Maker, he smells delicious. Smoke, leather and clean linen, with an undertone of something masculine and heady, something that made your toes curl when you ground into the heel of your hand. You wanted to lay there forever, to drink it directly from the source instead, but you had enough sense to stop that train of thought. You were getting worked up over the phantom of him, for Kriff’s sake. It wasn’t something to be encouraged. 

So, couch it is. It isn’t too bad. The arrangement is no gunpowder and musk haven, admittedly, but you’ve made it your very own personal spot, right by the medical supplies. With your duffel bag shoved against the nearby wall, functioning as your mini closet, and your blaster tucked away between the couch and the side of the ship (‘that’s right Mando, you aren’t the only one with a weapons stash now’), you’ve affectionately dubbed it Doc’s Corner. 

The Mandalorian refused to go anywhere near it, but that’s okay too. You’d think he’d blow a fuse if he saw the pile of laundry by the back hatch.

Currently, he’s disassembling a rifle while seated on a ledge protruding from the wall across his murder closet. He’s been tinkering for the better part of an hour now, turning the arc caster over, screwing and unscrewing bolts, checking the charge then playing with its diagnostics. You are no soldier, by any means, but even you know that his work is meaningless. He’s fidgeting, occupying his hands while his mind is off somewhere distant. You think to ask for a moment, but then he slouches slightly, repositioning himself into an almost lazy stretch, legs spread and gloved fingers still expertly rigging the gun. A rough exhale rips through his modulator. Fuck. Is it normal, what that posturing does to you? That slack confidence, so self-assured in it’s abundance, is pure fucking plasma to the fire roaring at your core. You want to nestle yourself in between those hulking thighs, to run your hands up and down his legs while you choke on his cock. You could be so good for him, so opposite to the loudmouth girl who grates on his nerves every chance she gets. 

You groan, head falling back to smack against a cushion. 

“What’s wrong?” His low baritone drawl slices through the thick silence that had settled, catching you off-guard. You hadn’t meant to complain out loud, but your lack of self awareness isn’t what throws you off. It’s the question, the mere fact that he is initiating  conversation in the first place. Even the baby looks up from his place on the ground, perplexed, grubby hand clenched around a crayon that he’d been using to scribble on the papers his father laid out for him. All at once, though, the menace loses interest in whatever is transpiring between his adults and totters towards the man. He brings his arms up, claws opening and closing in a silent plea for ‘upsies’, and Mando - ever the softie - complies, pulling the kid onto his lap so that he could fiddle with a spare screw in his possession. 

Once the child is settled, that cold visor points at you again. 

Does he expect an answer? Stars, where to begin… What’s wrong? What is wrong? ‘I don’t know Mando, maybe I’m just tired of soaking through all my clean underwear at the mere sight of you.’ You’re tempted to say, but you had a feeling that wouldn’t blow over with him very well. Instead, you settle on:

“Jus’... forgot that hyperspace travel took so long. How much till the next stop?” It’s an abysmal lie; well, a half-truth. You have forgotten the time it takes to jump from one sector to another, however, your current source of frustration is more engulfing than the intricacies of space travel. 

“Day or two.” He’s petting the kid’s abnormally large ears now, the act incredibly gentle for someone so dangerous. You muse on whether he’d treat you like that, like you were something he cared for, or if he’d push your face to the floor so he could focus on only your ass. In truth, you don’t know which you prefer. 

His helmet tilts slightly, the overhead lights brightly reflected against the unpainted beskar. You know he’s studying you, taking in your sprawled body and the emotions that are probably written on your forehead in big, bold letters. Your heart suddenly smacks against your chest like it’s trying to escape. Can he smell the lust on you? Is there some sort of enhanced scent function built into that bucket of his? It drives you mad that you couldn’t read him like he could you. Hell, he can probably pinpoint your arousal and the ache in your heart with only his infrared sensors. And, hilariously enough, something tells you he likes that vulnerability, given the way he always pins your petulant ass into submission with his indecipherable steel gaze. 

“Tell me about this quarry.” Yeah, change the topic. Changing the topic is good. It’s what you need right now to gather your bearings. You pull your blanket up to your chest, curling in on yourself and refocusing your stare to the ceiling. 

“Quarries, actually. Package deal from Karga, as a gift.” He says, almost sighs. “Three pucks for three bounties in the same crew. Pirates who travel sub-light.” 

“Hm.” You can understand his hesitation, there’s a unique predicament this job introduces. Mando can’t just land somewhere and track these guys on solid ground like he usually does - no, he’d have to commandeer their ship. What’s more is that he’ll be putting you, the kid and the Crest in danger in doing so. To bring his home so close to his target was risky, regardless of whether he held the upper hand or not.

Then, as if reading your mind, he interrupts. “I’m dropping you guys off on a nearby planet and renting a ship to go seek them out.” 

Okay, no - now you’re convinced of your open-book status. Either that or Mando just always miraculously has the words to calm you (and you highly doubt that to be the case, the main words in the hunter’s dictionary are hums and grunts). Still though, the little bug in your brain preens at his plan, squirming around in a part that elicits an emotional response right above desire, to something almost akin to - alarmingly - adoration. You can’t help it, his reassurance strokes some primal instinct within you, one that festers at the display of competence Mando exudes. 

The praise slips without second thought. “That’s smart. Wouldn’t have thought of it myself.” 

He snickers. “Probably would have figured out something, clever thing that you are.” It’s uttered casually, barely above a rustle but loud enough that you know he intended you to hear it. Your jaw hinges, just a smidge, so that your mouth gapes as you blink rather dumbly at him. What the fuck did he just say? It’s a compliment, you know, you know. But it’s so out of the blue you have a hard time taking it. He couldn’t possibly think you’re as capable as him. So, it's a joke, he’s pulling some sick fucking joke. 

Clever… You aren’t clever, nor are you good in any high pressure scenario. He should know that, he should know because he’s had his life on the line too many times to count and everytime you barely kept it together. 

You can’t speak, so you gulp and laugh nervously. It sounds as unnatural as it feels. There’s nothing to say; there’s so much to say that there’s absolutely nothing that can encapsulate the state of your mind right now. Your tongue can’t dance around the abstract concepts plaguing you, can’t begin to explain the persistent anxiety that has followed you since you left Corellia. And fuck, there was that cavewoman voice again, tittering amidst the nerves and rolling to the forefront that ball of soft, squishy warmth that has grown rapidly since the last you felt it. The mix threatens to knock you out completely, so much so that you’re barely able to get your answer out in time before it becomes too awkward to continue with the conversation. 

“Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

But Mando isn’t looking at you. He’s gone back to his gun, the child gurgling between his arms. You wonder, for a grave moment, whether there will ever be space for you.  

You’re awoken by a hull-shuddering shake, a resounding crash accompanying it soon after. 

Naps are good for the average human. The average human, however, is not recommended to take upwards of three naps a day while maintaining their circadian cycle. You start to see why when your first thought following the frankly concerning disturbance is whether the baby is piloting. You almost fall back asleep too, grumbling something about irresponsible parenting before another shake of the ship rocks you off the couch completely. 

When you hit the metallic floor with a violent thud, your right knee softens your fall only slightly. That just means it takes most of the impact, though, and you can feel it. Oh maker, the searing pain that shoots up your bones as a result is visceral, white-hot and sharp. A scream tears through your throat, hands smoothing over your injury while you roll onto your back. What the fuck, what the fuck. It wasn’t enough to knock the air out of you, but still you struggle to draw in the shaking breaths your sleep-addled mind needs to find reason. Something is wrong, right? It has to be; you know Mando. At least, well enough to know that he wasn’t as reckless as this. He wouldn’t endanger the kid with something as stupid as a joyride. Shit. Did something happen to him? Is he okay? 

Of course he is, he’s Mando, he has to be, but… 

‘But what if he isn’t?’ Your mind supplies. 

For some reason, the notion overshadows all your other concerns, and you grasp on to the spike of adrenaline that racks through you, rising on weak legs. The hull is in shambles; crates have fallen over, their contents spilling out onto the floor. Chunks of metal are soaring off to one point, concentrated on the ceiling. You pause in bewilderment, but then your vision dims, the corners of your peripheral growing fuzzy, and you force yourself to find the ladder at the front of the ship before you pass out. You need to find Mando, you need to find him. Need to make sure he’s okay and that he’s got this - whatever this is. He’d be able to keep you all safe. He’d know what to do. You… You are no good in all of this; you were made for after the fight, not during. 

It takes all of your upper body strength to climb up to the cockpit. Your right leg is practically useless, the dead weight only serving to drag you down while you try and pull yourself up. By the time you reach the second level, you collapse in a decrepit pile of pity. Your lungs are working overtime now in an attempt to draw in as much oxygen as possible, chest straining with the effort. You can’t breathe, you’re so fucking helpless and weak - it’s as if all your muscles had decided to give out on you. You can’t breathe. 

The ship lurches to one side, and your crippled body goes with it, sliding across transparisteel until your spine smashes against the wall. Sciatic pangs race down your body, twisting along your femur and blazing at your lower back. It hurts so bad you can hardly negotiate the raw landscape that strobes in and out of focus all around you. The emergency red lights have flickered on at one point, blaring in tune to a nearby console alarm. Despite the chaos, only one racing thought occupies you. Mando; you need to make sure he’s okay. 

Heaving yourself up on your elbows, you begin to crawl towards the blaster doors of the cockpit until a completely opposite, overpowering reaction throws you back to phase one. The resultant g-force from the ship being out of kilter is devastating to your efforts, blowing you back and restarting your venture. You absorb the trauma each time, kicking forth anyway. You pull, and you drag, and you dig your fingers into the small holes along the floor to use as leverage. Your injured knee grates along behind you, hard-pressed into the metal, but still, you carry on. There’s a thin film of cold sweat wrapped onto your skin, the consequential shivers from it making you nauseous. You almost hurl on yourself. Regardless, you carry on. 

With some miraculous measure, you make it to the door. It feels like an hour later, but then it slides open and all rational thought returns to you, and you know it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you were kicked out of bed. Your breath returns to you all at once, in an overwhelming gasp. Dank farrik, thank the fucking Maker and stars above, there he is. The beautiful, gleaming son of a bitch is standing above you, gripping onto the walls for extra support. You take him in frantically, giving him a thorough once over through your blurry vision. He seems okay, he isn’t hunched over more than he should be. No blood, no heavy grunts. 

Relief starts to pool, low in your gut, notwithstanding the foreboding that has begun catching up to you.  

“I heard- I… Fuck, are- are you okay? You–” You don’t think you’ve ever caught him this off-guard, like he actually has a million things to say, but you’re nodding and grabbing onto him as he helps you up. You nod even as you heave in great sobs, trying to input as much comfort in him as he did you. 

“What… What’s h-happening,” You croak out, limping along when he helps you find a seat on the co-pilot's chair. The baby is strapped into the one beside you, his mouth pulled into a frown and eyes foggy with unshed tears. Your heart tugs at the sight, like concrete is cementing itself within your atria’s. But he’s alright; that, at the very least, should count for something. All of you were well enough. 

That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. 

“Pirates. They’re attacking. They must’ve known we were coming, they pulled the Crest in before I could-” The ship rocks once more and there’s a deafening clatter from the hull. Mando’s hand shoots to the gun on his holster, flicking off the safety. His shoulders square, and all of a sudden, he lives up to his reputation. The fiercest bounty hunter in the guild, the Mandalorian. You should cower at the sight, at the prowess and speed with which he resorts to violence. But you don’t; if anything, you feel a little of your anxiety ebb. He is so big, exponentially more so from this angle, towering over you and filling the small space, absolutely primed for the imminent fight. ‘Big strong man, ready to fight for his son and home.’ 

‘And you,’ you register. ‘He was worried about you, too.’

There’s a moment of tense silence, where the galaxy seems to still alongside you in anticipation. Then, voices fill the hull. Your eyes widen, heart staggering in its pace. 

You look up at your companion, voice hushed. “Mando-” 

He suddenly crouches to face you, free hand grasping your shoulder. His grip is tight, fingers bruising into your skin. You find that you welcome it; you need to be grounded. “Hey, listen. You stay right here, you don’t move. You keep the kid, protect him. I’m going to lock this door and you don’t open for absolutely anyone. Understand?” He’s shaking you as he speaks, panic edging the end of his syllables. You blink, suddenly unsure. Not in him, but at the insatiable anxiety that fills you with the thought of him taking on all of them alone. You snap out of your spiral when he jerks you again. “Understand?” 

“Yeah…” He is unwavering, unconvinced. “Yes. I-” You begin to stress, but he doesn’t wait for you to finish now that he's satisfied. He gets up, checks on the child, and starts for the ladder. Towards the danger. Away from you. 

The blaster doors shut behind him, an extra click informing you that they are indeed locked. It’s a little too late when you comprehend your need to follow. It isn’t bravery, no, nor was it confidence in your own abilities. In reality, you’d be absolutely no help by throwing yourself into a fight you aren’t equipped to handle. That’d only put more pressure on Mando, to both disarm his assailants while defending you. It’s a stupid, stupid, perilous urge. 

But… you want to protect him. 

As ludicrous as it sounds, you want to have his back. To do more than just wait until he gets hurt and finds his way to you. It’s some hidden part of you that pushes forth the inclination; deep-seated somewhere between your liver and your pervasive fear of fucking everything. And it half surprises you, too, with the way it defies all logic. This… This inane desire to help, to be there with him and cover his blindspots. You can’t fight - you’re fragile in all the wrong places, easily bent to the whims of whatever surrounds you - but with Mando, you feel bold enough to try and push back. He’s so solid, as durable as his beskar, a fucking force of nature that gets hurt way too many times to count, yes, but also always manages to get up and endure it. 

Those men down there, they’re nothing compared to him. They are rotten creatures - content to remain idle in space until they can prey on whatever poor, helpless innocent passes. So, of course you don’t doubt Mando can take them, you’ve never been more confident about something in your life. Somewhere outside of the bubble you’ve worked yourself in, you can hear him - those vicious punches he’s undoubtedly throwing, the clinks of his beskar and spear as he manoeuvres his way around the pirates’ flailing limbs and half-assed kicks. He’s beating their asses and doing it flawlessly, you’re sure of it. 

Even so, there is no guarantee there wouldn’t be more; he has three bounties to collect but with the size of their ship, you’d estimate there are at least thirty individuals within the crew. 

You look at the kid - the lovely little boy who’s currently so terrified he’s shut down into a whimpering silence. His little fists are balled up, gripping onto his brown sack for dear life, and the conviction comes again, tenfold - that urge to preserve. It’s remarkably maternal this time around, something more suited to your tender core, and Mando’s words swim back to you. “Protect him.” He had said. He’d given you a job, a show of faith arguably more meaningful than him entrusting you with his wounds. He’s putting his child's safety in your hands, depending on you to look after him. His child, the thing you would lay all your credits down on as meaning the most to him. 

Mando’s words come flying back to you instantaneously - not just his orders, but his rundown too. 

In that split second the revelation dawns on you, you make up your mind. 

You’d be a liability in a fight, for everyone involved. Leaving the kid up here to run head first into something you can’t handle would be foolish, even by your standards. But you can’t just sit still like Mando had asked, not when he is doing the best he can to save the lot of you. You joined him onboard in order to prevent his untimely death, remember? And you’re set on doing just that. 

Jumping up on wobbly legs, you quickly move into the pilot’s chair, strapping yourself in for the astoundingly risky plan you’ve been brewing. The kid somehow senses the sudden change, making a small sound that resembles an ‘eh?’. You shoot him a timid smile in response, not as confident as you intend because your lips quiver with the distress that still curses you. Even so, you hope it’s enough to reassure him when you turn to the console ahead. 

Mando had said something about the pirates pulling the Crest in when he had briefed you. It only occurs to you now; the metal pieces in the hull, all moving in tandem as if attracted to something beyond your understanding; the way the ship is tilted to one side, like one of its engines is hooked to a tether. If you were to take a wild guess, you’d say that these pirates use a powerful magnet to keep ships like yours captive while they pillage its innards. That’s your first problem - as long as they’re ship retains control of the Crest, their gang can keep coming through. You need to detach yourselves to cut their manpower off from the source, to give Mando a better shot at winning. 

So, either you shoot the ship into hyperspace, or you weaken the magnet they’re using. Given what you can discern about the action downstairs, one of which is more plausible than the other. That clatter earlier was the hatch being demolished, meaning a jump into hyperspace would kill everyone on board. 

Weaken the magnet it is, then. 

Granted, you aren’t an engineer. There’s a reason your father pushed you towards life sciences over the technological side of things, after all. What you do know, however, is that Mando’s vessel of preference is a pre-Imperial piece of junk. For once, this happens to work out in your favour. While most modern ships use hyperdrives to move through space-time, the Razor Crest still operates on an ion accelerator. 

An ion accelerator that produces a rather formidable electromagnetic field. 

An electromagnetic field strong enough to damage most magnetic domains.

A force that can work to set you free. 

It all sounds good in theory; but there’s a teensy little hitch. In order to initiate a field effective enough, you’ll need to prepare the ship as if it were going to make a jump into lightspeed, only to hold back at the very last moment. It comes down to mere seconds. Any hesitancy on your part can mean life or death. 

The weight of the situation is enough to make you pause. Can you really do this? Risk lives when it’s you holding all of fates’ cards? You were never good at Sabacc, luck has never favoured you. You ran out of it on Corellia, when your father had relied a little too much on such a floundering, flakey girl. His face flashes to the forefront of your mind, spurring a hollow laugh. It’s lifeless, and not made in his memory but rather directed towards the sheer ludicrousness of it all, like the galaxy has finally come to a crossroads in this orchestration of karma. 

It doesn’t matter if you’re ready, or if you think yourself capable. If this is the universe’s way of testing you, then it’s a fucked existence, but damnit, it sure does know how to pull your leg. You sneak a look at the kid, and you think of Mando, and you know that you have to. You have to. For them more than yourself; to ensure they can continue with their clan of two. 

You click three consecutive switches right by the wheel, push a glaring red button up at the front, then wrap your hand around the lever that can propel you into hyperspace. Your estimate is that you’ll only need to pull it three quarters of the way down for the accelerator to muster enough power, and the minute you feel that jolt of breaking away from the magnet, you have to be prompt in pushing it right back up and steering your asses away from that forsaken artificial black hole. The timing has to be so that the Crests’ hind is facing the pirates before their magnets have a chance to restabilize. After that, you’re sure the flames expelled from the thrusters as a result will be hot enough to permanently damage them. 

It’s a lot to do in such a short time frame. You chant the instructions to yourself in order, over and over to the beat in which you have to perform them. And when the light by your thumb turns green, signifying the accelerator's activity - essentially, giving you the go-ahead - you don’t think twice before pulling down on the hyperspace lever. 

It’s heavy. Dank farrik, the rod fucking resists your efforts to keep it midway. Your shoulder collapses in on itself as you bring your elbow forward to aid your efforts, buckling under the weight. The earlier trauma to your spine returns in full force, washing over you and numbing every nerve completely. It’s paralysing, trying to halt the unforgiving force that is hyperspace impelling itself upon you while breathing through this pain. Your ears start to ring; you feel your consciousness ebbing away now, disintegrating under the horror you faced if you fuck this up and the agony that comes with your sheer refusal not to. But the space surrounding you has almost crumpled in on itself, nearby planets slowly folding, distant stars beginning to warp. Damnit, fuck. No, no, no, no, no, no. 

The ship heaves, then lurches. 

And when you aren’t immediately dead, you come to a chilling understanding that you’re still in your predicament. Your fingers are pure white with constricted blood flow, clutched around the lever so hard you’ve lost feeling in them a while ago. If you weren’t in hyperspace, if the ship hadn't ripped itself apart completely, that only meant that the sudden movement had been…

The magnets. They’ve been weakened. It worked. 

Your victory is hardly lived in at all. You’re pushing up against the lever now with all the fucking brawn you can muster. It doesn’t budge, set on resisting your efforts and completing its objective. Stars, you’re so goddamn stupid, so fucking dumb and short-sighted that you completely neglected the actual possibility of success. You hadn’t imagined the load would be this great, that the ship would fight you this hard. You didn’t realise that the bones in your wrist would snap before you’d ever get it to budge, and that you’d keep pushing, not so much feeling the spasms anymore than you hear the cracks. You’ve started crying at some point, stomach flipped over and bile prickling the back of your throat, your tears pooling with your sweat and snot upon your upper lip. You’re a pathetic sight; inadequate and every bit deserving of the hell that awaits you. 

And then you feel your fingers prickle with life, blood rushing to the tips, eager to keep the extremities alive. Fresh, hot, searing pain follows right after, shooting up your arm as the weight eases, your body all at once feeling the agony you forced yourself to ignore. Your hand is useless, limp when it falls to the console, yet miraculously, you don’t need it anymore. The lever is being pushed back up on its own now, as if a phantom has taken pity on you, like the air has solidified around it and taken on its own tremendous strength. You have half a mind to blubber at the scene, rightfully dumbfounded by the impossibility of it all. But you’ll have time to ponder on it later. Now… Now you have to move. 

With your only remaining functional arm, you turn the yoke a full ninety degrees to the side opposite of the ship's tilt, your entire body shifting with the movement. When you’re certain the pirate’s ship is fully behind you, you engage the thrusters and pray they burn in your wake.

You can do nothing else. 

There’s no pride, nor any hint of satisfaction. It isn’t your victory to celebrate. All you’ve gained is a  ruined body, milked for all its energy. You can barely manage it; it takes the smallest remaining sanity left within you to check on the kid.

He’s passed out, slumped and snoring but alive. You’d laugh if you could, but all that absorbs you is the thought of how nice that must feel, to succumb to the darkness that has begun to overtake you too. Your rapid breaths come to a tepid slow. 

The last thing you see is the Mandalorian burst into the cockpit, beskar glinting with spilled blood and a vengeance. Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you smile. 

He’s okay.

chapter four →

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have nine (nein!) fics dedicated to the beginning stages of friendship. Check them out after the cut, and don't forget to kudos or comment if you liked them!

Unnecessary by chockfullofsecrets (2339, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Yussa Errenis & Allura Vysoren

How Allura befriended Yussa

Reccer says: It features a touch-starved lonely Yussa and a slightly-more-well-adjusted but still a little clueless Allura (and her wife, who can explain things to her).

The Glow and Shine of Rotten Wood by sociallychallengednerd (1664, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Essek&Nott

Au where Essek ends up in that jail cell with Nott the Brave instead of Caleb, and the bond forged there.

Reccer says: I just really love the idea of what their relationship would be like if Nott had adopted Essek like that. There's something about imagining a goblin and a drow running around the empire in disguise that just tugs my heart strings.

Light & Shadow by quinn_of_aebradore (2141, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Reanminere "Reani" & Essek Thelyss

Essek teams up with Reani to fight crime

Reccer says: I loved the idea of this teamup since it was hinted at in the C2 finale, and this one really nails Reani's voice

What to Make of Me When I'm Gone by Angel Ascending (1949, General) Warnings: Casual discussion of death Pairings:

The Hells have morbidly adorable bonding session about what they should do with each other's corpses.

Reccer says: This fic perfectly encapsulates the early bonding vibe of a party, especially one as weird as the Hells and could easily slot into canon.

and each falling star changed the song of the sky by grayintogreen (5967, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Background Percy/Vex

A chance encounter changes fates. It's never too late to adopt an adventuring party, after all. (Or Percy and Vex adopt the Tombtakers.)

Reccer says: I liked it

disruption and development by ivelostmyspectacles (4062, Teen) Warnings: gender dysphoria around menstruation Pairings: Ashton Greymoore & Orym

Ashton runs off from the group in the middle of Bassuras, Orym follows, and does his best to help

Reccer says: The characterization for both of them is spot on - Ashton running off without expecting anyone to care or follow, Orym doing his best to protect and help

both my broken hands are true by quothhh (1805,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Veth Brenatto & Caleb Widogast

An AU where Veth is running an apothecary; and Bren breaks in one night to rob her

Reccer says: It's spot on characterization in an AU, and I love the aggressive Veth's caretaking is.

we're like a song that ends in major key by friendly_ficus (2920, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Yussa Errenis & The Mighty Nein, Yussa Errenis & Allura Vysoren

The Mighty Nein adopts another prickly wizard.

Reccer says: Yussa is the best wet cat wizard, and I love the little glimpses into Yussa's thought processes and relationship with Allura.

mask of many faces by SongOfWizardry (1638, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Dairon & Essek Thelyss, Beauregard Lionett & Essek Thelyss

Long after the Xhorhaus, a (disguised) Essek runs into an (undisguised) Expositor Dairon.

Reccer says: Extremely early on in their friendship, but you can imagine them becoming closer after the fic. I love the way that both of them understand what's going on, even if they're careful enough to not say anything explicit

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. Want to make your own recs? Check out the rules, and then use the form to submit!

Next week, we'll be reccing fic featuring Molly, Kingsley, or Lucien! Or all three! They're popular in fandom, I hear, so I think there will be some good stuff.

If you're looking for some more, there's some good stuff in the critter genfic bingo tag! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[mary-dreamy]

Momo joins the Bakusquad (just a drabble)

Admittedly, Kyouka had been a bit nervous about bringing Momo to one of the Bakusquad's hangouts once they finally started dating.

Momo liked all the Bakusquad well enough, she liked everyone in 1A like the goodie-two-shoes she was, and they liked her as well, but they really didn't hangout much outside of 1A movie nights.

To be fair, they were all very different and Kyouka was kinda worried that they wouldn't click at all when put all together in a room.

It wasn't the end of the world or anything, Kyouka would continue to hang out with all of them separately, like she had been doing until now.

Still, they were all the best people Kyouka had met in her entire life and she wanted for all her favourite people to get on with each other.

So, she brought Momo to a signature Bakusquad Game Tournament and hoped for the best.

'Have you ever played Street Fighter, Yaomomo?' Denki asked as he stuffed his face with chips.

Momo had sat primly on top of Sero's bed, Kyouka drapped over her carelessly. 'I haven't really played many video games.'

'It's fine, let me teach you all the combos.'

Denki jumped on the bed with them and started explaining to her all about the game while Sero and Kirishima set it up.

'Is it also neccesary to move with the control?' Momo asked, blessed her sheltered heart.

'It's the most important part!'

It was kinda fun seeing Denki being the one explaining something to Momo for once. It also served to sooth all of Kyouka's nerves about the hangout, it was all going to be okay.

In the end, it was more than okay.

Denki and Momo became friends since that day and it wasn't rare to find the two of them playing videogames together on the common room.

After Denki, came Sero.

Sero started joining them on their videogame sessions, sometimes playing and sometimes just being around while reading his mangas.

Said mangas started finding their way to Momo's room too and Wednesday evenings started finding both of them in Sero's hammock reading together, sometimes Sero's mangas and sometimes Momo's books.

'We could make a book club out of this.' Momo would mumbled on the rare ocassion Kyouka would join them, listening to her music calmly. 'Tenya would be very happy to see us spending our free time doing something so productive.'

'Guess so.' Sero kept his finger inbetween the pages he had been reading. 'But I dunno if the prez would let us keep reading Given on an official school club.'

Momo turned the next page of said manga. 'It isn't that explicit, Sero.'

'It's the prez we're talking about.'

'Tenya is much more liberal than you think.' Momo paused for a second, then resumed her reading. 'Although, let's wait until we finish it, just to be safe. I want to see how it ends.'

Kyouka had to turn up the volume of her music and breath in deeply, resisting the urge to laugh.

Then, it was Mina.

Mina found in Momo a more willing shopping companion than in Kyouka and she ran with it. Everytime she needed so much as a new pen, she would go to Momo and coax her to accompany her to the mall, which always, unsurprisingly, turned into a huge shopping haul of all kinds of trinkets.

'What do you think, babes?' Mina jumped out of the changing room, wearing an electric blue dress with lots of sparkles this time around.

'I think this is the seventh dress you've tried on.' Kyouka deadpanned.

Kyouka had let Mina tag along to their quick, it was supposed to be quick, trip to the mall because she needed some new headphones. She didn't know how the three of them had ended up at a clothing store instead, but that's what happened when one went shopping with Ashido Mina.

'Boo!' Mina stuck out her tongue at Kyouka. 'What do you think, Momo-baby?'

'You look so beautiful, Mina!' Momo clapped, motioning for her to twirl so they could see the dress in full. 'It suits you so much!'

Mina preened under the attention. 'See, Kyo? That's the attitude! That's why Momo's my favourite.'

Momo melted a little bit at that and Kyouka knew that they would be trapped in that store for two hours more, at least.

Kyouka didn't complain, much, about it. She knew Momo would treat her to something later, for derailing her shopping trip.

She always did that, after all her shopping sprees with Mina, she would buy something for everyone, because she was caring like that. And it didn't hurt that she had more money than she could spend in her whole life.

That's how she got Bakugou.

On one of the trips, she bought him an All Might keychain that he didn't have. Better yet, one that not even Midoriya had stashed in his shrine.

'Ponytail.' Bakugou was holding the ugly keaychain with much more cared than it deserved. 'What the fuck.'

'I'm glad you like it.' Momo had beamed at him, which made him squint harder for some reason, as if she was too bright for him. 'I saw it and thought of you.'

Bakugou nodded then, super serious, as if comming to terms with some realisation he had had in the last ten seconds. 'I would fucking kill for you.'

'There's no need for that.'

'But I would.'

'Well, thank you very much, Bakugou.'

After that, Momo gained food privileges from Bakugou, starting with a huge ass mountain of green tea cookies that seemed to be neverending, Bakugou always having one in hand to offer her after an especially tiring workout.

And that's how she had captured Kirishima too, in the end.

Kyouka grinned as she watched the both of them, twin sunshine smiles, chatting up after training together and beating the living shit out of each other like it was nothing.

At first sight, they might not share much, but both of their quirks needed similar maintenance and both of them were determined as hell to overcome their insecurities and become the best heroes they could be.

That made for some kick-ass sparing partners.

'Damn, Yaomomo, dude, that last move was killer.' Kirishima beamed up at her. 'I didn't even see it coming.'

'Thank you, Kirishima.' Momo accepted the compliment with bright red cheeks from exertion and embarrassement. 'Lately, I've been practising some martial arts with Uraraka.'

'I might need to join you guys sometimes because that was badass.' Kirishima raised his hand up, waiting for a high five with all his puppy enthusiasm.

Kyouka watched tenderly how Momo hesitated for a second before going for it and high fiving him. Both of them looked equally surprised and esctactic by it.

'You guys done?' Kyouka asked as she walked towards them.

'Just about.' Momo's eyes sparkled as she looked at her. 'Wasn't expecting you here so early.'

'Internship ended early for once.' Kyouka got on her tip toes so she could peck her lips, nevermind how sweaty and grimy she was. 'Thought I would see if you wanted to watch some movie, have a quiet night in.'

'That sounds like the perfect plan, love.' Momo kissed her cheek lightly, always mindful of her state. 'Let me take a shower and I'll meet you in your room.'

'Okay, I'll get all the good snacks.'

Momo kissed her cheek once more before dissapearing into the changing rooms.

'I take it that you're bailing from the squad hangout tonight, huh?' Kirishima asked, reminding her that he was still there too.

It was difficult to pay attention to anyone when Momo was in the room.

'Fuck yeah.' Kyouka punched Kirishima in the arm lightly. 'Haven't had a date night in forever.'

Kirishima laughed as he picked up his stuff, ready to go. 'Okay, Jack, I'll tell the squad. Have a good date.'

Kyouka smiled back at him.

She loved that Momo had become part of the Bakusquad so easily, worming her way into everyone's hearts like it was nothing, like she had done with her because she was that nice and lovely.

But Kyouka was inherently selfish when it came to Momo and, sometimes, she just wanted her all to herself.

A Lady in a squad of Tramps - marydreamy - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

"Bringin' Home the Rain" Chapter 5 progress update + some WIPs, why not!

Klaue

"Bringin' Home the Rain" - Chapter 5 - Foundations

It's definitely still a ways off from being finished, but progress is being made! I'm happy to say that it's pretty much all on the page, so to speak, and is also already just over 6k as a rough draft with plenty of filling out to be done, so it will easily be the longest chapter. And it's pretty well, uhh, all smut. 🥴

At any rate, there's no set date for this yet but at least I can really get going with the "macro" edit!

"Salvation is a Deep Dark Well" - Part two of the BHTR series

We're definitely not done after chapter five! I realized pretty early on after starting to rework this that Klaue and Reader were going to keep at it (😉), but rather than add more chapters to what is now "part one", it felt like it made more sense to create a separate fic since there will likely be a small time jump, and it'll be spread over a longer period of time as they continue to get up to ✨️shenanigans✨️.

"Find Me in the Air" - Part three of the BHTR series

I'm planning on this essentially being a sort of extended epilogue (and I do basically know how this will end). While it's still rough at this point, it will definitely be at least three parts/chapters, like a series of one shots over an even longer period of time before I wrap things up.

"Hiding From the Sun" - sub!Klaue one-shot

Self explanatory. 😉 *raises eyebrows aggressively* Also, shout out to The Next Big Franchise discord for, uh, awakening something in me/us. 😈

Alfred Pennyworth

As yet untitled Alfred x F Reader series

Set in "The Batman" universe

This one keeps changing it's damn shape on me, and the title continues to elude me, but I think I've settled on a sort of "established relationship" series. Maybe. 😂 Either way, I'm not going to settle on a specific number of chapters at this point, as I feel like this may be more open-ended. Listen, I have thots and they need to go somewhere, so I'll figure it out eventually!

"Lotus" - Yoga Instructor AU Alfred x F Reader one-shot

Inspired by the lovely @tarabyte3's AU PT!Kino idea! ❤️ Also by going to my first class in ages and after internally debating for about two seconds which Andy blorbo would make a good yoga instructor before immediately realizing that Alfred would be perfect.

Alfred started exploring yoga to help with his injury and enjoyed and appreciated it so much that he started teaching. You're taken aback by the handsome, and older, new instructor who's very much outside of the usual demographic, and when he starts offering private sessions you nervously sign up.

This will be either one or two parts, we'll see how it shakes out!

"Fealty" (working title) - Arthurian Legend inspired AU Alfred x F OC series

I just got inspiration for this one yesterday! Plot twist: Alfred is the Lord/King and OC is a Knight (so is Bruce, of course), and in this universe both women and men are Knights. I'm lightly planning for this to be three to five chapters at this point, but again this is very new and liable to change. Mutual pining, forbidden love, slow burn, all that good stuff.

I'm making a list of some books and movies for research, and if anyone has recommendations for some universe-building inspiration, I'm open to suggestions!

Damn, five months ago I had no idea I'd actually be almost finished my first fic in years (and first multi-chapter fic, period), let alone have a list of WIPs/ideas! Thank you to everyone who has commented and encouraged me thus far, it's means more than you know. 🥰

Header by me | Divider by @saradika.

[gaybananabread]

for tickletober could u do 24 with Amity and Lilith? I like to think that they had a somewhat wholesome relationship when they trained together so maybe a training session turned a little playful?

also hope ur doing good and thanks! :D

Sure! I thought of a fun way to do the number request, hope you enjoy!

Lee: Amity

Ler: Lilith

Summary: One of Amity's training sessions with Lilith gets a bit playful.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!

Amity and Lilith were training together outside. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, for the two had formed a bond after the very first session. Amity was inside of a white circle in the dirt, Lilith a few feet away. Today's topic was self defense.

"I  know you're probably familiar with the subject, maybe had training on it. However, self-defense is one of the most important lessons to be taught, and you can never practice enough. Now, I'm going to send some spells your way. Nothing bad, just something to make you regret being hit. Your goal is to not move from your circle. There's five rounds."

Amity braced herself, readying for the spells that would be sent flying her way. "Ready, set, begin!" An onslaught of blue orb-like spells flew at her, whizzing by her head as she ducked out of the way. She cast her own, a purple abomination-ball soaring at Lilith. She easily doged it.

"Nice job. Time for round 2." Opaque blue bolts zoomed towards Amity, coming in from all sides. She had doged most, but one had hit her forearm. It hadn't hurt, but the area had begun to feel weird.

"Ah, that's too bad. Regret time." A fuzzy feeling crept onto her arm, slowing turning into something else. She tried to hide her smile, failing once it reached her elbows. A confused Glace at her teacher answered her questions.

"Like my new spells? Each one is a different form, but they all have the same outcome. I figured you could use some laughter, and it would be a great way to practice agility and strength. It'll fade, just not until we're done." Casting was harder now, her focus mostly on the tingly sensations spreading throughout her arm. She managed to summon a goopy fist, sending it at her teacher. Her aim was terrible.

The next round was ground waves. Floods of blue light spilled across the dirt. Amity formed a platform above them, looking down at the dodged magic. "Clever. I can cast two spells, though." Before she could react, a blue streak shot out. She tried blocking, but it hit her square in the chest. Her pedestal melted, knocking her out of the circle.

The feeling exploded on her torso, running up to her armpits, down to her belly, her shoulder blades, everywhere. All her walls crumbled, and loud cackles spewed into the air. She fell to the ground, hugging her midsection. "NAHAHAHAHO! IHIHIHIT- AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Lilith shook her head, laughing a little at her student. "Three rounds left. You can do it, Amity!" The witch in question was writhing in ticklish agony, the fuzzy feeling overwhelming her senses. Her brain was mush. "NOHOHO I CAHAHAHAN'T!"

Lilith downgraded the intensity of her next spell, aiming for Amity's ears. Due to an unexpected thrash, she missed. "Okay then, round 4." Amity, who could barely take the current tickles, couldn't imagine handling more.

A blue spike shot straight at the girl's ear, hitting its target flawlessly. It didn't add much, but the extra feeling was enough to push her to the absolute limit. "LIHIHILIHIHITH! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Lilith saw Amity was at her limit, majorly dialing down her last spell's strength. "Quick, round 5!" A small ball of light flew over to the young witch, landing on her foot. It sent her over the edge. "NAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHAHA!"

Lilith snapped her fingers, and all the tickling immediately stopped. Amity curled in on herself, giggling like a maniac. "Nice work today. You didn't win, but you definitely learned about the importance of defense. Plus, I had fun watching you fight. It was quite cute."

Amity's signature tomatoe face blush was thriving, her entire face blood red. "That wahas ahahawful." Amity hid her face, saying goodbye to Lilith for the day. While she wouldn't admit it, the session was fun for her as well.

[black-arcana]

LZZY HALE: New HALESTORM Music Is 'So Different' From 'Back From The Dead' In An 'Almost Weightier, Heavier Way'

In a new interview with Decker of the rock station Razor 94.7/104.7 (WZOR),HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale was asked if fans can expect to get a little taste of new music on the band's upcoming tour that kicks off in July. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "I'm going to say probably, but I will warn you, we're a little sneaky about that. So, we're not necessarily gonna be, like, 'Hey, here's a new song.' But there are some things that we're really excited about."

Regarding the progress of the writing and recording sessions for the follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead", Lzzy said: "We've been in the studio with [producer] Dave Cobb for some time now, and it's been different this time. It's been very sporadic. It isn't like we mapped out, like, eight weeks of time and we're gonna get a record done. We started going to him — first it was three days to test him out and we wrote a song together from scratch. And everyone was, like, 'Wait. What is this?' And then we went back — we went out on tour, we came back, had another session with him for about two weeks, and then we had another one for three weeks. It keeps getting a little more. And so we have one more session fully booked for August after this tour to kind of finish up everything. But it's really exciting."

Elaborating on HALESTORM's working relationship with Cobb, Lzzy said: "The process has been very like A.D.D., which I really love, because all of us are a little touched by [it] [laughs], if anybody has noticed over the years. But it was a great challenge, because this is Dave Cobb. He's worked with RIVAL SONS and AIRBOURNE, but that's like the rock world that he's in. He's made most of his name from Brandi Carlile and Chris Stapleton and Jason Isbell, whom I love, all three of those artists, so much."

Lzzy went on to say that she and her HALESTORM bandmates initially "got a lot of pushback" from their team about the prospect of working with Cobb. She recalled: "We were saying, 'Oh, wouldn't it be cool to do a record with Dave Cobb? Because that would be something that nobody would really expect from us. And I bet you he would come up with some crazy ideas. Don't know the guy, but let's figure it out.' And everybody on our team was, like, 'No, no, he's too busy. That's not you. He's got this stuff going. He's got, like, nine Grammys with Chris Stapleton. That's not your scene.' And so we kept pushing back. We're, like, 'No, no, no. Just ask him. Just ask him. We can handle rejection, but just ask him.' And so finally, our A&R guy at our label is, like, 'Fine, I'll reach out. Whatever. Just stop bugging me.' And so he reached out, and then he called me, like, the next day. He's, like, 'Hey, I heard back from Dave Cobb. And guess what? Not only does he absolutely know who you are, but he's been wanting to make a record with you for, like, seven years. And he has a plan already of how he wants to do it.' And we're, like, 'What? This is sick.' So anyway, we went to go test the waters, and we go into the studio. And look, I write every day. When I die, there's gonna be so much that everyone has to sift through, just gibberish songs, all that. So I always have, like, a bank with me, like, 'Here's riffs, here's songs, here's subject titles, here's poetry.' And he was, like, 'No, no, no. We're not gonna do anything that you already have. Nothing.' I'm, like, 'Uh. What?' And he's, like, 'No, we're just gonna start.' Everyone's sitting in a circle and we're, like, gonna kumbaya. So everyone got an instrument, like, 'All right. So what are we feeling today?' I'm, like, 'Is this a therapy session?' And we ended up — it's crazy, 'cause then we'll like grab on to something 'cause of that pressure of, like, 'Well, I was thinking about this as this is happening.' 'Cool. Let's go there.' And so he has this amazing instincts that are very, like, you can't see it when you're in it. And then, as soon as we start like putting stuff together, we kind of zoom out and, like, 'Oh, wait a minute. This is so wild and awesome and exactly what we do.' So it's very strange. But we're all very free. And then the other thing is that while we're writing it, we're recording it at the same time. So these tracks are, like, us discovering the song for the first time as well as we're performing them. There are some things that we're performing them all at the same time. There's one track in particular that we completely forgot to put the click track on, and we did like three takes like that, and then we're, like, 'Oh, wait. We don't even have a click going.' Arejay [Hale, HALESTORM drummer and Lzzy's brother] said something, like, 'Were we supposed to have like a click track so we all are on time together?' And everyone's, like, 'We didn't even notice it was gone.' And so we did another take with the click. We're, like, 'No, we like that other one better.' So there's stuff like that. A lot of weird surprises. There's a lot of space. And we're really excited because we're not going country or anything like that, or Americana. This is such a new — it's got so much teeth, and it's so different than what we just did with 'Back From The Dead', but in this almost weightier, heavier way. And the lyrics are — I'm tackling subjects I've never tackled before because I'm having the freedom to do so. So I'm very excited."

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL are gearing up to embark on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicks off on July 9 in Raleigh and runs through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING will serve as support. The tour is also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released earlier in the month.

HALESTORM has partnered with mental health organization Sound Mind Live to engage fans to pledge support that will provide free-to-the-community mental health programming across the country for fans and the broader community.

Having amassed over 2.5 billion streams globally, the Grammy Award-winning band HALESTORM has grown from a childhood dream of siblings Lzzy and Arejay Hale into one of the most celebrated rock bands of the last two decades. Most recently, the band released "Back From The Dead", their fifth full-length studio album which has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019. Fronted by the incomparable Lzzy Hale with drummer Arejay Hale, guitarist Joe Hottinger and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".