#*crawls out of a hole:* hi i'm alive

[fragilestorm]

Mother's legacy

Tag list: @arrthurpendragon @eddysocs @stanshollaand @bravelittleflower @richitozier @hiddenqveendom @foxesandmagic @waterloou

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Exhausted, Papyrus fell on his knees in the dust. It was covering everything in the room, from the floor to the ceiling. The main door was gone, like most of the windows. Thankfully, no monster tried to enter the balcony, too high. Papyrus crawled to pick up the door, still in one piece by some miracle, and put it in its place. The hinges were gone with a part of the wall, but he forced it to hold by nailing it with some planks that held the windows closed and was now on the floor.

He picked up his phone, hidden deep in his armor. His hands were still shaking with the adrenaline. Sans left about twenty messages, asking if he was fine, then warning him Frisk was gone, then asking him again if he was alright, more and more distressed as the hours went by.

Papyrus simply sent: "Alive. Frisk here." before walking to the kitchen to make sure the child was fine. Several bullets ricocheted against the closet door, but it faced the brunt efficiently. He cleared the chairs out of the way and opened the door, maybe too brutally.

Frisk screamed out of terror and threw themselves in the back of the cabinet. They curled up on themselves, hands on the head, sobbing uncontrollably. They were shaking as well.

Papyrus flinched. He saw himself at five years old, in the same position, as Sans was screaming and fighting for their lives in the living room. This was not a world to grow up. No child should ever be born in this hellish place. Bitter, he felt his soul squeezed painfully. It was his fault. He should have brought the child back to the Ruins. Frisk shouldn't have assisted to any of this.

The skeleton kneeled at their level. He never had been really talented to comfort people.

"Frisk? It's over, they're gone. You can come out."

He leaned a hand towards the human. Frisk kicked it away and tried to get as far as they could from him in the closet. Papyrus tried to stay neutral, but his face betrayed for a few seconds how much it hurt him. He didn't want Frisk to be scared of him. Not after everything they went through to protect them.

The skeleton looked around for a second and noticed a hole in the closet door. Small, but enough for a child to witness everything that happened outside. Frisk saw him slaughter attackers and end monsters on the floor without mercy. Papyrus felt guilty. He gave the child some space and sat in front of the closet, unsure what to do.

No Weakness, Chapter 3.

_______________________________________

Hello, hello!

I commissioned this masterpiece to @seirindono, a French (yeah, team French!) illustrator who works on a multi AU universe called The Missing Scarf, which is a banger. Really cool comic with lots of great characters that you really want to read. Go read it!

I wasn't sure on which fic I wanted a drawing at first, but since we already got one for Horrortale: Rotten Apple (thanks again Zeragii, love you), why not No Weakness?

It's a post-pacific Underfell fic where instead of breaking the Barrier, Sans refused Frisk to fight Asgore and brought them back in safety to Toriel. Now Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Toriel and Sans are hiding the child away, trying not to get killed.

The story however is about Undyne and Papyrus' friendship. After Papyrus surprises Undyne kissing Asgore, he is promoted to general of the Royal Guard. Except Papyrus knows something is really wrong here, since that role was obviously supposed to Undyne's. But the more he tries to understand, the more people try to dissuade him from learning more. All the hints lead to Asgore, but how to reach the monarch without getting himself killed, and by extension, those he cares the most about? Between his duty and his friendship, Papyrus will have to make a choice.

I asked for one of my favorite parts ever, which is the moment Frisk realizes how things really work in Underfell, after witnessing Papyrus committing carnage right after he got promoted to General. It's tradition :D

Anyway, if you want to read the story, it's right here. I'm on summer break right now, but new chapters are coming soon!

Thanks again to Seirindono for their amazing work, I love it so much <3 Really great artist, don't hesitate to commission them! They're really nice and pays great attention to details. It was really cool collaborating with you <3

Go send them some love!

[thatrandomidiot182]

Bitter Reunions, Sweet Coffee

Chapter Warnings. talk + descriptions of death, disassociation, mentions of past neglect, vulgar language, violence, readers not a very nice person atm (and they're valid for it!), pls let me know if I missed any!

You honestly thought you were hallucinating again when you saw him walk up to the register.

Sleepless night after sleepless night and the constantly skipped meals had made it a common occurrence to see and hear things that aren't there.

Familiar faces that would never be in such proximity, suddenly appearing in your peripheral or in the corners of the room.

Voices that you know you'll never hear again, randomly calling your name or whispering indiscernably in your ears at the most inconvenient times.

Sometimes, there'd even be phantom touches. The hint of a hand brushing against your cheek or fingers trailing your arm tentatively...

But not this time.

This time, it was all real.

He was all too real.

From the tips of his black, stupidly perfect hair to the bottoms of his shiny leather oxfords, Dick Grayson was really standing at your register, alive and in the flesh.

"Well, fuck me." Your sudden whisper causes your coworker to splutter in surprise, nearly dropping the iced latte you were in the middle of handing her.

"Finally. Thought you'd never ask." Your other coworker makes a sudden appearance from under the counter, smirking up at you as he pulls a box out with him.

"Ugh! Gene, you know we could report you to HR for that, right?" Pip's voice hardly registers as she comes to stand next to you, glaring at the green eyed boy as he moves to lean against the counter across from her.

"Oh, C'mon! I'm only joking, you know that, right? Besides, Greenie doesn't seem bothered by it, do ya?" It takes two more calls of your stupid nickname for you to finally drag your horrified stare away from the blue eyed man and onto the brunette nuisance.

"Gene, I'll give you twenty bucks to pour the grease bucket on me right now."

Gene's face drops into a bewildered stare as Pip releases a cry of protest, "What!? No! Are you insane!?"

You turn your focus onto her, clutching the sleeve of her uniform pleadingly as Gene watches in confused amusement. "Pip, take over the register for me? Please. I'll cover for you on Sunday, just please. Take over the register!" You're desperate, hands trembling as you fight back the panic at his sudden appearance.

The redhead lets out a nervous laugh at your begging, glancing at the man next to her for help as she gently pries your hands off of her.

"Yeah, right! You know Pip can barely even hand the drinks out without crawling into a hole. She's been here three months and still can't talk to a customer without crying." Gene cackles, and Pip rounds on him with a furious blush, "You're such an asshole! You know I'm working on it!"

You can't help but roll your eyes at their bickering, shuffling anxiously on your feet as you purposefully avoid Dick's stare.

"Well, now's the perfect opportunity! I'll take over here and you can take the next customers order? Okay? Okay!" You force an all too cheery grin as you attempt to corral her towards the front of the counter. Unfortunately, your attempts are done in vain as she hurridly plants her weight to the floor with wide eyes, shking her head rapidly.

"N-No, no I-I'm good, maybe tomorrow?" Her voice reeks of fear, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt at her obvious nerves.

"Look, man. Just let it go. Obviously, she doesn't want to do it, so leave her alone and get back to work. Seriously, what's up with you all of a sudden? You've been fine all day, and now you want to swap stations? You get a Karen or something?" Gene's voice is stern as he reprimands you, leading Pip out of your grasp as he questions you with a raised brow.

Pip follows his lead, eyeing your clentched jaw worridly as she speaks, "I-Is everything okay? You look a little... freaked out right now... did you... get enough sleep last night?" Pip's fretting only served to further agitate you, and you have to close your eyes to gather yourself in fear of lashing out at her.

It's silent for only a moment before you release a sharp breath, hurridly brushing off their concern, "No, I'm fine, I just– I guess I just... I don't know. Just been one of those days, yanno?" Your excuse is half-hearted, though not entirely a lie. Not only had you been dealing with annoying customers since you got here, but for some reason, the entire morning had just been one problem after another.

First, you slept through your alarm, causing you to miss your bus and forcing you to run to the next station, hoping to catch it there. Luckily, you did, only to discover that all the seats were taken, the air conditioner was broken, and the driver refused to go faster than fifteen.

Then, you ended up being fourty-five minutes late to your opening shift, which Gene thoroughly chewed you out for, and immediately dropped a whole case of croissants. After cleaning that up and making a note of the incident, you went on to spend the next three hours dealing with pissy office workers, sticky kids and trend followers who ordered drinks with twenty different add-ones and argued about the price.

Pip and Gene had been there through it all, but they were too busy with their own little beef and pretending to be preoccupied to realize how stressed you were.

Maybe if they bothered to get to know you outside of "Hey, have any plans this weekend? Think you can cover for me?" They'd realize that something was wrong, but they never have, so they took your excuse with stride, sparing you one last weary look before moving back to their stations.

Leaving you to face the music.

"What do you want." Normally, you'd at least pretend to be chipper when talking to a customer. Greeting them with your best smile and a well-timed compliment always worked out in your favor when it came time to count the tip jar, but today, with him, you just couldn't find the will to even be polite.

"Hey..." He begins hesistantly, drawing the word out as he coughs awkwardly, "It's been a while... We– uh, We should talk." His voice is solemn, lacking any trace of his usual mischief and cheer, and it takes everything in you not to spit in his face and throw him out.

"We are talking. Do you want coffee, tea, or juice?" Your words are sharp, tone carefully flat as you glare at him over the screen.

He huffs, and you eye him with morbid curiousity as his fists clentch, "Coffee. Can you please take a break to talk for ten minutes?" You roll your eyes, pushing the button harshly as you spit back, "Oh yeah, because I'm gonna sacrifice ten minutes of my pay to talk to someone who never even spared me a simple 'hello,' two years ago."

Dick visibly jolts at your accusation, his hand coming to rest on the counter that separates you guys as he stutters, "Wh-That–" You make the desicion of hot over cold for him as he fumbles to find a response to your words, "Are you seriously worried about, what, two cents? If that's the case, I'll pay you whatever you make in a week, but I seriously need to talk to you! You know I wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't important!" His desperation causes you to hesitate, and you eye him in disbelief as he obviously avoids responding to your statement.

"No, actually, I don't. Because I don't know you. In case you suffer from the same delusions as Bruce, just because we lived in the same house for a couple of years doesn't make us family." Your glare causes him to stiffen, his jaw clenching, and you watch on, unamused as he scowls in frustration.

"Look. I know you don't like us. I know we fucked up. I know that things didn't go how they should have when you first came home, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? But, right now, I need you to pause being angry and just sit and listen. You don't have to talk, but I need to tell you this..." You offer a mocking hum as you press random flavors and additives, mainly trying to ring up the most expensive drink you can manage as you revel in his rising frustration.

"It's about Alfred." The name captures your attention, and you pause your button mashing to stare him down in an attempt to discern whether or not he was lying.

He looks like shit, now that you're actually looking at him.

His perfect hair is noticably greasy, and if it weren't for the faintest trace of frizz sticking up from the back of his head, you would have assumed he had slathered it in styling gel with how stiff it looked.

His eyes were hidden behind a pair of ridiculously tinted sunglasses, and he sported a wrinked silk button-up, sloppily tucked into a pair of jeans, with no belt in sight.

He was wearing a silk button up, and jeans.

That immediately set alarm bells off.

If there was one thing you knew about Alfred, it's that he never let anyone leave the manor looking anything less than clean and put together. You'd watched him meticulously steam sweatpants just for Dick to go get on a private jet! So, hearing the words and seeing the perfect Dick Grayson appearing before you like he currently was only fed the ominous feeling you woke up with that morning.

"I don't get off until ten-thirty, so find somewhere else to haunt until then." His shoulders slump in either defeat or relief, "Wha-You got here at eight!" His half-hearted cry is met with your unamused snort as you shove the card reader his way, not even bothering to question how he knew that.

"Welcome to the real world, Dick." Your accentuation doesn't go unnoticed, and you smirk at the unamused frown he gains when he sees the total on the screen.

"Fifteen dollars for one drink!?" He hesitates with his card, and you quickly reach forward to force his hand down onto the reader with a cheeky grin, "Well you did order a large cappuccino with eight pumps of caramel, a quad espresso, extra whipped cream, caramel drizzle, java chips and almond creamer!"

You don't even have to see his stare to pick up on his horrified expression.

"We'll have that ready for you in a few minutes." You offer a mocking smile, voice artificially perky as you turn your back on him to hand the receipt over to Pip.

"So, I'll see you at ten-thirty then!" You wave him off with a smirk as Pips disgusted gasp reaches your ears, "What kind of drink is this!?"

Nine hours and one attempted robbery later, you exit the coffee shop with a scowl, an ice cube melting between your fingertips as you use it to nurse your busted lip. A sugary espresso abomination that's sure to keep you up all night hangs down from your other hand as you make your way towards the figure looming on the sidewalk.

"Wow, you actually came back. Now I'm worried." You don't bother to mask the shock in your voice as you exit the building, waving back at your shift replacement when he finally reaches the register.

"Of course I came back– What happened!?" His pout is quickly replaced with a frown as he spots your bruised cheek and swollen lip.

"Some asshole came to try and rob the place during the lunch rush. Tried to hold up the register and got mad when I made fun of his mask." You smirk at the memory of his purple, leopard print leather bondage mask, "Dude managed to whip me across the face right before getting bodied by an old lady's taser." You grin, letting out a small laugh.

Dick doesn't seem to share your amusement, "Oh my– You're lucky he didn't hit your eye– Y-You're lucky the gun didn't go off!" His brow is furrowed, and you pause to stare at him in amazement at the sheer audacity of his act as he grimaces at the sight of your purple cheekbone.

"Okay, cut the shit." He's visibly taken aback at your snappy tone, and you pettily throw the ice cube down by his feet before turning to walk away from the shops door.

"We both know you don't actually care about what happens to me, and quite frankly, I'm too tired to deal with–" You turn gesture to him frustratedly, "–this, so quit wasting my time and tell me whatever it is that Alfred wanted me to know already!"

You hear him huff as he rushes to walk next to you, "Look, I know you don't believe it, but I do care about you. We all do! We always have, I don't understand why you keep pushing us away–"

"Shut the fuck up! You don't get to come here after everything that's happened and try to play the victim! You don't get to invalidate my feelings and gaslight me into thinking that the way you guys acted was okay! That I'm the bad guy! None of it was okay!" You're glad you walked away from the shop because you did not need your coworkers reporting you to your boss for causing a ruckus with the volume of your voice.

"I was sixteen years old." You hate the way your voice trembles when you speak, "I lost the only family I had ever known, and when I was brought here with the promise of finding a new one... You guys treated me like shit– worse! You– You acted like I wasn't even there..." Dick stops beside you as you lean against a lamppost, taking solace in the cool metal through your clothes.

"It's been a year since Bruce kicked me out, and none of you have bothered to even try and text me. Nobody. Not once. Alfred's the only one who even bothers to call every once in a while... Which is why I don't understand what you're doing here Dick." You glare at him through your lashes, ignoring the wetness of your eyes and the heavy atmosphere of your words as you scoff, "Alfred would've called if it was really important. He'd never send one of you to come when he knows how much–"

"Alfred is dead." Dicks frustrated voice cuts you off abruptly, his body jerking as he shocks even himself with his outburst.

Your eyes widen as you lift your head to face him fully, voice weak as you barely muster the courage to question him, "What?"

His voice is shaky as he stutters out your name with trembling shoulders and clentched fists, "H-He's dead..."

For the first time since you saw him this morning, you're quiet.

Your mouth feels like it's glued shut, jaw locked as you lose your grip on your cup. Your brain hardly processes the action, too caught up in pushing away the fog that's suddenly pushing at the edges of your nerves.

Dick watches your coffee fall with concern, speaking your name through a choked whimper as he hesitantly reaches out.

You don't look at him when you speak, and he's not sure you even realize what you said as he watches your eyes glaze over, focusing on everything and nothing at the same time.

"Drive me home."

The drive to your apartment was a blur. You hardly even knew that the car had started before it stopped, and you had to force yourself to lead Dick up to your door.

Your thoughts were a mess, constantly bouncing from the past and present. Memories, regrets, dreams and fantasies all blurring into one huge mess that had you too preoccupied with deciphering what was real or not to bother worrying about how Dick knew where you lived.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in yet another situation you never thought you'd be in.

Sitting across from your supposed big brother at your makeshit dining table, sharing a beer as he delivers the details of Alfred's funeral.

"The viewing and mass are going to be at the cathedral. Bruce wants everyone to be at the manor a few hours before so we can get security and cars sorted..." You let out a small puff of air through your nose, lips quirking humorlessly at Bruce's excuse to upkeep the perfect family image.

"Afterward... We'll head back to the manor for the burial." That catches your attention.

"He's being buried in the family graveyard? What did Julia have to say about that?" You scoff at Dicks obvious confusion as he stays quiet.

"What did his daughter have to say about that?"

Dicks shoulders slump as he avoids your gaze, "I don't know, you'd... have to ask Bruce."

You roll your eyes but bite your tongue, too tired and mentally exhausted to argue.

Dick leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face, and it's then that you take the time to observe him properly.

He looks tired.

Angry.

Sad.

Hopeless...

It's the first time you've ever seen him look so... dimensional. It's the first time you've ever seen him drop the mask of happiness he flaunts to the entire world.

...

It's unnerving.

His vulnerability only further feeds the confusion and suspicion in your brain.

Is any of this even happening?

Are you dreaming?

Is this another hallucination?

Is he even here right now?

Are you even here right now?

Your body feels out of your control.

You feel like you're playing a video game without being able to control the character, cursed to watch from behind the screen as you scream at them to do something.

Your limbs don't feel like yours. Your lungs are on manual mode, and you feel like a split second of distraction will cause them to just stop.

"He left you a note. He-He left you a fucking note." Dick's strained laughter brings your focus back to him, and your brows furrow in confusion.

"He... wrote me a note? But– Tha–" Your tongue is heavy, every word a struggle to push out as you come to a sinking realization, "Dick, how did Alfred even die?"

The silence is sickening, and the tingling in your brain that wakes you from your fog only solidifies the suspicion that he's loosing his composure.

"A few weeks ago... Right before Gotham was freed from Bane... He-Uh broke into the Manor–" His voice shakes, and your body freezes at the name, breath hitching as dread seeps over you.

"–None of us were home, ex-xcept D-D-Damian–" He chokes on the name, taking a deep breath as you see tears well in his eyes.

Dick begins to hyperventilate, and you wish you could move to help him, but you can't. Instead, you sit there, wide-eyed and praying to whatever higher being was listening that he was lying.

That this was all some fucked up dream your mind conjured to punish your inaction. That you'd wake up in a sweat and call Alfred, and he'd answer and reassure you that he's fine, that it was just a dream and that you didn't let him die.

"... He snapped his neck." Your stomach drops, and tears silently begin falling as the brutal reality of the situation settles in your heart. "Right in front of Damian... How– How evil do you have to be to murder a man in front of a fourteen year old boy!?" Your heart clenches at the reminder of your younger brother, concern and empathy twisting in your gut as your mind flashes back to Gwen.

He's only a couple of months younger than you were when you watched her die...

Silence settles in your apartment again, with Dicks ragged breathing being the only white noise available as you drown in your thoughts.

What a pair the two of you make at the moment.

The infamous Dick Grayson, Gothams sweetheart, and the apple of Bruce's eye is sat nursing a cheap beer on your rickety three-legged dining chair in wrinked jeans and a coffee stained silk button up. His mismatched socks and tear stricken face only add to the grief.

Then there was you.

The black sheep of the family, the stain on the Wayne name, the failed hero, the bastard child, the cursed... God, do the epithets just go on and on... Yet here you sit, on a stack of two milk crates, still in your tacky orange uniform with the bloodstained collar and a bag of frozen blueberries held to your cheek.

Polar opposites, the two of you have always been, getting along like fire and rain since the day you showed up at the Manor. But here, sitting underneath the yellow glow of a broken light bulb and sharing tears over a good man, the differences don't feel so drastic as they once did.

You have to hold back a sob at the horrible thought that crosses your mind.

This was the closest he's ever felt like family since you met him.

Taglist <3: @onceinamillionposter @jscrawls @bat1212 , @1abi, @cosmosluckycharms

Thank you all so much for all the love and support, I appreciate it so much!! <33 I'm super excited for this series and I hope you'll all enjoy it too!

[revelboo]

The question has to be asked. For every human they suddenly find on the lost light. Does brainstorm get smacked for it? I think it'd be funny if a count was kept like that

(Juat smth stupid that I'm giggling over while goofy on sleep meds)

He really should be smacked for every “surprise, here’s a human”

My Way Pt 3

Brainstorm x Reader

• “See? I’m already better at this than half the crew,” he calls out to Perceptor as you just stare at him with wide eyes. Maybe you’re defective and can’t vocalize? “You know, these things are kind of cute in an ugly way.” Can feel the frantic beat of your heart against his servos and honestly, he doesn’t get the obsession. Why fuss over and dote on these weird, little organics? Oh. You’re making a noise now. Kind of a high pitched wheezing.

• Frozen as the giant monster talks about you to the other monster like you’re not even there, he glances at the other one and as soon as those yellow optics aren’t staring a hole in you, the terror paralyzing you shatters. Screaming like you’re being bloodily dismembered and he almost drops you, jarring you into biting your tongue as your heart feels like it stops for a moment. “Your skills are astonishing. I’m sure even you can keep one little human alive,” the other mutters before disappearing.

• “Just had to scream, didn’t you? Look, you appear to be an adult. Probably. So I’ll make sure you have access to food and water and you don’t embarrass me,” he growls, watching you wince and touch your mouth. “That was embarrassing me, by the way.” And you’ve still got a hand over your mouth. Did you hurt yourself? How? Those tiny teeth look blunt. Venting, he carries you back to his habsuite and pulls a slightly used cleaning cloth from his subspace, putting you down and dropping it on top of you. Watching you struggle free before your wide eyes dart around and land on the vent. Can he be held accountable if you get in there? Probably. “I wouldn’t. Unless puréed by a fan is how you want to go out.”

• Shivering as the giant walks past you and sits at a desk, apparently wholly unconcerned about you crawling into the vent to purée yourself anyway despite his warning. And it occurs to you that you really don’t want to be on the floor considering how big he is. Especially his peds. Feeling like a toddler, you edge closer to him, head tipped back to study him. If he meant to hurt you, he would have by now, right? You’re pretty sure he’d only almost dropped you because you’d screamed in his face. If there are more giant monsters, you need to at least buddy up to one of them for safety. Right? “Can I not be on the floor? Please?”

• So you can talk. Leaning to look down at you, he reaches out a hand and you shy away. “You want up here?” Looking miserable, you come closer and climb into his hand and it’s so disconcerting how tiny and breakable you are. Making him feel almost bad about the one Whirl has. How has it survived this long? “There,” he murmurs, lifting you to his desk and tipping his hand to get you to slide out of his palm, because you’re unsettlingly soft and warm. “If you eliminate on my desk, I’ll put you in the vent myself,” he adds as you just stare up at him. Ugly cute. “I’m Brainstorm by the way. Just sit there and don’t touch anything while I work.” Pulling up a schematic he’d been working on, because designing weapons calms him and right now his processor is a mess. No getting back to recharge until he works off the nervous energy. Didn’t want or need a human. What good are you anyway except to get in the way? Servos stilling when you wander closer, staring up at him, little expression serious. “What? Blinded by how handsome I am?” And still frowning up at him, you wrinkle your nose and shake your head. Okay, that’s just hurtful.

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I apologize in advance if anything else I post today is badly in need of editing. In my defense, the grocery store had my wine in stock for once

[anakinca]

Thinking about anakin crying in your arms while you hold him because he's never felt so loved before 💗😭

—❝the rest of our lives❞

anakin skywalker x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; angel, you absolute GENIUS. this prompt is so fucking adorable i'm literally sobbing my eyes out 😭i loved this request so much that i literally had to crawl my way out of my deep dark hole of writers block just to write this, that being said, this is only a small imagine BECAUSE of said writers block.. but anyway, i hope you all enjoy this, angels !! also send me a message or comment if u wanna be added to the taglist <3

PEACEFUL NIGHTS LIKE THIS ARE WHAT ANAKIN CHERISHES MOST. The nights where he can finally come home to you—not needing to put up his whole tough front up for anyone anymore. He can express his every emotion, be completely vulnerable, and you won’t bat an eye. You’d only comfort him and give him the love and reassurance he needs to get through it, and not the backlash and the disappointment he always receives from any of his fellow Jedi. 

So, when the stars are shining bright in the Coruscant skies, and the lights of all the ginormous skyscrapers are peering into the windows of your flat, it’s there he finds solace in the comfort of your arms. It’s the very salvation he needs to not let his breath go to waste and to keep the light inside of him alive—as long as your heart stays beating. 

"Come here, Ani,” you whisper softly as you thread your fingers through Anakin’s hair. He leans forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in relief as you massage his scalp and press your lips gently against his forehead.

The feeling of his hair against your fingers as you card them through his thick, sandy blonde hair is relaxing, almost as much as it is for him, his much needed relief. 

He can’t help but let the tears flow down his face as he gives in to the desire to be loved in your arms, and you can feel it dampen your neck slightly, your lips curving down. 

Leaning back to cup his face, you look at him with concern, "What's wrong, my love? Why are you crying?" You ask him softly. 

He swallows the lump in his throat as you wipe his tears away with your thumbs, "I just never had anyone hold me so gently before. It feels like I'm finally home." He mumbles out tearfully, not bothering to stop his voice from breaking like he usually would—he knows he doesn’t need to pretend when he’s with you. 

Your lips quirk up into a bittersweet smile as you kiss his tears away, "I'll keep holding you like this for the rest of our lives, Ani.” You let out a sigh, leaning your forehead on his to look into his eyes. His glossy eyes open, the deep ocean blue staring up at you, glazed over.

It's suffocating, to a degree, like drowning—drowning in what is him. But, as he looks back up at you, those same suffocating blue eyes hold a degree of love incomparable to any man before him, to any being in the galaxy.

“I'll love you ‘till my last breath, and I'll be here, even if you don't want me or no longer love me." You continue, wiping away another tear that sheds from his glistening eyes.

Anakin sniffles quietly as he listens to your words, his heart swelling and pounding in his chest. “I’ll always love you, no matter what happens… and I’ll make sure that nothing happens.” He whispers to you with utter devotion and love swirling in his eyes. The tone in which he said it made it sound more like a vow than a promise—and it’s from that, that you know he’s telling only the sincere truth.

His thick lashes flutter shut once more as your hand continues to move, his tears now coming to a stop as he relishes in the feeling of your tender touch.

And as you both lay on the bed, his face now buried once again in the warm crook of your neck, and your hand rubbing his back soothingly, you swear to yourself that you will protect this man with your whole heart and soul, even if you have to slay the dragons that dare to taint his winsome mind. Because you love him, and there's nothing in this world you wouldn't do for him—and you know he feels the very same, if not more. 

@thesassypadawan

[starfxkrinc]

i think i need an elaborate essay on jj fucking the piss out of sweatpea 🤔

(something to keep me alive i fear)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

jj was feeling mean again. and maybe this time you did provoke him, but you hated when he talked down to you. acting like now he had a problem with your age and picking at every thing you do.

in hindsight, its not very good to respond to "your acting like a damn child" with "when's the last time you fucked a child?"

now jj was making it his business to make you prove how 'grown' you were.

"nuh uh, move that fuckin hand." he had you trembling, laid on your side with a leg over his shoulder as he dug into you. by now the pleasure blurred to pain and circled back again as he did his best to overstimulate you.

you were still squirming and crawling away when he pulled out, "no more, i-i'm done i'm tired."

you flinched when he laughed--short and derisive like he was mocking you and he smacked your ass harshly, flipping you onto your stomach so he could shove a pillow under your hips, "don't tell me you're tappin out now sweet pea? thought you were a big girl."

he yanks you back onto his dick, spearing you wide open with a sticky squelch without any chance to prepare. again he's relentless, keeping you secure by digging his fingers into your fleshy hips to pull you back. by now you just felt like a fleshlight, something for him to fuck into with wild abandon like you weren't leaving and breathing underneath him.

each thrust made you feel almost sick, not even the cushion of your ass against his hips could offer you relief from the way he pushed against your cervix. cockdrunk and dizzy your pelvic floor felt weak. this wasn't like normal, where the full feeling in your bladder was signal of an orgasm. this felt dirtier, more primal.

"oh my god you have to stop, please stop!" with an embarrassed cry you release, pissing hot into the sheets as jj groans above you.

"fuuuuck, i'm gonna cum sweet pea. right in that hot fucking cunt." with a few more stuttered thrusts he stops, hips flush against yours as he fills you to the brim, "goddamn."

pulling out, jj spreads you open, smirking at the sight of your gaped hole trickling his cum into the pale yellow puddle of piss beneath you. despite it all you still throb with the need to cum one last time.

"shit, guess you really aint grown yet baby. still need to be potty trained."

[purplekissinger]

I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then!  Emily Bronte, ‘Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a  “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?”  Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N  looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her. 

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request.  “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and  even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

[thegnomelord]

omg yes for the Ghost fic request you can do prompt 3 instead that would be great, thank you. some angst with a happy ending please

Sure thing dude, sorry this took so long, but a happy xmas to you lol My hyperfixation hyperfixated on this so it's a bit long and expositiony but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

CW: NSFW, subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, angst, misunderstandings, gentle sex, making up kinda, confessions, fwb turned lovers, idiots in love,

Simon's apartment is a picture of painful domesticity; your muddy boots sit neatly next to his by the door, two mugs set next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes left on the sink only a foot away from different shower products that have long since mixed together into one giant pile, and a dozen more little things that tell anyone with a cursory glance — 'yeah, two people live here'.

When people wonder why you practically live together when you're just casual, you both just say it's convenient (and ignore how fake your answers sound).

After all; Why leave after he's ridden you to both of your completions when you can just settle on the couch and share a drink over a movie? Why should you waste money on a cab to get back to your own flat when you two can just tumble into bed? Why should Simon wake up to an empty and cold flat when he can do so in your arms, your steady heartbeat remind him you're both alive? Why leave in the morning and miss one of the few times Simon's fully relaxed when you can have a lazy morning, laying in bed and enjoying each other's company until the sun's high in the sky?

Why leave at all?

. . . Simon treasures every moment with you as much as he hates it, every second in your presence like a pretty hummingbird singing sweetly in his ear while it drills holes into his skull. Absolute Hell. Utter bliss.

He knows he doesn't deserve you. Knows you don't deserve to have a living corpse crawl back into your arms every night, nothing but a stranger with Simon's face. But you two have known each other so long it's impossible to let you go.

You met as toddlers when you'd nicked his toy, refusing to give it back until he agreed to play with you, and you've been stuck at the hip since. You two were each other's first kiss, fumbling behind the school bleachers, eager and sloppy like inexperienced lads are. First set of blooming hickeys along his collarbones, Simon's ma giving him a knowing look when she'd noticed it amongst the other bruises her no good husband had left on him. First fuck, quick and rough in a dark janitor closet during basic training, burning with need and heat. First—

. . . Simon doesn't know when the word 'Love' first registered in his brain. Maybe when you tore up heaven and hell looking for him. Maybe when you stuck by him when he did his best to scare you off, all rough words and teeth, unable to form one nice word when violence and revenge was all that was left in his head.

He doesn't know when he registered the word. Only that he looks at you whenever you do something mundane and thinks 'yeah. Love. That fits.'

But love has no place in. . . whatever this is. Hell, he's the one who'd set the ground rule when you two were young and dumb, reaffirming it after he'd come back as Ghost. And you'd never fought against it, agreeing to just be fucking casual, there's no way you want anything more than this. He doesn't want to cock it up, doesn't want to take more from you than he's already done, so he swallows all he feels and ignores how it burns his throat, going day by day like nothing's changed.

He wakes in your arms, deeply ingrained training waking him before dawn but the heat of your body keeps him rooted in place. Distantly he can still feel the cold tight confines of that coffin, of maggots wriggling on his skin, but memories of that nightmare float away before his traitorous mind can latch on to them. He lays in bed, head firmly on your chest so he can hear you, see you breathe. Morning comes too soon and you rouse awake, laying a sweet kiss on his forehead before getting out of bed to set the kettle on.

It's domestic.

It's painful.

. . .

You love how Simon looks. You especially love how he looks in his civies, freed of his armor and no longer needing to be guarded at all times, shoulders relaxed and mindlessly looking around as you talk while you browse the store. He's still gruff, and sarcastic, but you love that about him. You loved him long before he said not to tangle emotions in your meaningless bliss and long after he'd come back as Ghost, each unknown scar on his body taking a chip out of your heart.

And you respect his choice. You'll take what you can get and won't give it up even after your corpse has grown cold, hoping that will be enough to drown out the neediness of your heart. You lost him once and it had nearly killed you, you can't lose him again. . .

God, you're pathetic for him.

You meet miss Betty on your way back from the shop. She's your neighbor a few doors down, a sweet old lady who waters your plants when you and Simon are called back into action. You see her struggling with her bags so you hand your own to Simon so you can help her, "Hold this, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." Simon huffs, but takes the bag without further complaint, walking behind you as you help miss Betty with her shopping, content to listen to you two talk about who knows what. It still amazes him how you've managed to charm all the neighbors Simon rarely spoke to.

"Oh, thank you deary." Miss Betty says as you put her shopping next to her door, holding onto your arm for support. "It's so nice to have a helpful person around here."

"It's not a problem ma'am." You say with a small smile, and fuck if Simon's heart doesn't beat a bit faster at the sight.

"You know," Miss Betty begins. "My grandson's been eyeing you up. And I can see why, you're such a strapping young man."

You feel Simon's gaze fall on you like a dagger, cold, hard, expectant. You try to think of what to say but your words fail you, because while you and Simon aren't in a relationship you can't picture yourself be with anyone else. "I-"

"Oh don't worry deary, I told him he was barking up the wrong tree." Miss Betty cuts you off by giggling like a school girl, "I wouldn't want to separate you two love birds."

The words burning on your tongue escape you before you can filter them. "Yeah, I doubt I could love anyone other than Simon." You clear your throat after, feeling his eyes on you.

Miss Betty just coos. "Oh, to be young and in love." Then she turns, waving her walking stick at Simon like he's an annoying pigeon that flew into her house. "You better treat him properly you big oaf, he's good for you."

Oh, Simon knows. Knows you're too good for him. But all he lets out is a small grunt, and you can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.

You don't think of what you say next, so far away from a warzone your defenses are lowered. "No need to worry ma'am, he's the love of my life and I can assure you he treats me very well."

There's that word again, and the way it leaves your lips has Simon's heart skipping a beat. Fuck, Simon wants to hear you say it until he's deaf. Wants to hold your jaw closed so you don't speak again and stop making him feel this. Wants to pull you close and throw you out of the window at the same time. Wants— . . . he doesn't know what he wants.

"Oh, well I won't hold you up any more dears." Miss Betty says, patting you on the arm before shuffling back to her apartment with her shopping.

There's an uncomfortable silence between you two while you get back to Simon's flat, neither one of you sure what to say about the damn elephant in the room. You take the bags you'd given him, your back to him as you put them on the counter.

Acting like nothing's wrong. Nothing's changed.

But it has.

"An' you say my heart's rotten." Simon grunts, gruff and harsh, too many thoughts brewing in his head to properly say what he's thinking.

You turn to him, surprise obvious on your face. "What?"

"Lyin' to old ladies." His jaw is tense behind his face mask, which you note he hadn't taken off when the front door had closed, back to being guarded around you, something between Simon and Ghost. "Granted, it was convincing. What, did you take some creative writing lessons from Laswell?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, then you feel your jaw tense as well. "Christ, Simon, what are you on about?" You growl, stomping over to him.

His shoulders tense as you approach, but the scent of your cologne calms his body without his mind's input. "Can't love anyone but me?" He asks, something cold and slimy settling in your stomach when you realize he's repeating your words. "Love of your life am I?" Simon scoffs, the skin around his eyes moving in a sardonic smirk. "You're full of shite."

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince here.

You know you should brush it off, go along and say it was just a joke. Say anything that won't clue him in to your real feelings. Hell, not even saying a thing would be good.

But you just have to open your mouth.

"I wasn't lying about that Simon." You say suddenly, open, honest, your eyes meeting his.

Silence stretches long enough to have your nerves crackle with static, your body needing something instead of the nothing he gives you. Then Simon lets out a short, dry laugh, like your words are just a joke.

"Quit it." He huffs, doesn't meet your eyes because looking at you and entertaining the idea that he could have something more with you fucking hurts. "'m not up for your focking jokes." He grows, turning to leave,

Something inside you makes you move before your mind can comprehend it, grabbing his hand to stop him, "Simon I love you damn it!"

Your words are like a slap to the face for him. Simon freezes like a cornered deer, thousands of thoughts darkening his eyes, brows furrowed like he doesn't know whether to be angry or not. "But we—'

"—we agreed, I know. I fucking know." You hiss and damn it you can feel tears prickle your eyes like needles, "But I fucking love you, been in love with you for years and I know we agreed not to but—" You're babbling now, each word leaving your chest feeling raw like an open wound, the weight on your shoulders lessening but it only draws the noose tighter. "—just tell me how I'm supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me."

Silence greets you as you stare into his eyes, that same static gnawing on your nerves the longer he just looks at you without a word, searching for something in your eyes he expects not to find.

But he does.

He spares you, pulls you by the clothes so his lips can crash onto yours, holding you close like you'll disappear. The kiss is sloppy and desperate just as it had been when you'd been hiding behind the school bleachers, all teeth and tongue and care.

Eventually the need for air breaks you two apart, but Simon refuses to let you go far. His rough hands hug you close as he rests his forehead against yours, pupils blown wide. ". . .love me, huh?" He says under his breath, as if he can't believe it.

"Yeah." You breathe out and wrap your own arms around him till there's not an inch of space between your chests, hearts beating fast like war drums but in such a rhythm you'd be fooled to think you share one. "Do you?"

Simon swallows, his throat dry, but the words slide smoothly off his tongue. "Yeah." He says, letting you pull him back into a kiss. It's sweeter this time, calmer, no longer rushing to feel the other. He melts against you, a low sound building in his throat as the sensations of you wrap his mind in silk, the taste, the feel, the scent, all of it making his mind fuzzy. All his now.

You lose track of time, stealing gulps of air between kisses as your minds drown in the other, your bodies moving on their own. You don't know how you end up in the bed but you do, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Simon's body presses against your own.

You part to catch your breath, Simon's head falling back on the pillow with your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He's underneath you, eyes hooded and short hair ruffled, and while usually he'd push you back and wrestle for control, this time he just melts into the sheets, lets you do as you want.

"Fuck-" Simon growls as you kiss down his neck, his blunt nails scratching your scalp as reward for the little hickeys you leave on his throat. Your hands roam across his body, leaving lingering trails of burning heat. "Love, please hurry up." He breathes out, cock already rock hard from just a few kisses and heavy touches.

"Right," You say, because that's all your brain can conjure up at the moment. Blindly reaching for the lube you trail kisses down his front, your lips tracing every scar along the way, his legs easily parting so you can settle between them. You can't help but look him over again, all relaxed and eager for you, chest rising and falling like he's a racehorse. "God you're fucking pretty."

A deep flush spreads from Simon's ears down to his hickey marked shoulders, a little smile tugging on the corner of his lip. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful." You breathe out against his abdomen, rubbing your fingers together to warm the lube. "So handsome." You don't miss how his cock twitches, your lips following his happy trail. "Charming." You hum against the tip of his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at his slit. "Bloody bewitching." His hips buck into your mouth as your fingers slowly circle his puckered rim, putting just a bit of pressure at first. "Irresistible." His body yields, the tense muscles of his rim going lax and letting you slide a finger in.

A low and long groan escapes his chest, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the stretch, tight walls clenching in the rhythm of his breaths. "Read a dictionary, did you?" Simon smirks, heart warm and floaty at the way you wait for him to relax after the intrusion before you move, at the way you look at him when your exploring finger brushes his prostate and makes him moan. "Such a focking charmer."

"Just for you." You chuckle, lightly sucking on his cockhead to make him forget about the lingering pain, your ears pricked to hear every little groan and unabashed moan leaving his lips. "Can you handle two?" You ask, your second finger resting against his rim without trying to push in.

He growls like an animal and pushes his hips down on your hand, "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't hurry up." He warns at your question, his harsh glare softened by the heavy flush across his face and his hooded eyes.

"Not the dog house." You say in mock fear, swallowing his leaking cock a third of the way down in one go as you push your second finger in, your thumb rubbing the space between his balls and ass so his prostate is trapped on both ends.

"Shite-" Simon's hips twitch up, beads of precum painting your tongue as his legs spread open more. "-you wanker." His insult is light, head rolling back as he grounds his hips down in an attempt to chase after that spine numbing pleasure your fingers bring.

Pulling back enough to murmur "Love you too." against his tip you take him into your mouth again. You can't measure how good it feels to say those words honestly instead of sarcastically, your own arousal forgotten as you work him open on your fingers, the constant pressure on his prostate making a small stream of precum bead down your throat.

Simon floats in heaven for, he doesn't know how long, the pleasure making his brain melt through his dick, unable to stop the soft sounds escaping his throat. He cracks an eye open when the tightness in his stomach becomes apparent, barely able to stave off his orgasm when he sees his cock throbbing between your lips.

Your name comes out slurred as he tugs on your hair, "Need you. Now." A little bit of his usual demanding nature comes out, but even then it's born out of desperation to feel you rather than the need to be in control.

You let him pull you off his cock, placing gentle kisses on his thick thighs as you pull your fingers out of his stretched hole. "You have me."

You go to grab a condom but he stops you, too aroused to be embarrassed by his eagerness. "You don't- my physical, I'm clean. If you want, I mean-"

You furrow your brows, your chest tight with how big your heart feels. You could never hide how sick you'd feel at the thought of Simon being intimate with someone else, even when you'd never agreed to be exclusive. "We did physicals nearly three months ago, you haven't. . .?"

He shakes his head, "No," Suddenly he tenses up, his jaw tight like he's expecting bad news. "Have you?" His tone isn't judgmental, but you can hear the edge of hurt.

"No. No. No!" Quick to dispel his thoughts you lean over to kiss him like he's a bout of fresh air and you've been drowning for years. It's not too far from the truth. "You're the only one I've ever. . .done that with." You murmur against his lips, earning yourself another kiss as he pulls down by a hand on the back of your neck.

"Good." Simon tuts, proud, hiking one leg around your waist to pull you closer, your cocks rubbing together. "Fuck me already." He grumbles, his strong arms wrapped around your neck.

"Right, yeah." Despite how many times you've done this suddenly you feel like a fucking virgin, your hands trembling slightly as you lube up your cock. You press the tip against his slick hole, forcing you to bite your lip as you start to push your hips. "Just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon breathes out, feeling pressure of your cockhead against his hole. You both groan when your cockhead pops inside him, your lips on his making him forget about the lingering sting. "Shite, so good for me." Simon hums, looking at you with hooded eyes. Usually he relishes the sting and burn sex with you brings, but he's so loose and lubed the pain is barely a prickle at the back of his skull and he finds himself getting addicted to the unfiltered pressure and weight of your cock inside him.

"Simon," You say, clenching your teeth as you try to keep still so he can get used to you, holding his hips for dear life. "Can I- please I need."

"Focking move it," He nods his head, his head rolling back from the sensation of you moving inside him, your cock brushing against his walls as you push inside him inch by inch until you're fully inside him.

Your nerves a live wire from how tight and hot his hole is, forcing you to rest your head on the pillow next to his as you try to gather your self-control; you'll be damned if you cum before him.

"I'm good." Simon tugs on your scalp, your lips meeting in a lopsided kiss. You pull away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes blown wide and hooded, something about this position so intimate it melts your heart. "Hurry up, 'm not going to last long." He confesses, his walls clenching down on your length.

Words escape you so you just nod your head, slowly pulling your hips back before pushing back in, Simon meeting you half way so your cock can lay consistent pressure on his prostate. You two move like one, your senses full of sex and heat, your ears ringing with Simon's low moans and groans. Moving your hand down you stroke him in time with your thrusts, earning yourself even more moans. Usually Simon's so quiet in bed, but now he lets it all out so freely, low growls and huffs and small 'ah, ah, ah's breathed into your ear with every small movement of your hips.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm approaches, your cock bashing against his prostate with all the subtlety of a tank. "Shite-" Simon throws his head back to moan, leaving his throat open for your teeth to lay even more hickeys. "-I, fuck, yeah, that's the spot- just- I need-" His voice turns higher pitched and needy, his body moving with the force of your thrusts, powerful arms pulling you even closer so his teeth can clamp down on your shoulder.

Simon cums with a shout that's muffled into the meat of your shoulder, whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he paints both of your stomach's white with his cum, his hole clenching down and pulling you along with him. You cum inside him and moan, collapsing on top of him, completely exhausted.

The silence of the bedroom is broken up by your haggard breathing, both of your bodies sweaty and hot. You tilt your head just enough to catch the way Simon looks at you, like a content cat that knows he's safe, and shit if that doesn't melt your heart, nothing will.

"God, that was something else." You say to break the silence, trying to pull out when you feel yourself soften but your attempts are stopped quickly, Simon grumbling something under his breath as he hugs you closer. "What?" You ask.

He throws a light glare your way, but his eyelids droop with exhaustion. "Don't." He says, relaxing when you stop what you're doing. "Want to feel you." He says; it's the most intelligent thing his mind can conjure up right now.

A gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Right." You lean down to share another kiss with him, this one sweet and slow, his tongue gently liking your lips as a way to ask for entrance— why rush when you've got all the time in the world?

The exhaustion weighing on your bones and Simon saccharine kisses lull you to sleep soon enough, your body like a weighted blanket on top of him. "Love you," You mumble just before your eyes close.

Simon fights against his own fatigue for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of being connected in such a primal way, with you in him and around him. He takes in your sleeping face with blurry eyes.

Yeah. Love. That fits.

[fangirl-writes]

Small Spaces

JJ Maybank x Reader; John B. Routledge x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): claustrophobia, anxiety attack, swearing

Request: jj maybank dating jb’s twin sister and her joining in on their adventures but she has severe anxiety so just him being super sweet and loving to her?

Notes: This is totally based on another fic I read that I can't find rn but it's my spin on it so I hope you like.

Fuck this, you thought. Seriously, fuck this.

You were squeezing yourself through a small hole in a mausoleum that had "Redfield" written across the top, just to see what was inside.

For John B., of course, because he was your brother, and he needed to find this clue almost as much as he needed to be breathing.

But god damn it, this was all you needed.

Between the near visit from child services, the hurricane, the dead guy's boat, the guy's gun, getting shot at, and surely more to come, you were due for a panic attack.

Your feet hit the ground with a loud smack and you winced at the noise.

"Still alive?" John B. asked.

"Oh my god, shut up,"

"Yep, she's alive."

You rolled your eyes and took the flashlight that Kie was offering you.

You shined the light around the space, bigger than you were expecting, but the fact that your exit was so small and that it would be a struggle getting back to it was making the anxiety stir in your stomach.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"Real helpful, JB," you mumbled, shining the flashlight around and trying to focus on finding whatever it was rather than the darkness and the walls that felt like they were going to close in on you.

You gasp when a flash of white catches your eye.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked

"Oh my god," you whispered.

"Y/N?" JJ asked again. "I'm gonna need some word confirmation that you're okay."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," you replied. "I think I found it."

"What? Really?" John B. said, peaking into the space you'd crawled into.

You pulled out a long white envelope from a small space in the crypt, the words "FedEx" and "Bird" written on it.

Thanks for including me, Dad, you thought before taking the envelope over to the space and handing it to John B.'s outstretched hand.

"That's not gold," Pope said, a little disappointed.

But John B. was looking at it like it was. "Holy shit."

"JJ, a little help?" you said, reaching a hand through the space.

"Yeah, yeah, I gotchu, babe," he replied, helping you out of the crypt.

"This is from our dad," John B. said, looking around at the group.

"Yeah," you said, trying to catch your breath. "To you."

"Code red. Code red." JJ warned, the smoke from his joint fluttering up into the air. "Square groupers! Square groupers!"

Your stomach drops as the five of you start moving, JJ's hands grabbing your arms rougher than he probably meant to.

"It's the guys who robbed your house," JJ said.

Fuck, you think. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You guys hide on the side of the mausoleum, turning off and tucking the lights under your shirts.

You can feel it start to bubble up, your breathing becoming unsteady.

"Hey, I see something!"

"Do you think it's them?" Kiara asked.

"Homie's got a gun," JJ said as he and John B. peaked around the corner.

"Screw this," Kie said, taking off. The others followed her, including you, who was on the verge of breaking down.

"Right here!" One of the men shouted.

JJ's hand was on your back the whole time, but it did nothing to calm you down.

You each scaled the fence with little trouble except for Pope, who got his pants stuck on the gate.

It was funny until you were in the van and that anxiety attack had caught up with you, the adrenaline fix going away.

Your hands shook. Your chest tightened. Tears began streaming down your cheeks.

You were starting to hyperventilate, and your head was spinning. Even though you knew you were safe in the Twinkie now, you couldn't help the dread that was washing over you, the fear for your life that coiled around you like a snake.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N," JJ said, quickly catching on to what was happening. "You're okay, you're okay."

He made you look at him and took a few deep breaths for you to copy, which you did over and over.

"Shit, get this joint out of here," JJ said, handing it off to Pope.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked.

"Throw it out the window or something, get it outta here. It only makes her worse."

You'd tried that anecdote before, and, as he said, it really did only make the panic attack worse. Through trial and error, JJ and John B. found the only things that helped you through a panic attack were calming words, help getting your breathing back to normal, and hugs.

So, JJ did just that. He held you close and whispered in your ear, rocking you back and forth slowly.

John B. checked your state in the rearview, feeling bad that he'd brought you along at all, even if you had insisted. Then he looked at the envelope sitting next to him and knew that, somehow, it would be worth it.

[woundedsoul12]

I get by with a little help from my friends

Going to be loud on main for this one. I have met tons of wonderful people since my return to writing, AO3, and Tumblr. But going to introduce you to the 5 people that I speak to daily that keep me going. The reason I haven't given up yet and just crawled back into my obscure hole. And know if you aren't mentioned I still adore you. This is just my Crew

So now you get to learn a little about them and what makes them so special.

1. @tarasmom - Like the only person I get to beta for me (the few times I use a beta). Tara is my hyper fixation deep dive sister from another mister. Want to lore plunge into some obscure reference? Want to talk through the history of the Tevinter Empire? Tara got you. Tara just... gets me. Like look across the room lock eyes and have a whole conversation. Standing in the middle of jellyfish fields with our nets screaming with excitement like SpongeBob and Patrick. And tbh one of the first people I found when I returned to fandom. Her Rook is Mina Aldwir and she's the queen of expose style writing and complex plots

2. @captastra - yet another I found early in my return. I think she more found me. Like a feral kitten outside her door. She is my adventure buddy. My 'hey Beasty I want to do this get out your shell and come with me'. Multi fandom bestie! Dragging me along for a good time. Not letting me be a loser. Inspiration for so many things I put into the universe. Her Rook is Nesiri Ingellvar and I love her so much. And Feylis her Avowed is just... everything to me

3. @lustaniasaxon - the only person I will cowrite with. My resident Illario lover. My muse. The person who keeps me going when I'm tired. A fellow gender bender. The only one I have found who can channel the ADHD into something useful. Her Rook is Lustania de Riva. Lover to my boys Sam and Brick.

4. @julie-spirit-finn - My fellow Healthcare bitch. Keeping people alive one idiot at a time. Listening to me bitch constantly about real life and fandom. Reading every single thing I write and leaving the best damn comments. Ultimate cheerleader and hopeless romantic. The most positive person I know in the most non annoying way. Helping me sort my complex silly plotlines no matter how dumb. Introducing me to Dread Rook. Turning me into a Solas lover. I might have never shipped him with Lavellan (she goes with Cullen) but I definitely like him with Rook.

5. And last but not least @thebarghestiest - fellow transmasc extraordinare. No one else can understand like we can huh? Again reading everything I write. Always commenting. Always supporting me. Listening to my stupid ideas and being like 'look bro I love it' even when you should probably tell me to stfu. Being cool with Julie and I just inviting ourselves to the Sleep Token concert. Putting up with all my dumb shit and depression. And screaming about Davrook, AUs, and dead doves with me. His Rook is Titus Ingellvar. Oh and the Durge Ghost who loves my Halsin bear daddy

And I guess I will finish up with I'm Beasty. I write entirely too much and the restlessness is strong. I'm also an antisocial loner but these people? We just vibe

Also if you have time, go read their works. They are all fucking amazing writers.

[dc-eased]

you get used to it

cass: *emerging out of the shadows* what's for breakfast duke, new to the house: AAH- WHAT THE FUCK- alfred, not missing a beat: Good morning, Ms Cassandra. I am making blueberry pancakes, as requested by Master Richard, though he does not seem to have woken up yet. jason, peeking his head out of the kitchen, somehow fully dressed in Red Hood gear, except sans helmet and plus frilly pink apron: lazy ass probably won't crawl out of whatever hole he's died in till two, he went to sleep at four this morning. cass: *nods sagely* duke: *still frozen in shock and horror, internally screaming and gaping* damian, stepping out from behind alfred: Good morning, morons. I'm surprised to see you're all alive, though Drake appears to be nearing death's door. everyone: *glances over at the corner of a random hallway, where a drooping, haggard time lurks* tim, eyes manic and smudged with the darkest eyebags known to man: WHAT DAY IS IT? bruce, hair unkempt and sleepy looking: *yawn* thursday. alfred: It is Saturday, Master Tim. Master Bruce, you could do with a pick-me-up. (derogatory) duke: WHAT. THE. FUCK. alfred: Language, Master Duke. dick and steph: *still blissfully asleep in their rooms, dick is passed tf out on his stomach, steph is sprawled on her back in a stunning imitation of a starfish*

[ominous-faechild]

OUT OF CONTEXT:

FAERIE'S DAWN

(actual writing for once lmao)

(tbh consider this kinda a teaser)

Aurik collapsed, but... did he ever stop falling?

Everything swirled around him and was still at the same time.

Where was he? Who was he? What was happening?

So much was moving, everything was moving, nothing made sense and—

A heat welled up in Aurik's chest—did he even have a chest? What is that?—and flooded out from the hole in his face. The heat wracked his body, begging, pleading to escape, but he couldn't let it.

He didn't have a choice.

The world was spinning, spinning, spinning!

At the same time, the voice that called itself God spoke above all. It was the only thing that made sense amidst all the madness.

"Right, so!" it started, hints of bitter amusement within it, "this is my heart, where my power is strongest!"

A whirling flash of colors and colours and colors. Thousands of hands spun in circles around him, and only about 300 of them belonged to him! They hugged and tangled around him, tearing into his flesh but leaving no wounds.

"Just about all of—well, me, but—Faewildes! Gods, that's such a stupid name, you know that, right?" it rambled cheerfully, either ignorant of his pain or relishing in it.

The earth split and ate him whole, but it never ate him. He'd always laid atop an endless field of green, but it wasn't grass—it was lava, burning him alive.

"Like, geez, you put together 'fae' and 'wild'???" the voice prattled.

The heat had finally escaped from his body; it was pooled around him. He laid with his back against the green lava, gasping painful breaths as he stared at the wobbly, dark hands jutting from the lava, and the void of blue they reached for.

"Like, c'mon, we're more original than that, and most of us give ourselves literal names!"

Except, the lava wasn't burning him. It was cool, calming. Soothing.

The man called Aurik closed his eyes, struggling to take a deep breath.

His throat and sides ate themselves alive.

God's voice fell silent, and ants crawled from Aurik's eyes.

Finally, as cold balls of fluff filled his lungs, a faint, awkward chuckle reverberated throughout the world.

"Oh, right," the voice said awkwardly. "Humans. You're not good with, well... me."

Where am I? Aurik found himself able to think.

Who am I?

God sighed heavily, then finished impatiently: "right, well. I guess I'll give you a second to… catch yourself or whatever. Take your time, I guess."

This was too fun, I had to share it.

So, I'm curious... what do you guys think actually happened in this scene?

I'm sure my color-coding probably helps lol

TAGLIST:

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass @thebookishkiwi @storyteller-kara @themongosianhorse @theburningeyeofdawn

@notyourlocalworm @write-with-will @mildlybizarrecorvid @forgottenvalor @huewrite

@vesanal @differentnighttale @plip-plap-plop @olliedoesthings @pupculture

@princessuncertain @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @i-do-anything-but-write @a-zendrial

@real-fragments @lunauphternal @sullymarlowe @aalinaaaaaa @yourpenpaldee

@dangerousbunnyking @milday-dewinter @hoerikwaggo @thestorywitch @simonnebethel

@keeping-writing-frosty @cedence @sodalysm @amor-vivere @lovelyfirebouquet

@shabbyshoebox @creative-creatrues-hub @black-cubes @brightyellowsprite @cosmic-demonartist

@summermaes (ask and ye shall be added)

divider by @thyming

[cozmowrites]

Wistoragic: Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen - 1563 words

The moment he lost sight of you, something in his chest twisted violently.

One second, you were there—moving in sync, keeping pace, following the damn plan. Then, the building gave out, the floor crumbling under the weight of decay, and before he could even reach for you, you were gone.

"Shit—!" Bakugou lunged forward, dust and debris stinging his eyes. The gaping hole where the floor had collapsed was all that was left. Below, darkness swallowed the wreckage.

"(Y/n)!" His voice was raw, cutting through the ruined space, but no answer came.

Only groans.

A shuffle.

Then movement.

And not yours.

His pulse spiked as shadows twisted in the dim light. Zombies. The bastards had been waiting, crawling through the wreckage like roaches. The entire fucking building was unstable, and now it was swarming.

"Tch—" He clenched his jaw, weighing his options. He could jump down, fight his way through, drag your ass out of there himself—

But he couldn’t see you.

Did you land safely? Were you hurt? Were you—

No.

Not an option.

Not fucking happening.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya’s voice barely registered through the ringing in his ears. He was already moving, scanning the perimeter, looking for another way down. "Where’s (Y/n)?!"

"Gone," he bit out, frustration thick in his voice. "Floor collapsed. They fell through."

Kirishima was beside him now, red eyes darting to the wreckage below. "Shit. We gotta get down there!"

Bakugou was already looking. "There’s no clear path—"

"They could be hurt," Midoriya pressed.

"You think I don’t fucking know that?!" Bakugou snapped, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I’m not about to jump blind into a death trap!"

Midoriya flinched, but Bakugou was already moving. He was thinking. Calculating. He needed a way down—fast. He needed to find you before those damn things did.

Aizawa’s voice crackled through the earpiece. "Get back."

Bakugou grit his teeth. "No. (Y/n) fell. I’m not leaving ‘til I find ‘em."

A pause. Then, quieter, but just as firm, Aizawa repeated, "Get. Back."

"No."

"Bakugou—"

"I'm not leaving them."

"They might already be dead."

The words slammed into him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He whirled around, eyes blazing. "Shut the hell up!" His voice echoed through the empty space, furious, desperate. "They are not dead!"

Another pause. This one longer.

Aizawa exhaled. "You don’t have time for this. We regroup now. If they’re alive, they’ll find their way back."

"That’s a gamble," Kirishima muttered, uneasy.

"And jumping in blind isn’t?" Aizawa’s tone left no room for argument. "Get back to camp. That’s an order."

Bakugou’s fists clenched so tightly his nails nearly broke skin. His entire body was buzzing, burning, fighting against the command. But Aizawa was right.

As much as he hated to admit it.

With one last look at the wreckage, Bakugou turned sharply on his heel and stormed away.

He would find you.

He fucking would.

+++

The moment they stepped into the safehouse, the air shifted.

Ashido’s head snapped up from where she sat, her expression hopeful at first—then sinking. "Where’s (Y/n)?"

Silence.

The others stood still, waiting.

Bakugou didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He could still hear the sound of the floor giving out, could still feel the way his chest tightened the moment he realized you were gone.

Aizawa stepped forward. "We lost them."

"Lost—?" Ashido stood, voice raising. "What do you mean we lost them?!"

Midoriya swallowed hard, looking away. "There was an accident. The building was already unstable."

Kirishima ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "We couldn’t get to them. We tried."

Ashido's expression crumpled.

"You don't know if they're dead," she muttered. "Right?"

"No," Midoriya admitted. "We don’t."

Aizawa folded his arms. "That means we wait."

Bakugou’s head snapped up. "What?"

Aizawa met his gaze evenly. "If (Y/n)’s still out there, they’ll try to come back. If they don’t... then they didn’t make it."

Bakugou bristled. "They’ll make it."

Aizawa held his stare for a long moment before nodding. "Then we hold off on the tunnel exploration. We don’t move out until we know for sure."

Bakugou barely heard the rest of the conversation. His body felt tight, wound up like a spring ready to snap.

You weren’t dead.

He refused to believe that.

But until you made it back, he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

+++

The world outside the safehouse is suffocating. The air is thick with decay, the distant groans of the undead never truly fading. Every step forward is a risk, but standing still is worse. You know you need to move.

You slip through the wreckage of the city, heart pounding, scanning the abandoned streets for a way back to camp. The last thing you need is to run into a fresh horde, or worse—one of those freakishly fast ones that seem to be getting smarter.

And then you hear it.

A voice, casual and almost amused, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You lost, or just looking for a good time?"

You whip around, knife raised, eyes darting through the darkened interior of a half-collapsed building. The voice had come from inside, somewhere past the shattered windows and overturned furniture.

For a split second, you consider running. But then the unmistakable sound of a struggle reaches your ears—heavy breathing, the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground, and the guttural snarl of a zombie.

Without thinking, you move.

You climb through the broken window, landing in a crouch, knife gripped tightly. Your eyes adjust to the dim interior just in time to see a figure launch himself over a counter, a pipe in his hands, swinging down in a brutal arc. The zombie drops, skull caved in, body twitching before going still.

The man straightens, rolling his shoulders like that was nothing more than a light workout. Then, finally, he turns to you.

Dark hair, cocky grin, dark eyes that flash with something, almost mischievous, even in the midst of the chaos. He doesn't seem the least bit fazed by your sudden appearance, nor by the fact that he just took down a zombie with minimal effort.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the counter like this is just another day. "Didn’t think I’d run into anyone with a pulse tonight."

You keep your knife raised, unsure. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wow," he mock winces. "No 'thank you' for the badass zombie takedown? Rude."

You narrow your eyes. "I don’t trust people I don’t know."

He huffs out a short laugh, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Fair. Name’s Sero Hanta. And you are?"

You hesitate, but something about his easygoing demeanor makes you answer. "(Y/n)."

Sero nods, looking you up and down. "You with a group, (Y/n)? Or you just wandering around, hoping for the best?"

You debate how much to say. Finally, you settle on the truth—at least part of it. "I got separated."

"Yeah, figured." He gestures to the busted window. "You came in hot. Thought you were about to knife me for a second."

"I still might," you deadpan.

He grins. "Damn, you're so much fun. We should stick together."

You scoff. "You could be dangerous."

"And yet," he gestures to himself, "I'm still standing here, not trying to eat your face. That’s gotta count for something, right?"

You exhale, lowering your knife slightly. He has a point. If he wanted to kill you, he probably would have tried by now.

Sero tilts his head, watching you. "So, you got a plan, or are we just winging it?"

"Getting back to my group," you say.

He hums. "Alright. Where are they?"

"Safehouse," you reply, but then hesitate. "I think."

"You think?" He raises an eyebrow. "You don’t sound too sure."

You clench your jaw. "I was supposed to be back already."

Sero clicks his tongue. "Oof. Yeah, they're probably freaking out right about now."

Your stomach twists. You hadn’t thought about it much in the panic of getting lost, but now the thought of Aizawa, Midoriya, and the others realizing you were missing makes your chest tighten. And Bakugou—

You shake your head. "I need to get going."

Sero nods. "Cool. I'll tag along."

You blink. "What?"

He shrugs. "You’re lost, I know the city. I’d say that makes us a solid team."

You hesitate. Having another person around is risky, but so is wandering through zombie-infested streets alone. And Sero seems capable—more than capable, actually. He took down that zombie with barely any effort.

"...Fine," you say.

Sero grins. "Knew you’d come around."

He moves toward the exit, checking through the cracks in the boarded-up door. "Alright, so where’s this safehouse of yours?"

You frown, thinking. "Near my old place, maybe near the old U.A. campus? I'm not entirely sure..."

Sero whistles lowly. "Damn, you were heading the wrong way, then."

You stiffen. "What?"

He gestures toward the opposite end of the street. "U.A.’s that way."

Your stomach sinks. You had been going in the wrong direction.

Sero must notice your expression because he claps a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring shake. "Don’t worry, newbie. You got lucky running into me."

You roll your eyes. "Lucky, sure."

He grins. "Hey, you’ll be saying that for real when I get you back in one piece."

You shake your head, but you don’t argue.

Together, you slip out into the night, keeping to the shadows. Sero moves with ease, clearly used to navigating the ruins of the city. You try to match his steps, trusting his lead.

As you move, a question nags at you.

"Sero," you say.

"Hm?"

"You didn’t tell me if you had a group."

He’s quiet for a second. Then, he exhales. "Had one. Didn’t last."

You glance at him. "I’m sorry."

He shrugs. "It is what it is."

You let the silence stretch, but you file that information away. Sero might be all grins and jokes, but there’s something deeper beneath that. Something you recognize.

Eventually, the city looms ahead, and Sero slows. "Alright. We’re close now. Wanna play it safe or just book it?"

You consider it.

=====

this chapter's votes have concluded.

wistoragic masterlist ⟢

masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪

read it all here:

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[fleurrypoet]

I think part of it is there was time between his death and when we saw them taking his body out, not that he died within those few minutes.

Like obviously this could be how they spun but still there is so many plot holes

Right so Bobby's air tube got damages during the explosion the same explosion that destroyed chimneys mask which means both of them were exposed to the virus at the same time.

Therefore bobby should of been in the same state of progressing through as chimney rather he was still up and walking and no signs of blood or sickness

Then right I have another problem here when Hen got up to help chimney she ripped the tubing from the bottle which means there was open entry from the tube to her chest meaning she was also exposed to the virus but she's completely fine how???

Now if they also want to try and go with the idea that bobby was some how exposed later on that still does not sit right mainly because we don't see it. When bobby takes his mask off he's barely sick a little nose bleed that's it while talking to buck he doesn't get any worse then when he's talking to athena he coughs a splutters a little but nothing compared to chimney. Like chimney survived worse than bobby for hours.

Lastly last we see of bobby is he's saying his prayers right and then he collapses. So basically I think they want us to think this is Bobby's last breath this is when bobby dies but it can't be. When you die feeling everywhere goes either he would've fallen back or his arms would of at least fell but rather his arms flat on the table I don't believe he would have stayed in the kneeling position propped up that way by the table if he was dead. Also before someone say rigamortis it wouldn't have set in that fast.

I'm also a huge believer that we didn't see his body in that body bag no confirmation of death like no pulse check or anything so I'm gonna be delusional and believe he's alive or well there's a way they can bring him back after they see the reaction being that this is not what fans wanted or the cast (Kenneth chois interview he literally said he fought the decision as hard as he could)

Also work song !!! 9-1-1 are always so in tune with the music they chose for their scenes

No grave can hold my body down ill crawl home to her

Bobby's gonna claw his way back to Athena and the 118

[tinynerdz360]

Above and Beyond Chap. 16

The NASA conference room buzzed with an undercurrent of tension as Jack and Maddie Fenton burst through the door, arms laden with an assortment of bizarre contraptions. Teddy Sanders suppressed a wince, exchanging a glance with Vincent Kapoor.

"Behold, the Fenton Ghost Decimator!" Jack bellowed, brandishing what looked like a strange high-tech leaf blower. "Guaranteed to reduce any spectral entity to ectoplasmic goo!"

Maddie beamed, her goggles glinting with a special type of madness. "And this little beauty," she added, holding up a compact device, "is the Ecto-Disruptor. It scrambles a ghost's molecular structure."

Kapoor leaned towards Teddy, whispering, "Are we sure these people are... stable?"

Teddy forced a smile. "They're experts in their field, Vincent."

As the Fentons launched into their demonstration, Teddy's unease grew. The technology was undeniably advanced - far beyond anything NASA had encountered. But the ethical implications were troubling.

Jack aimed the Decimator at a potted plant, which promptly burst into flames. "Oops! Wrong setting!"

Maddie rushed to extinguish the fire, laughing nervously. "It's usually more precise. We're still working out some kinks."

Kapoor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, while your inventions are... impressive, I'm concerned about their potential for harm……when we were recommended your expertise, I was hoping for more on the diplomacy front with these beings."

Jack waved dismissively. "Harm? Ghosts aren't alive, my good man! They're ectoplasmic scum that need to be eradicated!"

Maddie's eyes gleamed with a fervor that made Teddy's skin crawl. "Oh, if we could just get our hands on that ghost boy... The things we could learn by taking him apart molecule by molecule!"

Kapoor stood abruptly, his usually calm demeanor cracking. "That is absolutely out of the question. Phantom is not to be harmed under any circumstances."

"The ghost boy is manipulating you!" Maddie hissed. "He's not capable of real emotions. It's all an act!"

Teddy raised his hands, silencing the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I understand your expertise in ghost-related matters. However, I need to make something very clear." He met their eyes firmly. "We are treating this as first contact with an alien species. Phantom will be afforded all the rights and protections that entails."

The Fentons deflated visibly, exchanging frustrated glances.

Maddie fumed at this. *If I didn’t need to find Danny, I’d blast that ghost boy as soon as I can* Maddie thought to herself. The only reason they had taken this deal was because the US government had afforded a good amount of money, and a promise to help them find their boy. All they had to do was play nice with NASA and let the government have access to their technology and portal. Now she didn’t mind sharing her work, it was about time people took them seriously. But she did get the feeling if she refused the government would have just taken it, claiming it to be a matter of national security.

Kapoor leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "About this ghost portal. You built it in your basement?"

"Sure did!" Jack beamed. "Punched a hole right through the fabric of our dimension!"

Kapoor's jaw dropped. "That's... that's incredible. And incredibly dangerous! Do you have any idea of the safety protocols you've violated?"

Maddie waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, we take precautions."

"Like what?" Kapoor pressed.

Jack scratched his head. "Well, we keep the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick nearby."

Maddie patted her husband’s arm in fondness. “we also keep our home heavily armed with anti-ghost technology.”

“I’ve read up on Amity, aren’t they attacked almost every day?” Kapoor asked.

“Amity is the most haunted city in America, it’s why we chose it. I doubt it has any connection.” Maddie defended.

Teddy massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. These people were brilliant, but their methods were beyond unorthodox. At least the teens had been more sensible and better yet helpful. Quickly getting them up to speed and even providing a way to contact Phantom and Mark on Mars.

Which is why Teddy had decided to let the four teens stay. He was very impressed with how Sam and Jazz even had the forethought to go directly to the president for help. He had a hunch they would be a better source for ghost-related matters.

"Sooooo," Sam interrupted Jack Fentons long rant on how evil ghosts were, "we've been inside the Ghost Zone and the citizens of the zone are nothing like that."

The room fell silent.

Jazz nodded. "We used the Specter Speeder."

"Which is?” Kapoor asked.

“It’s like a shuttlecraft, it can travel through the zone, and it can probably even go to space,” Tucker answered.

Kapoor turned to Jack and Maddie. “You built a craft capable of traversing dimensions and the vacuum of space?"

"Well, yeah," Maddie said. "It was just a fun weekend project."

Tucker spoke up. "The Ghost Zone isn't what you think. It has its own civilization, laws, even culture, they are like us, some bad some good, and everything in between."

Sam nodded emphatically. "Phantom isn't some mindless or evil entity.”

“Have you been to this zone, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?” Teddy asked.

“Well, no……that would be dangerous,” Maddie replied.

Kapoor turned to the Fentons, his voice rising. "You've never even been to this other dimension? Yet you cling to theories formed before your portal was operational?"

Jack puffed out his chest. "Now see here-"

"Perhaps," Kapoor pressed, "your assumptions about ghosts – about Phantom – could be wrong?"

Teddy watched the argument unfold. The teens clearly knew more than they were letting on. And their connection to Phantom... There were pieces to this puzzle he was still missing, but he could place what those pieces were.

"Look," Mitch Henderson said, his voice cutting through the heated debate, "I don't care about ghost zones or alien civilizations. All I care about is getting Mark Watney home safely. If that means working with ghosts, aliens, or whatever Phantom is, so be it."

He turned to Jack and Maddie, his displeasure evident. "But I won't stand for how you're talking about the kid. Alien or ghost, he's still a person."

Maddie opened her mouth to protest, but Teddy cut her off. "Agreed, Mitch. Let's focus on the task at hand, which is how to get them home.”

****** In the main control room of NASA, Teddy had the Fenton flip phone connected to some speakers. This conversation would be broadcast live to the public and the world.

As the connection crackled to life, Mark's voice filled the room. "Houston, we have a problem. And by problem, I mean I'm still stuck on Mars with a ghost kid."

Danny's echoey voice followed. "Hey, I resent that. I'm great company."

Teddy spoke. "Gentlemen, we're working on bringing you both home. The Fentons are here to assist with their expertise."

There was a pause before Mark spoke again. "Does my crew know I'm alive?"

"No, not yet. We wanted to ensure we had a viable rescue plan before-"

"That's bullshit!" Mark exploded. "They think I'm dead! How could you-"

"Mark," Teddy cut in, his tone sharp, “I need to remind you that this is live right now, so watch the language.”

“Oh fuck that!” Mark snarked back.

Teddy sighed, feeling the weight of his decisions. "We were trying to get you home first, Mark. We didn't want to give them false hope."

"False hope?" Mark's voice cracked. "They think I'm dead! They deserve better than that."

Mitch nodded, his eyes meeting Teddy's. "He's right. We should have told them sooner." He turned to Tucker, an idea forming. "Kid, you're good with tech, right? Think you could help with that?"

Tucker grinned, already pulling out his PDA. "Piece of cake. Give me five minutes, and Mark can be chatting with his crew directly. Those Fenton phones can connect anywhere."

Teddy Sanders cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on the communication device. "Phantom, we're about to open the floor to some questions from the public. Remember, this is being broadcast live worldwide."

Danny's voice echoed through the speakers, a hint of nervousness evident. "Okay, I'm ready."

Teddy scanned the tablet in his hands. "First question: 'What exactly is the Ghost Zone, and how does it relate to our world?'"

There was a brief pause before Danny responded, "The Ghost Zone is like... a parallel dimension. It’s tied to our world. And it’s where ghosts live. It's vast, with floating islands and doors that lead to different realms."

Teddy nodded, moving on. "Next: 'Why did you initially claim to be an alien?'"

Danny's voice wavered slightly. "I... I was scared. I didn't know how people would react to a ghost, and well its technically not a lie, the ghosts from the zone are alive, just different than humans.”

As Teddy read through more questions, Jack and Maddie Fenton exchanged glances, their expressions hardening. Jack's meaty hand clenched into a fist, while Maddie's eyes narrowed behind her goggles.

"'What's your favorite food?'" Teddy continued, attempting to lighten the mood.

A soft chuckle came through the speakers. "Honestly? I really miss my mom's cookies right now."

Maddie didn’t buy it. *Look at him try to manipulate us*  

Suddenly, Jack pushed forward  “Ghost boy, while back, you were caught stealing from stores, there’s footage of you robbing, care to explain that?”

"I was under mind control! I would never-"

"Lies!" Maddie spat. "You don't have us fooled, Phantom. We know what you really are - a monster!"

Teddy quickly turned the conversation back to Phantom by asking more questions. He was doing damage control. After all not everyone in the public liked the idea of ghosts or aliens.

After a few more questions he quickly cut the connection.

Teddy gave Mr. and Mrs. Fenton a stern look. "We don't need that kind of talk. It's irresponsible and could incite violence."

Maddie huffed, crossing her arms. "The public should be upset about this. That... thing is dangerous!"

******

Back on Mars the connection cut out.

Danny's luminous green eyes dimmed, and he slumped against the wall of the Hab, sliding down until he sat on the cold floor.

"They... they really think I'm a monster," Danny whispered, his voice cracking.

Mark knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder. "Hey, kid. Don't let it get to you. They don't know what they're talking about."

Danny looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. "But they're my parents, Mark. They don't know it's me, but... it still hurts."

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm no expert on ghost-human hybrids or whatever, but I do know one thing: those two are idiots for not recognizing their own son. I mean, come on! Your voice is practically the same, just with a cool echo effect."

A weak chuckle escaped Danny's lips. "Yeah, I guess. It's just... I've always hoped they'd see past the ghost thing, you know? That they'd realize I'm not evil."

"Well, they're just idiots and fools." Mark said. "And hey, at least we know NASA's got your back.”

Danny nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty great.”

Back on Earth after everyone went home. Kapoor asked Teddy to meet him in his office before they called it a night.

In Kapoor’s office, two photographs lay side by side on the desk. Teddy Sanders felt his heart skip a beat as he stared at the images, his mind reeling with disbelief.

"What did you want to show me?" Teddy asked.

Kapoor gestured to the photos. "Take a look at these photos, Teddy. One is of Danny Phantom, our ghost boy on Mars. The other is Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

Teddy's eyes darted between the two images, his face growing paler by the second. The resemblance was uncanny, almost impossible to deny. He shook his head, willing it not to be true. "No, this can't be right."

Teddy picked up the photos, bringing them closer to his face. He scrutinized every detail, looking for any discrepancy that might disprove the alarming theory forming in his mind. But the more he looked, the more certain he became. While the hair color, and eye color were different, the face structure and everything else was the same. If these were in black and white, they would be mistaken as the same person.

"This should be impossible... right?" Teddy looked at Kapoor, “One is a human and one is clearly not!”

Kapoor shrugged, his expression grim. "At this rate, Teddy, anything is possible. Besides don’t you know, ghosts are basically souls right? Besides maybe it’s possible to be both. We may call them ghosts, but I think alien is a better term. Anyway, the Fenton kid went missing around the time Phantom showed up on Mars. Or at least, he hasn't been seen since then."

Teddy let his mind wander into deep thought. *If this was true, it would change everything. *

"But wouldn't they notice?" Teddy asked. "They're his parents, for God's sake."

Kapoor's response was matter-of-fact. "They might be geniuses, Teddy, but they're still strangely oblivious. It's not outside the realm of possibility."

Teddy set the photos back on Kapoor's desk. He took a deep breath.

"Vincent," he said, his voice low and tense, "we need to keep this quiet. For now."

Kapoor raised an eyebrow. "For once I agree.”

Teddy nodded.  "But I want you to keep digging. There are clearly questions that need to be answered." He ran a hand through his hair, his political instincts warring with his conscience. "If this gets out before we understand what's really going on, it could be catastrophic."

"Agreed," Kapoor replied.

Teddy paced the office. "You know," he said, almost to himself, "I've had a feeling those teens were hiding something. The way they act, the things they say... it all makes a disturbing kind of sense now."

"What are you thinking?" Kapoor asked, leaning forward.

Teddy stopped pacing and locked eyes with Kapoor. "I'm thinking we don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle.”  

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Sweet Romance

Spiderman Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

summary: you haven't had a date night in mouths, so Ethan decided to make it up to you with a peaceful night in the park.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: Angst, Fluff, cursing, mention of blood, mentions of nsfw

did not proof read || m.list

You don't know how you got so lucky with him. His sweet chocolate brown eyes, his super curly hair. You look at him like he is a piece of art, and maybe because he is. The nights you couldn't sleep, finding him shirtless lying next to you, the outline of his back muscles casting shadows over the rest of his back. the moles that painted his pale skin.

The feeling of his lips on your body every day, even when he is messy and needy, he still knows how to look beautiful. How his hair will lay in different directions after waking up, the way his hands dance around your body, lightly touching yet roughly holding you.

He was your everything, and that's why it ruined you every night seeing him crawl through your window covered in blood, some nights he'd pass out before fully stepping into your room. Pulling him to your bed as his chest rose and fell slowly.

Your fingers danced on his body late some nights over every scar he had. tangled together in your sheets, you felt like crying. You don't want him to die. He means too much to you. You felt selfish as well, knowing how much he loves helping others.

"What if you stopped?" Your head rested on his bare chest, his eyes halfway shut from a long night. He could hear the fear in your voice as you spoke.

"Stopped?" he didn't want to argue tonight, not again this week. He untuked his arm from behind his head, turning so he hovered over you.

"Yeah, stopped. You know it's hard on me seeing you all bloody coming through the window. " Your eyes couldn't face his. The fear of crying was too strong. Your fingers traced a scar that laid under his collarbone, and his breath still hitches every time you touch him.

"Hey, y/n/n, look at me, love." his index and middle finger forced your chin up. his hand fully cupping the side of your face. "I know you want me to stop, but they need someone out there. They need me." his eyes were so big, looking between your own.

"I need you. I need you here in bed with me. I need you breathing, alive. I need you to not be beaten up into a pulp. " Your voice was shaking a little at the thought of seeing him like that again.

"I know, baby, i'm sorry. but i won't stop, at least not right now. " his voice was so soft, barely above a whisper, like his words were only meant for you. his fingers traced the outline of your features, pushing hair strains out of your eyes.

You couldn't speak, your voice would be too harsh, and he doesn't deserve that. closing your eyes, you nodded, his head fell down, falling to capture your lips. the sweet taste of your ChapStick mixed with the mint of the toothpaste. he didn't push hard. He just held your lips to his like it was the last because you both knew that some random kiss you share may well be the last.

A few weeks have passed since you've asked Ethan to stop. From there, he seemed to put some space between you two. At least during certain nights, you knew he had a rough night when you'd see him the next day, and he could barely stand without whining.

He didn't go to you the night he had it bad now, knowing how much it hurt you. He didn't know how to patch himself up right so you would fix the taped bandages anyway. Fewer words were said during the nighttime. He'd come and go and be back the next night. maybe you were right. Maybe he needed to stop because seeing how he couldn't hold you at night broke his heart.

He had an idea, though, a good one he hoped at least. It was no later than eight o'clock when a knock at your door echoed through. confused, you got up from the couch, Ethan's sweatshirt hugged your body. It was your favorite one, and he melted every time seeing you in it.

Peeking through the hole, you couldn't see much but flowers, a smile spread across your face. Opening the door, you saw Ethan holding your favorite flowers, an innocent smile laid on his face. When his eyes landed on you, his eyes rolled back, biting his lip as well as he saw you in his sweatshirt.

"What are these for?" Taking a few steps in, he leaned down, kissing the top of your head.

"These are for you, they're 'I miss you flowers' and 'I want to take you out flowers,' he smirked as he saw you blush.

"How thoughtful?" You turned, leaving him at the door. "I have other plans though Landry" he closed the door, taking quick pace steps to follow.

"And your plans are me," filling a vase he stood on the other side of the kitchen watching you. feeling his eyes scan your body. Oh, it's been a while since you've had him.

"Oh really." The flowers laid so neatly in the vase leaning in and smelling them, pollen filled your nose as the sweetness filled the room.

"Yes, and I want to take you out now." his arms went around your body, the warmth of his body poured into your back. "Come on, love." his lips brushed your ear as he whispered to you.

"Fine, but let me -" his arms tightened around you as you spoke, but his voice broke you up.

"No, don't change. go like this, I like seeing you in my clothes. " A chuckle came from your chest as you listened.

"Fine, I won't change," you faced him blush creeping on your face.

"Then let's get going," he pulled you by your arms towards the door. He was giggling like a little school boy. "I'll grab your shoes just head to the car." he pushed you out of the front door with an evil smile.

Ethan ran around your apartment looking for your shoes. Once he grabbed them, he ran out the door, swinging down the staircase. He landed near the car, causing you to jump. "Rah Ethan, you know I hate when you do that." he held his chest as he laughed. Apologizing, he kissed your head and helped you into the car.

"So first stop, we are going to go to the food trucks and get so much food." he looked between you and the road.

"Food trucks, huh?" The sky was dark, and the city was alive and bright with lights. You watched as different people filled the street, couples, families, laughing, smiling.

"Yes, because that's where we had our first date, you know." he parked the car, fully turning to look at you. The street light lit the car with a soft yellow hue, and fog started to roll in.

"I sure do remember." Your heart fluttered at how such a little sentence means the world to you.

He helped you out of the car and walked with his hand in yours. He knew he's been distant lately. Trying his best to give you the best night, that's all he wants.

"Listen, I'm sorry -" you looked at him with an intense stare, "I know I've been distant, and I know that it's been hard seeing me fight, but I just want to give you this night. Just to show you how much I love you, how much I adore you, how much I can't stand being away from you" he looked down at you with such love, his eyes melting into yours, his voice so soft and vulnerable.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, you can't stay mad at him. He's trying, and that's what matters.

You couldn't speak your mind because what else is there to say besides, "I love you," a low whisper came from you.

He smiled. "And I love you so so much." His hands cupped both sides of your face, kissing your forehead, your nose, and then your lips.

Soft, slow, and smooth. That's what it felt like. His chapped lisps brushed yours as he held your head. His tongue danced on your lower lip, giggling as you broke the kiss.

For the rest of the night, you stopped at different food trucks, trying different foods, laughing smiling, and holding each other.

Hours had passed. It was just you and him in an empty skate park. He held your hands as you tried balancing on the board. "No, no, don't let me go," your laugh echoed in his ears.

"I promise I'm not." he took little steps guiding you around. "You are doing great love come on, let me let go"

Your eyes shot up at him, "Absolutely not!" You shared the same bright smile.

You messed around on the board for hours. You sat on it as his webs stuck to it, running around pulling you around.

"Ahh baby," he turned to sharp, making you hit a rock. Rolling off, you laid on the floor. He ran to you, worried he hurt you.

You were laughing, begging him to do it again. He huffed out a breath as he saw you weren't hurt.

"Come on, I think we should call it a night," he helped you up

"No no no this is too much fun!"

"Love, it's one am." The sky was dark yet light because of the city lights. Less people were around. The only ones left were you and Ethan. A few single people walking around.

"Fine, but I want you to stay. Stay with me tonight. " he shot his webs, grabbing the skateboard, holding your hand in this other.

"As you wish," he kissed your head and walked with you.

Your chest was light. Maybe after tonight, things will be different. Both of you realized the importance a simple night was for you.

Holding you again, feeling you tangled together in bed was something that he always looked forward to, and waking up next to you made him even more complete.