#It looks like it's singing and so I had to keep it

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE PHOTO

Frankie Morales x f!reader || 580 words

Summary: you find Frankie’s photo.

Tw: none, fluff, young Frankie, insecure reader, pining, loveeeee

A/n: I needed some comfort so I wrote this little thing, inspired by the picture above. Hope you’ll like it<3 kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie

You’re looking at a photo of Frankie and soon tears well up in your eyes. Strong emotions overwhelm your heart and you take a deep breath and press your palm to your chest, trying to calm down.

Frankie and you were group mates in college. You saw each other almost every day but you tried to keep your distance, hiding a huge crush on the guy. Full of insecurities and fears all you dared to do was to steal glances at him here and there, but sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, you couldn’t help but stare.

During classes you would daydream about taking his cap off, running your fingers through his soft curls, hugging his broad shoulders, kissing his plush lips. He often chewed on his pencil, brows furrowed, gaze full of thought, and you were sure that it was the cutest thing in the world.

Whenever Frankie caught you looking at him, he would smile, and your cheeks would immediately heat up. You’d drop your eyes to the desk, frozen, trying to stop your heart from beating too loudly.

That smile of his, playful but never mocking, when directed at you, was a highlight of your day. Yet you were not the only one he smiled at, you thought, he was just friendly like that. You weren’t special.

Frankie was wonderful - kind, helpful, handsome. He’d never be with someone like you. You tried very hard not to idolise him but the nagging voice in your head always reminded you that you didn’t deserve him, weren’t worth his attention. You used to avert your eyes from his, as they were too piercing, too beautiful, they burnt you every time you felt them set on your face.

One day Frankie and you came to classes early and the hall was empty except for the two of you. He began chatting with you and you talked back, shyly at first, shaking like a little bunny inside. But the more you talked, the lighter you felt, and soon you were laughing at his jokes, looking him right in the eye. The fire that had scorched you before turned into the sun, warming and gentle, breathtakingly exciting but comforting at the same time. Your soul was singing when he was there with you and you thought that your heart was right when it had chosen him. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part but Frankie seemed upset when the other students joined you.

Lost in the memories, with the picture still in your hand, your eyelashes still wet, you don’t notice Frankie walking up to you until his strong arms wrap around your waist from behind and you feel his bearded chin rubbing the delicate skin at the crease of your neck. His naked chest is warming up your back like a furnace through your thin nightie and you happily sink into his embrace as he asks,

“What are you doing here, my love? You know I hate waking up alone.”

“Nothing. Just found this photo of you by accident. Look, you were so young and handsome.”

“And now I’m old and ugly, uh?” He grumbles with a fake annoyance in his voice and you giggle, turning around and throwing your arms around his neck.

“Well, maybe less young but as handsome as ever,” you whisper against his lips before giving him a soft kiss. Frankie hums with pleasure, hugging you tightly, and then parts from your mouth to gruff,

”C’mon, let’s get you back to bed, Mrs Morales.”

“Love when you call me that,” you purr and gasp when he lifts you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story<3

MASTERLIST || more Frankie

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[prettiedup]

“You look good.” Ony states as he studies the false lashes that sits on top of your eyelids. His tatted hand reaches out to grab your chin. Silently, he tilts your head right and then left. He slowly nods his head in approval while continuing to examine the extensions. You had mentioned getting a more dramatic set this go round, and truthfully he was a bit nervous, he thought he would have to pretend to like them. But, to his shock, the dramatic fluff fit your face perfectly.

“Thank you, baby.” You find yourself fawning at both his compliment and being under his watch. You absolutely loved having all of your boyfriend’s attention, no matter the situation.

You lean closer towards him, the two of you meet in the middle where your lips connect to. Ony never liked quick kisses. He preferred to take his time gliding his tongue into your mouth, and sucking on your tongue. You were used to his antics at this point, and decided to just let him do as he pleased.

When he finally decides that he’s had enough, he pulls away from you. His eyes dart down to your lips before trailing back up to your eyes. He gives you a knowing smile when he sees the needy look you’re giving him.

“You aight?” He asks. He lets go of your chin, and adjusts himself in the driver seat. You nod at his question. Ony smacks his teeth at that. “Words, bae.”

“I’m okay.” You confirm.

He waits until you’ve buckled your seatbelt to pull out of your lash tech’s driveway. The familiar whine from his hellcat runs through your ears before he turns the music up. He hands you his phone, in a routinely fashion you open his apple music and begin searching for a song.

You choose a song you knew for a fact the both of you enjoyed singing.

You let the song play out before turning the radio down. “Where are we going?” You ask curiously.

“Imma drop you off at the crib, ‘nd then I have some plays to go make.” He explains.

Instantly, your attitude changed. You were no longer smiling. Instead, there was a pout on your lips while you gazed at him offendedly. Your arms found their way crossed against your chest before you even realized you were doing it.

Ony glances at you out of the side of his eye. Seeing you pouting and crossing your arms makes him sigh. “Don’t start.” He warns you.

“Why can’t I come with you? You usually let me come.” You ask in irritation.

“Cause I don’t want you to. Simple.” Ony responds with a lousy shoulder shrug. The stoplight turns green and his car grumbles as he accelerates.

You had this horrible habit of accusing. In your defense, the way you looked at things is like: my boyfriend is tall, dark, and handsome. If I’m attracted to him of course other women will be also. And so you found yourself accusing him of things constantly, sometimes without even meaning to.

“A girl must be there.” The words flew out of your mouth quicker than you could stop them. Ony had told you time and time again to stop accusing him, claiming that it’s both draining and annoying. You just couldn’t help it.

“Here you go.” He sighs. Instead of giving you an answer he just turns the radio up, blasting out any chance for you to keep your accusations going.

Your arms stay folded for the remainder of the drive. You childishly look out of the window the entire time, not once sparing your boyfriend a glance.

The millisecond he puts his car in park in his designated parking spot outside your loft complex, you practically hop out of his car. You don’t purposely slam his car door, you had used more strength than you intended to truthfully. Ony didn’t play about his car. The thousands of dollars he has spent adding modifications to it only backs up his claim. You knew just from that action you were going to be in deeper trouble.

The sound of your pink tory burch sandals clacking against the pavement, your numerous bracelets hitting against each other played in your ears as you tried to collect your thoughts. You didn’t hear his heavy footsteps trailing behind you which is both a good and bad thing.

You’re in the elevator when your phone lights up, displaying your lover’s contact. Your heart thumps in your chest a little faster as you contemplate answering it. With a shaky exhale, you answer.

“Hello?” You could hear the sound of his car switching gears and the clicking of his signal stick.

“What did I tell you about slammin’ my door?” He’s composed, which only makes you more anxious.

You bite down on your lip at his question. You look around the empty elevator as you try to come up with an explanation that was good enough. You were acting childish but you just felt undeniably angry at him for not even offering you an invitation.

“You made me mad.” Your voice is lighter and apprehensive.

You could hear Ony kissing his teeth at your admission. “Why do you not understand that what I do ain’t a fuckin’ game, mama? This shit aint sparkles and rainbows. I’m mad at myself for even exposing you to this shit. This typa shit ain’t for you.” You’re his babydoll. Pink, glitter, soft scents, doe eyes, and pouty lips. Violence doesn’t fit in your criteria, it just isn’t you. How polar you two are is what drew Ony to you to begin with.

The elevator dinged and slowly opened its doors. You step out, your grip on your phone tightening as you rationalize his words. There’s a frown on your lips that you’re positive Ony would have plucked away if he was standing beside you. His explanation made sense, and deep down you knew you had no business mingling with a crowd like that. Hell, you had no business mingling with Ony.

“But, I’m grown,” You whine. “I should be able to choose where I want to go and what I want to do.” You’re putting up a weak argument against him. The both of you knew it too.

“Yeah but that ain’t you.” He reminds you. “Running the streets with me ain’t safe. And your safety is the most important thing t’me.”

You hum at his words while you bring your hello kitty printed key up to the doorknob. You still vividly remember the day Ony surprised you with it. You guys had been together for some months, and were beginning to discuss hypothetical ‘what if we lived together’ scenarios. A few days later Ony had gave you a solid black box with a light pink hello kitty key in the inside. That was the start of something incredible.

“My baby’s so stubborn.” Ony could hear the sound of the front door slamming shut. Your sandals and shuffling played through his speakers, he had told you to pick your feet up when you walked, and like always, what he said went through one ear and out the other.

“‘M notttt.” You whine.

“Yes you are. But it’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got somethin’ for that attitude you had earlier.” He promises you.

You have to pause in your tracks. Instantly, there’s throbbing in between your legs. A surge of horniness courses through your body. This is how the game between you two went. You would pick at him for something—anything, just so you could act out, and so that he could put you right back in your place.

“You don’t sound mad with me anymore though?”You frown.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna set you straight for acting out like that. I’m bout to pull up tho, imma text you when I’m free. Love you, mama.”

“I love you, baby.” You say before hearing the call end.

There’s butterflies swarming in the pits of your stomach as you try to imagine what he could possibly be planning. When Ony made promises like that, he made sure to keep them. He’s a man of his word and never switches it up.

[diamonddaze01]

second servings

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, a dash of humor bc im fun like that | wc: 3.7k Warnings: unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), drinking rating: r a/n: happy thanksgiving! or as ivy (my beloved @c-oupsie ) aptly put it, dicksgiving // huge thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the beta!!! //MINORS DNI

It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success.

Your mother had nothing but praise for the way you pulled off her famous sweet potato casserole (even though she was hovering behind you the entire time, making "suggestions"), and your father was borderline drunk on Mingyu’s whiskey-infused turkey. Sure, he’d proudly claimed it was an old family recipe, but you’d seen him frantically Googling “best Thanksgiving turkey recipes” at 2 a.m. the night before. No harm, no foul—especially since your parents didn’t need to know about his panic or how the entire kitchen had nearly gone up in flames during the basting process.

For his part, Mingyu had charmed everyone effortlessly. Between pulling your chair out at dinner, teasing your father about how he could totally outdrink him (a dangerous game, considering how much whiskey had been consumed), and sheepishly admitting he’d practiced making pie crust for weeks, it was clear your parents were absolutely smitten with your boyfriend. By the time your mom hugged you both goodbye at the door, whispering that you’d “picked a good one,” you thought your heart might burst with pride.

But now, the house is quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you wander through the dining room, stacking dishes and tidying up. The scent of roasted herbs and pumpkin pie still lingers in the air, but you’re already beginning to unwind.

Mingyu is... well, not unwinding. Not in the slightest. You can hear him singing—no, yelling—off-key in the kitchen as he polishes off the last of the whiskey your dad left behind. When you poke your head in to scold him for leaving you to do all the cleaning, you find him leaning against the counter, a lazy, lopsided grin lighting up his face. His tie is loose, and the top buttons of his shirt have been undone, showing off that smooth stretch of skin you always find it impossible to resist.

“You’re wasted,” you accuse, trying not to smile at how disheveled he looks.

“Wasted?” he echoes, incredulous, though the way he wobbles slightly when he stands says otherwise. “Nah, baby, I’m just... grateful. It’s Thanksgiving! And I’m thankful for you.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his nose nuzzling your temple. His voice drops, low and teasing. “And the way you look in this dress... God, how did I keep my hands to myself all night?”

You roll your eyes, even as your heart stutters in your chest. “Because my parents were right there, and you were busy trying to impress them?”

Mingyu hums, the sound reverberating against your skin. “Impressed them so much they probably think I’m an angel, huh?” His fingers press lightly against the small of your back, pulling you closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Guess I shouldn’t ruin that image.”

When you laugh, the sound barely leaves your lips before he has you pinned against the nearest wall. Your shriek of surprise is muffled by Mingyu’s mouth on yours, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and the pumpkin pie he’d wolfed down before your parents left. His hands bracket your waist, firm and steady, but there’s nothing restrained about the way he presses into you.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your lips when you try to protest, his voice dark and teasing. “Can’t let them know their soon-to-be son-in-law isn’t the perfect golden boy they think he is.”

Your laugh bubbles up despite yourself, but you manage to shove at his chest just enough to put some space between you. “Mingyu, stop! There are dishes everywhere—”

“Don’t care,” he growls, already pulling you back toward him.

“Mingyu!”

He only grins as you slip out of his grasp, retreating into the dining room, muttering about someone needing to be responsible. But he’s not far behind. You feel his presence before you even hear him—the deliberate slowness of his footsteps, the quiet huff of his breath as he watches you stack plates.

You turn to scold him, but the words catch in your throat the moment you see his expression. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and intent, like he’s just barely holding himself back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, a little breathless.

He takes a step closer.

“Like what?”

“Like—like you’re going to—”

Mingyu doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he’s at your side, spinning you around and lifting you effortlessly onto the dining table. Plates clatter around you, some teetering dangerously close to the edge as you gasp in shock.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, holding up a hand. His gaze flicks to the plates beneath you, then back to your face. “Are these gonna break if I—”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure. “If you what?”

He flashes you a devilish grin, and before you can stop him, he swipes an arm across the table, sending the rest of the dishes clattering to the floor.

“Mingyu!” you gasp, clutching his shirt as you gape at the mess.

“It’s fine,” he says, far too casually for someone who’s just created a potential disaster. His voice is rough, his breath coming quick as he leans in close, pressing you back against the table. “They’re not ceramic. They won’t break.”

Your protest dies on your lips as his mouth finds yours again, hands already working to undo the buttons of your dress. The table creaks beneath you as he presses his weight into you, his kisses growing more heated, more desperate with every passing second.

“You’re insane,” you murmur against his lips, though your fingers are already threading through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you know he likes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin unmistakable even as his lips move to your jaw, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you for breaking half our dishes,” you tease, though the sharp intake of breath you can’t quite suppress gives you away.

“Then you’ll have to explain to your parents why their perfect golden boy is gone,” he counters, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

"And we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, tilting your head to give him better access.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "Definitely not. I've worked too hard to impress them."

His hands slide down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as they go. You shiver at the feeling of his fingers against your bare thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Mingyu's touch is warm, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Speaking of impressing," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as his touch wanders higher, "I can't believe you actually learned to make pie crust."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, that? I lied. I bought it pre-made."

You gasp in mock outrage. "You fraud!"

"Hey, your mom loves me,” Mingyu bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck, just enough to hurt, and you whine. “You can’t call me a fraud when her love is real, baby.” His tongue carves a path back up to your mouth.

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, tugging him closer by his loosened tie.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your neck as he continues his trail of kisses.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, "I wasn't lying earlier. About being grateful for you."

The sincerity in his eyes catches you off guard, making your breath hitch. Even with his hair mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned, there's an earnestness to him that makes your heart swell. But then he kneels in front of you, and your heart starts to stutter.

“And what better way to show you how…grateful I am,” he starts, fingers brushing against the wet spot on your panties, so soft it makes you gasp. “Than to kneel in front of you?”

His words make your back arch, shivers running down your spine. He hums softly, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. 

“My baby’s so pretty,” he breathes, pressing open-mouthed kisses against thighs as you shiver. 

"Mingyu," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Yes, baby?"

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a breathy moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound low and rough. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin. "But I want to savor this. Show you just how thankful I am."

His tongue traces lazy patterns on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center with each pass. You squirm on the table, plates clattering softly around you as you try to press closer to his mouth. But Mingyu's hands on your hips hold you firmly in place.

"Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. "Mingyu, please..."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Touch me," you breathe. "I need you to—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Mingyu finally, finally presses his mouth against you. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and exploring. You throw your head back, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Mingyu hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of sensation up your spine. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gently urging them further apart. You comply eagerly, desperate for more of his touch. Mingyu takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving deeper, circling your clit with practiced precision.

"God, you taste amazing," he murmurs against you, the words sending vibrations through your core. “Better than my pie, baby.”

You can't help the breathy moan that escapes you, your hips rolling against his face as you chase the building pleasure. Mingyu matches your rhythm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your sensitive clit.

"Mingyu," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "I'm close, I'm—"

Your words trail off into a strangled moan as Mingyu redoubles his efforts, his tongue working faster, more insistently against you. One of his hands leaves your thigh, and you feel his fingers teasing at your sopping entrance before slowly sliding inside. The dual sensation of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you makes you arch against the table, fingers finding purchase on the tablecloth and holding on for dear life.

"That's it, baby," Mingyu murmurs against you, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, Mingyu's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He works you through your orgasm, his movements slowing gradually as your body relaxes.

When the last tremors of pleasure subside, Mingyu presses a final, gentle kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. His hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him looking so thoroughly debauched makes your heart race all over again.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching for him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a renewed spark of arousal through you. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers on the thoroughly christened tablecloth. You bring your joined hands to your mouth and suck on his fingers as Mingyu looks on in dazed fascination.

Mingyu groans, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "God, you're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

You release his fingers with a soft pop, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. "I thought you were showing me how thankful you were," you tease, running your free hand down his chest. "Seems like you might have more gratitude to express, love."

His answering grin is downright predatory. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I've got all night to show you exactly how thankful I am." Without warning, his fingers find your sopping cunt again, and you squeal.

Two, then three, fingers bully their way into your weeping pussy, and you groan, wanton, as Mingyu’s free hand yanks the sleeves of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t-” your words are cut off with a keen when Mingyu’s fingers go even deeper, back arching off the table. “Don’t rip my dress Mingyu-ah! There! Right there- don’t stop, please please-”

Mingyu chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to work his fingers inside you. "Wouldn't dream of ripping this dress, baby. I love how you look in it too much." His teeth graze your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You're caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the slight pain of his teeth, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin. "You're so wet for me. So tight."

You can only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand as you chase another peak. The table creaks beneath you, the remaining dishes clattering with each thrust of Mingyu's fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Take what you need. Take it all, baby."

His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cry out, hips bucking off the table. Mingyu's free hand slides up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the table, hands gripping his bicep. You’re not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. "Mingyu, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside you. "Let me feel you, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping as aftershocks ripple through you.

When you finally come down, panting and boneless, Mingyu withdraws his hand and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours; you moan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Your fingers grapple helplessly with the buttons. He lets you struggle for a little, forehead pressed against yours as his deft fingers work to push your dress off of you, leaving you bare before him on the dining room table. The cool air pebbles your skin, but Mingyu's heated gaze makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You’re delicious," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He decides to put you out of your misery, pushing away to roughly yank his shirt off and throw it across the room. His hands yank at his belt, and his pants and boxers follow soon after, joining his shirt god knows where. Your eyes rake over Mingyu's exposed body, drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. Your gaze travels lower, lingering on his erect cock, already glistening with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and you unconsciously lick your lips.

Mingyu catches the gesture and smirks. "See something you like, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as he steps closer, his hands running up your thighs. He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimper at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want," Mingyu murmurs, his voice low and husky. He rocks his hips slightly, teasing you with just the barest hint of pressure.

"You," you breathe, reaching for him. "I want you, Mingyu. Don’t make me beg.”

"Never, baby," he growls, voice rough with desire. "I want you too much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you breathe, nails raking down his back.

Mingyu doesn't need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours as you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above you. "You feel so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, drawing a strangled moan from Mingyu. "Move," you urge. Mingyu obeys, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of his thrust sends a few more plates clattering to the floor, but neither of you pay them any mind. Your focus narrows to the feeling of Mingyu moving inside you, the delicious friction as he sets a punishing pace.

"God, yes," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Mingyu."

He grunts in response, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. One hand grips your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while the other braces against the table. The wood creaks beneath you with each thrust, but you can barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. He whines, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you relentlessly.

"You're so fucking tight," Mingyu groans, his voice strained. "So perfect for me, baby. Only for me."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls clenching around him. Mingyu groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He lifts his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drives into you.

"Oh god," you cry out, your back arching off the table. "Right there, Mingyu. Don't stop!"

"Fuck," he grunts, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm close, baby. So close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, a coiling tension in your lower belly. "Me too," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Mingyu, please."

Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly what you need to send you over the edge - his hand leaves your hip, sliding between your bodies to rub rough circles against your clit with his thumb. Mingyu shifts slightly, hitting that spot that convinces you that you’re in heaven - your mouth drops open in a low whine, and he savors every reaction you give him.

Your entire body tenses as the pleasure makes spots dance in your vision. Mingyu's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me," he growls, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go, baby. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your back arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper.

The sensation of you pulsing around him pushes Mingyu over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you with a final thrust, groaning your name as he comes.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. The table creaks again, as Mingyu presses loving kisses against your lips, hands rubbing gentle circles on your sides.

“I love you,” he whispers, equal parts adoring and reverent. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

He sounds so genuine, so lovelorn, that it almost brings tears to your eyes. “I love you too,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. “I’ll never stop thanking fate for bringing you to me.”

“It wasn’t fate,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “It was your shitty cocktails that almost gave me alcohol poisoning at Jeonghan’s graduation party.”

You sigh, pulling back enough to stick your tongue out at him. “And just when I was starting to wax poetic about you, Kim Mingyu.”

“Oh, by all means, continue-”

The table decides then that it has had enough of the both of you, and the leg gives out with a deafening splinter. The sudden tilt of the table sends you both sliding towards the floor in an undignified heap. Mingyu manages to catch you, cushioning your fall with his body as you land on top of him with a soft "oof." For a moment, you both lie there in stunned silence, the broken table leg jutting out at an awkward angle beside you.

Then, almost simultaneously, you burst into laughter.

Mingyu joins in, his body shaking with mirth against yours. "Oh my god," he wheezes, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, still giggling. "I'm fine. You?"

"Never better," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. "Although I think we might need a new dining table."

You groan, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. Plates litter the floor, and your poor tablecloth lies in a heap near Mingyu’s feet.

"Oh no," you moan, burying your face in Mingyu's chest. "My parents gave us that table as a housewarming gift."

Mingyu winces, his hand coming up to stroke your hair soothingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can fix it?"

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. "Fix it? Mingyu, the leg is completely broken off."

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, I managed to convince your parents I'm a master pie baker. I'm sure I can convince them I'm an expert carpenter too."

You can't help but laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," he grins, pulling you down for a kiss.

"God help me, I do," you murmur against his lips.

[robin-evry]

Hello! I was thinking about ideas for a furina!yuu (genshin) or Misha!yuu (hsr) perhaps? Also I love your work ^^

⚠️ Contained spoilers for the penacony story quest as well as Fontaine archon quest if you haven't done it as well for chapter 7 ⚠️

It's very rushed due to, me having the final exam week today 🥹🥹

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓

The "Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples and Laws" is deeply loved by her people. She follows each and every trial held at the Opera Epiclese with an inextinguishable passion, and is always acutely aware of how the "audience" sees things.

Part of the film studies club and as well a director with vil on the club, after their appearance towards twst they were recruited to be an actor on a movie and it turned into a huge success making her debut in the industry as one of the brightest stars in twst.

Puts up an arrogant act but deep down is kind and sweet, they just put up the arrogant act to protect themselves. Even tho being already free they still keep their guard up.

Have strives for the dramatic and theater, shares their interest with vil as well each other giving advice on theater and other stuff

During the VDC furina!Yuu performs la vaugelette, the entire stadium was quite admiring their singing as well as the dance of them. After they finish everyone stands up and even applauds.

Vil won't admit it but deep down he knows, furina!yuu is a much better actor than him and will often seek their advice over theater and offer them to join the film studies club and they accept.

During overblot, they will use their elemental skill to fight and give support towards their teammates, healing damage dealing sub damage towards the overblot.

Have tea parties with riddles once a week they discuss school topics, etiquette and other things. They will Always bring a cake from a fancy bakery they usually visit to get their desserts and some occasions vil would join and immerse in the conversation.

Furina!Yuu have a habit of practicing acting in front of a mirror, they pose and act in front of a mirror to find the perfect one.

Sometimes when they're alone in the ramshackle dorm, they have a mental breakdown from their past and grim would comfort them. furina!yuu was mentally drained due to their past but soon started to get better as well finding comfort in NRC.

Lilia would be surprised to learn about their past, as well try to comfort them. They would discuss what it is like in the past as well as Lilia providing comfort for them.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓

A lovable and thoughtful bellboy of The Reverie Hotel. He wished to become an intergalactic adventurer like his grandfather. He was extremely hardworking and was skilled at fixing a variety of machines. He also had a fondness for sharing interstellar rumors with guests. He hoped he could grow up faster and looked forward to embarking on his own star-treading journey.

An enigma at first, misha!yuu has little interaction with the rest of school due not having a physical body but their presence is very much felt in NRC. But the story progresses the same as before.

Will appear at student dreams guiding them with or just simply appearing to speak to them to have a conversation.

Become some sort of spirit or myth towards the students, their presence greatly impacts the school but they lack the Bodied to interact with them

Comforting students being a guiding light and source of light towards everyone, protecting them from the nightmares that plague their minds

They have the desire to grow up quickly so they can immediately go to NRC or they are patiently waiting for them to grow up.

The first years are by far the ones misha!yuu are very close to. Misha!yuu helping grim and protecting him from his nightmares. As well as silver.

But when malleus over blot and put everyone in the school into a deep sleep, misha!yuu and silver were tasked to wake everybody up.

By these adventures they manage to discover misha!yuu fragments of misha!yuu memories and true identity as a person. As well their true name.

In the expense of waking up everyone, misha!yuu will finally fade away due to them being a memory fragment.

When everyone woke up, grim cried at the loss of them. And the school will hold a funeral for misha!yuu or Mikhail!yuu. And put up a picture of them in the halls of NRC.

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI

A/N: This isn't my usual content, but I was thinking about this scenario and I had huge baby fever so I couldn't NOT write it. I love Sae too much y'all. Also sorry for any spelling mistakes english ain't my first language.

Warnings: Mentions of death and grieving, Sae tries forcing his daughter to either eat her vegetables or go to school hungry (he doesn't go through with it)(this is a very brief scene but it could still be triggering to some people). STILL MOSTLY FLUFF I SWEAR.

Contents: Sae being a girl dad fr, y'all can't change my mind on this one, also Rin being an uncle. That's pretty much it. A little ooc (Rin mostly)

"Papaaaa" Mao complained, her voice echoing across the house and making Sae drop the dishes he was washing and walk across the house into her room to see what was going on... this time. Although he had a pretty good idea given her recent tantrums.

"Can't sleep?" he inquired, but he knew the answer as soon as she saw her curling up in her little bed and pouting, her doe teal eyes looking up to him as if to give him pity. "No, Mao, you cannot come sleep in my room."

"Why not?!"

"You've already been sleeping there all week... come on, you're a big girl, you can sleep on your own room."

"But I wanna be with you..." he sighed. It had seemed she had inherited his stubbornness, because sometimes it felt like there was just no way of making her change her mind when she was set on something. He leaned against the door a little, thinking about what to say that may change her mind.

"I know I was away for a while the last couple of weeks and I understand you missed me, but I can't have this conversation with you every single night."

"Why do you go away in the first place..."

"You know why, I have to for work." he countered, "And do not ask me why I can't bring you along, we've talked about this countless of times before. I don't go away for fun. If I bring you with me, you'll want to go everywhere with me and then you'll get fussy and mad because I'll be working all the time, or worse, you'll get bored to death in the hotel. Believe me, staying here is best for you when I go on business trips."

"But I just wanna be with you!!" his eye almost twitched in annoyance at the sight; he knew that tone of voice all too well. It was another tantrum coming his way, but still, he tried to remain calm for her sake.

"You're with me now."

"So can I sleep in your room?"

"No." then she threatened to start crying. He let out a low, defeated huff, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. She just wasn't giving up, was she? Pushing himself off the doorframe, he looked back at her before speaking. "Fine. Come on."

"This is the last time." he knew damn well that was a fat lie, but he still had to at least pretend to be firm. She would grow up to be a spoiled child otherwise, or at least that's what he was used to tell himself.

The little girl beamed, quickly jumping out of bed and running towards her father. She hopped with her arms up towards him asking to be carried, to which he complied. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and lifted her up, watching as she clung onto him as if he just came back from war or something. Could he really blame her, though? She had lost her mother and he was away all the time; it would be strange if she wasn't feeling lonely.

"Papa, sing me a song." Sae reconsidered his life decisions for a moment there, not gonna lie, but how could he honestly say no to those pleading eyes?

"Fine..." he sighed, his voice soft and low as he began humming whatever song he could think of on the top of his head. Still keeping a secure hold on her, Sae began rocking his daughter to further lure her to sleep. He held her with one arm so that he could close the door of her room, the soft click assuring him that everything was in order, and then started walking a few steps towards his.

By this point, little Mao was sound asleep on his arms, and he almost chuckled at the thought of his daughter refusing to sleep until she was with him. He carefully opened the door a few meters away and walked quitely to the bed, trying his best to not wake up the sleeping child on his arms, and set her down to rest. Once tucked in and comfortable, he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, the brat was asleep and he could be at peace. She could be so clingly and energetic sometimes... not that he cared that much, even though her restlessness was exhausting, it showed that she felt safe and loved enough to be her enthusiastic self around him without any regrets.

It was weird to him, like an unfamiliar sense of pride that surged at the sight of her young daughter bouncing around and playing endlessly. He would often look at her and think about how different her personality was from his, and how much it reminded him of her mother. Sae tried not to though, as he despised comparing his daughter to his late wife over and over again, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. From the way she smiled to the color of her hair... they were just so alike each other. He still kept all the memories from her close to his heart, which in a way made him feel guilty. Sae knew just how much his daughter yearned for a maternal figure; someone to talk to and educate her about girly stuff that he may not understand. He would watch her staring at the other kids with their moms and act like it really wasn't a big deal to avoid making him feel like he wasn't enough, but Sae knew better. It was obvious to him that his daughter absolutely adored him, and he was sure she thought he was enough, but he also knew that she missed having a mom. She missed her mom. He missed her mom too.

Normally he would avoid talking about it. It had been hard enough trying to explain to this small child that her mom wasn't coming home that night, or ever, let alone process his own grief at the loss of the only woman he once loved. If he cried, he had to do it when his daughter wasn't looking, because the last thing he needed to add to his worries was worrying his daughter to the point of avoiding everything that may set off a bad mood on him. It wasn't her fault, he just felt his heart break everytime he took her home and she pointed at a framed picture of her mom exclaiming 'Mama!' Or 'Hey mama', 'I'm back, mama', 'Miss you, mama'. He would hold back his tears and take a deep breath whenever she tried asking if she could visit her mom in the place she was at (as he initially had told her it was a place where she couldn't come back), having to explain carefully that she couldn't. She would get mad and ask why a bunch of times, but he didn't have the heart to tell her 'She's dead' straight up. He really tried to just give her an excuse like that she was sleeping forever or something, as if she was in the sleeping beauty, but then she just began asking if a true love kiss from him would wake her up. She was a child, after all, and she hadn't quite grassped the concept of death yet.

He let himself watch her sleep for a few moments, sinking in the stillness of the night. Taking care of a young child made this moments rare, and he treasured whatever rest he could get. He reached out to the nightstand and picked up the heater remote, pressing a couple of buttons to turn it on a bit; just enough to keep the room warm, as he knew nights at that time of the year could become fairly cold and he didn't want his daughter getting sick. And as expected, she got very evidently more comfortable as the room became warmer, falling into a deeper state of sleep. She had only carried her favorite bunny plushie from her room to hold onto and apparently that was all she needed to fall asleep. He plopped himself onto the bed as well and fell asleep almost instantly from the exhaustion of the day, not even caring about closing the door or the half-washed dishes he left on the sink or even the fact that he hadn't even changed his clothes. He was DONE for the day.

Although, the next day he most definitely regretted it.

He had to wake up early and finish cleaning all the mess his daughter had left throughout the day, plus now he had to make breakfast, wake her up and get her to school. Sae was a rather organized person and he would normally not find himself in this type of situation, but it seemed like ever since he became a father he was running short of time for everything no matter how much he tried to plan in advance.

"Morning." Sae greeted his still somewhat sleepy child as she yawned and climbed the chair infront of her to eat. "Slept well?"

"Mhm..." Mao mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one arm while she still clung to her favorite plushie with the other. He placed a plate on the table for her and then one for him, along with his usual morning coffee and the only damned brand of juice that she liked for some reason and that he had to drive for an hour to buy.

"Come on, eat. You have preschool today."

"Can't I skip? It's snowing so muuuuch." the kid dropped her head onto the table and sighed, clearly displeased about going to school.

"Apparently it's not snowing enough to cancel your classes. Now, please, eat."

He watched intently as his daughter took a close look at the food, pouting and feeling now rather down since she wasn't allowed to skip school. She took a couple of bites of her breakfast and she had a few sips of her juice, then she pushed her plate a little to indicate she was done.

"Thanks for the food." she was about to get off the table when she was interrupted by her father's stern voice.

"Not so fast. There is no way you're full with just that."

"Yeah I am..." such an obvious lie.

"Why aren't you eating? And I want the truth."

She pouted, AGAIN, before reluctantly giving an answer.

"It has green peppers on it..." and there you have it; this was the real challenge of Sae's day.

"I told you, they're good for you."

"But they're gross! Can I eat something else please?" this is Sae's life now. Even winning a soccer match was easier than getting his daughter to eat her vegetables.

"Mao, I spent a lot of time making breakfast for you, can you please finish your food? You still need to get ready to go to school. I don't have any time to make you more breakfeast; I have to go work."

"But... I really don't like them... please?" that was the last straw for him. He didn't mean to sound cruel, but he was tired and didn't know what else to say.

"Mao Itoshi, you're staying on this table until the last bite of food on your plate is GONE. If you don't, you'll go to school hungry and I'm not making you anything else after I pick you up. You are eating this one way or another." he almost instantly regretted the harsh tone of voice he had used, as he saw his kid's eyes begin watering. He passed his hands through his face in exasperation, took a deep breath, and walked around the table to pick her up. He exhaled, trying his best to remain calm before speaking to her again, as he could feel Mao's tears on his clothes and the little shudders she made at the effort to hold back tears. Sae patted and passed his fingers through his daughter's hair in a poor attempt to soothe her, but the damage was already done. She was holding thay bunny plush in her arms like a lifeline. "Sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be so hard on you. I woke up early to make your breakfast and you just took a few bites of it... I got frustrated, but that wasn't a reason to force you to eat something you don't like. I'm just saying, green peppers aren't the end of the world; they can be tasty."

"I guess I can eat them..." he sighed.

"No, you'll just be eating them out of guilt. You shouldn't do things you don't want to just because you're afraid of someone's bad mood." he thought for a moment. Mao eating the green peppers wasn't the ideal result now, she was hurt and vulnerable and that would only teach her that she should fear and comply which wouldn't end well on the long run... still, he did spend his time making her breakfast and didn't want it to go to waste. "Tell you what. I'll eat the green peppers for today, if you promise you'll at least try them next time, and I'll find another recipe to try to make them taste better. Sound good?" she nodded, still hiding her face from him by pressing it against his clothes. "Good. Now, I really don't have more time to make you more breakfast, so let's pick out the stuff you don't like just this once, and only this one time. I seriously need you to try to learn to eat your vegetables."

"...'kay."

"Let's hurry then; you still need to get ready for school."

Sae for sure was missing having some help on the raising of his daughter. He would never admit it though, he would try and pretend parenting was the easiest thing in the world when in reality he was fighting for his life everyday trying to shape this little human into a good person, and refraining from helping her while she failed at tying her shoe countless of times before admiting she didn't know how to do it (this is why he only buys her velcro).

He left the tiny sparkling pink shoes on the ground as he heard the doorbell, then looked at the clock hanging from the wall nearby. 8:14am, who in the world was it this early? Sae indicated his daughter to stay still on the couch before walking towards the door, and right after seeing the face on the other side he furrowed his eyebrows in surprise.

"Rin? What are you doing here?" his little brother then proceeded to push him aside and step inside as if it were his own house.

"Move, I didn't come here for you." his eyes traveled the room and eventually fell on the little girl sitting on the couch, and in a blink of an eye he had lifted the little girl up and hugged her tightly. Despite her surprise, she could obviously recognize her only favorite uncle.

To everyone's surprise, Rin absolutely adored his niece. Sure he had problems with his older brother but he didn't have to take it out on an innocent child that had done nothing to him. Besides, she was so adorable and bubbly and so NOT like Sae. Rin sometimes would stare at her in amazement, wondering how it was possible that this was truly Sae's spawn; yet the teal eyes and lower lashes were unmistakable. She was an Itoshi alright.

"Umclw Rwin!" her voice came out muffled, as she was currently being burried on his chest, but the sentiment was there.

"What are you doing here?" Sae was straight to the point, not caring about his cold tone of voice this time. And he says he doesn't have favorites.

"I just came back from my morning run." the younger Itoshi explained, still not looking at him in the eye. "Thought I'd stop by to say hello."

"To her."

"Yes, I didn't want to talk to your pathetic-"

"Language."

"Shut up."

"Don't hug her when you're still sweaty and gross, she just took a bath." he continued scolding Rin, earning a groan of frustration from him.

"Your dad is so annoying." his niece giggled at the obvious beef between his dad and uncle. She didn't really understand it but it was funny from her point of view. "Such lukewarm rules he has."

"Lukewarm!" she repeated.

"Rin, stop teaching her those words. Mao, say bye to your uncle; we have to get you to school."

"Awwwwww, can he come with?"

"Fine, whatever will get you to actually go to school. Rin, let's go."

"Don't boss me around." he complained, walking with his niece on his arms towards the door and setting her down. "Let's put on our shoes, shall we?" he took the shoes Sae had set down earlier and helped the kid put them on with ease. Of course, he had dealt with this countless of times before. Sae had the bad habit of using him as a free nanny for whenever he had to travel, which was often.

"Uncle Rin, how do you go running with all this snow? It's so cold!"

"When you run, you sweat and then it doesn't feel so cold." he finished tying the kid's shoelaces and took her by the hand, then Sae picked up a scarf wrapped it carefully around her neck.

"Don't take it off." he warned, watching as she began squirming to get away from the scratchy scarf. "It's cold out, I don't want you getting sick."

"Okay, papa." he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before taking her free hand and not so subtly making Rin let go of her as he finally opened the front door. They were quickly hit by the cold winter air, and Mao shuddered a little at the sudden change in temperature.

Stil, Sae made sure his hand was holding hers tight and that she kept herself on his field of vision. There would be someday in the future where she wouldn't need him to hold her hand; he had to treasure these moments and not let her go while he still could.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

--------------------------------------------------------------

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[revelboo]

The way you write Jazz has me absolutely floored, my god, it feels like I’m looking at a mirror sometimes

Over It Now Pt 14

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Watching you grasp the lapels of your jacket and hold it closed as the icy wind pulls at your hair leaves him feeling guilty. Knows you’re cold, but still can’t say no to you. Because you’re coming to sit with him willingly now even as your breath fogs in the air and you shiver in your coat. Cold, but uncomplaining. And he hates that he keeps coming back here making you feel obligated to spend time with him knowing every visit increases the likelihood of getting caught. “What was your home like?” You ask.

• Glancing down at you, his visor dims a bit. “Like any city, I guess, doll,” he says slowly, lips twitching as his big hand against your back shifts. “I remember the first time I saw Iacon. All these beautiful buildings and the chaos of the city like a living thing. Remember thinking I didn’t belong.” He’s smiling, but it’s different than his normal, sure smiles. It’s real, you realize as your breath catches. This is what he looks like without that fake smile, that mask, and you want to reach up and cup his big face in your palms, but you’re afraid if you do, he’ll realize what he’s doing and go back to pretending.

• “You were a musician, right?” Servos sliding against your back, he smiles. Remembers the feel of an instrument in his hands, playing and singing on a busy corner. The days where a passerby smiled because of him, never making much, but some days enough to feed himself. On the days he didn’t, he watched and learned. Servos nimble from strumming the strings of his instrument, were clever enough to steal to feed himself. He’d tried to get by on his art alone, but risk of starvation had made him desperate. And that had eventually brought him to the enforcer’s attention. To Prowl’s.

• “It wasn’t always easy, but I loved it. Creating something real that made others happy,” he says, visor glowing as he looks out across the yard at the falling leaves. “For a long time, I forgot what that felt like.” And his attention drifts back to you, a servo hooking under your chin to tip your head up. “You reminded me, kitten.” Not a lie or teasing. Your heart is racing, hammering against your ribs as he stares down at you. Remembering the lonely sound of his singing pulling at you, aching for him without even understanding the words he was singing. You hadn’t needed to, understanding the sound of loss and sorrow and reaching out, because he was hurting.

• “I like this you better,” you whisper, standing slowly, mindful of your cast covered leg, and reaching up with those little hands. Lowering his head to meet you, he feels your hands on him. “You don’t have to smile all the time, if you don’t feel like smiling. Just be you.” Do you have any idea how precious you are to him? How much he needs to hear those words? You must. Gently curling his servos around you and lifting you to nuzzle his cheek against you. Knowing he won’t be able to stop coming back to you even if it ends up ruining your life, because he’s awful and he needs this so much.

Previous

[peppermintquartz]

for the prompt! CRASH THAT HELICOPTER! (i need to see yet again tommy being on the verge of death, and then being suprised buck and the 118 are by his side in the hospital.)

Something's gotten hold of my heart Keeping my soul and my senses apart

Tommy's consciousness kicks in grudgingly with Nick Cave's voice, but together with the song is a plethora of pain.

He opens his eyes. Grass, long grass. Some trees overhead. Broken branches, maybe. Daylight.

What was he doing before this? He's not in the habit of sleeping outside, he's done enough of that. Then he hears in the silence, a distance away, the unmistakable roar of fire.

Ah. He'd jumped. The bird had wrenched itself free of his control; some wires had not held or maybe there was an error in the chips. Whatever it is, he had to jump.

He can't feel any heat, so that is at least a good sign he landed far from it. But fire travels faster than most people think.

Breathing is hard. Acute, stabbing pains. Likely broken ribs.

His toes wiggle when he tells them to. So do the fingers of his right hand. His left hand screams at him when he tries to move it and his vision blacks out.

It takes another monumental effort to climb back to consciousness.

Radio, he thinks inanely. Gotta call for help.

He doesn't have a functional radio. At least he can roll onto his less injured side - fighting nausea and agony every inch of the way - and look.

Black smoke billows up in a thick column. There are other birds in the sky surveying the area, Tommy remembers. They'll call it in.

They may never find Tommy though. He's some distance away.

No matter. There are worse ways to go.

Tommy is exhausted. He slips his right hand into his pocket and lets Nick Cave sing him back into unconscious slumber.

In a world that was small I once lived in a time there was peace with no trouble at all But then you came my way And a feeling unknown shook my heart, made me want you to stay All of my nights and all of my days

He registers the beeping of the machines before the floaty numbness of his body, and under that, a deep lake of pain to be dealt with.

There's warmth over his right hand.

He fades again.

I've got to know if this is the real thing I've got to know what's making my heart sing

The second time he surfaces, he hears low conversation. People he knows that he knows, but can't name.

His right hand is still warm and he closes his fingers as best as he can.

"He's waking up," someone says. The voice is rough-edged, tired. Tommy wants to cuddle it.

Each eyelid weighs a thousand tons. He struggles anyway.

And he is greeted with a concerned Evan, holding onto his right hand. Behind Evan is Chimney.

Tommy looks at himself as best as he can. He has so many tubes attached to different parts of him. He has a mask over his face, and the sound of his breathing is unnaturally loud.

Tommy blinks at Evan, and tears roll down his face. Evan squeezes his hand. Chimney disappears from view, texting into his phone as he goes.

"He's telling everyone you pulled through," Evan says, smiling. His big blue eyes are bright and fatigued. He has the beginnings of a full beard. That's not regulation.

Feeling the tug of sleep again, Tommy blinks a few more times at the man he loves.

"I know. Rest. Get better." Evan picks up the limp right hand and kisses the back of it. "We'll have time to talk."

You smile and I am lost for a lifetime Each minute spent with you is the right time Every hour, every day You touch me and my mind goes astray

[possessiveandobsessive]

Another Lucanis Obsessed Post

It's only a problem if we call it that...

**Spoilers for late game events in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. If you havent finished and care about being spoiled, stay away!**

Something I think about a lot is Lucanis's reaction to Rook being pulled into the fade after they kill Ghilan'nain. This kind of scene is definitely making it into my current work, but I need to get it out of my brain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucanis is riding a magnificent high for all of a minute. He just killed one of his two targets. A GOD. Finally, he completed the contract that slipped through his fingers so narrowly last time. He has this blissful, thrill of adrenaline singing through his veins. And then, it's all gone in an instant.

The hot blood that had been rushing through his limbs following his vistory turns to ice I'm an instant when he realizes: she is gone. The woman who had believed in him from the start. The one person who never once had looked at him with disgust or fear. The woman who had only just broken through the last of his walls and now held his heart. Lucanis can see her smile, can see her head thrown back in laughter at some silly comment he made. And then he watches as all that fades out of his view. She was GONE, and she took his heart, his soul with her. He never got the chance to tell her...

Lucanis can faintly hear a raw, primal, and broken wail. It sounds distant at first, before he realizes it's coming from him. The agonized scream tears from his chest violently without him even realizing. An enraged chant fills his mind and blinds him to his surroundings. His vision fills with only a blinding purple light and all he can hear, all he can think is, "GONE. TAKEN. GONE. LOST. OURS. OUR ROOK IS GONE. MUST GET HER, MUST SAVE HER, MUST HAVE HIS BLOOD. GONE. GONE...."

The chanting, screaming really, continues over and over. Each word caused pain anew to cut through him like a blade. He had already lost everything, become a monster, and now he was losing the one thing that kept him tethered to this reality. She was the one thing that made him feel human. Rook trusted him even when he couldn't yet trust himself. And the elven god of lies and betrayal had just stolen her from him.

Lucanis was dimly aware of shouts directed at him and hands pulling at his arms and shoulders. The team must be trying to stop him from completely destroying, leveling, everything in his immediate vicinity. All he knew now was this pain fueled rampage. Their pain fueled rampage. Spite and he are currently of one mind. They always are when it comes to Rook.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of magic wash over his body. Lucanis shuddered as his bones seemed to turn to liquid and his body began to feel as of it weighed thousands of pounds. His eyes were closing against his will, and he could hear Spite's screams grow more desperate as they both were pulled under into a deep nothing. The last conscious thought Lucanis had was of her face, terrified and screaming his name as she disappeared in a flash of light.

I will find you Rook, NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM US....

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You're welcome for the devastation! If it lives in my head rent free then it also gets to live in yours 🥲 Look forward to a more fleshed out version of this scene later in my current work in process: The Spirit of Determination.

[roseyswords]

An analysis of Mastermind (the Song)

Now this is gonna focus primarily on Stolas's perspective throughout this whole song. Not that I think Blitzø or Satan's parts are less interesting they're just more straightforward than the rest of it and I don't think I can expound on them that much.

So first we have Stolas using societies already baked in prejudices against imps to immediately square away the idea that Blitzø could be to blame for the whole thing. And you'll notice that when he's doing this he's putting on the same persona that he used in Circus when he got Blitzø out of trouble with his security guards. The act of a haughty Prince that is taking responsibility for an imp. It's a bit of a go to for him.

Then he starts building up the idea of a Mastermind whose actually behind it all that just using Blitzø for nefarious purposes. I also want to point out the look on Ozzie's face here because it is expressing exactly what I was thinking when I first watched this which was " what the fuck are you going on about Stolas?"

But if you notice something that I'll talk about a bit more later he's not saying he's the Mastermind at this point. He's just talking about a vague Boogeyman esque mastermind here.

Then he goes on to detail what killing Blitzø like this would mean in Hell. First he's doubling down on how lowly he is, meaning he couldn't possibly have done it and that he is clearly just a scapegoat. Basically telling them that doing so won't solve anything. But then next he says that it would "light a fire in the hearts of his race" which as we see afterwards, it did. This whole song stoked massive support for Blitzø and if we remember resulted in the first time in history where an imp sentenced with death got away and survived.

Fuck it! I am the Mastermind. There is the briefest moment here where Stolas closes his eyes and thinks. Right before he says Fuck It. I don't think Stolas had fully cemented on the idea of taking the blame himself until this point. I think this is the point where he realized he can't back down from this, he can't just make up a Mastermind he has to be the Mastermind. I think he has this sort of as the plan the whole time but that he was also giving himself a bit of an out before by being vague. He could have said he was the Mastermind the entire song but this was the moment he started taking full ownership of the title.

I have no regrets/ I have regrets. Publically Stolas is saying that he has no regrets about the whole scheme that he used Blitzø for. But then we immediately go into private mode where Stolas is having some regrets and second thoughts about doing this. He says " why am I throwing my life away for this idiot?" He doesn't like doing this but he's going to anyway.

And he decides to do it because the alternative is Blitzø dying. And that is too horrible of a fate for him to bear. Stolas probably also feels actual responsibility for the whole situation because he made the deal to let Blitzø use the book knowing it was illegal. So if he can do anything to let Blitzø live, this is it and he's gotta do it. So then we get to

I am the Mastermind, the master of my faith. No looking back, we're doubling down. Full on. So much of Stolas arc as a character is culminating in this moment. For so long he has just been a puppet in other peoples plans. He has never been in charge of his own life but now he is the master behind his own decisions and steering his own fate. Even if it's at his own detriment. He sings about how much he loves Blitzø and death itself is the only thing that can break them. He is resolved to this fate and he's taking it head on.

There are so many fucking layers to this episode, it's a gift that keeps on giving. It's my favorite episode containing my favorite Helluva Boss song. I hope you enjoyed this attempt at a breakdown I did.

[sunderwight]

Thinking some more about why Old Man Viktor would want hextech to be invented, or to specifically be invented by Jayce, such that his meddling involves giving Jayce the rune that he uses to kickstart his innovations, when a simpler way to prevent catastrophe in any given timeline would but to just... not invent hextech at all?

And I've got another theory!

I think Old Man Viktor is actually looking for a way to unfuck his own timeline.

If it was just about saving others, that doesn't seem like it would be all that complicated, and, unless he's failed every prior time (possible) it should probably have a set routine by now. Also, why would there need to be so many attempts? Is he doing this for every single timeline, or is he deliberately creating new timelines and experimenting with the results?

I think it's the latter, given that we see him provide young Jayce with different runes, and that he's presumably used different methods of persuasion and involved other different factors in the process. Again, it's possible -- given Ekko and the reversal rune -- that this is the first time it's worked at all, but I think that Viktor's comment that in all timelines, only Jayce can show him the futility of his actions would in fact imply otherwise. There have been other timelines where Jayce has successfully compelled Viktor out of his plan, or else I think Old Man Viktor would have phrased it more like "only you might show me this in some version of events" rather than "in all timelines, only you can show me this".

So, probably, there have been other timelines where the world is saved by Jayce's intervention.

Which is great, and Old Man Viktor takes it as a win, but I think why he keeps on doing it and what he's ultimately after is the right formula for a means to sort of unbake his cake, if you will. Old Man Viktor's own timeline has already been doomed. He's the only one left, trapped in his "perfect" outcome that has become a prison of (in his own words) dreamless solitude. He can't escape what he's done and he can't rest, and outside of his scant interactions with the Jayces of other timelines, he's alone. His Jayce is gone, everyone is gone. Like the ingredients baked into a cake, the people that he bound together into his ascension cannot be alchemized back into the individuals that they once were.

Or can they?

After all, this is magic we're dealing with. Magic, technology, and the same genius that created the problems in the first place. If there's a way to undo it, who else could figure it out? I think the main cast of the show comprises the people who might and the people who are most likely to influence and inspire them -- Jayce and Viktor, who started the problem. Mel, an incredibly powerful mage. Singed, who taught Viktor and helped engineer his transcendence. Jinx and Ekko, two of the only other people in either city to actually figure out hextech on their own. Heimderdinger, Jayce's teacher. Even Ambessa brings along the Black Rose, who might feasibly contribute something to the undoing of Viktor's calamity.

Viktor is very stubborn, and he doesn't abandon his causes easily. I think that once he realized the folly of what he'd done, and accepted the reality that he had destroyed the world instead of saving it, his next course of action would be to either finally die or else fix it. If he can't die (probable) then that just leaves fixing it. Fixing it for other timelines is great, but ultimately, knowing Viktor and what he's like, I don't think he would be satisfied with that. He'd accept it as a consolation prize and ultimately if that's his limit, he'll find out one day. But if he has infinite space time to play around in, why not aim big? Why not try for the ideal outcome?

So that's what I think he is really waiting for. A lead into the method to truly undo what he did, and restore everyone to themselves. Not just in other timelines but in his own too.

[ikkyfics]

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader 

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home 

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort 

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it) 

Materlist

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It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you. 

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids. 

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity. 

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation. 

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.” 

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.” 

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.” 

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you. 

And he never changed. 

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you. 

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—” 

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face. 

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.” 

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause. 

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side. 

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.” 

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art. 

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.” 

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!” 

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh. 

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess. 

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race. 

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things. 

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier. 

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!” 

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.” 

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.” 

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy? 

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days.    (...) 

The week had been a real nightmare. 

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying. 

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator. 

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight. 

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand. 

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough. 

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led. 

It was in this state that Peter showed up. 

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him. 

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—” 

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding. 

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?” 

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor. 

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control. 

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!” 

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth. 

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless. 

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle. 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop. 

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence. 

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind. 

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed. 

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be? 

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way. 

But now, he was hurt. 

And for the first time, you felt completely alone. 

(...) 

Three days. 

Three days without a sign of Peter. 

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you. 

The others noticed, of course. 

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt. 

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

But nothing helped. 

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing. 

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away. 

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles. 

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.” 

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life. 

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world. 

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest. 

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you. 

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.” 

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears. 

Peter wasn’t okay. 

You knew that. 

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do. 

Deep down, you already knew where to find him. 

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort. 

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking. 

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.” 

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.” 

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest. 

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio. 

Peter was in his element. 

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player. 

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more. 

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up. 

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled. 

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?” 

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze. 

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story. 

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff. 

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper. 

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?” 

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath. 

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat. 

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more. 

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.” 

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you. 

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.” 

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat. 

He felt the same. Peter felt the same. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.” 

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?” 

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?” 

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?” 

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement. 

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand. 

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth. 

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever. 

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now. 

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment. 

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.” 

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?” 

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically. 

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below. 

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—” 

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.” 

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate. 

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was. 

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole. 

[darling-heffron]

I hope you like our little moodboards we are planning to do one for each chapter! I'm not the creative so you can tell when it's my shitty handiwork LMAO Sol come save me. She is the artist so... IDK why I was allowed to do moodboards. Anyway enough of my rambling, here is chapter five!!

taglist: @malarkgirlypop, @mellow-human, @next-autopsy

Chapter Five: Muddied hands 

Sam laid on her belly, the map spread out before her as she used a pencil to trace her path. She needed to get from her position in Amherst to Pittsfield, which was the next closest city. 

The blonde had enough supplies to last her for the three day journey, she could do it in two if she wanted but she didn’t want to risk moving in the dark again. Her plan was simple: move during the day and before the sun set she would have her camp set up. 

She set out the next morning bright and early, she wanted to try and get all the way to Idaho as quickly as she could without dying along the way. But it was a massive journey, one that needed to be taken city by city. 

She knew if she set out the exact route all the way to the safe haven it might not go her way. There were a million factors that could change the route drastically, so she didn’t want to plan that far ahead. Sam knew she would have to be smart about this, travelling too far away from cities could mean she wound up with no supplies. 

Not that she really wanted too but she would have to hop from city to city to make it through alive.   

The girl made it out of the area, the only people she had seen in her travels had been the family she met yesterday. Other than that the town appeared quiet, she didn’t want to find out why, so she left quickly. 

The days were long, walking the path by herself. Sam was able to avoid most of the hoards, she could sneak past without them noticing. If she couldn’t, she found that they were very reactive to sound. Sam could throw an object in the opposite direction to her and it would trigger all of them. 

Once one moved, the others followed.

Sometimes the rabid’s would be by themselves, they looked lost without the rest of the swarm, they would stagger around with no destination in sight. The stragglers would often look worse than the swarms, seemingly more decomposed and skinny. The rabid’s that stuck together looked well fed and plump, decomposing more slowly than the isolated ones. 

Sam sat criss-cross striking the steel across the flint to create a spark that would light the tinder in the campfire she had set up. It was unlikely anyone would find her in the dense bush, so she felt more confident in lighting it. Sam hadn’t been using fires when she was closer to towns, she was unsure who or what it would attract. She didn’t need unwanted company, the blonde was a good fighter but she didn’t think she would stand much of a chance if a hoard or group stumbled upon her. 

“Ah ha!” She grinned seeing the spark alight the dry wood shavings she had tirelessly carved earlier in the afternoon. Sam blew on the fire to keep it going, cupping it in her hands to stop the wind from putting out her hard work. 

Once the flame took off she placed it in the middle of her log pile, watching the orange tongue lick at the new fuel she had given it. Sam sat close just watching the fire, enjoying the warmth it gave off, it was somewhat comforting to watch. Listening to the crackling and popping of the wood as the flame consumed it slowly. 

Sam had always wanted to go camping, sit around a campfire and roast marshmallows and sing silly little songs with her family. 

Not that that would even happen, her younger self was much more optimistic than the bitter girl she had become. The young girl had hope, foolishly so, but it was still hope. Still a sliver of happiness that she could imagine but never grasp. 

Sam’s love of the fire soon grew to disdain, something she always dreamed of, only now she was alone and it wasn’t for fun; to roast marshmallows or sing songs around, it was for survival. Sam sighed moving further back into her tent, bringing her knees into her chest as the fire danced, almost taunting her in a way. 

The blonde focussed her attention on her pack, rustling around in the bag to find what she was looking for. Sam’s hand wrapped around the cold can, pulling it to the surface so she could examine it closer. It was a can of fruit, she had wanted to try and catch something for her dinner but exhaustion pulled at her heavy eyelids. All she wanted was to fill her stomach and try to sleep. 

Sam had never been a great sleeper, any small noise could easily pull her from her slumber. Samantha blamed her father for this trait, he never slept, she had never seen him rest. 

When he was home he marched around the house on the phone, or sorted paperwork. He was up at all times during the night. Sam liked to watch him, sneaking downstairs after hearing the front door unlock and open, she knew it was him, he always came home late after everyone else had left or had gone to bed. 

But Sam’s ears perked at that familiar sound of his heavy boots falling on the tile floor. She would sneak down and hide in the shadows, he would never notice her, hell he often forgot she existed. 

Sam remembered one time he was home during the day and had run into her in the halls, he looked at her questioning her presence in his home, and then she saw it, he remembered who she was. 

She would never forget the feeling in her chest, as his eyes grew hard and stance became taller, more assertive. Her father’s body reacted to her as if she was a stray dog on the street, he stuck up his nose and pretended he didn’t see her, moving on with his day. 

But that young girl still held hope, still held onto the ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what if’s’. She didn’t hate her father, even after he stepped around her without an exchange of words or even the courtesy to look at her. But the Sam now, the older, more resentful, this one hated him with every fibre of her being.  

Samantha curled into her sleeping bag, her trusty knife clutched to her chest, she let sleep tug her down into darkness, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to sleep peacefully tonight, but she didn’t hold hope. 

To no one's surprise the blonde didn’t sleep well, noises and rustling nearby didn’t let her relax all night. She would drift off to then wake in a jolt to a noise in the distance. Sam’s mind always raced, thinking of all the things it could potentially be, she was rational, but now with the rabid’s on the loose what was rational? 

Sam packed her gear, heading out on the road again. She stomped out the embers that still smoked under the early morning sun. She made her way through the trees, which was easier said than done. 

These parts of the woods had never been trailed before, there was no clear path she was following, just the one of least resistance. 

Sam swung her axe bringing down the dead branches and debris that blocked her way, she hummed a tune as she worked, there was nothing else to do to keep her entertained. She always had to be on lookout which drained her, every sense she had was running on overdrive. 

A noise caught her attention, groaning in the distance. Sam crouched down low, positioning herself behind the trees so that she couldn’t be seen. Her ears perked like a dog, listening closely for any sign of movement. It was odd that most of the time she heard things like this she hoped it was a rabid. 

Something about the people that lurked around didn’t seem too inviting. 

Sam found it easier to kill the lonesome rabid’s, but the thought of finding another human that had cruel intentions sent shivers up her spine. It wasn’t the thought of killing her fellow peer that made her so uncomfortable, that part she was capable and ready to do, it was the interaction. 

Trying to figure out the intentions of the person before deciding whether or not they should live or die. 

Sam wasn’t surprised at what the family had told her when she had been held up in the rampaged supermarket. Sam had been in war, she had seen how people followed rules so eagerly until all hell broke loose. 

People’s morals seem to all but disappear when their world turns to chaos. 

Things that would seem horrific and vile when there was regulation and control; go out the window when it goes. Humans need rules and guidelines to follow, they need order to be set or it all goes to waste. 

But in this new era of mankind, one where fellow humans are now nothing but mindless animals, order seems to be far from the world they used to know. 

Sam stayed out of sight watching the woods closely, her eyes forever scanning the tree line. 

She watched as a small hoard stumbled into view, they groaned together following the leader. They were intriguing to watch despite their gruesome and violent nature. Sam often thought it was so strange that they used to be people, like her. They had lives, jobs, and families.

But now they wandered aimlessly, their only goal was to fill their bellies. 

It was sad to imagine how many people now were these awful creatures, everything they ever lived for so easily ripped away from them. 

Sam was snapped out of her deep thinking by the sound of feet hitting the ground in clumsy fashion. She refocused her attention to the small group only to find they were coming straight for her.

“Ah, shit.” Sam cursed under her breath. She hadn’t needed to fight any of the rabid’s since her first meeting with the driver. But even then she never fought him, just escaped. 

However that situation was different, at that time she had no idea what she was dealing with or what was happening.      

Sam sprung from her hiding spot, axe ready in her hand. 

“Come get me you motherfuckers!” She yelled loudly so they could find her easily. 

The group barreled towards her, their noises mixing in with each other as they rushed for the blonde. 

Sam swung her axe over her head bringing it down with such force that the first rabid’s skull split in half, but in its momentum the body kept moving towards her. She smashed the butt of her axe into its side, flinging it over and out of the way.

The next one chomped for her, his gnashing teeth lashing out at her flesh. Using the handle of her weapon she shoved him away, sending him backwards into the rest of the pack. They tumbled to the ground like pins, but that didn’t mean the fight was over.

The gnawing man leapt to his feet again in no time, making another attempt to get his fill from the angry woman. 

Little did he know she was begging for a fight, Sam was ready to cave some heads in.

And that she did. 

Sam sliced through the air with speed, the rabid stopping in its place before crumpling to the ground. The woman swung so hard she had cleanly decapitated the biter. 

The last two came together at her as a pair, but they were nothing more than mindless animals, they both aimed for her face. Their gangly decomposing limbs reached for her, clawing and grabbing at the air. The pair together were strong, with both of their weight pushing Sam backwards. 

She used the length of her axe to hold them back, wielding it as a barrier between them. The rabids lunged forward knocking Sam off her feet. She yelped in surprise as the pair toppled onto her. Sam held fast keeping them at arm's length, she grunted, straining to keep them at bay. 

But she thought fast, tucking her knees up against her chest; she kicked out, rocking her hips upwards. Sam used the force to push the rabids over her head, they toppled to the ground behind her as she rolled backwards. 

It was a quick movement so fast she was already on her knees before the rabids could even sit up. She swivelled to face them as they sprung up arms outstretched for her, her hands found the two knives that were sheathed at her belt. 

Sam gripped the hilt of the daggers in a fast motion she drove the weapons upwards into the underside of their chins. 

There was little resistance to the sharp daggers as they plunged into the soft decomposing flesh of the biters, their jaws turned slack as the blade of the knives pierced into their skulls. Sam withdrew the weapons from the two rabids, they slumped back lifeless. 

Sam nudged the two rabids with her foot, but they didn’t move. Sam had seen enough zombie media to know that if you wanted to kill them for good, it needed to be through the head.    

She cleaned her knives from the black blood that covered the blades on the back of the fallen biter. Before she picked up her pack, that had slipped from her shoulders during the attack, and swung it back on her shoulders. 

************

Finally Sam had made it to Pittsfeild. The town now empty and desolate, had an eerie sense to it. She made her way into the heart of the town, making sure she kept low and out of sight at all times. 

The blonde scavenged in and out of the abandoned stores. As she had made her journey she noted the supplies were now few and far between. Unlike with the first store she had gone into that still had resources in it, now the shops had been picked bare. 

Sighing, she threw what she could into her backpack. It was early afternoon and thought it best to make her way as far as she could away from the town and toward Albany. 

Swinging her bag back onto her back after securing the buckles, she made her way out of the store.   

Sam had only made it a couple blocks before a squeak came from under her boot.  She lifted her foot, revealing a dirty teddy-bear lying on the ground. Sam tilted her head, it looked familiar, but she didn’t know from where. 

Her brows drew together as she studied the small stuffed bear that looked back up at her. Sam couldn’t put her finger on why the bear looked so sad, the smile that was stitched into the mouth wasn't bright and cheerful it looked so melancholy; like it was forced. 

Sam placed her foot on the ground as she bent down to pick the bear up. It was only small, easily fitting into her hand. 

The bear was dirty covered in muck from the ground, blood stains on his feet and tummy, but under all the grime it seemed well loved. The nose had been worn down, like the owner often touched it. 

The ears were the same. 

The fur on the bear looked shorter there than on other places on the bear. The teddy's hands also had the same pattern as the ears, the owner must’ve held his hands a lot. 

Then Sam’s heart dropped, the memory coming back to her in a rush. 

The picture of the young girl holding up her little bear to wave goodbye before she was ushered out of the supermarket by her mother. 

Sam lifted her head, eyes scanning the area. The small voice in her head begging for the girl to have just dropped it by accident, it fell out of her bag without her noticing.

The voice didn’t last very long, as Sam bit her lip. Her eyes found a group of people lying on the floor, two big, one small. She approached slowly, hoping and praying it wasn’t who she thought it was. 

But she was right, she stood over the small girl, hand still interlocked with her father’s. The girl’s mother was frozen in time, reaching out for her daughter. Fingers still spread wide so close but so far from her little girl that only lay inches away face down in the dirt. Sam closed her eyes, willing the searing vision of the family to leave her brain, it wasn’t something she wished to carry. 

The blonde bent down tucking the small bear under the child’s arm, she didn’t think it was right to rip him away from his family as well. But even then it didn’t feel right, leaving the family face down in the street. 

She cursed under her breath, she needed to leave but her conscious wouldn’t let her move until she had laid them all to rest. It was only right, the family seemed to have been taken from the world in such violence, they needed to be in peace. 

Sam moved the mother first, dragging her body off the street and into the edge of the woods that they were so close too. 

The woman wondered if that’s where they were going for safety, they were almost there, another couple of steps and then could’ve been in the forest. Sam laid her down, facing her up to the sky, she noted the bullet wound in her chest and the crimson that stained her grey sweatshirt.

Next she moved the little girl, she was easier. Being only so young Sam could easily pick her up and move her. So she did, Sam cradled the young child in her arms and walked her to her mother who waited for her. She walked slower than normal, letting the young girl admire the sky one last time, the way the blue contrasted against the green of the trees that stood so tall. 

Her teddy bear still tucked under her arm she lay next to her mother, Sam placed their hands so they were touching. Sam then moved the father, laying him on the other side of his daughter, she moved their hands so that they were laying together as well. 

Sam dug quickly. She felt bad but she didn’t have time to dig them a proper grave, but it didn’t feel right leaving them exposed to the elements. They need their privacy, so that they could truly rest.        

The blonde moved them into the grave she had dug, keeping the same position she had them in as when they were laid on the grass. Sam took a moment of silence before covering the bodies in the earth. She patted the ground, smoothing it over. But still it felt empty. 

Sam knew she was wasting time, but she couldn’t leave them here in an unmarked grave, nothing to show who they were. 

She turned in a circle, eyes trailing her surroundings. Her eyes landed on wild daisies that sprung from the ground. Sam grabbed a handful to bring it back over the earth that held the family. Sam had never had an eye for decorating, her room often laid bare, but she placed the flowers around the edges of the grave. The rest of the flowers she had scattered in the middle. 

It wasn’t beautiful but at least now it wasn’t empty. 

Sam never cried much, as a child she was scolded for such things, so she learnt to hold it back. But in that moment she couldn’t help the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

The family shared so much love, their little girl had so much potential. 

But now they’re gone. Buried in the earth. 

Sam didn’t know their names, ages, or their life. 

This life was cruel, cruller than most. 

Then the thoughts trickled in, Sam cursed her mind for falling into the ‘what if’s’ again. It was a trait she trained so tirelessly to remove from her brain, but it always found a way to sneak back in. 

What if she had agreed to come along with them, would she have been able to save them? Or would she have met the same fate.  

It felt cruel to leave but she was wasting daylight, she huffed as she looked at the fresh grave before she headed into the forest herself.      

They almost made it. The vile voice in her brain taunted. Could’ve been saved if you weren’t so heartless.  

Sam groaned, shaking her head to rid the thoughts that plagued her mind. It was in the past, she had made her bed and now she would have to lie in it. 

Unfortunately the family haunted her with every step she went deeper into the forest. The tightness in her chest suffocated the poor girl as she fought with her own emotions. Like she had said before, this world was cruel, the only way to survive was to be even more ruthless and spiteful than the evil creatures that lurked in the shadows. 

However it wasn’t those creatures that had ended that family’s life, it was other people.  People like Sam, merciless and uncaring.

A/N:

Ok so our Sam has a heart but don't tell her that or she'll beat you up. I'm so excited to be posting these I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! I hope you all are loving Sam like I do, she may be a tough cookie but I still want to give her a big hug, but she would most likely punch me in the face LMAO.

Esra ✨

[bokettochild]

Opera house AU

Know those singing fish trophies? Looks like a fish mounted onto the wall until it belts out a random song?

Time has one in his office and it sings the Hampster Dance

I feel like this is the sort of thing one of the kids did to prank him.

Time's office is something of a sacred space; no one goes in there except him, not even Lullaby, unless he brings them there. Most of the staff are convinced that being called to his office, or worse, brought there, is like being locked in a cage with a tiger, because while Time's a good boss, he's still the big guy with one eye who never lets on anything about how he became that.

(Legend and Twilight are the exceptions because Legend's been being brought to the office since he was a baby to keep him out of the way while Twi works, so it's more his safe space at work, and Twilight is used to walking in there to see his boss and nephew playing music together or, in the early days, asleep together in Time's desk-chair.)

So, during a game of truth or dare between some of the younger cast and crew, somebody dared another person to go into Time's office and set up the fish.

No one knows the result of it.

They all know that the kid in question got it there (said person had to take photos/video to prove they actually did it) but Time never said anything about it and the fish never was seen or heard from again.

Time actually thinks it's hilarious. he moved it to where it doesn't go off at any old thing, and pretends like he didn't shriek like a banshee when it went off the first time when he opened the office door to start his day.

Twilight and Legend take turns moving it around his office into unlikely places to mess with him, and sometimes, very rarely, he'll sneak it over to their apartment in revenge. They never actually see him put it in there, but they know it's him because who else would brave his office for such a dumb reason?

[gothamite-rambler]

Aftermath of Nightwing's Fear Toxin Freak-Out

Dick Grayson sat outside on the patio, staring down at the table and tapping his finger as he mulled over the events from last night. Tim Drake, his younger brother, sat next to him with a teacup, keeping him company even though Dick had remained silent for the last hour.

Dick (dejected): I really hate Scarecrow.

Tim (nodding in agreement): Mm-hm, the guy loves to make people miserable. He has a habit of making his fear toxin even more “powerful.” Like Cell from Dragon Ball. Honestly, I’m still concerned about the fact that he respects me.

Dick shrugged, avoiding eye contact with his younger brother.

Dick (deadpan): You walked through his toxin once without batting an eye.

Tim: True, but I was spiraling and sunk into the darkest pit of my own mind during that time, guess it has no affect on you at that point.

Dick hummed softly, wanting to agree, but guilt washed over him from how he had acted last night. Tim smiled gently and leaned closer to his brother.

Tim: This isn’t about me, though. How are you doing?

Dick (insincere): Fine.

Tim: You sure?

Dick (wanting to avoid bringing up that painful memory): I... don’t want to talk about it.

Just then, Jason walked outside and plopped down in the empty chair at the table. He sighed, completely exhausted, then bent forward to rest his head in his hands. Tim chuckled, causing Jason to glance at him with annoyance, but he opted to stare at his legs instead of retaliating.

Tim: What’s got you down? You weren’t hit with the fear toxin.

Jason (rubbing his forehead, frustration evident): Last night was insane either way. So many people freaking out, children crying. I found out what happened with Dick, and now I can't do anything about Catalina because Bruce thinks I’m overreacting. It’s some bullshit, man.

Tim glanced at Dick, whose jaw was clenched as he struggled to suppress a smile.

Tim (with a knowing look): That was a crazy revelation, wasn’t it? I’ve known about it for years, and I had the same reaction. Barbara wanted to run over the demon woman with her car, but Dick always told us she wasn't worth it and that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Jason sat up, finally leaning back in his chair.

Jason (grinning a little): That'd be too quick a death. Oh, wait, um... you probably don’t want me talking about this.

Jason looked over at Dick, who rubbed his eyes, forcing a chuckle to reassure the two that he was on the mend.

Dick (sitting up straight, serious but composed): I’ve had plenty of violent, intrusive thoughts about Catalina, but I always argue that it’s something I’d regret. If I killed her, back then or now, she’d win. She wanted her horrible essence stuck to me, no matter what. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t care about her. At the end of the day, she’s pathetic. A monster like her isn't worth obsessing over.

Jason nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Jason (prying): But if she died randomly, you wouldn’t mind? You can be honest. Bruce isn't here.

Dick (with a morbid grin): I mean, I wouldn’t throw a party, but I wouldn’t exactly be upset either. Party poppers would probably be involved. That sounds awful, doesn’t it?

Jason (laughing, shaking his head): I’d gladly piss on Joker’s grave, dude. You’re being too nice.

Tim (thoughtful, with a hint of dark humor): I’d burn the bodies of the people who killed my parents and then toss the ashes into a pit of Joker toxin or something. Wait—that might reanimate them into even worse zombies. I stand by the first part, though.

Jason burst into laughter, patting Dick on the back. Dick shook his head with a smile, swiping his hand across his left eye to catch any stray tears.

Dick: Thanks for stopping me from making a big mistake last night and for putting up with my terrible singing.

Jason (grinning): I’m just glad I could save you. Plus, your singing wasn’t that bad—just a little pitchy.

Dick (pretending to be offended): That’s a lie—and you know it. I have perfect pitch!

Jason (smirking): Whatever you say, bud.

Tim (perking up with excitement): We should hit a karaoke bar tonight! Or wait—how about a rage room?

Jason (nodding eagerly): That sounds like a party! We can break random stuff for an hour. Let’s put pictures of our enemies on the stuff we destroy.

Dick (chuckling, shaking his head): You guys are insane, I swear. But I’m not against the rage room idea—Tim says they're really fun.

Jason: He can thank me for that.

Tim (smirking, feigning innocence): Okay, he took me there, but I was depressed at the time. When I went afterward, it was because I wanted to keep going!

Jason (laughing, pointing at Tim): Oh God, you can’t take credit for the stress relief I showed you! I’m practically a therapist, and you can’t even acknowledge that!

Tim stood up, crossing his arms dramatically, wearing a mock-serious expression.

Tim: They know my name there. Doesn’t that mean something?

Jason (mockingly, standing up as well): It means you go there way too much.

Tim (defensively): I can’t help it if I have a lot of stress to relieve!

The brothers bickered playfully, their banter lightening the mood. Dick watched them with amusement, grateful for the loving chaos that was his family. Before either could ask if he wanted to join, he stood up and followed them back inside.

Dick wasn’t okay after last night. He knew he would never fully be fine with what Catalina put him through. But with his family by his side—and the therapy that had helped him before—he felt a flicker of hope.

Tarantula wouldn’t be what broke Dick Grayson. Letting go of the past was hard, especially after what she had done. But Dick knew he had to keep fighting, to keep being a hero despite the shadows hanging over him.

For his family.

For himself.

"I'm a poison... I couldn't save them," Nightwing cried, the fear toxin invading his mind.

[swifty-fox]

🥘What wip are you most excited about?

ohhh Christmas fic all the way! I'm going to have to lock in SO hard in December to write it but god it's saving my life rn to write some fluff.

It’s not a date, but Gale can’t help but feel a little flush as he slides into the car, and if John shares any of his awkwardness the other man doesn’t show it, drumming along with the music and singing badly in a way that was almost good. It’s only seven-thirty but it’s well past dark this time of year, and Gale spends most of the drive looking at the christmas lights starting to go up, pointing out the more elaborate designs to John who took the time to look at every one. 

“I like the white ones,” John says, nodding at a line of white christmas light reindeer, “Looks like something out of a movie.”

Gale shakes his head, “I’ve always preferred the rainbow ones.” 

John gives him an over-indulgent once-over, “Yeah that makes sense, colorful guy like you.”

Gale snorts, “They’re cozy. The white lights are so cold.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

John’s missed a spot shaving, Gale can see it now and then lit up by the passing streetlights. Up in front of his ear, small enough Gale could cover it with the top of his thumb, wispy curlinghair like it had been a couple days between John’s last shave. He hasn’t got the facial hair of someone who can grow it well, but something about that fact makes it all the more tantalizing. Some last cling of boyhood to him, like a worn shirt, logo faded and hemline gone thin, all warmth and comfort.