#i do not know if he'd ever come back from it

[delespresso]

WHERE BLOSSOMS BLOOM ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; not exactly like elphaba (i didnt rlly wanna copy entirely) but i try hehe, took a bit from the real scene. also, part two coming?? 👀

prompts; “You’re the risk, I’m gonna take it.”

summary; fiyero always wants his best friend to bloom, but he realised he didn't want to miss it either

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Fiyero Tigelaar was not the kind to think too much. He preferred to just glide through his days, remaining as carefree as ever.

But he wasn't an idiot. And he definitely wasn't blind.

When he met her in the garden in Shiz, while she was perfecting some technique that Morrible taught her, he knew she was different. She could grow flowers from a simple touch, creating the most beautiful of plants without even planting a seed.

She was magical. And she was beautiful.

Morrible wasn't the only one taken with her, albeit for a different reason. Fiyero found himself constantly within her vicinity, drawn to her in an inexplicable way.

He became a constant presence around her, sometimes bringing her a bouquet of sticks as a little joke, knowing she can grow the flowers as she liked. It became an inside joke, a little side project for them both — he went looking for broken branches and sticks with leaves but no flowers, and she'd grow them at will.

"You haven't done peonies," he commented one day as they were outside in a secluded corner of the university field, under a tree.

She was sitting against the bark, a book in her lap about magic from Morrible's own shelf. Fiyero was coming back from a bush, holding up another stray branch for her.

She laughed then, accepting it from him.

"My dorm is becoming a jungle," she mused.

"Then I'll keep some in mine," he shrugged, before urging again; "peonies."

The smile on her face was enough to make his typical cheeky and charming self soften into something more genuine. There was something about her that felt bright, warm — like a new bloom in spring.

She let her fingers gently glide along the small branch, intending deep in her mind and heart for it to bloom into a peony. It sure did — a beautiful, vibrant blue one.

"To match your eyes," she commented with a smile as she tucked it in his breast pocket.

He never let that peony go from that day onwards. It was an ever present part of his attire, always in his breast pocket. He quickly discovered whatever she grew, never wilted. It just remained as alive as ever, real long-lasting flowers.

She'd wanted to do something more. To grow something bigger. Or something with more flowers. She wanted to push the limits of her power, find out how far she could go.

Especially after another session with Morrible who told her about the Wizard. Meeting the Wizard was always a dream of hers since she was a child. Honestly, who in Oz didn't want to? But Morrible did say if she wanted to meet the Wizard, she should prove herself. Be better.

So that's what she was aiming to do. But, naturally, she didn't go alone.

She found Fiyero with some other students as he talked at them, because everyone wants to listen to the Winkie Prince. She was amused, but she couldn't let it prolong. So she went over and politely dragged him away from the others.

“Where to, flower?” Fiyero asked with a smile as he willingly went off with her.

“Forest. I have homework.”

His brows furrowed as he looked down at her, a little confused at the situation.

“You want to do homework in the forest?” he repeated, checking if he was correct.

She looked up at him, still linking their arms together as she led him out of the campus gates and towards the treeline. The only response he got was a smile and nod.

He chuckled at how nonchalant she was. He was curious, but by now he learned not to question it. That was exactly how their dynamics ran. Their. . . friendship. Best friendship.

Yeah. Just that.

She was trying to find a nice spot. He'd moved his arm so he could hold her hand instead, making it easier for them to navigate the terrain. Eventually she seemed satisfied with what she found, a small area by a little pond surrounded by bushes.

She led him to it, making them put their bookbags down on the grass before she knelt down by the pond. He might still be lost as to why they were here, but he was always one to go with the flow. So he took off his blazer and set it carefully over their bags, before coming to join her side.

“Morrible wrote a letter to the Wizard,” she finally informed.

With a smile full of hope, she looked over at him.

“She thinks I have a chance to meet him. But of course, I still have to be better. Prove myself worthy,” she continued.

He gave her his full attention as she talked, his eyes locked on her the whole time. Something bloomed in his chest as he saw how hopeful and excited she looked, like a child finally getting what they wanted.

“You're more than worthy,” he said softly.

She met his gaze, her smile so genuine and bright that Fiyero was certain she was the embodiment of the sun itself.

“I wanted to try something. Experiment some more,” she explained why they were there in the first place.

So Fiyero sat right there with her, keeping her company and giving encouragement as she tried multiple tricks. Trying to do bigger and better things. She often got frustrated when it didn't work, but he was always there to reassure her.

Like some kind of angel on her shoulder all the time.

It felt like a dream.

They were at the train station, a lot of her classmates seeing her off as she waited for the bullet train.

The Wizard had invited her to the Emerald City to see him — an absolute dream come true.

She was happy. Why wouldn't she be? This was what she's always wanted, everything she's worked for. To meet the Wizard and be his apprentice. To make Oz an even better place than it was.

Dreams, dreams, dreams.

Except something was missing. She looked around the platform, trying to find a pair of familiar blue eyes but they were absent. It didn't feel right to leave if she didn't see him first. She didn't even see him at Shiz earlier.

It was almost as if he was avoiding her.

Until she heard some thudding footsteps on the platform coming up behind her, making her turn her head and finally — there he was.

“No, I'm not late,” Fiyero spoke before she could even greet him. “I'm a prince, everyone's always arriving before me.”

She raised her brows in amusement, looking up at him knowingly. He had that usual charming persona again. The Winkie Prince everyone adored. But she knew better.

“Of course,” she went with it anyway.

They both simply chuckled together, standing in front of another with an odd sense of understanding. She was going off, chasing her dreams. They both knew this.

“You're going to do wonderful things, flower,” he said softly.

His eyes were looking at her like she was the only thing in existence at the moment. He was looking at his best friend like nothing else mattered. She was almost sure she saw a hint of longing there already, and she hadn't even left.

“Here's hoping,” she nodded with a soft smile.

“No, I know it,” he assured. “You're a remarkable person, you know?”

She gazed up at him with a gentle smile. Her eyes shone with something unspoken. She had so much she wanted to say before she left. She didn't even know how long it'd be until they saw each other again.

She suddenly wanted more time.

“It'll be different without you.”

She didn't quite expect him to be the one to admit that first. She knows. But she couldn't quite say it.

“You'll be fine. You've got the entirety of Shiz wrapped around your pinky,” she smiled softly.

Though it was more bittersweet than the usual bright ones that lit up even the darkest days. He noticed — he always would.

“They are,” he admitted, forcing a chuckle.

“None of them are you though.”

Her heart fluttered. His addition was so casual, but she could tell he wasn't just being charming as he always was. He was being sincere. He didn't think they compared to her. Not a single one.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then the train conductor called out for the passenger to board.

“Go,” he urged, giving her a smile when her head turned back to him instead of the train.

“Do what you do best. Bloom,” he said earnestly, reaching out to put a flower in her hair — the blue peony he'd been holding onto so dearly.

She nodded, about to step forward. She wanted to do something. One last thing. But instead she smiled, wishing him goodbye for now and got onto the train.

Fiyero stayed, watching her go. She was standing by the doorway of the train, waving everyone goodbye as it started a slow departure.

Her eyes were mainly on him though, a million unspoken words between them. He put his hands in his pocket, and only then did he realise he'd forgotten something.

“Wait!”

He jogged to get to her before the train could get past the platform, holding out a piece of paper. She held onto the railing, taking it from him.

“Keep it,” he said simply.

She unfolded the paper, finding it to be a drawing. She never realised he drew. It was a clear, pretty detailed drawing of her in pencil. It was probably from the day they were in the forest, when she was trying to do bigger tricks with her powers. There was a note in his familiar writing at the bottom;

'I hope you never stop blooming, wherever you find yourself to be — Your Fiyero'

She looked up, catching his eyes again.

Now or never.

“Come with me!”

Fiyero's eyes widened, before he jogged a little further to get closer to her. He was sure he heard wrong. She couldn't be asking that of him. Right?

“C'mon! You'll miss it,” she urged, holding a hand out.

They were inches away from the end of the platform. Inches away from her going away to the Emerald City indefinitely.

Fiyero hesitated. This was her dream. He'd never considered meeting the Wizard, not once. But he was starting to realise — he'd do just about anything for her.

Going off with her now was a risk. It could go badly, but then again, since when did he stress over rules?

He sped up, reaching out to grab her hand and letting her help him as he jumped right into the train. She nearly fell back when he jumped, both of them stumbling in.

His arms were quick to grab her, wrapping around her waist and keeping her close as he raised a hand to keep them both standing by holding onto a railing. Her own hands gripped onto his jacket, a laugh leaving her as she realised he just took that leap.

“I'll say, I didn't think you'd do it,” she admitted.

They were still flush against one another. Not that either of them minded.

His lips curved into a smile, almost flirtatious as he held her close like that.

“You underestimate what I'd do for you.”

She couldn't help it — she beamed up at him, feeling oddly happier now. Seeing the Wizard was always her dream. It's just that today, something felt odd. Until now, the second he took that leap to join her.

Fiyero had always found her fascinating. He was intrigued with her powers, first. Then he got to know her, finding out the kind of person she was. Oddly enough, they mellowed each other out perfectly. A good balance of reckless and organised.

They were perfect together. In every sense. He'd never been scared about making moves before. Usually it'd only take hours before he was shooting his shot with someone.

Not her though. It's been months of pure friendship first, despite the obvious attraction. But as he stood here, holding her after doing what was possibly the craziest thing in his life — which was saying something because he's done a lot in his short lifetime — he realised he wanted more.

Just friends wasn't enough anymore.

His eyes were locked with hers. She didn't look or move away. Her smile remained, even as her gaze momentarily drifted to his lips. She was sending all the right signals on purpose.

So he wasn't throwing away his shot this time. One hand went up to cup her cheek, caressing the swell of it gently before leaning in. A second's pause, just in case she changes her mind — she didn't.

His lips met hers sweetly. Finally. He kissed her like he was handling the most precious cargo, soft and slow yet they could both feel all the yearning that's been burning like a candle all this while.

He knew then and there; she was certainly a risk worth taking.

“I'll follow you anywhere, flower.”

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[misshuntereevee]

when you finally remember your past with your dragon, because i really just needed MC to remember. i needed the pay off. so here we are.

content: pure fluff

buy me a ko-fi 🫶🏻

You didn’t know what to expect. The protocore floating in front of you glistens red and you realize all at once that it is an aether core. Just like the one in your heart and in Sylus’ eye. You don’t know what possesses you, but you reach out, almost to grab it—

And then you feel it. A whole lifetime of tragedy and loss and also love… ramming into you at full speed. A kiss in a meadow of beautiful red flowers. A hand gently touching your face. The dragon you met while angry and lost. How you became each other’s worlds…

A gasp crashes out of your lips. A million memories, a million stories. Footsteps are heard from behind you. You realize you’re still in battlefield, you should be more careful -- but how could you? How could you when you just remembered everything. You raise your gun only to realize it’s Sylus who's entered the area.

“It’s only me, kitten.” His voice comes almost as a purr. He doesn’t seem to notice you’ve had an epiphany. You dropped your gun down to your lap, your breathing hard. Everything... came flooding back.

Because your dragon. He’s here. He’s always been here. You’d always felt that he was something more to you. That you’d known each other. Your gun clatters to the floor as you stare at him. Completely shell-shocked. He seems to be concerned now, although he only lets it slip by a slight furrowing of his brow.

“Sweetie?”

And just like that, you’re bolting to him. You catch air, landing into his arms. Your own arms go around his neck, hugging him tightly. He catches you like it’s nothing, holding on to you.

“What is this?” He says, his voice tinged with amusement and confusion.

“I remember. I remember you, my dragon.”

He pauses, and unlike Sylus’, his voice is shaky as he responds next. It sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know whether to believe it.

“You do?”

And then the song. The harmony he’d played you weeks ago. You remember the ending now. The end you never got to play because you’d end up in his arms, distracted. You remember that so clearly...

In that past life, you sit with him in his cave. He'd acquired an organ through a raid he'd performed on an abandoned city. Most times, Sylus found, humans would destroy each other, and he only had to pick up the pieces.

But Sylus didn't know that you knew how to play. His little sorceress. You took the seat at keys, staring at it with a gentle smile. He felt almost like he was intruding. Like this was a personal moment between you and the organ.

But to his amazement, you turn to look at him -- before patting the seat next to you. He didn't know what to think, but he sat next to you. You're so beautiful to him, as you start to play. Halfway through the song, right after the melody, your hair falls in your face.

While pushing it out of your face, your hands pause on the keys. You're both stuck in this moment. His hand on your cheek, your gentle eyes boring into his. How they could make him, a dragon, feel so vulnerable, he'll never understand. But one look from you is enough to level him.

And then you're both kissing in earnest. The keys play an ugly note of dissonance as they slip away and into his hair. His mouth explores yours, all while telling you how beautiful the music was. How he was going to covet it while he coveted you.

Later the next day, you heard him humming it as he polishes his gold. You make a note to play it more often. However... you never finished. You always got distracted by him.

So you hum it to him now. Proving to him that you remember. Realization crashes over his face. His red hues widening ever so slightly. That’s all he needs to hear before he’s lifting you up in his arms. His hands are firm, stern, but not harsh. Never harsh with you, his everything.

Both of your legs straddle his hip, and he’s looking at you, his eyes burning with passion. “I’ve waited so long,” he rasps, his eyes boring into yours. His forehead falls against your own. “I was starting to think I’d have to be content, making new memories, but here you are. My little sorceress.”

You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face. Your hands desperately touch whatever they can, mapping out his face. He doesn’t stop you, soaking up your affections.

“You’ve always loved me. Through anger, kindness— oh my dragon. My Sylus.”

There is a hint of a growl at that, and he kisses you deeply. He’s surging forward, using the fact you are in his arms to press you against a tree. The battle is long since over now, and he's focused on you.

“Say it again,” he demands, even as he continues to steal and roam your mouth in between words. It's like he's a man starved. He needs to hear it. He's waited so long.

He gave up everything for just the hope of you remembering again, and here you were. Sylus needed to hear these words as sure as he needed to breathe.

“Mine. My dragon!” You say in-between giggles and his incessant lips. You aren’t complaining though. He peppers against your skin, every inch that he can find. All while you're crying happy tears. "Don't leave. Never again." You say, over and over.

"A dragon never leaves its treasure," he says, his forehead finally pressing against yours. His eyes closed, as if he's breathing you in, feeling this moment. "And you're the most valuable treasure a creature could ever have."

[quadrantadvisor]

From @phantom-dc

I love this actually. Danny realizes that he can pull this and decides he can't miss his chance, but immediately after the title passes he starts feeling guilty. Not guilty enough to take it BACK, though. Maybe he runs off at first, but then starts imagining the Observants trying to contact this random guy and how confusing that would be, and comes back to explain things.

Jason HAS in fact been very confused by the glowing green stationary that shows up no matter how well he burns his safe houses and covers his tracks when he moves. Confused, and totally not scared out of his mind. The file boxes full of fantasy paperwork are the weirdest and most threatening prank anyone has ever pulled on him. He'd like to blame Tim, but he already asked Barbie, and she wouldn't let him get away with that. He keeps reading through the stacks, looking for some sort of code, something to make it make sense, but no, it's just, territory disputes between skeletons and yetis, complaint forms from Satan, something about allocating resources to restore the Greek sector. Jason does not get it at all.

And then there's a knock on his door, and it's that weird guy who laughed when Jason kicked the shit out him a couple weeks ago. He's crouched over, picking up another one of the file boxes from Jason's stoop. The guy straightens up and gives him a wry look. "Sorry about all this," he says.

So Danny starts explaining to Jason what happened, and obviously Jason just gets pissed and doesn't believe him at all at first, but Danny is able to convince him with facts and logic and a few strategic displays of the powers that he super didn't use when he threw that fight (Jason is very embarrassed to realize that).

And Danny helps Jason out. He explains what Jason's new responsibilities are, he sorts through the papers with him, he complains about the Observants and all the other officials in the Ghost Zone, and he drops a lot of mindblowing lore completely casually. Just by letting Danny ramble on, Jason learns what ectoplasm is, that it makes up the Infinite Realms, and that it must be part of his own makeup, or else he wouldn't have been able to inherit the throne.

Danny keeps helping out, Jason keeps not ceding the throne to someone else, and before the two of them know it, Jason is the feared and respected leader of the Realms for his ability to take no shit and get shit done, and Danny is his trusted right hand, advisor, and cultural liason. The Fright Knight title just seems natural, at that point. Danny is still doing a lot of the work that he despised before, but at least it's split between the two of them, and Jason is happy to make the tough and unpopular decisions that paralyzed Danny. And Danny is also deeply invested in keeping Jason safe. No reason. Not like he's deeply in love with him after all the time they've spent together or anything.

Ghost King Jason

Danny gets into a fight with The Red Hood. The Red Hood says the words "I challenge you, You M--F--" Danny looks him square in the eyes and says "Challenge Accepted." before promptly throwing the fight.

Now being the Ghost King is Jason's Problem.

[ubeb0nes]

Sevika x fem!bar owner!reader

Pt. 2

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a/n: sorry this took so long lmao. I completely scrapped the first version i wrote of this because it just got too damn long

regardless, we're here now and i hope you enjoy!!

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"So… what is it exactly that you do?"

You'd asked her the question on yet another night where she'd stayed extra late, long after the last patrons had bid you a good night (or very early morning) and all the chairs had gone up.

(Sevika had put them up, even after you'd distinctly told her not to before you went into the kitchen. Your fault, really)

She ponders the question, wondering if you're playing at something more or really just asking. She knows you're smart. It's why she likes you. But she just doesn't know how smart.

"I hurt people, usually," she said casually. If the answer offended you, you displayed the opposite of it.

Your glasses clinking was the only sound to clash with the jukebox, ringing in a gentle sense of understanding on your part.

"A lucrative business here," you say.

"In the long-term. Better be, at least."

For someone who's known as The Lioness of the Lanes, it's a while before you ever see her lion'ing about or whatnot.

She's never violent in your establishment. But you know bad people, you know how to pick up someone's capacity for violence. Sevika has a huge one.

But you understand quickly that there's a reason she's called 'Lioness' and not 'hyena', or something. Her violence is never undue. If she bares her teeth, it's to protect.

Physical altercations aren't at all uncommon in your bar. It's the Undercity after all, these things happen but people always move on from it quickly.

You've noticed that people always seem to... "act right" whenever Sevika's at your bar that night. The meanest-looking men in your bar straighten their posture when she walks by their table, others greeting her with a nod of respect (or submission).

"Wow. I'm glad you like me, at least," you say as she sits down, right in front of you like always.

"Says who?" And she always gives that smug little smile when you laugh in response.

While she's watched/admired you put more than one customer on their ass for trying to cause a scene in your establishment, it's always with a protective posture.

She goes into guard dog mode the moment you cross out from behind the protection of your bar to tell a drunkard off. Her poker buddies poke fun at her for it.

She intervenes before you even get the chance to one time. Perhaps it's because the man keeps drunkenly bumping into her shoulder, or because his boisterous voice keeps causing her head to snap over to him.

You're busy laughing at her expense when the man turns his antics on you. You're perfectly content to brush off whatever rudeness he spouts at you, but Sevika clearly isn't when her hand shoots out and grabs the back of his neck.

He'd called you a dumbass or something of the sort in a more distasteful manner when you'd cut him off. Sevika's eyes had flared with a personal, wrathful anger before she'd grabbed him by the scruff.

"You know better," she snaps. It would be as if she were lecturing a child if it weren't for the man's face pressed against the bar. She's pressing him into the surface with nothing but the strength of her human arm, her large body looming over his as he slurs out an apology.

God, you wished she would grab you like that- who said that??

The next time she comes in, you insist her whiskey's on the house.

"Consider it compensation for dealing with that guy last night." She rolls her eyes at you as she lights her cigarillo on the lighter you offer, and throws a few bills on the bartop anyway (hot).

You throw them back at her with a playful glare, and subsequently earn yourself a real one. You feel a shiver run down your spine that's for any reason but fear.

"Don't play this game with me, you'll lose." To you, that really didn't sound all that bad.

Before you can even think, she's leaning forward and tucking the bills into the pocket of your apron in the middle of your sternum. The look she wears is challenging as she sits back, almost expectant of a reaction.

You don't disappoint, reaching out with two fingers to pluck the cigarillo from her lips and taking your own drag. Your eyes never leave hers, watching her shamelessly stare at that damn cigarillo with a burning jealousy.

"Hm. I picked a good brand, didn't I?" "Yeah, yeah, hand it back before you choke, princess."

You try not to let it get to your head (and heart) how it makes you feel when she calls you that, or any other name like 'baby', 'sweetheart', or 'beautiful'.

And you try not to let it get to your head how you seem to be the only one here who she calls those things.

Neither of you had any idea how hopelessly hers you already were.

While Sevika's "occupation" slowly becomes clearer to you, the amount of energy she puts into protecting you is completely out of sight and mind.

She tries to convince herself that her reasoning for continually lying in Silco's face is purely pragmatic; you're good for the community, providing a warm reprieve for the kids in the city against the harsh reality of Silco's slow revolution. As far as she's concerned, Zaun profits more from your continued thriving than any amount of money she could intimidate out of you.

The idea of ever coming into your bar for collections makes her a little sick, if she's honest. Never you. It's far too late for that now.

So when Silco sends her to do exactly that (because you're just that savvy at running your business), she feels her heart churn. She can only say no to Silco so many times and in so many ways. There's no way around this one without raising his suspicions, and she doesn't have the backing to combat that yet.

Your unfailing smile when you see her comes in makes her want to punch her own face in. She hates that she's fond of you.

"Hey good-lookin', you're late! What kept y-" "I'm here on business this time." "O..oh...?"

She explains Silco's tax with a coldness you've grown unfamiliar with from her. You take it like you would a slap to the face, growing angry before you can risk feeling sad.

"Sevika, what the hell is this? I've minded my damn business ever since I opened, the hell did I do to piss him off?" "It isn't personal, princess. You asked me what I do. I don't think I ever gave you the impression it was pretty." "If I knew petty extortion was what freedom-fighting meant to you, then I would've kept those cigs for myself."

You don't give her much more room to say anything after that before you're throwing a bag of coins at her and telling her to get the fuck out. She expected as much. You were hardy and quick to adapt, just like Zaun.

Sevika's done plenty of things in the name of a better future that she isn't proud of. But your money seemed to burn a hole through her hand, and the sting didn't fade even after she'd dropped it on Silco's desk.

"Good work," he said flippantly, as if she didn't always do good work. Go to hell.

She imagines it's your hand holding her lighter when she smokes through nearly half a pack later that night.

The soft voice of a shelved version of her whispers that maybe just this once, she should fight for something only she wants.

She tries to push away the thought and reason that it was always going to end up this way anyways, while you close down the bar for the night alone.

[maikelfist]

Working Title: Man With Big Dick Fucks His Precious Boy

Okay so I had the weirdest, most random ass idea for post-breakup BuckTommy and it just got more and more random the more I kept going. It's all over the place, I kind of rushed near the end, I have no idea where I was going with this. I would call this a fever dream more than I would call it a fic but it's here now so might as well throw it at you guys PS: Don't get fooled by the working title, this is more sappy than sexy

Buck's sex life went from mind-blowing, life-changing and so-so-active to absolutely nothing in what felt like seconds, and unfortunately, his libido hasn't gotten the memo yet. He'd been advised to throw himself out there again multiple times now, but every single cell in his body recoils at the idea. I'm not your last, I'm your first. Yeah well, we'll see about that.

It feels like a no-brainer to start watching gay porn since that's what he's currently missing the most. He jerks off to a handsome guy—the hint of cleft in his chin may or may not have been the reason Buck clicked on the video—fucking into a pretty twunk, and honestly, Buck is having a good time. It’s only when tears begin to swell in his eyes after he comes with Tommy’s name on his lips that he realizes he should not do that again.

The next videos he watches pointedly feature plump bears and dainty twinks, but even then, Buck can't help but make comparisons. Can't hold a rhythm, not attentive enough, where are the reassurances?

Buck comes to a visceral, gut-wrenching realization: Every single guy he considers will have to measure up to one Thomas fucking Kinard from now on.

So.

No gay porn for Buck anymore.

He moves to het videos, and the second realization of his latest porn binge hits him a lot quicker. There is absolutely no way he will ever be able to go back to regular straight sex again. Buck is very, very bi, and even relationships with women will have to be queer from now on.

Of course, porn isn't reality, but being confronted with the exaggerated heteronormativity of it all—the idea of fulfilling a society-given role after Buck learned what things can feel like when he's allowed to be himself—makes his stomach churn.

Living in a post-Tommy world is not an easy feat.

In between baking like he's preparing for an apocalypse, Buck keeps going down a rabbit hole of trying to find porn that would help him take his mind off Tommy.

Luckily, after browsing the most obscure, likely virus-infested websites the internet has to offer, Buck finds a video that instantly becomes a staple in his tabs—a comforting presence whenever he feels lonely, which these days is all the time. He doesn't even bother closing it.

As long as it took him to find the video, it’s quickly forgotten when Tommy and Buck make up.

The reunion is messy and like a balm for Buck's wounds. It is filled with tears and Tommy's ability to make difficult conversations feel easy—something Buck had desperately missed when Tommy chose to walk out of his life. It’s a skill Tommy can apparently lose when he’s petrified with fear. Buck vows to chip away at all of Tommy's worries now that Buck is aware of them. Now that Tommy lets him.

It's strange and not surprising at all how much like coming home it feels to have Tommy back. How easy it is for Buck to cook for them in his kitchen while Tommy looks for something they can watch later on Buck's laptop.

"I found this documentary about hyper-regional food," Tommy says.

Buck perks up from the herbs he's cutting. "Like Threads of God? Do you know that only three women in Sardinia know how to make that type of pasta?"

Tommy hums at that. "Sounds like we don't need to watch it."

Buck laughs and lowers his eyes to the herbs again. "No, I want to. But isn't there a new part of that car restoration series you like?"

"We can watch that later." Tommy emphasizes the last word in a way that makes another part of Buck perk up.

Early in their relationship, they found out that there are few things that can make Buck relax and fall asleep quicker than the sight of competent hands making old things look new to the rhythmic sound of metal being hammered and ground. This means Tommy has to make sure it's him that gets to tire Buck out before the video has a chance to. Thankfully, Tommy seems to be fine with Buck never reaching the end of any of the restoration videos he likes.

Tommy makes an intrigued noise of interest that breaks Buck out of his musings. "Ooor we can watch this."

Buck listens to the sounds of shuffling and smacking, confusion furrowing his brows before recognition seizes him by the throat.

"Oh my God!" The parsley Buck is holding ends up somewhere in Nirvana as he hurriedly frees his hands to grab his laptop. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod—" Since when is closing a laptop so fucking difficult?

Tommy lets him fumble for a moment, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. It’s infuriating how he waits until Buck, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, finally meets his gaze before speaking slowly and deliberately, savoring each syllable.

"Woman With Dragon Dick Fucks Her Precious Girl."

Buck is glad he wasn't cutting chili because there's no way he can stop himself from pressing his fingers into his eyes as he whines, "You don't have to say it out loud!"

"I simply appreciate the originality of the title."

God, why was Buck a firefighter when he couldn't even do anything about his face being on fucking fire?

"Look, I missed you, and I couldn't watch gay porn because they either reminded me too much of you or they weren't you, and regular straight porn was tedious, so I found this feminist porn site, and I didn't feel bad about supporting them, and please, please don't judge—"

"Evan." Tommy says his name in a way that allows no ifs and buts. "I'm not judging." Buck has learned to hold his breath when Tommy speaks to him in that no-nonsense sternness. It's a Pavlovian reaction that sends shivers down his spine. Tommy raises his thumb to the birthmark on Buck's temple, gently brushing it as his voice softens. "I'm taking note." Buck exhales shakily and leans into the touch.

Tommy reaches for the laptop, opens it, and enters the password that Buck shared with him even before they broke up. He moves to stand behind Buck, arms wrapped around him, as he hits play again.

The titular precious girl is on all fours, purring kittenish noises into the mattress as the woman kisses her neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings into her skin. She's fucking her strap-on in between her thighs, making sure the dildo rubs against all the right spots.

"The shape is interesting," Tommy observes. He glances at Evan, unsure of what kind of reaction his comment will provoke. Maybe some more bashfulness, maybe a sweet sigh similar to the ones the girl is making on screen while the dildo enters her.

Instead, Evan turns to him with an excited smile on his full lips. "Yeah, right? I found this website. Wait, hold on—" Evan pauses the video, opens a new tab, and Tommy is hit with the sight of colorful, artfully crafted fantasy dildos. Handmade, apparently.

Evan starts rambling about which ones he finds the most appealing, what media they're inspired by. Tommy has never heard him talk this much about pop culture, and no one is ever allowed to know that Evan learned about Avatar this way. Chimney would get an aneurysm.

Having Evan in his life means being in a constant state of whiplash, and Tommy has learned that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tommy keeps in mind which ones Evan pointed out and makes a mental note to take a look at the cock sleeves the store has to offer before gently nudging Evan back to the porn.

"What else do you like about the video?" Evan relaxes back into him as they keep watching. Tommy can guess what Evan might find hot about it, but he would like to hear it from Evan before making assumptions. He also just wants to hear Evan, period.

"I like— I like that she's sweet to her? Most of the time, women in straight femdom porn are just mean, like men being dominated by women is automatically degrading. I don't like that."

Tommy hums in acknowledgment, enjoys the small gasp he receives as he dips his fingers into a gap in Evan's button-down shirt, playing with the trail of hair on Evan's stomach. That Evan likes sweet talk isn't new information, but hearing it is always nice. "Keep going," Tommy encourages.

"But she's also kind of… possessive about it? She calls her 'my treasure' a couple of times. I love it when she does. It's like—it's—she—she's—"

"Cherishing her?"

Evan sighs and nods, rubbing his temple against Tommy's.

Tommy leans in, noses at the pulse point of Evan's neck as he goes in for the kill. "Claiming her?"

Evan's moan sounds like it was punched out of him, and Tommy barely has enough time to hold onto the laptop to keep it from being dragged down as Evan turns to kiss him.

Tommy braces himself, gathering more and more courage with each kiss before he makes claims he prays to whatever God might be listening aren’t wrong. "You want me to hold on to you? Make you mine and never let go?"

A heart-wrenching sob escapes Evan's mouth, and Tommy swallows it greedily. "God yes, please!"

Evan keeps pressing pleas against his lips, and Tommy desperately wants to give in, but there is just one small thing that needs to be done first.

"Evan, the thing you're making, can—can that wait?" The last time they allowed themselves to get distracted while cooking, Evan kept pouting afterwards over the food being 'ruined'. In an attempt to cheer him up, Tommy had said that he couldn't tell the difference which had just made things worse. He wouldn't make that mistake again. There are many mistakes he wouldn't make again.

Evan utters a dazed noise before clarity settles into his features. "Oh. Yeah. It'll just marinate."

Tommy nods and moves to turn off the stove, Evan clinging to his side. He returns his attention to Evan, fingers playing with his curls.

The stove was a short distraction, but long enough to ensure that Tommy's next words are spoken with all the gravitas they deserve. "My treasure."

Another broken sound escapes Evan's throat as he burrows into Tommy and continues what they started.

Tommy hates breaking things, but, God, does he love repairing them. He knows he has a lot to make up for, and he will do it happily. If that means wiping away his boyfriend's tears and indulging in his trauma-induced dragon kink, so be it.

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you��filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[thezombieprostitute]

Taking Care of You

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: hot chocolate/apple cider/tea and a nice book

Warnings: Implied smut, Language, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I'm missing any!

Series Masterlist

You were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, alternating between watching the snow fall and reading your book while drinking cider made from the apples you and Steve had picked earlier in the year. Back before you knew you were pregnant.

Your smile widens at the memory of Steve trying to tell you about it. That it was the reason he'd been in such a territorial, protective mood. You weren't upset with him but you did ask about a pregnancy test or two to confirm. He understood and not only got you the pregnancy tests but also got you a doctor appointment to confirm. Sure enough, you were about a month along then.

Since then Steve has been going into overdrive to make sure you and the baby are safe and comfortable. Emphasis on the comfortable. You never thought you'd go for the kind of man that takes care of almost literally everything for you, but Steve might be changing your mind on that. He somehow manages to be around all the time without feeling suffocating. Even when you go into town together and he's in full on guard mode. If anything, his caring, protective side just makes your hormones go even more out of control.

As if on cue, Steve comes into the living room from his workshop. He's been working on a handmade crib for the little one, insisting he wants the pup to be surrounded by familial scents. He must have worked up a sweat because his shirt is off and you lick your lips at his exposed torso. You gently squeeze your thighs together and he gives you a knowing look.

"Does my girl need some attention?" he almost growls.

"Please, Steve," you whine.

"Tell me what you need, Doll."

"I need you to fuck me, Steve," you whimper. "I need you to fill my pussy with your cock, please!"

Steve's pupils are blown as he starts unwrapping you from your blankets. "It'll cost you, you know."

"What's the price?" you moan. The blankets are off and his hands are pushing down your sweatpants.

"First I get to eat your pussy like it's my last meal."

A shiver runs down your spine as you whimper, "yes, please."

You're woken up by the sound of Steve's voice. You feel a slight pressure on your stomach and, after blinking a few times, you realize Steve is talking to the small bump created by the baby.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he confesses to the baby bump. "But I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and your mama are safe and happy." He pauses for a few moments. "That being said, we gotta have a talk about your eating habits. I get that you want a lot of protein but you need to let Mama eat some vegetables. You both need the nutrients. It can't be steak, pork chops, and ham all the time. Though you do seem to accept soups and stir fry. Maybe Mama can teach me how to make those so she can rest some more. Don't think I haven't noticed how tired she's gotten. Seriously, you gotta let her eat some veggies."

His one-sided conversation is interrupted by your giggles.

"Excuse you," he playfully chides, "I'm having a conversation here."

"You're talking to my belly," you counter.

"I'm talking to our baby, thank you."

You both smile softly when he says that. You gesture for him to move in close for a kiss and he acquiesces.

"And I know you're going to be a great dad," you assure him, making his cheeks turn pink.

"We won't know for certain until the baby is here."

"Trust me," you hug him. "You're already working hard to make sure this baby has a great start in life. You've even been reaching out to other werewolves, something you've never done before, just to ask about things for me and the baby. You swallowed your pride for us. That's no small endeavor."

Steve nuzzles his beard against your neck. "Thank you for giving me a much better, richer life than I ever thought I'd get."

"My pleasure, Steve."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[grapejuice32]

pls pls pls do kook JJ x reader. i love seeing how the money takes his recklessness up a notch

Yet Again

Kook!JJ x Kook!reader

Masterlist

Notes : Kook JJ would be an absolute menace and he would be best friends with Rafe, you can't convince me otherwise

It'd been an unusual amount of time since you'd heard from JJ, usually he would be hassling you to join him at the country club or to join him and Rafe at Tannyhill, or he'd just show up at your house out of the blue. So when it had been about 12 hours since you'd heard from him, you got concerned. But you weren't concerned that something had happened to him, no, you were concerned that he had gotten himself into some trouble by doing something stupid with Rafe. Again. When the time on your phone showed that it was now 2am, you decided to give up on waiting to hear from him and to just go to sleep. But of course, typical as ever, as soon as you began to drift off, your phone's blaring ring tone woke you up. After being with JJ for a year, you'd learnt that it was best not to put your phone on silent, considering he would call you at all sorts of times for all sorts of reasons.

You picked your phone up, your eyes squinting as you read the words, Kildare Sheriffs Department, on the screen and you groaned, "Hello?"

"This is Shoupe, just thought I'd let you know you might want to come get your boy. I've just received some noise complaints about some get together him and Rafe are having," The way he delivered the message sounded very well rehearsed and it didn't surprise you since phone calls like this were incredibly regular for you to receive, "they're somewhere down on the beach."

"Yeah, thanks Shoupe." You sighed, hanging up the phone and pulling on a pair of shorts with one of JJ's t-shirts you'd already been wearing. When complaints about JJ came in, Shoupe tended to just call you to deal with it considering the two times he had detained JJ had resulted in a mass of complaints that he couldn't be bothered to put up with on the regular. You left your house and climbed into your car and made the short drive over to the part of the beach they frequented, when you got there you groaned at the load music playing from the speakers of Rafe's truck.

You got out the car and made you way to where you could see JJ and Rafe sat on a log, sharing a blunt between them, JJ let out a loud holler when he saw you, raising his arms in a cheer, his face dropping when he saw the glare he was receiving from you.

"Oh hey, mama. What's with the face, huh?" He feigned innocence, though the smirk lining his lips told you he knew exactly why.

"Noise complaint. Again. It's two in the fucking morning, J." You raised your brows, snatching the beer from his hand he bought it up to his lips and taking a swig of it, turning your nose up at how warm the beverage was, "I was going to sleep when I got the call."

He mockingly pouted at you, "Oh 'm sorry, baby. C'mere," he tapped his thigh, beckoning you to come sit on his lap causing you to roll your eyes and let him place his hands on. your waist and pull you down onto him, "there, all better now, huh."

You huffed and lay your head on his shoulder, ignoring Rafe's drunken snickering from behind you. You lasted a total of two minutes before you grew tired of the pounding music, "I wanna go home." You mumbled into JJ's ear, also hoping to kill the party by getting JJ to leave.

"Shit, yeah okay. Let's go get you into bed, huh?" He pulled you out of his lap and stood, swinging an arm around your shoulders and finishing off his beer.

"So fuckin' whipped, man." Rafe chuckled from besides you, "Get her back in one piece, can't have us gettin' in trouble without her there to get us out f'it."

JJ laughed and slapped Rafe's shoulder, "See you tomorrow, man."

He pulled you tighter into his side and pressed a kiss to your temple as he walked you both in the direction of your car. The drive back to your place was silent, he rested a hand on your thigh and you could feel his eyes on you as you kept yours on the road while you drove. By the time you got home it was half three, as soon as the both of you were in your bedroom you pulled off your shorts and climbed into bed, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You could hear the rustling of clothes as JJ got undressed and slipped into bed beside you in just his boxers. His arm slid around your waist and he pressed a few apologetic kisses to your exposed neck, you hummed and rolled over to face him, laying your head on his bare chest, "Thanks for coming home when I asked."

" 'S no problem, mama. But I um-" he cut himself off clearing his throat like he was debating confessing something to you.

A sigh of annoyance escaped you, "What've you done?" You murmured half asleep.

"I uh, I may have gotten into some debt with Barry that I need help with cause I've been cut off for a couple of weeks..." He admitted sheepishly, causing you to let out a disgruntled groan.

You tangled your legs between his and whispered, "Just shut up and go to sleep," not wanting to have to listen to how he'd been cut off yet again for spending his money on stupid things, yet again, you didn't even bother to ask if Rafe could pay if off, knowing that if JJ had been cut off then Rafe probably had too, "I'll deal with it in the morning."

"Love you, baby." He drawled, bringing a hand up from where it had rested on your waist to run through your hair soothingly, you hummed in acknowledgement as you drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for another day being spent getting JJ out of trouble.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[mymoshangthoughts]

the thing about my mobei jun hcs are that i believe two things are equally true

mobei jun is helplessly in love with (airplane) shang qinghua and would do literally anything for him, finds him charming, wants to spend the rest of his life with him, would simp 100%, very in love

mobei jun absolutely hates that sniveling motherfucking stupid piece of dumb shit (airplane) shang qinghua and spends many days thinking about how nice it would be to pop off his stupid little head so that he'd stop with all the fucking bullshit and also, fuck that guy

like i think he finds pathetic crybaby airplane to be the cutest thing ever. and he simultaneously thinks he's the most obnoxious bastard ever.

to be fair, i think most of his hate comes solely from the fact that:

airplane is clearly lying to him, has been clearly lying to him, their whole fucking relationship is basically a lie from day 1 and getting him to say anything sincere is like pulling teeth

airplane is not his type. oki bear with me, i know that i SAY two-faced crybabies are his type and thats because THEY ARE. but its like, he doesnt REALIZE that's his type and it's also the type he hates. highkey, this man has 'uncle issues' and realizing that his type is lowkey similar to his uncle is a reality that he is NOT ready to cope with. so he very much THINKS thats the type of person he hates most, even tho he's weak to it

airplane is NOT RESPONDING APPROPRIATELY TO ANY OF HIS COURTING ATTEMPTS, NOT EVEN GIVING AN APPROPRIATE REJECTION. IT IS MADDENING. try being strung along for many years with someone who keeps kinda giving you HOPE they miiigggghhhttt like you back, but then they rescind it just as quickly. over and over and over until you kinda hate them a little bit

i just love the contradiction of mobei jun being very ready to be a devoted and loving partner while also being very ready and happy to punt shang qinghua into a death-cave, oki? like he's been strung along for WAY TOO LONG not to have some hang ups about his shitty not-boyfriend

in other words, our beloved ice demon king is a motherfucking tsundere. to his very core, this trsundere is dying at all times because he simultaneously loves and hates the object of his affection and feels deeply embarrassed by his own feelings and equally shameless about them. mobei jun is pretty much ready at all times to completely deny any affection ever held for shang qinghua with a cold passion AND to shamelessly announce that this is his consort, his husband, the owner of his heart, and the only one he ever wants near him and the person he cares for most in this world

our precious tsundere king is sliiiggghhttly just trying to guard his heart from breaking because shang qinghua basically sends him every single mixed message in the world and LOOK IT MAKES HIM A LOT INSANE

when he tastes even a whiff of rejection from shang qinghua, mobei jun is ready to close himself off and haughtily sniff "i never liked that human anyway, fuck off. im not crying at all". at the slightest indication that shang qinghua returns his affections, he's ready to throw away almost all of his pride and cling to him desperately

i love him so much. mobei jun is so fucking silly and i love it. he absolutely is mad at shang qinghua and holds a grudge against him (for various reasons). but he's also so down bad for shang qinghua that it's a bit sad lmfaooo

expanding upon my previous thoughts of "shang qinghua totally tricking mobei jun into marrying him without his knowledge", i'd just like to say that i think it's a particularly amazing thought with regards to mobei jun's Very Conflicted Heart in mind

like he's split in equal parts "omg omg omg im his!? he's mine?! WE'RE MARRIED?!?!?! HE LOVES ME?!!? HEAD EMPTY, NEED QINGHUA, WHERE QINGHUA, MUST QINGHUA, LOVE QINGHUA, AHHHHHHHHH, NEED HUSBAND NOW" and ".........im going to kill him. im going to skin him alive. im going to roast him over one of those fires he loves so fucking much and eat his organs in front of him while he pleads for his life. THAT MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE HIM IM GONNA--"

[clarkeyhill]

Love Language| Arthur Hill

Fluff

It was a common trait of Arthur's to cling on to any member of the group after a few drinks, you especially. A clutch of a finger, a link of an arm or even a piggy back. No matter the small or large gesture, his love language was physical touch and it warmed your heart.

The night was alive, drinks were flowing and you were out for your annual new year drinks. Toasting to the year you'd all had and so on. You were sat next to Arthur as you sipped on your cocktail, suddenly you felt a little finger brush against your pinky. Arthur was searching for it. You look down at your hand to see he'd placed his pinky on top of yours, you smile as you look up at him, totally engrossed in the conversation he was having with George but non the less still needed to feel the touch of you regardless if you were next to him.

It was getting late and you all decided to head back to the flat, George and Arthur emerged from the bar arms linked as they skipped out like little kids. You shook your head as you turned to Chris.

"Have you ever noticed how Arthur has to sort of touch any of us in some way after a few drinks?" You ask

"What do you mean?" He replies

"Like, he uses it to express his love, a small piggy bag, linking arms etc, anything" you say

"Now you mention it, yeah. I've noticed that too" he chuckles

All of a sudden George and Arthur stop in their tracks and Arthur grips the sides of George's face, pecking his lips.

"Hey!" You bellow as you stand and fold your arms in laughter

George turns to you "I promise I did not kiss back he is yours" he holds his hands up into surrender as you shake your head

Arthur shuffles over to you, stumbling as he made his way. A grin perched on his face

"Come here" he says outstretching his arms as he wraps his arms around you

"We're nearly home Arthur come on" you chuckle as he shakes you side to side

"I know but I just needed a quick hug" he says pulling away as you shoot a look to Chris, proving your point

You take Arthur's hand as you continue to walk towards the flat. The cold air brushing your rosy cheeks as the night drew in.

You get to the flat and kick your shoes off, running the tap for a glass of water as you take it to your bedroom. Setting it on Arthur's side of the bed. As you help him into the room, slipping his shirt and bottoms off leaving him in his boxers. He slips under the duvet as you change into your loungewear. Joining him in bed shortly after.

Arthur rolls to face you as you tuck his curls behind his ears "I love that physical touch is your way of expressing your love for your friends" you smile

"What do you mean?" He asks

"You know, whenever we're out after a few drinks you seem to sort of need to touch atleast one member of the group in the space of the night as a love gesture, it's cute" you chuckle

"I never realised" he laughs shaking his head

"I love that about you" you smile snuggling up to his chest

"And I love you" he says pressing a kissing on your forehead

It wasn't long until you were both asleep, snuggled into eachother.

-

🫶🏻

[lunarmothim]

a thing of beauty - kyle garrick x reader

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

word count: 1.7k tags/warnings: i tried to do some plot what plot? but here we are with some fluffy head instead :D established relationship, oral (m receiving), afab/fem presenting reader (brief mentions of periods)

When you pictured your future as a kid- the kind of life you'd lead, the kind of person you'd marry, grow old with, you never once imagined Kyle.

If anything, Kyle was the antagonist in your otherwise picture-perfect story, the annoying boy next door who ran after you with worms, laughing while you screamed, who shoved handfuls of snow down the back of your coat during snowball fights, who liked to tease you by tugging your hair when he sat behind you in class.

He's just doing it because he likes you, your mum had cooed when you complained to her about him, even well after you'd passed the age where that logic would be something believable. At the time you'd huffed at her in irritation, telling her she didn't know him like you did, that he was mean and would she please just talk to his mum and make him stop?

He did, eventually, when you grew older and chasing you with worms turned into chasing you down the hall, giving you his jacket to tie around your waist when you unexpectedly got your period during history class. When hands shoving snow down your clothes turned into hands awkwardly holding your hips while he kissed you in a closet at Maggie Luwin's fifteenth birthday party, your friends jeering at you through the door until your seven minutes were up. When tugging your hair became pulling your hair, one hand fisted in the strands and the other over your mouth while you both tried not to wake his roommate in a tiny uni dorm room.

No, those were not moments you had ever imagined Kyle being involved in.

And you certainly had never imagined him grinning up at you from one knee in the middle of a Tesco, telling you that you were the only person he could imagine doing something as mundane and domestic as debating over cereal choices with for the rest of his life, so would you please do him the honor of marrying him? No plan, no ring, just that pretty smile of his you'd never thought you'd fall in love with and a promise to do it right, do it better, if you'd only say yes-

Which had brought you here, perched on his lap with the ring he'd picked up on his way home from the airport four months after the proposal on your finger while he presses soft, lazy kisses to your throat, the dinner you'd started for your engagement party forgotten in the slow cooker.

("I'll get you somethin' bigger," he'd promised, down on one knee again with a tired smile.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," you'd replied, dragging him up off the ground to kiss you.)

"So pretty," he sighs against your skin, large palms warm against your back through your shirt. "And all mine. How'd I get so lucky, huh?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," you can't help but tease him, soft and breathy, and he chuckles low in his throat, pulling you tighter against him. He's hard beneath you, sliding those warm hands down the velvety fabric of your skirt while his nose nudges gently against your jaw, a silent request to give him better access to your neck. The tilt of your head to the left comes without argument, but with a soft warning. "Kyle, we don't have time for this."

"We can make time," he murmurs, grazing his teeth over your pulse with just enough pressure to make you melt into him, his voice a low rumble against your throat. "They'll understand. Should've celebrated together first, anyway."

"You have the rest of your life to celebrate with me," you try again, but there's no real fight to your words, no move made to stop him from slipping his hands beneath your skirt and up your thighs.

You both know that you'd caved the second he tugged you into his lap.

"Even that's not enough time," he laments, dragging his mouth up in search of yours. You taste the icy edge of a menthol on his breath under the sweet mint gum he'd tried to hide it with, probably bummed from the neighbour despite his promises to quit, but you don't care to chastise him for it right now- not when his fingers, long and impossibly delicate for his line of work, are creeping up your outer thighs to catch on the thin lace of your panties, giving them a playful tug. "C'mon, love, just a little taste."

"'Just a little taste,'" you mock him, retaliating with a nip at his lower lip that has him laughing, tugging the plush flesh between your teeth as you draw back. "Last time you said that you missed drills and John came by for a wellness check."

"Hey now, no need to bring him into this," Kyle responds, tugging at your panties again. "I can be quick-"

"You said that, too. Think we have different definitions of the word, babe."

"Oh yeah? What's yours, then?"

It's the wrong thing to say- or maybe the right thing, if his reaction to the way you shift back along his thighs in response is anything to go by, pupils blowing wide when you drag your nails down the hard planes of his abdomen to the edge of his belt. He inhales, slow and controlled, when you tug his blue button up out of its neat tuck, but his exhale when you trace the shape of his belt buckle with one knuckle is shaky. A shudder melts down his spine, the sweet dark honey of his eyes following every steady movement of your hand.

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

You look at him sometimes and can't understand how someone like him could want someone like you. But he does, and it leaves you breathless.

The button of his jeans slips out with ease, followed by the rasp of his zipper. He lifts his hips to help you work the dark denim down his thighs until you can pull his cock free, trailing your fingers up the length of him. He moans soft and low at the touch, the whisper of your thumb grazing over the head.

Dark eyes, wide black circles ringed with honey, find yours when you slowly raise your thumb to press it into your mouth, the tip salty with his precum.

"Christ, love," Kyle groans, sucking in a harsh breath when you slide down out of his lap, settling on the floor between his knees. "Thought you said we didn't have time?"

"Oh, now you care?" you tease him, looking up at him through your lashes. His hips jerk when your hand circle the base of him, those pretty eyes half-lidded and hazy, the column of his throat stretching taut when his head tips against the back of the couch. Beautiful. You tell him as much, murmuring it against his knee and feeling him pulse beneath your hand.

You whisper it again if only to hear the soft noise he makes in response, something like a purr rumbling in his chest. His fingertips brush over your cheeks, gently caress your jaw, catch under the edge of the bone and press in to guide you forward.

"Fuck," he sighs, hands sliding back to gather your hair at the nape of your neck, out of your face, when you take him into your mouth, salt-slick and heavy against your tongue. His thumbs sweep over your hollowed out cheeks, groaning again when you hum softly in thanks. He already sounds utterly wrecked, raw and undone and you haven't even done anything yet. "Fuck, love. Look so pretty with your mouth on my cock."

God, he even sounds pretty, letting out the most delicious little whimper when you reward his praise by throating him to the base.

The tick of his watch by your ear reminds you of your purpose here, your demonstration of the word quick. Five minutes from start to finish is your record, a skill he'd learned you had in a cramped supply closet on base one day when you'd brought him lunch, your mouth wrapped around him damn near dropping him to the floor.

Bracing one hand against his thigh, you reach up with the other until you feel the stretch of his throat beneath your palm. The tip of his tongue swipes over the pad of your finger when you hook it into his mouth, using the leverage to pull his head down until he meets your eyes.

He's gone, mouth falling open in a deep moan that has you squeezing your thighs together, the anchor of his hand against the back of your head becoming a steady hold as he bucks up into your mouth. Neatly trimmed, wiry curls scratch at your nose as he spills hot and thick down your throat, fingers flexing against your skull in a stuttered clench-and-release until he goes still, breathing hard.

You draw away slowly, hollowing your cheeks as you drag back up his length. You think he might shove you right back down when you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up every last drop of his release, but his hand falls slack to his side instead, squeezing against the couch cushion.

"That wasn't fair," he wheezes around your finger still in his mouth, biting down gently just above the metal of your ring. "Gonna be the death of me."

"Not yet," you tease, squeezing his thigh and using it to push up to your feet, withdrawing your finger as you lean in to kiss him. You can almost feel his smile when you drag your lips up to his ear, nipping at the lobe. "But maybe when our guests leave."

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune line divider by @/gildui

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[cryptid-killjoy]

When Mazzie asked Ellie if she'd planned on staying too Babyface knew it wasn't her plan. They hadn't even spoke about it. Still, put on the spot he knew it was his plan all along. He knew from the moment he stepped foot on the boat. He'd known long before that if he ever got the chance to step foot here again and get a do over what he'd do different.

This was it. He'd stay. He wouldn't have run away from Mazzie when she needed him the most. Hindsight made him realize that was biggest mistake.

So, he clenched every muscle as he waited for Ellie's answer. She was laughing and so did Mazzie, but it felt like a goodbye to Babyface. He smiled through it even though it wasn't a no. It was clever wording even a not so clever boy could manage to pick up on. It scared him.

The timer scared him. Her indecision scared him because of that clock. Come some time tonight the island would start it's feed and turning real people into donkeys. He needed the island to accept them or their time, Ellie's time would run out. Not just that but despite being wholly committed to staying, in his mind, it wasn't permanent. When the Foulfellows used to work the island they still left it all the time. Babyface figured he could work on the details of how to leave it later. What mattered is he was staying.

Mazzie laughed. "We skate all over." It seemed to diffuse her though. She was realizing herself what both of them were saying. The one she had been so angry with was the one pleading to stay, completely willing, and the one she was okay with was the one hedging. It gave off the feeling that they had no plans of ambushing her and trying to take her off the island. It made Mazzie have to slow down and think. She gave her memories a once over. It was hard not to be sentimental when these were the only real life friends she'd ever had. Everything Ellie was talking about was reminding her of the old days. No matter how many hard feelings she had, she had just many good or more.

Even all Babyface's questioning made her believe on some level he must have cared more than she realized. So, she looked at him real serious because she knew something he didn't. She was hesitant to say it.

"You'd care for the island like me?"

"Yeah. That's the point. The whole point."

"You're sure. Donkeys and all? You remember how it works?"

"Yeah-yeah. I know. I know. I don't care about all that. I can handle it."

"So, you'd forgive the island for everything."

"Yeah-yeah Alls forgiven. It's all good. Whatever."

"No matter what? You're sure?"

"Yeah. I said yeah. We're crew. Remember?" Babyface sounded frustrated by this point she was dragging it out so much.

"UGH. I'll see what I can do. Come on. Let's go find Jax at the control room." Then she went in for a hug finally giving the warmer reception Babyface wished for.

"And don't ever make me have to forgive you again. Ever. I hated missing you guys."

All the island boys were giving them side eyes but slowly backing away from area where they'd once looked like they were ready to pounce if Mazzie felt threatened. Babyface figured this was a good sign. He finally figured out the pace of the boys was the chaos of island's emotions. At least sort of. He was hoping if they were backing down that meant they were okay with him staying and he wouldn't be turned into a donkey like the offer years ago.

When she finally let go she punched Babyface twice quick with two fast jabs in the arm.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen you in so long. I just feel like I owed you some."

She'd start to talk more like a regular conversational Mazzie as they followed her to the control room.

"I have to admit, a part of me thought you two were goners already. Over time I started to assume everyone I knew was gone. We don't have any boats left. We stopped trying to leave. We had the paddle boats and the water zombies would pull them down. Flip them. People would drown trying to leave the mainland dancing unable to swim. The magic didn't dance on the island. We'd never make it back to the mainland if we tried. We decided it was just best to hunker down and live it out here. We could survive. There's been a few to make it but the island either rejected them, got the donkey treatment in the end, or even the few I managed to save succumbed to the zombies eventually. All but one."

He looked over at Ellie with a bit of surprise. He never saw Mazzie as some sort of hero trying to save people on the island even if it ended up a failure.

"Sucks you found some you liked and lost them then I guess."

Mazzie glanced up, "Yeah, they were Beagles."

His feet stopped. "What?"

It wasn't like Babyface didn't already know. He'd been trying to mourn, but no bodies meant he could keep a glimmer of pretend hope. His heart started to pound.

"That's the boat that made it over. They'd been spying on us. You and us. All of us. Trying to figure out what you were doing all the time. It's how they knew. I got the island to let me keep them. Your family was the only people they let me keep. Anyone else that ever happened on the island got the donkey treatment. Sadly, I'm sorry, like I said, the zombies just over ran the place. We're finally getting it weeded down and protected. We have barriers up. But, they're still here."

Babyface was stunned. Fuck those details. "Who Mazzie? Who? Who was here?"

"Oh, Big Time, the zombies came out of nowhere that day. There was nothing we could do. We weren't fast enough. Bouncer, spinning tea cup accident. Not quite sure what happened there. It was going too fast. He got real pukey and dizzy after. Then zombies. He's so big and strong and he couldn't have protected himself if he tried. Not right then."

Babyface looked like he might puke himself. Putting images to his family's vague MIAness to actual faces of death was a reality check. He put a hand on his stomach as he asked, "Wait. Stop. Didn't you say earlier that you had a survivor? You mean of my family?"

"Mhm."

"Well who already? Who?"

Like a movie cue she waved to the control house. "See for yourself."

Babyface Beagle looked over at Ellie and then looked up following Mazzie's arm pointing in the distance.

There was Jax's curly hair sitting on the porch with all the carnival lights behind them talking to a god damn ginger.

Of all Beagles to survive. Mother fucking Bebop was sitting on the stoop with Jax.

Fuck the coachman right now, Ellie just let out the biggest sigh of relief that Jax was okay, her head leaning back as she let it out, running her fingers through her hair. “Thank fuck for that,” She said, thinking of the curly-haired guy whose homework she had helped out with while he was a donkey, of the guy that always seemed to bring a smile to her face, of the one that she disguised as a girl so that he could sleep over at their house. “You have no idea how much we thought of you two. Seriously. Shit went down and -” Another deep breath, shaking their head. Even with zombies here, and the bad boys, she felt alright for the first time since setting foot on the island.

Honest John and Gideon - she didn’t really care about those two right now. It always seemed clear that it was Maz in charge, not those two. So to Babyface’s disappoint, she wouldn’t try to get any clarity on that.

Yeah, of course there was disappointment in Babyface. Ellie had been expecting that. That they weren’t going to get the warmest welcome in the world, considering that Babyface had literally gone and popped the Magic Man. And she knew that Babyface wasn’t going to go apologizing for it either.

Her face definitely reflected the shock at what he was doing instead. That was not expected. That was not what they had talked about. True, they didn’t actually talk about what to do with their future, but it always had seemed so open. Like they could do anything. They had no attachments anymore, nothing keeping them down. Ellie had the Laveaus and Aunt Elsa but distance didn’t seem to come between them, she could go anywhere. Babyface had his mom in prison, and she supposed now Black Arts Beagle but it was hard to trust the smooth-talker. He was too smooth, like a freshly waxed floor, and she didn’t want to go slipping and sliding.

So much for not making any decisions for Ellie. He might not have spoken for her right then and there, but his decision affected her too, and he had to have known that. He goddamn better have known that.

This was hard. This was conflicting. It felt like two separate armies - the hot and the cold inside of her - were clashing inside of one another and there was no winning.

This was her crew. This was her life. She had the chance to get Maz back in it, and Jax. The two people that she never felt right not having anymore. She woulda died for them, no question. She woulda fought for them too. And here she was, with the opportunity to stay here, in this place that felt like a personal Hell to her, with them.

But then there was the other side. The Hellish side. She never liked the island. She never liked the way that it made her feel. The bad kids, the constant screaming and noise and mayhem, the fact that she couldn’t even use her powers which was something that Babyface would never understand, because he never had them. Being repressed like that - it felt like having a part of her missing.

But there were heavy eyes on her, wanting to make a decision. And a yes or a no was something that she couldn’t give now, not without thinking about it first, not without talking to her trusted people about it.

The weight of the eyes was intimidating. Babyface and Mazzie both. She struggled to come up with filler, something that wasn’t a yes, but also wasn’t a no.

“Put in a skatepark and we’ll talk about it.”

[sweet-s0rr0w]

⭐️🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays! 🎄⭐️

How do you think drarry celebrate the winter season? ♥️

Ah, Merry Christmas to you too, and thank you for the ask, which really made me smile :) I came up with about a dozen different replies, then thought the most fun way to answer would be to have a think about some of the Drarrys from my fics, and what they'd be doing over the festive period!

Drarry from Nor All That Glisters spend Christmas in Europe, or possibly up in Durham seeing Lee, who's off at uni doing Chemistry. Sometimes Harry has to work, and Draco spends a few days at the Manor, helping his mum with cutting back the Shrivelfigs, and renewing all her anti-frost charms. They'll get to the Burrow at some point, though probably on one of the quieter days; the holiday season's not the easiest for Draco, and though he'd never say it (and it's probably in his head - the Felix negative after-effects should be long worn off by now ofc), he still sometimes feels a little out of place amongst Harry's closest friends. Harry though, Draco never doubts.

Kept in Cages Drarry are in Kenya, of course, and it's Erumpent mating season, so there's plenty of work to be done keeping the local Muggles from being accidentally trampled/exploded, and fending off poachers, and not much time for festivities. I expect they do manage to do a Christmas lunch of a sort, though, with Christmas music, and probably some crackers that Ron's sent over (the kind that go bang, for the non-Brits), and green beans rather than Brussels Sprouts.

Among the Elements Drarry are definitely at the Burrow, where Scorpius is thoroughly spoiled by Molly and Narcissa both. Scorp's doing brilliantly; at three years old he's still a little dot, but bright as a button, and knows exactly how to get his way. Ron and Hermione are expecting their first now, and Draco can't help feeling nervous at the sight of her barely-visible bump, thinking about everything that happened. He doesn't say anything to Harry, who he knows is one day hoping for a sibling for Scorp, but he's not quite sure yet if that worry will ever go away.

And Waking Up Slow Drarry are at Narcissa's of course, for their three hundred and something-th Christmas dinner of the year! They try to make the real one a little more special, which usually means that Harry does end up dancing; he's getting pretty good at it now, if he does say so himself! Draco's shop reopens between Boxing Day and New Year (there's a little trade from the tourists visiting Bath over Christmas), and then they'll be locking up (and set some surreptitious warding spells) and heading off by Portkey for some sun and a well-deserved rest. They're friends with a few magical families in the local area now, and they'll all take turns to go see Narcissa while Drarry are away.

This was so much fun I cannot! Thank you so much!

Me, I've had a manic Christmas hosting many people and ferrying my children hither and thither, and staring longingly at all the brilliant works that are appearing in my ao3 inbox. I'm looking forward to finally sitting down and catching up on: soft by @garagepaperback, Falter by @skeptiquex, Better not pout by @maesterchill, The Chosen Bun by @hoko-onchi-writes... and finishing off my Christmas re-read of O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor!

I'm actually going to tag a few friends to see if they're interested in doing this too: @tackytigerfic, @epitomereally, @fluxweeed, @citrusses, @the-starryknight, @wolfpants, @lqtraintracks, @oknowkiss (plus all tagged above ofc, and anyone else who fancies!!) - any updates from any of your Drarrys, and what they might be up to this holiday time?

[amf-studios]

You ever take a car ride with a friend and accidently create a whole ass Kwami swap au?

Well I did, and ended up with the fun idea of Kagami and Nathaniel, aka Bakeneko and Vindex!

I came up with Black Cat!Kagami first, as I liked the idea of rather than using the anonymous freedom to have be and have more fun in life, Like Chat Noir, Bakeneko instead uses it to become more in touch with her stunted emotions.

I particularly like the idea of her first day being a holder is a particularly frustrating one, probably starting with Kagami 'saving' master Fu, only for it to cause her to be late to something important, setting off a number of inconvenience.

So by the time she's called to fight stoneheart, she's so frustrated she ends up taking her pent up aggression on the Akuma. Finding the whole thing therapeutic, she continues using her hero identity as an outlet to release her frustrations from the constant pressure that is her life.

This makes her the more outwardly aggressive of the two heroes, causing a few issues with her partner.

Vindex is clever and creative, but suffers from both self esteem issues, and a habit of overthinking.

While definitely more excited for the prospect of being a hero, having romanticized the genre, his insecurities cause him to take a back seat to the more aggressive and confident Bakeneko. His tendency to think too much even interferes with his lucky charm, as he often can't decide what he needs in a situation.

He takes on more of the role of "the fixer" in their partnership. She beats down the bad guys, he mitigates damage, both physically and PR related.

If I were ever to do something with this concept, I'd try to more focus on the flaws of the two using the miraculous.

One idea that comes to mind is Nathaniel using his new found powers to do what he did in Evillustrator, albeit with significantly more self awareness. Trying to use the super hero powers to win the heart of Miss Marinette dupeng-chen. But of course, he'd eventually realize that's not going to work.

And an idea I really like, the flaws of the heros being so apparent that the adults in the situation are forced to take notice. Hawkmoth seeing the pattern in his opponents and acting accordingly, and Master Fu realizing he *needs* to step up as a teacher.

I've also put thought into other miraculous holders in this hypothetical au, but I'll keep those a secret for now. Just know no one ends up with the same main miraculous.

I hope you enjoy, and if ya do, commissions are open! Details on the blog

[genderlessghoul]

Hey so remember when I wrote a small fic about trans Phantom using tape to bind for the first time and it went like shit?

Anyway, I wrote a tape redemption arc and it's under the cut! It's just around 600 words-ish.

“Come in!”

Dew calls out after hearing a shy knock on his door. He doesn't need to look up to know who's on the other side, the faint scent of lavender and woodsmoke betrays Phantom before he even walks through the door. The quintessence ghoul walks in sheepishly and closes the door behind him, something nervous about the way he carries himself that immediately catches Dew's attention.

“What is it?” the fire ghoul asks with a cocked eyebrow as he sets down his book (something about mermaids that Rain suggested to him) and sits up in bed. Phantom holds up a roll of kinesiology tape and a pair of scissors, his tail wrapped around his leg in worried anticipation. He doesn't even need to say a word before Dew's on his feet, taking the roll from him and leading him deeper into the room. It's been months since Phantom's first attempt at binding with tape and it didn't exactly go well. He knows the younger ghoul still has some scars on his back from the experience. Dew leads him near his desk so he can work while standing up. He takes off the other's shirt.

“You took a shower?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn't put on any kind of body butter?”

“No.”

“Good.”

As he starts cutting strips of the tape, Dew notices how the quintessence ghoul opted for black, this time. He can't help but think that, at least, it won't stick out like a sore thumb, this time. Phantom seems to read his mind and lets out a dry chuckle.

“It fits my colour scheme better.”

“It does. You sure you wanna do this? We don't have to.”

“I know… But I figured I'd go back to it sooner or later. And if I don't do this now, I feel like I'm gonna chicken out forever.”

“Fair enough. Just don't go ripping it out raw again, okay?”

Phantom laughs nervously at that.

“Been there, done that. Never again.”

“Good boy.”

The quintessence ghoul melts a little at the praise and Dew gets to work. He instructs the other to lift his arms so he can lay the first pieces of tape.

Phantom keeps his arms up while the fire ghoul works on him. He finds a lot of comfort in his warm fingers and the ease with which Dew applies the strips. He wishes now more than ever that he'd gone to him the first time, instead of experimenting all by himself in his cold bathroom. At least, he'd learned what not to do. His eyes find Dew's mirror and he watches him work, trying to commit the techniques to memory, although he could get used to the pampering.

“How'd you figure out how to do it right?”

“Lotsa practice.”

The fire ghoul finishes his work and pats Phantom's sides a couple times.

“Lots of asking around, too.”

To which the younger ghoul rolls his eyes.

“I get it, I should come to you more…”

“It doesn't have to be me, baby bat, I just don't want you to mess up your body.”

They stay silent for a moment while the quintessence ghoul puts his shirt back on. He stretches his arms out, relishing in how comfortable the tape is this time around. He even finds himself smiling at his own reflection.

“You don't have to take care of me so much… I'm not complaining at all, I appreciate it more than I can tell you, I just… Thank you.”

“Don't mention it, Ant. I um… I remember what it was like to be in your place. And I wish I had someone back then to show me a thing or two, to tell me it was gonna be okay.”

Phantom doesn't quite know how to react to Dew's words. As long as he'd know him, the fire ghoul hasn't talked much about his own experience, only ever spoken with his actions. The moment is short lived, however, when Dew turns back to him and claps his hands together.

“Alright, loser, down for a game of Mario Kart?”

[midnight-mourning]

Not Santa

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 17❄️❄️

this was so silly and fun, really enjoyed it, hope you all do too ^_^

Prompt: MOON HAVING TO WEAR A SANTA HAT INSTEAD OF HIS HAT (they are red so similar but different)

Word Count: 1580

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It had started out as a simple joke, a passing comment you'd made while getting out decorations for the month. 

"Hey, you know, this is about the same size as your hat." You pull the red Santa hat out of the box, holding it up. "They ever let you play Santa Claus?"

Moon stares at the hat a moment, then chuckles, turning away. "They have not. What a silly idea."

"It's not silly!" You protest. "I think you'd be pretty cute in this, actually. Try it on, won't you?"

He scoffs. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

He shrugs, "Don't want to."

"Why?" You press further. 

Moon steps back as you stand up, bending so you're closer to him. "Do I need a reason? It will look ridiculous."

"Sure if you don't take your other hat off first. Come on, i just want to see, please?" You beg. 

But, he's relentless, though teasing, in his resolve. "You'll have to do more than that to convince me."

"Lame." You pout, heading back over to the box of decorations. 

An idea pops in to your head then, a rather devious one. 

It starts small, just leaving the hat out in places where you know Moon will stumble across it. The naptime cubbies, the story shelf, his favorite spot on the playset to observe the kids. Each time, he either simply ignores and goes about his business, or he'll deposit it to you in some way. 

"Cute." He'd say, then walk off to attend to his duties. 

It only encourages you further. 

You decide to up the ante, finding more hats in storage and laying them around everywhere as well. Sun even lets you have this one, not insisting on cleaning them up or the likes. 

Moon still avoids the hats, but now he's taken to tossing them at you while you're not looking, as opposed to just handing it back to you. 

Your next move is a bit more drastic, and unfortunately unsuccessful as well. 

You wait until Moon's let his guard down, sitting beside each other monitoring naptime, when you reach up, and snatch his hat off his head. You quickly scramble to your feet, and hold out the Santa hat to him, keeping his night cap tucked behind your back, smile saccharine. 

His faceplate twists once, twice, and then he chuckles, and you think you're finally victorious. 

But as he stands, you realize how wrong you are. 

"I'll give you until the count of three, Starlight. After that I won't play nice."

If you didn't know he was teasing, you'd hand it back no qualms. But, you can hear that cheeky lithe, practically daring you to test his paitence. 

You grin, and then run off into the dark. 

Careful to keep quiet so not to wake the kids, you search around wildly for a place to hide his hat. You find it in one of the small fake houses, stuffing it into one of the corners behind some toys. You hurriedly crawl out of the house, trying to find somewhere for yourself now. 

You're crawling into one of the playset tubes when you hear a chuckle above you in the darkness. 

You put a hand over your mouth to keep quiet, doing your best to smother your giggling. 

There's nothing but quiet all around you. You wonder if he's left and started searching elsewhere. 

Suddenly, red eyes encompass your field of vision, and you let out a muffled shriek as he drags you out of the playset and up into the air. After a bit, you're on the ground again, out of breath from the adrenaline rush, and trying to contain your laughter. 

Moon holds out his hand expectantly. You grin, giggling as you give him the Santa hat. 

"Sorry, it's all I have." You shrug. 

He takes it from you, shaking his head. You gasp, only to be covered in darkness as he pulls the hat on over your eyes. 

You make a noise of protest, and when you lift it to see again, find him putting his cap back on.

You puff out your cheeks, disappointed, and he chuckles. 

Moon starts to walk back to where the kids are sleeping, and checking the time you realize that it's time for the to wake up. You both start to gently rouse them one by one, Moon with smothered delight, you with veiled annoyance.

As he makes it over to the light switch at last, he turns to you, head tilted to the side. "Better luck next time, Little Star."

The lights come on, leaving Sun in his place. 

Sometime later, you're standing by the security desk sulking, head resting on your arms as you watch the kids play. 

Sun comes over to stand beside you, patting you on the shoulder thoughtfully. "I believe in you, Sunshine. I know you'll get him eventually!"

"Thanks, Sunny. But honestly, I think I'm losing hope." You hold up the hat in one hand, then slump further into the desk. "Maybe it's just not meant to be after all."

You hear his rays click once or twice. Then, he takes the hat from your hands. Adjusting his rays, he sets it on his own head and steps back, hands on his hips. 

"Well, what do you think?"

You smile, sitting up a little bit. "I think you look very handsome, Sun. And in the Christmas spirit."

"Aw, shucks." His rays spin, waving his hand at you. 

You put your head in your hand. "I mean it. Though you don't have to keep wearing it, can't be comfortable. Thanks for indulging me for a moment."

"I think I'll keep it, thank you very much." He crosses his arms, then seems to think of something, pounding his fist into his hand. "Oh! I think I've got it!"

You tilt your head, he continues. "This is all just a game to Moony, so if you make it a game with a definitive winner and loser, then he'll have no choice but to wear it!"

You think for a moment, then start to nod in agreement. "You're right, Sun. That's a great idea. And I know just exactly how I'm gonna make it happen."

You wait for the perfect opportunity; the holiday party. 

You make sure to keep the lights on enough to see, but low enough so that Moon could participate. Then, you choose the perfect game to approach him with your deal. 

"Antler toss, hm?" Moon asks, holding the headband with the reindeer antlers in his hands. "Another plot to get me to take off my hat?'

You stick your own pair on, smile polite, tone coy. "In a way. If I win, you have to wear the Santa hat the rest of the party."

"And if you lose?" He questions.

You shrug. "You can decide that yourself."

Moon's head twists in thought a few times. Then, he sticks the antlers on his head with a snicker. 

"Let's play."

You go first, and of ten rings, you manage to score seven of them around the antlers on his head. 

You cheer when you're done, victory certainly assured. There was no way he could beat you, surely not. 

Moon makes six of his seven tosses. Three rings remaining in his hands. You keep a smirk on your face but swallow internally, you can't lose. Your best guess is that he'll dispose of the hat, and then you'll never get to see him wear it. 

He misses the first toss, but then scores with the second. Now it's a tie game. 

You stand a chance of winning if you have to play again, he just has to—

The last ring lands on your head, and Moon laughs, victorious. You deflate immediately. 

"Gosh darn it." You sigh, shuffling over to Moon, rings on your head bouncing against each other only reminding you of your defeat. You hold out the hat to Moon. "Go ahead, destroy it then."

He chuckles, hand coming up under your chin to get you to look up at him. "Is that what you think I want?"

"Well yeah,"—you scoff—"What else could you—"

You're interrupted by a kiss to your lips, causing your breath to hitch and your eyes to widen. After a few moments, Moon pulls away, taking the hat from your shocked hands. 

"Since you've been a worthy opponent, I suppose it's only fair." He removes his night cap, and putting the Santa hat in its place. 

You're too surprised to react properly, face burning. "Okay, yay."

Moon chuckles, arms wrapping around you. "Is this alright?"

You come to your senses again.

"Yes! Yes um, more than alright." Your hands wrap around his neck. "Though, maybe not overly appropriate for a holiday party for children. Probably not setting a good example."

Moon tsks. "Maybe not, but I think one more kiss won't hurt."

"Moon!" You protest, but do nothing to stop him as he leans in again. 

"Now tell me, is this everything you wanted?" He looks up to the hat. 

You chuckle. "Yeah, that and more."

"And do I look handsome?"

You huff, smile on your lips. "Didn't take you for the jealous type. But yes,"—you give him a quick peck—"Very handsome."

"Very huh?"

You break apart finally, shaking your head. "Don't go getting a big head now, then that hat won't fit."

He snickers, and you grin. 

He was no Santa, but you think that's more than alright with you.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️��️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the silly prompt @buzzybee3 I think it was fun to have a sort of cat and mouse bit to it, but still all in good fun hehe

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