#it’s the thunder claps in the background for me

[lunaticrhymes]

𓆙 Infinitesimal Like A Flap Of A Wing 𓆃

✩ I swear I'm still alive but life had just been too much past few months

You have me wrapped around your little finger, Right there where you have your signet ring; Our gazes meet, and for an eternity linger, Yet infinitesimal like a flap of a wing.

The meeting of our eyes is almost a sound; Like a clash of a crystal or a clap of a thunder, Everything fades into the background When you stand before me like a resplendent wonder.

My heart is fluttering like a trapped bird, I want to hang up your picture among the stars To make the sun envy – I'm undeterred; I'll alter space-time so that it's only ours.

⭒

AO3 link – kudos &/or comments are very welcome X

~Silvie⭒

[dewey-ing-it]

Me whenever someone asks about my interests.

[orellazalonia]

Raccoon Negotiations

Summary: You finally get to meet a talking raccoon whom tries multiple times to bargain for your boyfriend’s metal arm. (Bucky Barnes x chaotic!reader)

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Requested by @daystarpoet and @michaelfuckinglangdon which was super fun to fulfill and imagine. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

You were mid-bite of a bagel (untoasted, cold, probably two days old, yet still incredible) when a voice said, “You gonna eat that, or are you just giving it mouth-to-mouth?”

You froze.

Your eyes scanned the room. Empty except for Bucky, still in the hallway arguing with Stark about defensive systems. And then, sitting on the counter next to the coffee pot like he’d always belonged there, was…

A raccoon.

A small, vaguely pissed-off raccoon standing on two legs, holding what looked like a plasma rifle, wearing a jumpsuit, and staring at your bagel like it owed him rent.

You blinked.

He blinked back.

Then, with the certainty of someone who’d clearly never interacted with you before, he added: “You alright there, human? Or did you have a stroke while chewing?”

You stood up slowly, eyes wide. “You can talk.”

Rocket snorted. “Wow. You must be the brainy one around here.”

“Okay, no like- I knew there was a raccoon on the ship. Bucky told me. I just thought he was exaggerating. Or having another weird Winter Soldier-flashback dream thing.”

“Ex-cuse you,” Rocket said, leaping off the counter and stalking toward you. “I’m not just some Earth-trash mammal with a vocabulary. I’m Rocket. I’ve broken into more heavily-armed fortresses than you’ve had dumb thoughts.”

“That’s a bold claim,” You said. “Because I believe the moon is just Earth’s emotional support rock and thunder is just the sky clapping for itself.”

Rocket squinted at you. “…okay, yeah, maybe I underestimated you.”

You leaned forward slowly, eyes narrowing in awe. “You’re so small. And yet, the homicidal energy is enormous. You’re like if Bucky had fur and worse impulse control.”

“Hey-“

You turned to where Bucky had finally entered the room and was already sighing. He didn’t even look surprised. “Yeah, that’s Rocket. Rocket, this is the disaster I’m dating.”

You beamed. “He talks! He walks! He’s a death machine in a jumpsuit! I love him. This is so validating.”

Bucky rubbed his temples. “Please don’t encourage him.”

Rocket perked up immediately. “Wait… you’re dating the arm guy?”

You paused. Looked at Bucky. Then back at Rocket.

“…Yeah?”

A slow, terrifying grin spread across Rocket’s face.

“You got any plans for the arm?” He asked casually. “Like… long term?”

You tilted your head. “Other than excessive touching and probably biting it during arguments? No.”

Rocket rubbed his furry little hands together. “Because I have a few ideas. Think we could reach a business agreement? Little trade? You get, say… a box of Kree tech I may or may not have stolen, and I get to borrow the arm.”

“Borrow?” You asked. “Like, while Bucky’s still wearing it?”

“Oh no,” Rocket said gleefully. “I mean borrow in the very permanent, kind of dismember-y sense.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “You touch the arm, you lose yours.”

Rocket scoffed. “Killjoy.”

You grinned, still watching the two of them bicker like this was the most normal day of your life. Honestly, it was close. You had once gotten into an argument with Sam about the physics of penguin knees for forty-five minutes. This? This was pretty average.

Rocket narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re not a Guardian? You’ve got the same mix of brilliant and brainless I usually work with.”

You put your hands on your hips. “You think I’d survive five minutes on your ship? Clint holds it against me that I once put a Pop-Tart in the microwave in the wrapper. I’m a walking OSHA violation.”

Rocket smirked. “I like you.”

You beamed. “I like you too, murder rat.”

“Raccoon.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.”

Bucky, in the background, stared into the middle distance like he was reliving every bad decision that led to this exact moment.

-

While the two of you clicked in some strange way, it became increasingly exhausting when you realized Rocket was not a quitter. Not when it came to schematics, explosions, or black-market tech auctions. And certainly not when it came to Bucky Barnes’ vibranium arm.

The first time he brought it up again, you were eating spaghetti with a fork that bent mid-twirl because you'd put it in the dishwasher with an experimental metal compound. You stared at the spiraled noodle carnage with mild offense.

Rocket, perched on the back of the couch, cleared his throat. “So. Hypothetically. If someone were to give you a fully operational piece of alien tech that projects holograms and can play music through bone conduction-“

“No,” You said without looking up.

Rocket scowled. “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“You said ‘hypothetically.’ That’s code for ‘I want to take Bucky’s arm again.’”

He grumbled something in what might’ve been space-raccoon swear words.

You smiled faintly. “Also, holograms and music? Tempting, but I already built something that projects TikToks onto the wall when I whistle the opening to Phantom of the Opera.”

Rocket blinked. “…You need to be studied.”

You stuffed more spaghetti in your mouth and spoke through it, “I have been. Briefly. They sent me home with a helmet and a fidget cube. 2/10. Never again.”

The second time was more of a performance. Rocket had dragged you into a secure SHIELD hangar with a tarp over something massive.

“This,” He said dramatically, yanking the cover back, “is a rebuilt Sakaarian battle drone. She sings, flies, and makes waffles. Trade you for the arm.”

You took one look, gasped, and immediately sprinted past him.

“Oh my god! She has a toaster slot!?”

Rocket beamed. “So we have a deal?”

You turned, clutching the side of the drone with wide, reverent eyes.

“No,” You said, “but I will name her Beepie.”

Rocket’s face fell. “You’re not even gonna run this by him?”

You gave him a look. “Rocket. I love you. You’re the first talking raccoon I’ve met that wasn’t a hallucination and validated my belief that half the raccoon species are murderous. But if you think I’m trading even one bolt of Bucky’s arm, which, by the way, I have kissed more than I care to admit, then you don’t understand the depth of my insanity.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“I’ll throw in a jetpack,” Rocket muttered.

You gasped. “With adjustable altitude?”

“Yep.”

“Still no,” You said even though your answer sounded like it physically hurt you.

The third time, he got sneaky.

You were tinkering in the lab late at night, hunched over a circuit board, tongue sticking out in deep concentration, when Rocket skittered in and dropped a sleek metal glove onto your desk.

“Custom-made,” He said nonchalantly. “Enhanced dexterity. Built-in taser. Perfect for a girl with too many ideas and not enough restraint.”

You barely glanced at it.

“Rocket.”

He leaned in. “You could build anything with this. A gravity-flipping belt. Portable wormholes. A coffee maker that actually respects you. All I need is-“

“Bucky’s arm. I know. I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and leaned in conspiratorially. “Here’s the thing, furball. That arm? Not mine to give. I didn’t build it. I didn’t earn it. I just kiss it sometimes and occasionally let it hold snacks. I love him. I’m not trading a part of him. Even for cool stuff. Even for toaster robots.”

Rocket looked genuinely surprised. “You’d really pass up a Sakaarian war-toaster… for him?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Even when he leaves wet towels on the bed. Even when he sighs like an old man every time I rewire the TV to play Jeopardy in reverse.”

There was a beat.

Rocket groaned, flopping onto the table in defeat. “You’re the worst. The absolute worst.”

You grinned and patted his head. “Thanks, murder rat.”

“Raccoon.”

Bucky appeared in the doorway then, raising a brow as he took in the scene: Rocket sulking, you cradling a vibro-glove like it was a puppy, and your very serious expression of moral superiority.

“I don’t wanna know,” He said dryly.

You beamed. “Good. Because if you did, you’d probably start sleeping with your arm chained to your chest.”

[quins-heart16]

ADRIENS FIRST RACE

LANDO NORRIS X FEM READER (mom and dad)

The sun was warm over the paddock, the air filled with that electric kind of excitement that always surrounded race day. Lando was already off doing his thing—prepping, briefing, being his usual calm-in-chaos self. You, however, were entering the madness with a tiny storm on your hip.

Adrien.

Your two-year-old son looked like a perfect miniature of his father—soft, unruly brown curls that refused to be tamed, deep hazel eyes, and that same mischievous grin Lando gave you the first time you met him. He was wearing a full McLaren baby outfit, complete with Lando’s number stitched on the back. A walking, talking tribute to his father. He was absolutely adorable.

Despite the Elegant outfit you were putting on black pants ,awhite shirt and a coat on and the black pointed-toe shoes peeking out as you walked gave the look a final, polished touch. You were glowing, graceful, collected on the outside.

Inside? You were one tantrum away from screaming.

Adrien had barely touched ground before he began wriggling in your arms like he had places to be.

“Adrien,” you said calmly, as you set him down, “we are not going on any quests today. No missions. No adventures. Just calm behavior, okay?”

He blinked up at you with the purest innocence and then immediately lunged toward the barricade.

“Adrien, no—nope! Come back here!”

You quickly set your bag down and chased him as gracefully as you could in wide-leg trousers. He had spotted something—or someone—he needed to see. Possibly a golf cart, possibly a pigeon. Who knew at this point?

You scooped him up mid-run, and he immediately began kicking his tiny legs in protest.

“I swear, you only do this to me,” you huffed, kissing his cheek even as he squirmed. “When your father is holding you, you’re all snuggles and smiles. But with me? I’m your cardio workout.”

As if on cue, a group of fans nearby came by wanting to take a-picture with you ,and you couldn’t so you said “sorry guys my hands are full maybe later on” they were understanding about it as you were carrying your 2 year old ,who the fans then said hey as you were walking but Adrien instead said “ bye bye “ in his cute baby voice

You sighed and smiled about how sweet he was but it was short lived instead ,Adrien responded by grabbing your sunglasses and flinging them.

By the time you made it to the viewing deck for the race, you were already mildly out of breath. You plopped into your seat and tucked Adrien into your lap, headphones snugly on both of your heads to block the thunderous roar of the engines.

It was peaceful… for about seven minutes.

Then, Adrien began to fidget. His little legs kicked against your thighs, his fingers tugged at your necklace, and soon he was trying to slide down from your lap.

“No, baby, stay up. You said you wanted to watch Daddy, remember?”

“Boring,” he said bluntly.

You gasped. “Adrien Norris, take that back!”

He just stuck his tongue out.

You looked around, desperate, then leaned in and began softly singing to him—his favorite lullaby, the one you made up when he was barely two months old. His little body calmed, curled into your chest as you rocked gently, whisper-singing as engines roared in the background.

At one point, he stared up at you with his father’s exact smirk. “I want banana.”

“There’s no banana right now, Adrien.”

“I want bananaaaa,” he started up, dramatically letting his head fall back in protest.

You closed your eyes and muttered, “Lord, give me patience.”

Finally—finally—the race ended, and the moment the scoreboard confirmed what you’d been hoping: Lando had won. The paddock erupted in cheers. You lifted Adrien up and kissed his cheek. “Daddy did it! Can you believe it?”

He clapped, then suddenly froze as lily (Alex girlfriend came )

“Well, aren’t you the cutest little man I’ve seen all day?” she said sweetly, brushing his curls. “Hey, you look handsome.”

Adrien stared. Then, with practiced politeness, replied, “Thank you.”

Your jaw dropped slightly at how charming he could be when he wanted to be.

But after approximately ten more seconds of her talking, Adrien grew bored, glanced around, and without a word, walked away—straight toward Max.

You covered your face, mortified. “He didn’t even say goodbye.” So as he was with max I continued talking with Lily.

Later, as the crowd buzzed around Lando’s victory and media interviews began, you were finally relaxed for a brief moment—until Adrien spotted his father across the paddock being interviewed on live camera.

“No. No no no—Adrien, wait!”

But he was already sprinting, tiny arms pumping, curls bouncing as he ran straight for his dad with a huge grin.

“Daaaddy!”

Lando turned mid-sentence just in time to catch Adrien as he jumped into his arms, headset bouncing to the ground.

The camera caught it all—your son interrupting a major post-win interview just to hug his dad.

Lando laughed and held him close. “Guess we’ve got a new team mascot,” he joked to the reporter, then looked at you with that loving smile that always made your knees weak.

You walked over, tired but smiling as the interview finished.

“Congratulations, babe,” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And just so you know—that was the last time I ever bring Adrien to a race. I mean it.”

Lando laughed, bouncing Adrien gently in his arms. “We’ll see. You say that every time.”

Adrien looked between the two of you, then patted your cheek and whispered, “Banana now?”

You groaned. Lando laughed harder.

And yep… it really was the last time.

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hello~ Could I request a second part of my request about mc dancing flamenco, but this time for Scarabia? :')) only if possible, thanks in advance ^^

✦ "Fire in Your Steps"

Flamenco-dancer!reader

KAMIL AL ASIM

Kalim had always been captivated by your energy, your spark,the way you seemed to carry the sun in your movements, even before he knew about your flamenco background. But the first time he truly saw you dance? That was when he realized that not even the sun could match the fire in your steps.

You hadn’t been planning to dance. The Scarabia common room was alive with music and laughter that night, Kalim playing host with his usual excitement, inviting students over for a casual feast after exams. Oud music drifted through the air, blending with tambourines and clapping hands. And yet, it wasn’t until you heard the faint rhythm of palmas,sharp, percussive claps that echoed flamenco’s soul that something in your chest stirred.

“Hey, what’s that look for?” Kalim asked, coming up beside you with a sweet grin. “You look like you’re about to set the place on fire!”

“I might,” you said, smiling, already shedding your outer jacket and stepping out into the open courtyard tiles like instinct. “Careful or I’ll take over your party.”

Kalim lit up like a sparkler. “YES! Do it! Wait—wait, let me turn down the lights—Jamil, c’mon, dim the lanterns a little—it’s happening!!”

And then, you danced.

The rhythm started slow: firm stamps, sharp wrists, a gaze locked forward. Kalim couldn’t look away. His friends had seen you around, sure but now they were watching someone else entirely. You moved like the music was part of you, like the earth responded to your feet.

Kalim, of course, was fully enchanted.

“Oh, stars, I’m in love,” he whispered dramatically to no one in particular, clutching a plate of honey pastries to his chest like it was a bouquet. “That’s my partner! That’s them! Look at them go!!”

You caught his eye halfway through a turn, lips twitching. He was absolutely vibrating with pride and awe,cheering, clapping, trying not to interrupt but very visibly moved by it all. When you ended with a final firm heel strike, the entire room erupted into applause, but it was Kalim’s voice that rose above the rest.

“That was AMAZING! Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding a whole volcano under those shoes?! You’re like like a flamethrower with rhythm!!”

You laughed, a little breathless, smoothing your shirt down. “I didn’t think the timing was right before.”

Kalim took your hand with absolutely zero hesitation, beaming as if the stars had decided to fall into his lap.

“Well, the timing is perfect now,” he said. “And I swear, next time I throw a party, I’m building the whole thing around your dance. I’ll bring mariachis. Or a stage. Or camels. No—dancing camels!”

You burst out laughing, and he just smiled wider.

“You always surprise me,” he murmured later, when the music had softened and you sat beside him under the lanterns. “Even when I think I already know every single thing about you. And every time, it just makes me love you more.”

You nudged his shoulder, warm and a little shy. “Even when I bring fire to your carpets?”

“Especially then,” he winked.

JAMIL VIPER

It was rare for Jamil to be caught off guard.

He was the type to know things before they happened, to anticipate chaos before it ever touched the air. He liked control,needed it, really because that was how he kept Scarabia from crumbling under Kalim’s well-meaning energy. So when he entered the courtyard that late evening, expecting just another lively celebration to supervise, he didn’t expect to see you standing at the center of it all.

Or to feel the way his chest tightened when the music shifted.

He knew the look on your face: focused, firm, and faintly challenging. You weren’t dancing for the crowd not exactly. You were dancing with purpose. Each sharp stamp of your heels against the tile echoed like thunder in his spine. Your arms arched and snapped with grace, each step dragging flame behind it, even if no one else could see the blaze but him.

He felt it. Gods, he felt it.

At first, he stood in the shadows, arms crossed, unreadable. There was a flicker of something in your gaze when you saw him. A silent tug. A question. A dare. And instead of pretending not to care, Jamil met your eyes and stayed.

Even as his throat went dry.

You'd never danced like this in front of him. He knew you practiced, sure,he’d even teased you once for stomping too loud on the floorboards when you thought he was out. But this? This was something else.

When you finished, sweat glinting at your temples and chest heaving, the room burst into applause. Kalim clapped the loudest, cheering for an encore. But Jamil didn’t move.

You made your way to him anyway, a quiet smile pulling at your lips. “Didn’t expect me to start throwing sparks, huh?”

He exhaled through his nose, low and steady. “No,” he admitted. “But I should have.”

He didn’t say much more,not in front of everyone. But later, when the party thinned and the lanterns burned low, you found yourself walking together down the halls of Scarabia’s quiet wing. You were still warm from the dance, skin glowing, body loose and soft. He was quiet for a long time before he finally said, “It was beautiful.”

You turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “You mean it?”

He glanced away briefly, lips pressing together, before he nodded. “It was fire. Pure, controlled fire. I know what that kind of discipline looks like. It’s not easy.”

There was something heavy behind his words, something familiar. You both had your cages,your expectations, your responsibilities. And somehow, through the rhythm and the pride and the pain of it, you’d let him see you free.

“It wasn’t meant to be perfect,” you said, voice soft now. “It was meant to be mine.”

Jamil’s eyes flickered toward you, unreadable again. But this time, his hand reached for yours.

“You don’t have to be perfect with me,” he murmured. “But when you burn like that, I can’t help but watch.”

You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him the same way the music did for you. “Then keep watching,” you said, voice low and sure. “I’m not done dancing.”

And he didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment he swore:

He would never let anyone dim your fire.

English is not my first language !

[kathaelipwse]

Stuck With You

Masterlist

<<<previous chapter | next chapter>>>

Pairing: CEO!J.Yunho x Secretary!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine

Warnings: Smau, Fluff, grumpy yunho, bickering, panic attack

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Hie lovies! I hope y'll are fine! Thank you for the love and support! Enjoy!!

Chapter 2: Shelter in the Storm

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it had worsened.

The dense road y'll had taken had long lost any sign of civilization. No streetlights, no road signs, no distant hum of passing cars, just the overwhelming presence of towering trees and the relentless downpour that pounded against the car’s roof. The headlights had been turned off, and the car was parked securely between the trees to avoid attracting any wild animals or any danger at all. Outside, the darkness stretched endlessly, the rain acting as a curtain that cut them off from the world.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Well, this is fantastic.”

Yunho exhaled sharply beside you, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “You don’t have to state the obvious.”

You shot him a annoyed look. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I just sit here in silence while we wait for the storm to pass?”

“Sounds ideal,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You know, for someone who got us lost, you sure have a lot of attitude sir.”

The two would often argue over the weirdest things such as 'yunho's tie is crooked' or 'y/n's blouse isn't tucked properly' or 'the coffee you get him every morning is too sweet though its the absolute same. Yunho just loved crawling under your skin pushing your buttons, he enjoyed your annoyance. Not gonna lie; over the years y'll have worked together.. y'll had grown quite fond of each other but none of you bothered to accept it.

Yunho’s jaw tensed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just kept staring ahead at the rain streaking down the windshield. Then, after what felt like forever, he let out a breath, tilting his head back against the seat.

“…I shouldn’t have taken that road,” he said, voice low. “I thought it would save time.”

You blinked. Was that—was that an apology? From THE Jeong Yunho? The one who never ever apologized?

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, are you actually admitting you were wrong?”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You smirked, savoring the rare moment. “Wow. Marking this day in history.”

He shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. Before you could tease him further, your stomach let out a loud, undeniable growl. Your eyes widened, mortification settling in as you quickly hugged your stomach.

Yunho turned his head slowly, his lips twitching. “Did you just—”

“Don’t,” you warned, cheeks heating up. “Just—ignore that.”

But of course, he didn’t. “When was the last time you ate?”

You sighed, slumping in your seat. “I didn’t get a chance. You know, with the whole flight cancellation, and then you insisting on driving immediately.”

Yunho frowned slightly but said nothing. Instead, he reached toward the backseat, rummaging through his bag before pulling out a protein bar. He tossed it into your lap without a word.

You blinked down at it. “You carry snacks?”

“I carry things that are necessary,” he replied coolly. “Eat before you pass out.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. Tearing open the wrapper, you took a bite, and despite the bland taste, it was better than nothing. The two of you sat in silence again as the night swallowed the surroundings and the rain providing the only background noise.

Then, the first clap of thunder boomed across the sky.

Yunho tensed beside you.

You glanced at him, noticing the way his grip on his thighs tightened. His breathing had suddenly turned shallow, his shoulders rising and falling at an uneven pace. Another crack of thunder rumbled, and Yunho flinched, his hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.

“Sir?” you asked carefully, setting your snack aside. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were locked straight ahead, unfocused, his chest rising and falling in short, sharp breaths. It was as if he wasn’t even in the car anymore—as if he was somewhere else entirely.

Your stomach twisted.

“Yunho,” you called, using his name this time, voice softer. You reached out, placing a tentative hand on his arm. He barely reacted.

Another loud crash of thunder echoed, and that’s when you saw it—the unmistakable look of panic. His breathing had become erratic, and his hands had started trembling slightly. Realization dawned.

He was having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, shifting toward him. “Look at me.”

No response. His breaths were getting quicker, shallower.

You hesitated for only a second before reaching up and threading your fingers through his hair, gently tugging him closer. “Come here.”

To your surprise, he didn’t resist. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was too far gone in his own thoughts, the storm outside drowning him in memories you didn’t know about. Whatever it was, he let himself be pulled into your arms, his forehead resting against your shoulder as his breathing hitched.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your fingers moving through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

His body was tense, his entire frame rigid, but as you continued running your fingers through his hair, he slowly—very slowly—began to relax. His breaths, though still uneven, weren’t as frantic. His hands, which had been gripping onto himself, eventually fell to his sides.

You shifted, carefully maneuvering the two of you into the backseat where there was more space. Yunho followed without a word, his body sinking against yours as exhaustion took over. The tension in his muscles had eased, his breathing finally slowing down.

And then, without warning, he fell asleep—his head resting against your chest, his body pressed against yours in a way that was completely foreign yet strangely not uncomfortable.

You stared down at him, watching as his expression softened, the storm raging outside no longer reflecting the storm within him.

You didn’t know why he had a panic attack. In the three years you had worked under Jeong Yunho, you had never seen him so vulnerable. He had always been composed, in control, never faltering. But tonight, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but darkness and rain, he had broken—just a little.

And for the first time, you held him together.

.....To Be Continued

---

[beansprean]

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And they lived happily ever after? LOL

Izzyguana AU part 5! (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Aerial shot of the hill where Izzy's grave is marked, a hill sweeping steeply downward behind it toward a small bay where the ocean laps hungrily at the shore. It is dark and raining hard in thin diagonal strikes. 1b. Close up of Izzy's grave marker from below as it is pelted by rain. Behind, thick clouds roll past, rumbling with distant thunder. 1c. Repeat. A loud clap of thunder hits just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating a gloved hand that suddenly punches, palm up, out of the dirt.

2a. series of POV panels on a dark background, showing the ramshackle porch of Stede and Ed's home. The wooden slat door is closed, but there is a gap in the wood above the doorknob where golden light is shining through, juxtaposing the cold blues and purples of the storm outside. There is a shuffling sound of uneven footsteps. 2b. Repeat, closer to the door now, the panel tilted as if the POV is tipping back and forth as it climbs the stairs. The footsteps are louder. 2c. Repeat, closer, now past the stairs, footsteps louder still. 2d. Repeat. Closer. A final thump. The shadow of a head and shoulders falls across the door. 2e. Repeat. The door creaks open, letting out a burst of warm light. 2f. Repeat. The door opens fully, blinding the panel with light.

3a. Inside the house, lit up in warm candlelight, there is a ramshackle wooden table holding a pair of oranges, a bottle of rum, and a pair of silver coins on the close end. On the far end, a lumpy, unfrosted cake on a plate with a single lit candle in the center. At the head of the table in front of the cake sits the iguana in a handmade high chair, a party hat of wrapped palm leaves strapped to its head. Stede and Ed are standing at the table on either side of it with matching party hats. All three look towards the viewer as the door is opened. Ed, wearing a purple tee and green lavalava, has a cup in his right hand and his left hand is frozen mid-cheer. He stares at the newcomer with his jaw dropped and eyes wide with shock. Stede, wearing his teal blouse and brown leather pants, is similarly frozen, leaning into the table on his left hand and holding up a cup in his right as he stares toward the door. A handmade banner stretched behind them reads 'Happy Rebirthday Izzy'. 3b. Reverse shot, chest up of the real human Izzy standing at the door, arm extended to hold it open. He is covered in mud and soaked by the rain, hair falling down into his eyes, and is wearing the cream shirt he died in, now made loose and transparent by the rain but still bearing a faint bloodstain on the chest. Izzy stares forward at the scene in abject horror and confusion, lip curled back from his teeth. 3c. Repeat of 3a, this time with human Izzy and the head of the table. Another candle has been added to the cake, the banner has been changed to read 'Happy Rebirthday Izzys', and a third orange has appeared on the table. The iguana side-eyes Izzy, hissing suspiciously. Stede has resumed his cheer, raising his cup with his right hand and reaching around the iguana's chair to place his left on human Izzy's shoulder. Ed is laughing happily, leaning his forehead into human Izzy's temple and cupping his head with his left hand. Izzy sits frozen and frowning in shock and bewilderment, eye twitching, Ed's party hat now on his head. Izzy thinks to himself, "...Is it too late to crawl back into my grave?" /end ID

[chaos-chloe]

The Great Gaming Fiasco

Summary: Grizzy rage, I think you already know this<3

TW: Established relationship, rage. anger, warzone moment, kissing, cursing and screaming, lmk if I missed anything

This fateful night started like any other, with the trio gathering their keyboards, their spirits high and laughter echoing through the room. “Ready to beat some noobs?” Grizzy hollered as he loaded up the game, the anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity. The familiar battle sounds filled the room, and they dove into the chaos.

“Why doesn’t that work?!” Smii7y bellowed, fierce frustration spilling from his lips like a dragon's fire, slumping dramatically in his chair as his avatar met an untimely demise. He banged his hand on the desk with a sound akin to thunder.

“Ello Grizzy!” Puffer sang with a comedic flair as Grizzy was unexpectedly reincarnated, flinging his parachute in a desperate bid to return to the sky. But alas, the parachute refused to open—like a deflated balloon. Grizzy’s frustration spiraled as he began to rain blows on his keyboard, resulting in a dramatic self-kill that could only be described as tragicomic.

“WHY WOULD YOU KILL YOURSELF?” Puffer cried out, the desperation lacing his voice as if they were in a high-stakes war council. “I COULD’VE REZZED YOU! WHY?!” 

With a dramatic flourish, the keys rained down like confetti, creating a chaotic storm of letters and symbols — a keyboard glitter bomb exploded across his desk! Each key had its own story, its own mission to fulfill in the kingdom of Warzone, and now they lay shattered in despair.

The keyboard chaos continued, keycaps flying around Grizzy’s desk like tiny meteors in a galactic explosion of rage. The comical scene escalated, with Smii7y unable to stifle his laughter. “I think I need a new keyboard,” Grizzy declared with a resigned sigh echoing through the room, a solemn testament to his fiery spirit, as if he had just climbed Mount Doom only to find it was a mere hill.

“He just lost all his keycaps.” Smii7y said with a smirk growing on his face, while Grizzy fumed, the air tinged with both laughter and despair. “Oh my god” Puffer moans in emotional pain in the background. “Bro it aint working today.” Smii7y responded to Puffer's distress. “Nothing’s working.” Smii7y joked about how each bug felt like a monster stalking them in the night, ready to pounce at any awakening moment.

“I’m kicking over the key caps, I’ll clean that mess later.” Grizzy growled, “It's a problem for another day.

 “What do you mean mess?’ Puffer aspirated at Grizzy

“Wait, can you even use your keyboard? Did you go get a new one?” Puffer asked for content

“I got a new one- well i stole __’s” Grizzy responded “Ugh-let me straighten my desk” Puffer laughed at Grizzy’s misery. 

“Yeaahh” “What the fuck happend?” “What happened to you?” Smii7y and Puffer asked.

“The situation where you're gonna pull your parachute and it says “NO”” Grizzy explained as annoyance seeped through his voice. “Yeah! That literally just happened to me as well.” Smii7y agrees with Grizzy’s annoyance at the game with their bugs. They exchanged stories of their own gaming disasters, an unwritten pact of camaraderie knitting them closer amidst the chaos.

“Yeah so then I decided to slam my keyboard, which killed me, which made me even more angry. So I just clapped my keyboard together, ‘til everything came off.” Grizzy tells the replay of what just happened.

“Were you doing a last second one?” Smii7y asked. “Uhh-no i pressed it like 3 times before landing, it just didn't pull.” Grizzy answered with a slight tone. 

“Like right now.” Grizzy placed ___’s keyboard down with some force, as he was clenching and unclenching his fist, storming off, as the trio couldn't help but spiral into a cyclone of banter, laughing yet again at Grizzy’s misfortune. Grizzy stormed off out of frame towards his right office door which was left open. 

In the midst of the laughter, the mood shifted. A loud crash resonated from Grizzy’s office, while I was in the kitchen. Quickly followed by a blood-curdling scream that sent shivers down their spines. 

“FUCK!!!”  Grizzy’s roar thundered through the house, slicing through the laughter like a lightning bolt, a haunting call of despair that made everyone freeze. After that there was an eerie unusual stillness lurking in the house. 

My skin jumped as his scream blared to life, roaring like a thousand ghosts at once, sending ice down my spine. I gasped in shock, my eyes popped open like saucers, my adrenaline rushing through my veins. In a flurry, I leapt out of my statue like a state.

With curiosity piqued, I tiptoed towards the scene, every step echoing with anticipation. Approaching cautiously, I soon found myself colliding with Grizzy, his frustration evident and his door hanging askew like a battle-worn shield, leaning on the doorframe. “Let me guess... warzone moment?” I quipped with a smirk, but concern laced my words like a thick fog that hung in the air.

“Yeah, I didn't know how else to take my rage out of my body, since I already broke my keyboard. I was most certainly not breaking your keyboard, yes I stole it after I broke mine. I knew how much time and money you spent on that keyboard.” Grizzy explained while I was giving him the “mom” look. As we stood there, I couldn’t help but chuckle. The chaos of gaming had turned into a comedic rendezvous, where gaming mishaps became fodder for laughter and camaraderie.

 “Well I appreciate  you not breaking mine, but now I have to fix your office door babe.” I say walking out his arms towards the closet of tools/storage that they have. 

As I set to fixing his door, the banter resumed. “Is it possible to rage hard enough to break a door?” I teased while wielding my tools. Grizzy sheepishly scratched his head, his triumph of rage slowly fading into recollection of the bond we all had. 

I heard Grizzy walk back into his office, as my hands were full of tools and glue so I could repair the holes in the wall. “I’m done, shut the fuck up. SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’m done, I’m done.” Grizzy repeated. “I just broke my door with my hands, now ___ is fixing it. I’m FUCKING DONE.” He screams in anger and slaps his hand on his desk.

“Sorry, baby, I'm not mad at you.” Grizzy apologized to me, as I was trying to make myself as small as possible. I was putting toothpicks and wood glue together in the holes, where the screws used to be. Grizzy ended the stream right after he apologized to me. 

“You’re fine babe, is there anyway you can get the sandpaper that i left on the counter. Also maybe the wirecutter in the tool box?” I asked him a favor, I felt my phone buzz in my butt pocket.

Hey ___ you okay? Grizzy okay? -Puffer

Yes we are both okay, he is calming down now as we are both putting the door back together. Try to tell, chat that too. You know how shit can spiral out of control. 

Will do, and okay we were just making sure

Its all good! I’m probably gonna make him, go get us food in a min

(read)

Moments passed as I tuckered away at the door, awaiting Grizzy’s emotional cooldown. “After all this fixing, how about a nice dinner?” I suggested with a smile, already picturing a delightful feast to reward ourselves after the wild night.

“C’mon babe, let's get your fine ass off the dirty floor and go find a nice restaurant.” Grizzy nodded enthusiastically, offering his hand to help me up, grinning ear-to-ear. As I stood up with his help, I gave him a kiss on the lips and started tugging him to the door, laughing together. 

[cozmowrites]

about you

about you - The 1975

-------

The world was muted. The usual roar of city life outside your apartment seemed distant, swallowed by the thick fog of memory that clung to you. The room felt colder than it should've been, but you weren't sure if it was the draft or the absence of something far warmer.

Him.

Bakugou Katsuki had always been loud in every sense of the word—his voice, his presence, the way he left his mark on everything he touched, including you. But now, sitting on the couch where he used to sprawl after long shifts, his absence was deafening.

You curled your legs up beneath you, pulling a blanket tighter around your shoulders. The soft hum of the television played in the background, but you weren't paying attention. Instead, your gaze lingered on the coffee table, where a chipped mug sat. His favorite. You should've put it away weeks ago, but your hands faltered every time you tried.

The fight replayed in your head like a song stuck on repeat—each word sharper than the last, cutting deeper as it echoed. He had always been volatile, but so had you. Two fires clashing in a room too small to contain the heat.

"You don't get it!" He had shouted, voice strained in a way that wasn't typical for him. "You don't understand what it's like to come home and feel like I'm still fighting!"

"And you don't understand what it's like to feel like I'm not enough!" You'd shot back, tears blurring your vision. "You put everything into your job, Katsuki! When's the last time you put me first?"

Silence had followed—the dangerous kind. He had stared at you, jaw tight, and then grabbed his jacket. He didn't slam the door when he left, and somehow, that made it worse.

That was three weeks ago.

You hadn't heard from him since.

A sharp knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. Your heart twisted painfully, and for a moment, you thought about ignoring it. But your body betrayed you, pulling you to your feet and dragging you toward the door before your mind could catch up.

When you opened it, there he was.

Bakugou stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. His hair was damp from the drizzle outside, sticking to his forehead, and his eyes... God, his eyes looked tired.

"Hey," he said, voice quieter than you'd ever heard it.

You swallowed hard, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Hey."

He glanced past you into the apartment, his expression softening when he saw the familiar space. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd called it home.

"Can I come in?" He asked, his voice hesitant in a way that made your chest ache.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

The silence between you was heavy as he walked to the middle of the living room, his eyes scanning the space. He noticed the mug on the table, his lips twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Still haven't gotten rid of that?" He asked, motioning toward it.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your sweater. "Couldn't."

He nodded, the air between you thick with things unsaid. Finally, he turned to face you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours.

"I fucked up," he said bluntly, his voice breaking the quiet like a clap of thunder.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. He wasn't one to admit fault easily, and the weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave.

"Katsuki..."

"No, let me talk," he interrupted, stepping closer, his hand stopping you from speaking further as he held it up in a stop motion. "I screwed this up, alright? I got caught up in all the crap with work, and I didn't see what it was doing to you—to us. But I never stopped caring about you. Not for a second."

Your throat tightened as his words sank in, but you couldn't let go of the hurt that had been festering for weeks. "You left, Katsuki," you whispered. "You walked out, and I didn't know if you were ever coming back."

He winced, his jaw clenching. "I know. I was- I was pissed, and I didn't know how to fix it. But not being here—being without you—it's been hell."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away, biting your lip to keep them from falling. "You made me feel like I wasn't enough," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Like I couldn't compete with everything else in your life."

His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but wasn't sure if he should. "You're more than enough," he said firmly. "I was just too much of a damn idiot to show you."

You looked back at him, searching his face for the truth. And there it was, raw and unguarded in the way only Katsuki could be when he let his walls down.

"I want to fix this," he said, stepping closer. "I don't care how long it takes or what I have to do. I just... can't lose you."

The tears spilled over then, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened for a moment, then melted into your embrace, his own arms circling you tightly.

"I missed you," you choked out against his chest.

He buried his face in your hair, his grip on you almost desperate. "I missed you too."

The two of you stood there for what felt like forever, holding onto each other like the world might pull you apart again if you let go.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. "I'm not going anywhere this time," he promised, his voice steady.

You nodded, a small, tentative smile breaking through the storm of emotions. "Okay."

It wasn't perfect, and it wouldn't be easy. But as he pulled you back into his arms, the warmth you'd been missing slowly seeped back in.

The silence didn't feel so heavy.

+++

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[himegureisu]

The Yule Ball [PTII]

Summary: The Yule Ball is about to commence and you arrive in the nick of time.

<< PREV

——————————— 🪄———————————

On Christmas Eve, in the sparkling silver frost of the Great Hall, students’ conversations come to a hush at the sight of their Potions Professor.

His usually greasy hair was clean and silky smooth. On the other hand, an open black double-breasted tailcoat, black vest, black high-collared dress shirt, black pants, and shiny black shoes replaced his daily robes.

It was different. Conservative but also very appealing.

Especially for the female students. Their grumpy Professor so pleasing in the ladies’ eyes has the boys reminding them why they didn’t like him in the first place. Their giggles and murmurs didn’t stop though, and one thought it would be the best if the scowl on his face disappeared, but alas, they could not make miracles happen.

“Would you look at that?”

“Is that truly Professor Snape?”

“Bloody hell,” Ron mutters under his breath, “Even the old dungeon bat looks better than I do,”

In a procession, the champions walk through the oak doors accompanied by their chosen partners, disrupting the comments,, and enter the Great Hall. Their thunderous claps and ever-so-curious gazes shift at the sight of Hermione Granger on Victor Krum’s arm allowing a moment of vulnerability for you.

In their distraction, from a tunnel behind the pine trees, you emerge behind the Headmaster, Severus none the wiser at your arrival, as he speaks.

“I will keep this short because you all might be sick of hearing from me,” the headmaster quips, and the Hogwarts students laugh, “This evening, I hope that every one of us creates meaningful connections and enjoys the feast. However, before we start, I would also like to welcome a special guest.”

Their students were truly the worst gossips as whispers started once again speculating who the special guest could be, making the stories known to their Durmstrang and Beauxbatons friends.

“I’m glad that you’re here and I am very much eager to indulge in your future antics,” Dumbledore smiles, saying nothing further, and turns, “If you’d please, Filius,”

Their students are curious and confused, a rather deadly combination, at the lack of information from their wily Professor as the orchestra starts the song. The sound of string instruments soon echoes throughout the space as the waltz begins.

On the floor, champions lead their partners through the beginnings of the waltz. Their audience is divided between finding the mystery guest and watching their friends glide seamlessly across the room.

In minutes, the headmaster nudges their Transfiguration Professor, who happily accepts the offer and joins the throng of dancing students, on the floor. His absence allows you to stand beside your husband whose gaze remains afront.

“Don’t you look dashing?” you say, breaking the silence among the staff, “I hope you saved me a dance?”

His gaze shifts at the sound of your voice. His eyes quickly take a once over of you. In your sage green dress that highlighted the very best of your features. Your hair in a braided half updo and holly pin presented simple but elegant.

“They’re only for you,” he answers, raising his hand for you to take, “Shall we?”

“On your lead,”

Onto the fray together, the students not so quietly observe. His hands, on your waist and outstretched hand, lead you to the floor. However, closer than appropriate for students, he whispers in your ear.

“You’re determined to do this?”

“I’d like for them to see what I see in you,” you cup his cheek, your gaze on his as the scowl slowly melts away, “Even just for a bit,”

He sighed in defeat.

Your gazes lock on each other, his steps slow but confident guide you through the symphony. In his embrace, the world blends to the background. To the awe of the crowd, a soft smile settles on his lips, his grip, however, tightened and your merry bubble pops at the sight of his restrained ire at the students who admired you from afar.

“You are the only one I desire,” you breathed, cheeks flushed and eyes only on him, as the veins on the side of his head vanished, “No one else can ever compare,”

His eyes softened at your words, breaking through his facade for the night. By the end of the dance, he places a protective hand on your back and gently leads you through. His form towers over you, briefly leaning on your ear to whisper.

“Being with you feels like a dream,” his voice barely audible as you weave through the people, “That I don’t want to end,”

“It will not end,” you declare, as you finally see his colleagues, and some others you don’t know, “We’ll see through it,”

The Headmaster smiles, at the sight of your hands entwined together, as you approach the faculty and guests. Minerva steps up much faster than the rest and says.

“I’m glad you could make it, dear,” she also smiles, as Severus stands behind you, “You two were lovely out there,”

“Were we?” you coyly ask, glancing at Severus, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “I didn’t notice. I’m glad I didn’t trip,”

“I would’ve caught you if you did,” Severus declared, as the others approached, and from there Madam Maxime interjected, “Severus! Who is the lovely lady?”

“Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, this is my wife, Madame Snape,” he introduces you, as you shake friendly hands, “At the moment, she works for the Ministry of Magic,”

“Oh!” the tall lady exclaimed, as Minerva cut the conversation, “I hate to break up this introduction, however, we must be seated for dinner,”

“Of course, Minerva, lead the way,”

In a flash, she transformed into her role as Deputy Headmistress, and seats you beside Severus and her, but also near the Headmaster and the new staff that hasn’t met you. Your friendly smile was a stark difference from the unimpressed line that formed on your husband’s lips.

“Will you be staying the night?” Minerva asks, as you observe Albus who spoke of what he wanted for dinner and it appeared, and answered, “Yes, the headmaster was kind to allow me to stay in the castle for Christmas break,”

“Did he?” Severus said as he looked at you, “Headmaster?”

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously at the light, as Severus exhaled, “Thank you, headmaster,”

“Do enjoy the feast,” Albus said, “There is more to come,”

On his words, you and Severus briefly give each other a look before shrugging it off, oblivious to the utter madness that would transpire once you left the Great Hall for much more amorous and festive pursuits.

There would be time to get to know the students during the break. However, a part of you admits that you were partial to your husband's little snakes.

But they didn't know that.

[moonlitconfessions]

Episode 10 — Rewrite the Script

They thought you'd shrink.

They thought they'd cut your scenes, your lines, your presence—and you'd disappear quietly like all the others who dared to step outside the box the industry built for them.

But you weren’t a ghost. You were a storm.

The modified script sat heavy in your hands. Half your character’s arc—gone. Development chopped into nothing but side glances and silence. No buildup, no payoff. Just… filler. A ghost in the background of her own story.

You marched straight to the director’s tent between takes.

He looked up, startled by your presence. “You’re not supposed to be here right now, [Y/N]—”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” you said firmly, voice steady. “But I need to ask—was this your decision?”

He hesitated. Then sighed. “It came from upstairs. Pressure from production heads. Said the chemistry between you and Zayne’s character was… too distracting.”

You clenched your jaw.

Of course.

You weren’t being punished for being bad. You were being punished for shining too brightly.

“They’re trying to erase me,” you said, more to yourself than him. “Because I said something real.”

The director didn’t deny it. But he didn’t defend it either. That told you enough.

You stepped out just as a breeze hit the lot, tugging at the edges of your coat. And there he was again. Zayne. Like gravity. Like fate.

He stood with his back to you, hands in his pockets, jaw tense as he stared toward the set.

“They’re writing me out,” you said, walking up beside him.

“I know,” he replied. Quiet. Controlled. But his hands curled into fists in his pockets. “And I told them if they do, I’m walking too.”

You turned to him, stunned. “You what?”

“They said they’d cut you,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “So I said they’d have to cut me too. Siena nearly choked on her water when I said it in front of the board.”

Your heart raced. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” he agreed. “I wanted to.”

The wind picked up again, curling between you like something ancient. Something inevitable.

“You’re not a side character in someone else’s show,” he said. “You’re the main event. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

The words hung between you, suspended.

But there was no kiss. Not yet. The moment was too big for that. Too raw. This wasn’t romance for the sake of soft hearts. This was rebellion.

That afternoon, you did something no one expected.

You picked up the discarded scenes—the original ones, still marked up with notes—and you rewrote them. Not everything. Not to be showy. Just enough. Just what mattered.

You rewrote Hana’s arc. You gave her voice back.

Then you handed the pages to the director.

“If you want me to be background noise,” you told him, “you’ll have to throw this in the trash yourself.”

He didn’t. He read them. His brow lifted. His fingers lingered on the final page.

“This is better,” he admitted.

“I am better,” you said.

Later, as the sun dipped behind the set walls, they ran through the revised scene.

It was Hana’s confrontation with the male lead—a scene they’d tried to cut. One where she finally calls out his lies. One where she steps into her power and dares him to either meet her where she stands… or leave.

You performed it like fire. Every line clear. Every glance charged. Zayne gave it back with equal intensity, his voice like thunder in the final beat.

The crew clapped when it ended.

Even the director looked stunned.

The very next morning, your version of the scene—one no one knew had even been filmed—leaked online. A fan had recorded a bit from a nearby alley wall, grainy and shaky.

And yet, it went viral.

“WHO IS THIS ACTRESS??” “Yoon Hana is the main character idc.” “She ate that. Gave me chills.” “Did you see the way he looked at her? That’s not acting.”

They didn’t realize that wasn’t acting. It was real.

By noon, the studio called a press meeting.

And by that evening, Zayne sat beside you on a panel, cameras rolling, microphones hot.

When someone asked if the rumors were true—that he’d threatened to walk off the production for you—he didn’t flinch.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Because talent should never be punished for telling the truth. Or for being better than expected.”

The room fell into silence.

Your heart was still hammering.

And for the first time since your name appeared on a call sheet, you felt it—not just in the air, but in your bones:

You weren’t the understudy anymore.

You were the star.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @regalillegal @zainaaryam @bidisasterforevermor @iisjihye @yourcaleb @zaynessbeloved @rione-x @plsdonutpercieveme @creator-freak @lunia-likes-pomegranet @beaconsxd

[wolvietxt]

𝓢HELTER !

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: storm comfort, hurt / comfort, fluff :) wc: 1.2k

the storm raged on outside, relentless in its fury. the wind howled, sending sheets of rain against the window in torrents, each clap of thunder echoing through the room like it was trying to reach right into your chest. you’d pulled the blanket up, curling into yourself, doing everything possible to tune it out - but there was no escaping the way every crackling flash of lightning seemed to shiver through the entire room. it was impossible to ignore, no matter how many layers you wrapped around yourself or how hard you tried to focus on literally anything else.

beside you, bucky seemed completely unbothered. he’d been scrolling idly on his phone, occasionally glancing your way with that keen look he sometimes got, like he was gauging something without you even realizing it. you tried to play it off, to pretend that the storm wasn’t getting to you, but the way your whole body tensed up every time the thunder cracked made that pretty impossible.

he sighed, a low, almost affectionate sound, and set his phone aside. before you even knew what was happening, he was tugging you closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against his side. it was so casual, so natural, like he’d done it a thousand times and thought nothing of it.

“c’mere,” he muttered, his voice a rough murmur in the dim light. there was a calmness to him, something so steady that it almost made you feel silly for being this tense.

you let out a breath, letting yourself relax just a little against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “i’m fine,” you insisted, though you were sure he could hear the slight tremor in your voice. “just… y’know, loud.”

“loud,” he echoed with a smirk, his hand coming up to gently rub your arm. “doll, i think the whole building knows you’re jumpin’ outta your skin every time that thunder rolls.”

you rolled your eyes, but the teasing helped. somehow, it made the storm feel less intrusive, less like it was pressing in on you from all sides. with bucky’s arm around you, the chaotic noise outside felt like something that couldn’t touch you, like it was just background noise instead of an all-encompassing force.

another loud clap echoed through the room, and despite yourself, you jumped. bucky’s arm tightened instantly, his hand shifting to the back of your neck, fingers brushing gently against your skin. “easy,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but firm enough that it settled something deep inside you. “it’s just a storm.”

“easy for you to say,” you grumbled, burrowing a little closer to him, feeling the heat of his chest against your cheek. “you’re not the one getting startled every five seconds.”

he chuckled, low and soft, his breath ruffling your hair. “yeah, maybe not. but i got you, alright?” his fingers stroked down your back, a slow, steady rhythm that was as calming as his presence beside you. “you’re safe here with me. ain’t nothin’ out there that’s gonna mess with you.”

you felt your heart do a little flip at his words, so simple but carrying a weight you hadn’t expected. it was rare for bucky to be so openly reassuring - he was usually more the silent, steady type, letting his actions speak louder than any words. but tonight, with the storm raging and your nerves wound tight, he seemed to sense that you needed a little extra.

the storm crackled on, another flash illuminating the room in stark white for a split second. you squeezed your eyes shut, instinctively pressing closer to bucky, who didn’t hesitate to hold you tighter, almost like he was trying to shield you from the whole thing. his hand continued its soothing path along your back, up to your shoulder, and back down again, each pass leaving a little more of your tension melting away.

“doesn’t bother you at all, huh?” you muttered, voice muffled against his chest. it was more of an observation than a question, but you couldn’t help wondering how he managed to stay so calm, so unaffected by the storm.

“been through worse,” he replied, his tone light but laced with an undertone you didn’t miss. he didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push—some things with bucky didn’t need to be spelled out. instead, he tilted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “besides, i got a job to do keepin’ you in one piece, don’t i?”

the words brought a smile to your lips despite yourself. “is that what this is? just you doing your job?” you teased, looking up at him with a raised brow.

he smirked, his blue eyes glinting with something warm and soft. “maybe i’m goin’ above and beyond for this one.” he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering there, thumb brushing your cheek in a way that made your heart stutter. “gotta keep my girl safe.”

your cheeks warmed at the words, and you ducked your head, hiding the small smile that crept across your lips. the storm outside seemed a little quieter now, a little less intense, though you weren’t sure if it had actually calmed or if bucky’s presence was just drowning it out.

for a while, neither of you spoke. he just held you, his touch gentle and grounding as the minutes ticked by. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of him against you. the storm was still there, but it felt distant, like something happening outside a bubble you and bucky had created just for the two of you.

at some point, he shifted, pulling the blanket more securely around you both, tucking it up under your chin. you barely noticed, feeling drowsy, lulled by the comforting weight of his arm around you and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. his fingers kept up their gentle path, tracing little circles on your shoulder, each pass lulling you further into a peaceful haze.

“feelin’ better?” he murmured, his voice a rumble that vibrated through his chest and into your ear. it was so gentle, so filled with a kind of tenderness that he rarely showed to anyone else, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“mhm,” you mumbled, already halfway to sleep, your hand absently curling into his shirt as you snuggled closer. “thanks, bucky.”

he let out a soft chuckle, and you felt the vibration against your cheek. “anytime, doll,” he said, pressing another kiss to your hair. “anytime.”

the storm continued outside, the thunder still rumbling and the rain still pounding against the window, but in bucky’s arms, it all faded into the background. you were safe, secure, wrapped up in the warmth of his presence, and nothing else mattered. with each steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the tension melted away, leaving only a gentle peace in its place.

and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter how fierce the storm, as long as bucky was by your side, you’d always find calm in the midst of it.

bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

taglist form linked in pinned post!

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Death of Peace of Mind | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part 1: Altitude. Altitude.

summary: life with a pilot isn't all it's cracked up to be. a/n: hi friends! welcome! entry, please! i told you i would be back :) unfortunately, it took a lot longer than i expected. i moved states this year, started a new job, found a loving and healthy relationship, traveled internationally for the first time... i.e. i have been super busy, but i'm out of my depressive slump and finally got the urge to write (and post) again. i won't say that consistency is back, as my social calendar has obviously been slammed, but i will try my best <3

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Thunderous.

That’s the only way to describe the sound of hundreds of boots pounding down the ship’s stairs toward the dock below. While Hangman had only been aboard for a few weeks, many of the crew had been deployed for months on end. He, and a few other Top Gun members, made the vessel their temporary home while they completed a brief mission. Nothing like the Dagger mission, just simple recon; but the security was top-notch, and the admiral wanted his best on the case.

Hangman rolls the toothpick between his teeth with his tongue and shrugs his duffel higher up his shoulder. He laughs at a dig Phoenix makes at Rooster and claps a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Phoenix. How I’ll miss you and your quick wit,” he sings, the sun hitting his face as his boot hits the dock beside her.

Phoenix shakes her head as she pulls her aviators from her shirt and settles them on the bridge of her nose. “And I will miss nothing about you, Hangman.”

“Ouch! Brutal! You wound me, Natasha.”

“See ya next time, Hangman.”

“You won’t have to suffer too long, Rooster. I’ll be in your dreams tonight, per usual.” He nods in the other man’s direction. “Rodeo, it’s been a pleasure.”

“I’ll never understand why you boys can’t seem to get along.”

Bob’s cousin, Rhett Abbott. Related by their twin mothers, almost identical themselves. A skilled pilot and proud country boy, with a heart of gold. Not to mention, entirely tolerable. Unlike his buddy, Bradley. Hangman and Rodeo clap hands in a firm handshake, smiling at each other. “It’s not in my blood, cowboy.”

They say their final goodbyes and are about to split up when a tiny voice shouts, “DADDY!”

Usually, this wouldn’t be uncommon. They’re on a dock, where families had come from all over Texas to welcome their servicemen and women home from a long deployment. It’s an emotional affair, albeit happy, but emotional nevertheless. However, when a little blonde girl they don’t recognize (again, not uncommon, usually) gets closer and closer, set on a path in their direction, confusion is written all over their faces. That confusion only increases tenfold when Hangman breaks into the biggest, most genuine smile they’ve ever seen him wear, and takes long strides in her direction.

“DADDY!”

Hangman drops into a squat, holding his bag in place on his shoulder, and grabs the child with his other arm. “Hi, baby!” he exclaims and fervently kisses her cheek. “I missed you so much!” 

He can’t remember the last time his heart felt so full. He understands now, why so many people have their families show up after every deployment or mission. Watching his daughter, who somehow managed to find him in the crowd, run up to him with so much excitement and love was entirely different than walking in the front door.

Although, it’s been a while since that’s happened.

He shakes the thought from his mind and scoops her up with his arm while he stands again. Her little arms go right around his neck, hugging him tight. He’s gently rubbing her leg when he asks her, “Where’s your mom?”

He’s fully aware of the absolute circus in the minds of his fellow pilots in the background. They haven’t spoken a word, silent, but he doesn’t have to look to know that they’re probably standing in the same spot. Unmoved, jaws on the floor. What Hangman does do is look around, keeping an eye out for–

“Mama!” the little girl yells, waving her hand frantically at the woman approaching.

“You found him! I’m so proud of you, Daise!”

Jake Seresin was an expert at keeping his personal and work lives separate; or he thought so, at least. Work often bled into personal, but never the other way around. Any piece or crumb the crew knew about his life outside of work, he had fed them willingly and with intention.

“Would you…want to come to port?”

“...What?”

“Only if you want. I know it’s a long drive for Daise–”

“No, no. We could fly. I’m just…surprised. You’ve never…”

“We’re docking in Corpus. The crew asked if I would show them around while we’re on leave. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to introduce you. And Daisy. Especially with…”

“That sounds nice. We’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll send you the info.” Silence. “Thanks, Red. I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you for including us.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re fixing it. That’s all that matters.”

He thought that he had mastered work-life balance, too.

Apparently, not.

You give him a short side hug, partially blocked by his familiar duffel. His hand lingers on your arm after you pull away. 

“Hey. Thank you for coming.”

“Happy to. I wish you could’ve seen her face when I told her. Didn’t complain once the whole drive here.”

“Really? Isn’t that something?” He turns his attention back to Daisy. “Were you good for Mama?”

Jake listens intently to your daughter’s jumbled, excited retelling of your journey, and you occasionally butt in with light banter. He hadn’t been gone long, but from the speed and fervor at which Daisy was talking, you’d think she hadn’t seen him in months. This goes on for a bit until someone interrupts your daughter’s babbling. A male voice barks his callsign, and he peers over his shoulder in their direction.

He looks back over at Daisy with a gasp. “Daise, would you wanna meet Daddy’s coworkers?” he asks, his eyebrows quirked in faux shock.

“For real?!”

“Yeah, for real.”

“Yes!”

And that’s what you do. Jake nods in the group’s direction, and you follow his lead, sticking close to his side. He had obviously done an excellent job at keeping his family a secret; you can tell from a mile away that the band of pilots is trying to quietly deduce what the fuck is going on while you approach. Daisy is practically ready to launch out of his hold in excitement, giggling and wiggling like a little worm.

“Alright, don’t get yourselves in a tizzy.” He hikes Daisy up on his waist. “Daisy, this is Rodeo–”

“Like the rodeo at home?” she asks, in her curious, pitched voice.

“Just like that. Rodeo, this is Daisy Mae.”

“Pleasure.” The man holds his hand out to her, and she takes it, bursting with giggles again. The sound is like music to your ears, and you just know that Jake is absolutely reveling in her joy. Rodeo has a charming smile and a warm personality. You’ve heard just about every complaint under the sun from Hangman (and he has plenty), but he’s bitched about Rodeo the least. Although, when he bitches, that usually means he cares.

And he complains about Rooster a lot. A lot.

Rodeo then moves on to you and offers the same gesture. “Rhett Abbott. Miss…?”

“Seresin. I’m his wife,” you say, shaking his hand while you tell him your first name and insist that he drop the formality. You can sense Jake, your husband, looking and smiling down at you like you’re his moon and stars. You make a feeble attempt to avoid meeting his gaze but it’s futile. You make eye contact, and you know you won’t live the admission down.

You’ll talk about it later.

“You have a hat like Daddy’s,” your daughter says, and reaches out to touch the brim.

“Do I, now?”

“Moving on.” He turns her a little, “And this is Rooster.”

Daisy’s button nose scrunches in distaste, and her brows furrow together, before “…Ew.”

The man with a mustache, Rooster, clicks his teeth. “Seriously, Seresin?” he exclaims, exasperated.

“You know it. Up top, pumpkin.” Daisy throws her whole body into the high-five. You laugh as they smack hands in the air, and Jake shakes it off as if it were the crispest he had ever received. “Ouch. You’re gonna have a nasty right hook one day. You know who else throws a good punch?” He turns them to the next person, the sole woman of the party. “This is Phoenix.”

The dark-haired woman smiles brightly. “Hello! Phoenix is my work name. You can call me Natasha,” she says as if they’re sharing a secret. She’s very pretty, you notice, and you already like her. You hope the two of you can keep in touch, maybe even become friends.

You thought you would be more nervous, meeting the people Jake spends most of his time with, but you feel at ease. Sure, there’s anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it’s minimal. You’re in his sanctuary, his church, for the first time ever, and the magnitude of that isn’t lost on you.

“N…Tasha.”

“Exactly. Tasha’s okay too.”

It almost feels like before. Before Jake, Hangman, blew right past the hard deck of your relationship and left a fiery pile of rubble, which he was now attempting to repair.

But this isn’t before.

Then

Altitude. Altitude.

Not being selected for the mission stung; but being put on standby (babysitting duty), twiddling his thumbs on deck in favor of Rooster, stung even more.

Hangman knew deep down what Rooster was capable of. He said so during their training exercise. He had all of the skills to complete the mission just fine if he would just buck the fuck up. He didn’t have the confidence, too cautious for his own good. He hoped Maverick was right, that Roos was ready to get the job done.

“We got two minutes to target.”

“Copy. We’re a few seconds behind, Rooster. We got to move.”

“Thirty seconds to tomahawk impact on enemy airstrip.”

“Dagger, Comanche. We’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”

They would be fine. Nothing to worry about.

“Sir, Daggers two and four are behind schedule. Time to target, one minute-twenty.”

“Rooster, where are you?”

“Come on, Bradshaw, pick it up…”

“Come on, Rooster. Bandits inbound. We got to make up time now. Let’s turn and burn.

Good, Payback. Kick his ass into gear.

“Guys, we’re falling behind! We really gotta move!”

“If we don’t increase our speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target.”

Hit the gas, Rooster. Do it.

And he did. By the sound of it, Roos had blown his wingmen out of the water with the way he took off. He nearly left them in the dust, to Hangman’s surprise and pride. Maybe the other pilot had taken a page out of his book.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit! Maverick is down!”

He had considered at least one of the lieutenants not making it back. Whether it was Rooster for being too slow, or Payback and Fanboy going down with him for his hesitation. He was fairly certain Phoenix was safe, with the legendary captain as her wingman. But losing Maverick wasn’t anywhere close to his radar. He started adjusting in his seat, checking his buckles and legroom while holding his mouthpiece up. “Dagger spare, request permission to launch and fly air cover!”

There’s a beat, before Comanche’s response. “Negative, spare.”

And like a good soldier, Hangman listened. Begrudgingly, and with great frustration, he listened. Even as Rooster disobeyed orders. Even as he located a somehow living Pete Mitchell. Even as he crashed like their leader. By that point, they were sure to be dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

That is, until–

“Daggers two, four, and spare. Be advised, a supersonic F-14 has been detected with Rooster’s headset. Unconfirmed occupants. Do not engage.”

“What?” Jake’s head whipped around and his eyes darted to Phoenix in her cockpit. She was looking between Hangman and Dagger Four just as confused as he was. “Did they say–?”

Payback lifted his mouthpiece. “Comanche, repeat.”

“Rooster headset has been picked up in the air.”

Going after Roos and Mav was a split-second decision. He knew he shouldn’t have done it the second his wheels left the carrier.

Pull up. Pull up.

And by then, it was too late to turn back.

“Dagger spare, do not engage! You do not have clearance for take-off! Acknowledge!”

“With all due respect, Comanche, not acknowledged.”

A man’s voice, likely the vice admiral, suddenly cut in. “Hangman! Stay put! That is a direct order!”

If he was going to get written up, potentially court-martialed, for disobeying direct orders, he was going to make the most of it.

“Sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

Hangman didn’t respond to the slew of orders and cursing. He engaged the jet canopy and sat in silence with his hand over his right breast pocket, where three small photos were safely tucked away. One of you, in your pajamas with your hair up and an ice cream spoon in your mouth, eyes crinkled as you grin at him. Another of him and Daisy, and a third of the three of you.

You’d better be worth it, Bradshaw.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking.”

“Hey, Hangman. You look good.”

“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.”

You were standing by the door, rifling through the pile of mail from the day, when you found an official-looking letter in the middle. “Jake, baby, there’s a letter for you.”

Altitude. Altitude.

“Does it say ‘confidential’?” he hollered from the kitchen.

You turned the thick envelope over, then back again. “No, it’s just addressed to you,” you said, shaking your head as if he could see you.

“Go ahead and open it.”

The paper and adhesive tore easily around your finger as you approached the kitchen. You pulled the single page out of its sleeve and quickly skimmed the letter to give a summary. But that cursory glance sent an icy chill up your spine, choking back the first line that you had meant to read aloud.

You stood between the living room and kitchen, letter in hand, frozen; a reprimand.

“What’s it say, babe?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, let alone move. Your eyes meticulously crawled through the slip, unblinking, tears pooling helplessly at your lashes. Eventually, your body couldn’t take the stillness and your lashes fluttered. The gathered drops raced down your cheeks and soiled the paper.

LETTER OF REPRIMAND FOR FAILURE TO FOLLOW ORDERS

MEMORANDUM FOR Lieutenant Jacob Austin Seresin

FROM: Vice Admiral Beau Simpson

You are being reprimanded for violating Article 92, Failure to Obey an Order or Regulation. During the [REDACTED] mission, you, Lt. Seresin, were ordered to remain grounded. You neglected to do so. As your commanding officer, the risks and outcomes of the mission were weighed carefully. You decided, on your admission and recognizance, to steal government property and engage in air-to-air combat with an enemy force that had already shot down two of your fellow airmen.

Said action could have resulted in your death, as well as the deaths of others. As a lieutenant and military member, you are expected to be a leader and obey all lawful orders. This behavior is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Any future occurrences of failing to comply with Navy Standards will result in stronger disciplinary actions.

After reviewing the sequence of events, and given the outcome of your actions–

You didn’t need to read the rest; the course of action Jake’s command had decided upon wasn’t important. You’d had enough. Your face suddenly felt hot. And your insides, your insides, too. The wet streaks on your face and neck suddenly burned; or was it the heat under your skin turning them to vapor? Eventually, after Jake prompted you again, an echo in the ringing in your head, you managed a quiet, “Get out.”

“Can’t hear you. What?”

Through gritted teeth, you turn to stare at him, gaze like hot daggers, and growl, “Get. Out.”

He turned to find you, the epitome of feminine rage and nearly cowered back. In the years you had been together, he had never seen you so angry.

“W…hat do you–”

His confusion only made your fury worse. And so your rampage began. Your heavy footsteps cut him off and you all but ran to your shared bedroom, and slammed the letter on the kitchen island on your way past.

“Red–” The thought died in his throat when he scanned the mail.

Fuck.

A bag flying into the living space from the hall broke him out of his stupor. Jake quickly moved toward the source, and asked, “Red, what are you do–” When he crossed the threshold, a pressed uniform smacked him in the face.

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!” you screeched, lobbing clothes and other small objects at him.

His pants, his socks, his fucking underwear–

Out. Get it all out. All of it. Fuck him, fuck his shit, fuck his job–

“Baby–!”

“Fuck you! Don’t call me that!”

“Red, baby, please! Stop!”

That finally sparked a coherent thought in your mind. You were sobbing, choking on your cries, but you managed ragged breaths to string together a sentence. “We just talked about this! You promised me! You promised that you would do better, and I believed you! MOTHERFUCKER!”

A phone charger smacked the wall where Jake’s head once was; he swatted at a pillow that came in his direction when he straightened back up. “I…Sweetheart,” he stuttered, desperate sounding. “I couldn’t–they would’ve died! I’m so–”

Hearing him about to say he was sorry made it so much fucking worse. You don’t know what else to do but just…scream. Like a banshee. That was when the heavy shit started–the remote, a picture frame, a vase, a lamp. During your blind frenzy, he managed to get close enough to grab your arms when you turned your back, searching for another projectile. He pulled you to his chest, practically crushing you against him, so you would stop fighting and trying to injure him. But you were vicious; screaming obscenities and insults, writhing in his iron grip. You managed to get your legs up and kick at the bed, which sent Jake stumbling back and forced him to plant his feet. If he were honest, he would admit that he struggled to keep you contained, even for a moment.

His body, his flesh touching yours was too much, and your sleep set didn’t offer you much relief. Your skin crawled like you might just burst at the thought of having to be in his proximity any longer. Amidst all the chaos, you’d almost forgotten about your toddler, sleeping soundly in another room.

“I can’t believe I trusted you! You’re fucking killing me! And you do it like it’s nothing! Like we’re nothing! I’m done! I’m fucking done!”

Pull up. Pull up.

You kicked again, and Jake let you go, instead holding your face to make you look at him. But you shoved him away before he could get the chance. “Red, you have to understand–!”

“I’m done understanding! I don’t care about them! I don’t care about the military! Why should I give half of a shit, when my husband would rather die for them than live for his fucking wife and child!”

Jake didn’t respond. He couldn’t. What could he have said? To apologize, to make it better, to prove that. He’d already groveled to get to where they were then, and he screwed it up so quickly. 

The battlefield that was his mind wouldn’t cooperate. He was barely keeping his head above water lately, let alone while trying to mitigate the damage he had done to his wife. Damage that he didn’t—couldn’t—see, and still didn’t quite understand. You brought up your feelings, over and over again, and he did his best to keep his promises.

He did his best. Why wasn’t that good enough?

“You don’t get it! And I don’t know how to make you understand. I’ve begged, I’ve made threats, and it’s not working. So I’m telling you again. GET. OUT!”

“Red!”

The neighbors called the police. They heard your fight from next door, through the hum of their TV while their family ate dinner. How your daughter slept through it, even with taking after her father with his heavy sleeping, you’d never know. Jake sat on their doorstep shell-shocked, a cop around his dad’s age hovering over him with a sad look.

“I just want him gone. I need to be left alone,” you choked through tears, wiping your sleeve across your face. “I’m always alone.”

How did we get here?

Daisy’s faint cries flooded through the doorway from her bedroom. Your husband instinctually went to get up and tend to her, but was met with a firm hand on his shoulder. The man shook his head, and Jake slowly sank back down. If he could’ve sunk into the concrete, he would’ve. What kind of man was he, if he couldn’t even tend to his daughter?

The officers told each of you separately that charges weren’t necessary for a case like yours, which you were grateful for. Jake would never hit you, and you told them as much; you’d just reached your breaking point and needed space. The older man followed the pilot through the house as he went to fetch some clothes to last him a few days. It took everything in his being to ignore Daisy’s cries for him from behind her closed door; it was enough of a challenge that the officer had to nudge him past when he paused at the painted entryway, adorned with her namesake.

With instructions to restrict contact to Daisy’s needs for the next few days, to give you both time to cool off, your husband left peacefully. You didn’t watch as he tossed his bag into the backseat of his truck, or when he pulled out of your driveway. You simply thanked the officers and closed the door, leaned back against it, and sobbed into your palm. You don’t have long, your daughter having gotten louder with each passing minute she was left unattended. You let her cry for just a bit longer to get it out of your system before fetching her.

Even though you had just kicked your husband, the love of your life, out of your family home, you still managed to be incredibly gentle with your toddler. It felt like your soul was torn to pieces, one of them on his way to a motel or parking lot, no doubt.

You shushed her quietly as you scooped her into your arms and smoothed her hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s here. It’s okay.”

Altitude. Altitude.

Copyright © 2024 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[animesmolbean]

Try Defying Gravity

A Twisters fanfiction

Author's Note: I'm finally back! I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been so busy lately, but I have a small break right now, so I can post now!

Fourth chapter, now! Geez, this was a hard chapter to write! I was going through many scenarios in my head to see which would work best for this scene, and this was the one I chose and liked the best. I hope you all like it!

Also, completely off-topic story, my town had a tornado scare today! I was alone in my apartment room and looked out my window. We had rain for most of the day, but this time, it was coming down hard. Then, a minute or two later, I got a tornado warning on my phone. I was going to write it off at first because I've gotten those warnings before, and they didn't turn into anything. But then, I heard the dull sound of the tornado sirens, and my heart sank. I called my dad in a panic as I grabbed some stuff and left my room. I went down the stairs to go to the underground parking garage in my apartment. As I got to the stairs door, I looked outside. The sky was pale gray, it was pouring, and the wind was blowing hard. Just as I was about to open the door, all of a sudden, I heard a loud clap/rumble sound that scared me half to death! Wasn't sure if it was someone in the stairwell or if it was thunder, but that made me even more anxious!

I get to the parking garage, and around thirty to fourty people, mostly college students like myself, were down there. My dad and I ended our call, and I called my mom in a mild panic, too, telling her that was happening. She called me again a couple of minutes later, but then I accidentally hung up on her, and I kept calling her in a panic, hoping that the WiFi wasn't spotty or something. She picked up and told her everything. Then, my friend called me in the middle of it, so I let my mom go since she had work in a couple of minutes, and told my friend when I answered her.

Luckily, the tornado warning changed to a severe thunderstorm warning after a couple of minutes in the parking garage, and twenty minutes after the tornado warning was sent, we were cleared and only under the severe thunderstorm warning. I walked up the stairs to the main floor and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, and the wind was calmer, but the sky stayed the same. I went back to my room and anxiously waited for the storm warning to be lifted. Then, around half an hour later, the severe thunderstorm warning expired.

It was one of the most anxious moments of my life! But, I was happy that the storm was just passing through and broke apart.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♥️

Chapter 4: Nightly Discussion

Nighttime fell over the skies of Oklahoma. The pale blue color changed to a dark blue, almost black shade. Stars popped up, twinkling against the dark background beautifully.

(Your Name) walked behind Kate and Javi as they talked. She let them talk as she went through the thoughts in her head. When she came back to the StormPAR vans after the twister completely vanished, she was scolded for going with Tyler and his crew by Scott. He told her that next time, she had to go with them next time. The scolding would've been harsher if Javi and Kate hadn't stepped in to defend her. (Your Name) honestly didn't understand why Scott was so annoyed with the fact that she went with Tyler’s group. Besides the shock of going into the twister and almost suffering a panic attack, she actually had some fun. She sighed softly and shook her head, deciding not to dwell on it tonight.

She saw that Javi and Kate had separated and she decided to walk up to Kate and talk to her. “Hey, Kate. Ready to rest?”

Said girl turned to (Your Name) and nodded. “Yep. This day's been a disaster.” She said. (Your Name) frowned, remembering what she saw earlier that day. She knew Kate must've had some sort of panic attack when she was out there. Instead of asking about it, thinking it might be a touchy subject, she said, “I'm sorry about what happened.”

Kate shook her head. “You didn't do anything. It was all my fault. I screwed up.” She said monotonously. “No. It wasn't. Whatever happened out there, it wasn't your fault. Trust me,” (Your Name) moved closer to Kate to the point where their shoulders touched, “Look, tomorrow is a new day. Things will be better. I'm positive it'll be great. Plus, I'll be there this time. We can do it together.”

Kate gave the (Hair Color) haired girl a smile. She loved how encouraging and supportive (Your Name) was. She wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders. “Thank you, (Your Name).” Said girl hummed happily, wrapping her arm around Kate's waist, side hugging her. “You're welcome, Kate.”

The two walked towards the motel, their arms still wrapped around each other. But as they did, they spotted Tyler's crew outside by their vehicles. While (Your Name) thought about going over to them, seeing Kate's expression change from calm to annoyed, made (Your Name) want to stay with her. As they walked past them, going up the stairs and trying to be subtle, Tyler spoke up, “The cells to the west will choke each other out, she said. The one to the east will put on a show.”

The girls stopped walking and looked at the group. At first, (Your Name) had no idea what he was talking about, but then she remembered he talked to Kate first. They must've discussed the storm cells too before he went to talk to her. And judging by his tone, he was messing with Kate. Before she could say something, Kate replied snarkily, “Well, it didn't throw you off the scent.”

“Hey, that's what makes Tyler famous.” Boone said, pointing to Tyler with his free hand, his other one holding a beer.

“You mean famous on YouTube?” Kate retorted sassily.

Tyler chuckled through clenched teeth, turning his head to look at Kate and (Your Name).

Boone stumbled on his words a bit before forming a coherent sentence, “We're on YouTube. We got what? About a million subscribers now, huh?” He asked the group, gaining words of affirmation from them.

Ben stood up from the chair he was sitting and walked up to Kate and (Your Name), craving his neck to look up at them. “Uh, Kate, what?” Seeing Kate's immediate confusion, he added, “Your surname, just in case I include you in my piece. I have (Your Name)’s already written.”

“Just Kate's fine, please.” Kate told him awkwardly with a nod. Ben nodded and went back to writing in his notepad.

No one spoke after the exchange, the tension high between Tyler's group and the two girl best friends. Sensing that awkward tension between everyone (Your Name) decided to speak up, “So, where did you guys meet?” She addressed each group member, her eyes landing on Tyler last, “Did you study meteorology together or something?”

This question gained amused laughs from the group. Boone looked at (Your Name) with a carefree smile, “Nah. I just flow with the wind. You know what I'm saying?”

The sentence surprised (Your Name). “Meaning…,” she started before Boone finished her thought, “Yeah, I never went to, like, school or nothing. Um, Tyler, he studied meteorology, though.”

(Your Name) looked at Tyler. “Really?” She said.

Tyler chuckled in amusement at (Your Name)’s awe.

Boone nodded. “Yeah, girl. You know, he's a cowboy scientist, you know.” He said, gassing up his best friend, not hearing Tyler trying to stop him from continuing, “He's got this natural instinct, similar to yours and Kate, I think. He taught me everything I know, so-”

“Boone.” Finally Tyler saying his name got Boone to stop talking. Then, Tyler's eyes moved to (Your Name) and Kate, his expression normal, “You know, our crew’s not like your crew. We don't need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do. I guarantee you, these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else in this lot combined.”

‘He could be right. I've only seen one in my entire life before today.’ (Your Name) thought to herself. She looked at Kate and she could tell that Kate was getting more annoyed. She didn't outwardly show it, but she can sense it in Kate’s posture. “Oh? Is that right?” Kate asked smugly.

Ben, not sensing the obvious tension between Tyler and Kate, opened his mouth again and spoke, “Do you think there's a chance we'll see one tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah. Outbreak, baby.” Boone replied with a whistle, smiling with excitement as he took a sip of his drink. The rest of the group agreed.

“You know, if you can keep up, we'll put you in the episode,” Tyler told Kate nonchalantly, acting smug again. “Your friend (Your Name) here has already gotten a taste. She was having the time of her life out there.”

(Your Name) couldn't help but agree partially to Tyler's words. She did have fun with him, but that sense of anxiety from being in that tornado was certainly not fun. But she also did not like the smug attitude he directed at Kate. She crossed her arms, miffed at that, and was about to say something, but once again, Kate beat her to it,

“Wow~,” She dragged the word out dramatically, “What a privilege that would be.”

“What are you chasing tomorrow?” Lilly asked Kate and (Your Name), interested and not picking up on the obvious tension between Kate and Tyler.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not falling for that again.” Tyler jumped in, clicking his tongue as he looked briefly at Killy before turning his attention to the two girl best friends, “Kate's living in New York. Can't trust a thing she says anymore.”

“Well, what about (Your Name), there? She had the same theory as Kate.” Boone jumped into the conversation.

Tyler thought for a moment before replying, “We can trust her, I think. What do you say, Chicago? What's your opinion on the outbreak?” He asked with a smirk.

(Your Name) let out a playful scoff. “I don't think you want my opinion. If you can't trust Kate’s input because she's from New York, you shouldn't trust a Chicago girl’s input, either. So, no. I'm not telling you anything. Especially since you'll probably claim the knowledge as your own and chase after us like a desperate puppy.”

Kate had to cover her mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud.

Pleased with her words, (Your Name) turned away, wrapping her arm around Kate's shoulders and ushered her to their room.

Meanwhile, everyone in Tyler’s group whistled and made impressed noises at (Your Name)’s comeback.

Tyler was left with a lot of thoughts but couldn't help the somewhat pleased smirk that formed on his lips as he watched (Your Name) leave.

🌀🌪🍃

(Your Name) couldn't sleep. Not because she was nervous or upset. She just couldn't at the moment. And on those nights, she could go outside, take in the night air and calm down.

That's exactly what she was doing now.

She looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling and the moon glowing brightly, giving off enough light that it wasn't pitch black out.

Many thoughts raced through her mind. All of them revolve around Tyler and her friends. But mostly Tyler. ‘Why was he hostile towards Kate and Javi and the rest of the StormPAR crew? Do they have some kind of feud?’

“Can't sleep, Chicago?”

Tyler's voice took her by surprise, making her jump a bit. She turned and saw Tyler, still in his clothes from today, standing there, hands on his hips.

“Uhhh…. Y-yeah.”

Tyler smiled and walked closer to the (Hair Color) haired girl, stopping when he was standing next to her. He followed her gaze, looking up at the sky.

“Beautiful, huh?” He asked, looking at (Your Name).

The girl looked at Tyler and nodded. “It looks so different in Chicago.” She said.

“Can't beat the sky in the country.”

(Your Name) hummed. It was really beautiful.

The two stayed silent for a couple of minutes, admiring the night sky.

“What you said to me. When you defended your friend. That was a brave thing. I can respect it.”

Tyler's words broke (Your Name) out of her reverie as she turned to look at Tyler again. He was still looking up at the sky, but she decided to speak anyway, “Kate's my best friend. Best friends defend each other.”

Tyler chuckled softly at her words, not in a mocking way but in an endearing way.

Then, (Your Name) asks, “Why did you say those things to them? Kate? Javi? And the rest of the StormPAR team? Is there some kind of… feud or disagreement between you guys?”

At her question, Tyler turned to face her, his expression calm but serious, “No. There's no feud. But, they are not good people.”

Confused (Your Name) asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… they are selfish and don't care. Have you not noticed it?”

(Your Name) shook her head. She knew Scott was a jerk, but everyone else seemed nice, especially Javi. Kate was her best friend; she wouldn't describe her as selfish.

Tyler stepped closer to the (Hair Color) haired girl before placing his hands on her shoulders. The action made the girl gasp softly. “Take it from me, dear. You don't want to work for those goons. Finish the internship and work somewhere else as your real job. You're too good for them.”

Then, he moved his right hand closer to the side of (Your Name)’s neck. “In fact, I could take you into my team. You’ll fit in perfectly.” He finished with a soft, sincere smile.

The mix of Tyler's words and the intimate touches made (Your Name) feel shivers on her spine, and a fire slowly ignited in her body. She swallowed nervously, her mouth slightly agape.

The intimate moment lasted for a couple more seconds. The two just looked at each other, neither saying a word. Then, Tyler pulled away, his hands returning to his sides. “Go get some rest, city girl. Big day tomorrow, all right?”

(Your Name) nodded and turned to head back to the motel but she heard Tyler call out to her, making her pause and turn her head to look at him, “Think about what I said.”

With a nod, she turned her head forward and started walking again.

She got to her room and closed the door. She pressed her back to the door and let out a sigh. Tyler's words echoed in her head. She didn't know what to think. What to say. And that intimate moment they had. Her heart was beating a little faster just thinking about it.

Sighing again, she decided to sleep everything off. She actually did feel tired now.

As she lay in bed, she looked up at the ceiling. ‘Tomorrow's a new day. Things will be different.’

That was her last thought before she fell asleep.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home p.36

Hii guyss, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist and if you missed part 35, here it is.

Your life in Monaco was idyllic, growing up alongside the Leclercs. But everything changes when you're forced to leave. Now, returning to the place you once called home, you're confronted with a dilemma: not one, but two Leclerc brothers vying for your heart. Old bonds and unresolved emotions collide-what will you do when the past and present merge in unexpected ways?

The cheering still echoed in the background — your families, your friends, all of them celebrating like you’d just won the world. But Charles’s hands on your waist, his forehead still pressed to yours, created a world where only the two of you existed.

You could feel his breath on your lips, his smile blooming against your skin.

“We’re married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.

His chest rose with a soft, joyful laugh. “We are,” he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against yours. “And you’re mine. Really mine.”

He leaned down and kissed your shoulder, just beneath the delicate lace of your dress, like he was anchoring himself to the moment. The kiss was soft, almost reverent, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to love you out loud.

You reached up and cupped his face, letting your thumb trace the curve of his jaw. “I still can’t believe this is real,” you confessed, your voice small and full of wonder.

Charles pulled you in tighter, arms wrapped around your waist. “I used to dream about this,” he whispered against your temple. “About you, walking toward me like that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes — and they were glistening, like he was still holding onto tears he didn’t want to let fall. “You cried,” you teased gently.

He smirked, but didn’t deny it. “You looked like an angel. What was I supposed to do?”

You laughed, wiping away a stray tear from your own cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And madly in love with my wife.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the word wife and you leaned into his arms again, resting your cheek against his chest, breathing him in. He smelled like home, like safety. Like every good thing in your life.

The music had stopped, the ceremony over — and yet here you stood, still wrapped up in one another, still not ready to let go.

There was a gentle knock at the door leading into the reception hall. “They’re ready for you two,” someone whispered from the other side.

Charles kissed your forehead one last time before gently taking your hand in his. “Ready, madame Leclerc?”

You looked down at your intertwined fingers, then up into his eyes. “More than ever.”

The reception hall glowed like a fairy tale.

Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling like stars, candles flickered on the tables, and soft golden lanterns floated above the dance floor. Everyone rose to their feet when you entered hand in hand, cheers and applause echoing like thunder in a dream.

But all you saw was Charles.

He squeezed your hand and leaned into your ear. “May I have this dance?”

You nodded, barely holding back tears. “Always.”

The music swelled — slow, orchestral, and impossibly romantic. Charles led you to the center of the floor, where the world once again faded away. His hand found the small of your back, your fingers rested against his shoulder, and you moved together like you were made for this.

“I love you,” he whispered just above the music.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling. “I love you more.”

He chuckled and spun you gently, pulling you back into his arms with practiced grace. “That’s not how this works. I get the last word, remember?”

You grinned, swaying with him, the soft fabric of your gown brushing against his legs. “Says who?”

“Says your husband.”

That made you laugh — loud and unfiltered. And around you, the people you loved clapped and smiled and took pictures, but nothing could pull you out of that moment. Not tonight. Not now.

When the song ended, the applause rolled in again. You barely noticed it. Charles leaned in and kissed you softly, then held you close as the next song started — faster, louder, the signal that the party had officially begun.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing and laughter and champagne.

You danced with Pascale, who kept crying into her napkin between smiling and hugging you. “I always knew it would be you,” she whispered. “Even when you were just kids.”

You danced with Lorenzo and with Pierre — who twirled you dramatically, making Kika laugh so hard she nearly cried.

“You’re glowing,” Kika whispered later when you two were fixing your makeup in the mirror. “That’s what real love does.”

Then, as you were catching your breath from the last dance, someone approached you with hesitant steps. You turned to see Arthur standing there, hands slightly fidgeting, a small but genuine smile on his face.

"May I have this dance?" he asked softly, his voice almost lost in the background music.

Your heart fluttered with emotion. You gave him a nod and took his outstretched hand. As the two of you moved to the slower rhythm of the next song, the world seemed to pause for a moment.

"Thank you," Arthur said quietly. "For letting me be here. For not giving up on me."

You looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes again — not from sadness, but from something deeper, something rooted in years of shared memories and recent pain. "I'm glad you're here. You're part of this too. You always have been."

He swallowed hard and nodded. "You’re finally part of the family now. Officially. Though… you’ve always been that to me. Even when I didn’t know how to handle it."

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "We all had to heal. And we’re still healing. But I’m happy you’re here."

Arthur smiled, a little more freely this time. "Me too. And I meant what I said earlier. I wish you and Charles the best. No one deserves happiness more than you."

You finished the dance in quiet understanding, a peaceful silence between you as the music continued.

Then Charles returned to your side, slipping his arm around your waist with a grin that still made your heart flutter. You leaned into him easily, warmth blooming in your chest.

Back on the dance floor, Charles kept pulling you into his arms like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without holding you — and you didn’t mind one bit. His jacket was long gone, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, and his smile never left his face.

Later in the evening, you found yourselves tucked in a quiet corner of the terrace, watching the moon shimmer over the sea.

Charles wrapped his jacket around your shoulders and kissed your temple. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

You turned toward him, your hands sliding up his chest. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”

“Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips across your cheek. “Because forever starts tonight.”

And when you looked into his eyes — so full of devotion and warmth — you knew he meant every word.

Forever, with Charles, had never looked so beautiful.

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12, @boherahpsody, @urfavouritef1girly, @meglouise00, @charlesgirl16, @a-beaverhausen, @lol6sposts, @linnygirl09, @weekendlusting, @ladyoflynx

Next part

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘

🥀Pairing: Dragon Hybrid! Mingi x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires by @starlitmark and meeee, hybrid au

🥀Trope: established relationship, poly (background)

🥀Summary: when you crave some time with one of your busy boyfriends, the compromise turns out to be everything you need with an unexpected surprise

🥀Kinks: cockwarming, brief oral prep (m), cockwarming (she tried her best okay), special! dragon! cock, sudden female orgasm, soft! dom! mingi, soft! sub! reader

🥀Word Count: 1,241

🥀Betas: @flurrys-creativity

🥀Day Fifteen: Femdom/ Degradation 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seventeen: Body Worship

The state of part arousal and part comfort you were in was slowly driving you insane. 

You had wanted some quality time with Mingi but it was the period in his semester when he had little time to spare, between reading and grading papers, and fielding student questions. So the two of you had come to a compromise. He was heading into his on-campus office early Saturday morning to get some work done and you were going along with him.

Mingi tugged you out of your nest with Jongho and Yeosang, blurry-eyed and a little whiny at being pulled from the warmth of your two boyfriends arms. Mingi told you with a gentle smile that he could leave you here if you really wanted to stay but when you remembered how much your heart ached last week, seeing him drag himself to his bed and collapse on it, you dismissed the offer immediately. 

In his office, which already had his faint personal smell of gingerbread, you sat on a couch that served as a bed when Mingi was too exhausted to drag himself back to the loft with the thunder. But it wasn’t close enough to your boyfriend. In fact, it was torture. Watching as the early morning lit hit his charcoal gray scales along his hairline, how his shoulder spread out his plaid shirt, the way his buttons looked like he was one big breath away from losing his shirt--

Mingi sighed rather loudly and closed his laptop. “Hops--”

Your ears pushed back in disappointment. “Don’t use my government name, Mingi,” You couldn't help but pout.

“I can smell the beginnings of sugar cookies like they’re in the oven,” Mingi continued, rubbing his face tiredly. “I can’t exactly nurse a hard-on AND focus on my student’s papers.”

“But--!”

Mingi sent you a stern look with his red slitted eyes and you deflated immediately. Not without adding, “You could use it though.”

“You’ve been hanging around with Wooyoung too much,” Mingi grumbled, “I am not bending you over my desk, Hops.”

You looked at Mingi with hopeful eyes. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

Mingi watched you with a confused expression as you quickly rushed to his side at his desk. “I just want to be close to you. If you let me cockwarm you--”

Mingi groaned loudly and then clapped his hand over his mouth. “Hops,” he growled.

You threw up your hands in defense. “I’m not trying to trick you. I did it with San recently when he was gone for a business trip but I had a stacked schedule with my orders. It helped.”

Mingi scratched the back of his ear. “Yeah but I’m much bigger than San,” he reminded you.

“Can we please try?” You plead eagerly. Your tail twitched behind you, ears moving in anticipation and Mingi found he couldn't say no to you.

“Alright but--” He bit down on his lip just in time as your hands went to his pants immediately to undo the belt and the zipper of his tweed pants. “Treasure--” A delighted gasp left his lips as you pulled his cock out and pumped it to make sure it was hard for you. “Oh fuck.”

You sent him a sweet smile before taking him in your mouth. You gathered saliva in your mouth and bobbed on his length, taking in as much of him as you could before he hit the back of your throat. Mingi held your hair out of the way, partly to make sure nothing got on your hair and the other reason was to watch your cute little bunny mouth work on him. Just when Mingi was tempted to let you suck him off, you pulled off of him. 

You pulled aside the loose shorts you wore for easy access, and with the lack of underwear underneath, it was easy to brace yourself on his thick thighs, and play with the spade head of his cock against your already wet folds. 

“Treasure, be careful!” Mingi worried. 

No matter how many times he had taken you, he was always concerned with your comfort and his cock. Not only was the length and girth something to worry about, his head was spade-tipped, curved perfectly to push past pussy lips. There were also ridges on the underside of his cock, starting at his tip, AND three beads along the top side. Mingi’s dragon cock was definitely one of the more complicated breeds out there but you never seemed to complain about taking him.

In truth, even though you struggled to fit him inside of you, it always sounded like you loved everything that came with his cock. “So big,” You sighed, only managing his head so far. 

Mingi reached around you and rubbed a dry finger slowly around your clit, aiding in making you even more wet in order to take him. “You’re doing amazing,” Mingi encouraged you.

You slowly but surely sunk down on his length. Each ridge on his cock was like a landmark that you were getting it done. The relaxed way your pussy was swallowing Mingi’s cock was doing something to you, however. Mingi was still; he had massive control over his body, despite your tight, wet heat taking him centimeter by centimeter. 

“Mi-mingi,” You moaned softly. 

If you were being honest, you were drunk on Mingi’s cock. It was always like this getting it inside of you, but in this soft setting, the early morning rays making his office warm and Mingi’s heat at your back, you were lured into a sense of complete security. So when you rocked your hips forward to get the last final ridge on the underside of Mingi’s cock, it worked. However you were so wet from Mingi’s middle finger doing slow circles around your clit, that the remainder of Mingi’s cock that could actually fit inside of you slipped in. It was so sudden, but the sudden push of Mingi’s cockhead hitting your womb sent you into your climax.

You moaned wantonly, becoming jelly in Mingi’s lap and you collapsed back on him fully. Mingi could feel your cunt convulsing around his cock so he knew exactly what had happened. Luckily for Mingi, he had the control, and the practice of competing with Yunho over who would cum first, so he was able to hold on. He simply rubbed his cheek against your soft ears as you rode the waves of pleasure and settled down.

“Was that good, Treasure?” His deep voice rumbled from behind you and you simply nodded your head tiredly. “Words, please,” He prompted you.

“That was like having the slowest sex ever and then experiencing the most explosive climax,” You mumbled to him.

“Well, I hope it was that good because you’re going to have to remain here while I finish my papers,” Mingi announced, smacking a kiss on your head.

“Mingi!” You protested quietly. Because Mingi still was perhaps only halfway seated inside of you, so you were going to have to hold yourself up until the professor was done.

Mingi chuckled, the type that only came from a man who just gave his lover a good orgasm. “You wanted to cockwarm me, Treasure.”

“Yes, Mingi,” You said desolately. 

You settled into Mingi’s warmth regardless. Perhaps you could nap. Which would have worked. If Mingi hadn't pressed his hand to your stomach to see if he could feel his cock from the outside.

🥀Day Fifteen: Femdom/ Degradation 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seventeen: Body Worship