#it's been a questionable time with questionable thoughts and questionable actions and it is what it is. i do not care how cliche i am

[wonustars]

Your Cat Loves You (Ft. Norbert)

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 pairing: kim mingyu x f. reader 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 genre: fluff, smut (R: 18+ mdni) 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 wordcount: 2.8k

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃summary: you and mingyu finally have a moment to yourselves, or so you thought... 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃 tags/smut warnings: the way of the house husband couple, husband!mingyu, wife!reader, norbert is a silly little menace, dom!mingyu, brat-ish!reader, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dryhumping, facefucking, big dick!mingyu. 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃note: part 1 of the winter event is dedicated to @onlymingyus, ily sm marsie pie ♡! thank you to my two beta-readers! @ylangelegy and @junkissed, ily boaf what the flip!! special thanks to @cheolism and @wooahaeproductions for helping me w brainstorming ideas as well! i missed writing this couple so i hope you all enjoy hehe. lmk what you think of this one thru a reblog or a comment! see u in the next installment! - anna ♡

𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃event masterpost

“I'm horny,” you pout as you place the book you’re reading down on the bedside table. 

Mingyu walks out of the connected bathroom, towel slung around his waist, eyes wide, staring at the way your figure lays sensually along the mattress. 

You’re turned onto your stomach, his large t-shirt draped over your body, the curve of your ass peeking through the bottom hem. Mingyu’s mouth runs dry, contemplating a response to your outcry of desperation. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he shrugs. 

The aforementioned towel is thrown across your bedroom with unbridled abandonment. Jumping onto the bed, he grabs your hips, turning you around as he straddles your torso. 

Calloused hands grasp onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. Mingyu dives in without much afterthought, connecting his plump lips onto yours. Raw and unashamed, there's vigour behind his actions, swallowing your lustful moans in the process. 

Unfortunately for you, there’s an abrupt pause. Mingyu pulls away from you, a frown along his swollen lips. 

“Where’s Norbert?” 

“I want your cock inside me and you’re busy thinking about the cat?” You roll your eyes, huffing out with annoyance. 

“I don’t want him seeing us,” Mingyu mumbles before standing up to check the door. 

A disgruntled groan leaves your lips. Leave it up to your husband to worry about the cat in the most compromising of situations. In other circumstances, this would’ve endeared you, but your body has been brimming with sexual tension. A tension that only Mingyu can resolve.

“Last time I checked he was sleeping in his room,” you sigh, sitting up to admire the dragon tattoo on Mingyu’s back. 

You never get tired of the black ink that adorns his skin, eyeing the way it creeps up onto his shoulders. It’s like a sweet treat every time. 

He peeks into the hallway and nods shortly after being met with the still air outside your room. No cat ready to scratch at his chest or steal his spot on your bed. As soon as he has confirmation that Norbert isn’t looming in the shadows of the long hallway, he rushes to lock the door before flopping back onto the mattress. 

Sitting against the headboard, he pulls you onto his lap, the unamused expression on your face vanishes as you feel his rock-hard length against your bare cunt. Mingyu’s groans are guttural as you hump himself along his member. Wet and ready for him to finally take you. 

“You done being paranoid?” your question comes out breathless as you continue to stimulate the nerves between your thighs. 

“Uhuh,” Mingyu mumbles. 

Large hands travel under the hem of your shirt, rubbing and squeezing your flesh before he reaches your tits. Full in his hands, he pulls the fabric till it hits your chin, perked nipples placing him in a trance. Mingyu's mind swirls as he tweaks each one between his fingers, your breath becoming ragged as his pace starts to quicken. 

The shirt you’re wearing becomes a nuisance quickly after, even though he enjoys seeing you in his clothes, Mingyu prefers when you’re wearing nothing at all. Removing the tee from your body, he drinks in your figure. 

“Fuck, this pussy is always soaking,” Mingyu mutters, eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. 

“Been trying to get to you fuck me all day,” you whimper. 

He chuckles at your desperation. Even though only two of you live in this large house, alongside your gremlin of a cat, Mingyu has found it hard to get you moaning underneath him for about a week. 

Norbert had been the number one culprit as to why you and Mingyu haven’t been able to fool around for the past few days. It started with your cat barging into your room right before anything other than a few innocent pecks were exchanged between the two of you. 

You don’t know how he’s learnt to turn door knobs, but his curiosity had been never-ending since you and Mingyu made things official. Then he started to drag Mingyu’s clothes into his litterbox. 

Neither of you knew what had caused Norbert’s spur of rebellious attitude, but you’ve slowly learned how to deal with it. Now the door to Mingyu’s closet remains locked, and you also make it a habit to lock the bedroom door each night as well. 

The sexual frustration between you and Mingyu had become so palpable that you’ve woken up to his morning wood four out of seven times this week. There have been a few blowjobs and hand stuff here and there, but you haven’t had his dick inside you for what feels like an eternity. You’re almost convinced that your cunt has forgotten what it feels like to be filled by him. 

In all honesty, you just miss the way his cum would spurt inside you every night. 

For the first time in a while, Norbert wasn’t needy for your attention, and you’d be damned to not take the opportunity while it was still in front of you. 

“God I need it so bad,” you whine. 

Nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck, your hips continue to sway back and forth, the slick between your thighs starting to coat your legs and his pelvis. 

“It’s been too fucking long,” Mingyu hums, hands tracing the curve of your ass. 

Moaning into his skin, you feel his palms squeeze the flesh with an iron grip. Forcing the fat to shake with the force of his touch. His free hand still groping your left tit. 

Mingyu almost blacks out, your hole catching his tip with each move you make. He can’t have you on top any longer. Thoughts of using you like his own personal sex doll rampage violently, his fully hard length starting to leak precum with your increasing pace. 

“Think you can take me without any prep?” he asks, and your legs visibly shake at his words. 

“I-I don’t know, probably not, you’re fucking massive.” 

A laugh bubbles up from his throat; he’s never fucked you without at least stretching you out first. But the thought is too tempting to not try at least once. 

“Willing to try for me, baby?” He whispers in your ear. 

“Mhm, I’ll do anything. Just need you inside me,” you whimper. 

“That’s my girl.” 

A hard slap comes down onto your ass, the skin stinging in a way that's both painful but so delicious at the same time. Your mouth almost waters at how good he feels against you, and he barely even touches you. 

“I’ll give it to you. But—” Mingyu starts but you cut him off. 

“But?” your pitch raises, not liking how he’s continuing to drag out the foreplay. 

“But you suck me off first.” 

“Fuck, really? That's it? Can't we do that after? I need you now,” you continue to whine, pretending like your walls aren't gushing at the idea. 

It doesn’t hurt to act spoiled once in a while. 

“You’re gonna suck me off or I’m not fucking you tonight.” Mingyu’s voice is stern. You can’t help but hide the smirk on your face. 

The pout on your lips is instantaneous. You need to see how far you can take the brat persona before Mingyu’s fed up. Hopefully, it leads to him flipping you over and fucking you into the next universe.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me now? It’s been too long,” you sigh, halting your movements to rub your hands against his muscular chest.

Your fingertips flow with appreciation for the hard muscle under your touch, his nipples erect as you swipe over them briefly. 

Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunch together, jaw slack as you continue to feel him up. Moving over to his biceps you give them a squeeze before peppering kisses along his collarbones then at the base of his neck. 

Entranced by your touch, Mingyu almost loses focus on who's really in control here. Almost. 

Throwing you off his lap, he stands at the edge of the bed. His cock bobs from how stiff he’s gotten from a bit of rubbing. Tip red and angry, the veins along his shaft almost look like they’re about to burst from all your teasing. 

“On your knees. Now.” He tells you, tone unwavering. 

With a defeated huff, you gingerly move towards the end of the bed. Your knees cause the mattress to dip, your hips in the air, giving him a little show of your ass. Mingyu’s jaw clenches, trying his best not to fold from seeing your body in such compromising angles. 

“Like this baby?” You look up at him as you prop yourself up with your elbows. 

“Good girl. Stay put for me, yeah?” 

You smile at his words of affirmation, one hand against the sheets while your other hand grips his length. There’s something about his dominating aura that radiates off of him when you’re about to blow him, it’s addicting. 

Placing his cock against your cheek, your eyes become doe-like as you stare up at him through your lashes.  

“See how big you are?” you mumble, the tip almost hitting your lashes as it’s pressed to the side of your face. 

“Fuck me…” Mingyu drawls out, unable to comprehend how sexy you look in this angle. 

Fisting your hair in his hands, he’s had enough of your attitude. Your jaw opens as if it's second nature, tongue shooting out, waiting for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight. He taps the tip against your tongue before tracing it around your pink lips. You look like an absolute dream. 

Without a second left to waste, he shoves the entirety of himself into your warm mouth, fucking it until your throat restricts and your gag reflex emerges. Groaning from above you, Mingyu continues to push your head up and down the length of his pulsating cock, relishing in the warmth that envelopes him. The heat sears into his veins, culminating before it spreads throughout his limbs. 

“Yeah, keep taking this cock,” Mingyu groans, fingers tightening around the strands of hair in his grasp. “Bet you love getting your mouth fucked, huh?” 

You moan in response to the filth spilling from his mouth. With furrowed eyebrows, you do your best to breathe through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself from gagging further. 

Mingyu’s thrusts slow down, not wanting to bust a nut until he’s inside that sopping cunt of yours. You know he’s saving the best for last as he removes himself from your mouth with an audible pop. 

“Turn around.” He grunts, but you don’t move. 

As you catch your breath, Mingyu tsks at your reluctance to do what he asks of you. Slapping your cheek, he wakes you from your cock drunk trance. 

“What did I say? You were begging for me to be inside you less than ten minutes ago,” He laments. 

“I’m tired. You do it,” your smile hidden. 

He’s right where you want him. 

You continue to lay there, waiting for him to give up and take matters into his own hands. Without missing a beat, he grapples you until your ass is up in the air. The view of your glistening folds welcoming him as if he’s carved out a special place for his cock inside you. The familiar sheen of your arousal and puffed-up clit greet his length as you wiggle your hips for him. 

The smack of skin resounds against the walls of your room, your pussy clenching around nothing as Mingyu continues to hit your cunt until the juices gush past your entrance. 

“Holy fu-uck,” you choke out, face slamming into the mattress. 

Hands clutched onto the sheets, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel Mingyu’s tip tracing around your hole. Smearing the wetness seeping from your folds before you hear him spit onto your leaking pussy. 

“Hmph, shit!” you squeak, the heat of his spit dripping down the expanse of your sex. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Mingyu praises you before plunging his cock into your awaiting warmth. 

The stretch is nearing unbearable, and the pain of his cock filling you almost causes you to pass out. But it’s satisfying all at the same time. He’s only halfway in, but your breath labours, chest heaving as you continue to take what he gives you. 

“So tight, you’re squeezing me like crazy,” Mingyu gasps, vision turning white as he continues to force himself inside you. Your moans increase in pitch as Mingyu bottoms out. Filling your walls till the hilt of his cock is pressed up right against your ass cheeks. Warm palms grope at your skin, slapping and squishing the flesh till handprints begin to appear. 

“G-gyu, please I need you to move. Fuck, I could cum right now,” you whine, squeezing his length involuntarily from how unprepared you are to take him. 

He agrees to your request without another word. Pulling back till only the tip of his cock is left only to ram his hips back into you. The sound of skin on skin hitting one another fills the room. Mingyu’s speed is steady as he thrusts in and out of you. 

The moans you let out almost sound as if you’re in pain, but it’s the complete opposite. Pleasure courses through your veins until you feel it in your toes, you’re a-dick-ted to the feeling of having him inside you. 

“You wanna cum? Show me how much you deserve to cum on this cock, baby,” Mingyu speaks through strained groans. 

Relishing in your wetness, he knows he’s about to fill you with his seed. His balls retract with each movement he makes, he can only wish to stay inside you forever. 

Without anything stopping you, your pussy convulses around him as you orgasm. The breath is knocked out of your chest, your fingers still wound tightly around the threads of your bedsheets. 

“I fucking love you, baby,” Mingyu practically wheezes, moving his hand to push your head further into your sheets. 

The flood of semen fills your walls, so much so that it dribbles past your entrance and onto both his dick and the bed beneath you. There’s so much, and it’s like his climax is never ending, cum continuing to shoot itself into your needy cunt.

Panting, you allow yourself to flop unceremoniously onto the bed. Tired and finally ready for bed, you wait for Mingyu to dislodge himself from you. A whimper leaves your lips as he finally unsheaths his softening member from your heat. His touch is as soft as a mouse, he pushes the hair out of your eyes before kissing your temple. 

“You did so good, baby. I’m gonna clean you up okay?” 

“Okay, baby,” you whisper. 

Unsure of how many seconds have passed, Mingyu comes back with a warm cloth. He wipes you and himself clean before moving you so that you’re lying on the bed properly. 

“We needed that,” he says in hushed chuckles. 

“I agree,” you laugh along with him. 

Right as you’re about to close your eyes, the door creaks open. The small shadow of your cat catches the candle's light by the TV stand. The pitter-patter of Norbert's paws fills the once-quiet room. 

Turning to Mingyu, your expression is evident that you’re ready to scold him for not locking the door. But before you can get a word in he’s already defending his case. 

“I promise, baby, I locked the door. I'm serious, please don’t kill me.” Mingyu pleads, hiding himself in your bare chest. 

“Kim Mingyu. If you locked the door, then Norbert wouldn’t be here right now,” you explain. 

Mingyu sighs, his warm breath leaving goosebumps against your skin. And he continues to swear that he really did lock the door, and even checked thrice to make sure it was secure. 

Norbert meows out, hopping onto the bed before scratching into Mingyu’s back. 

“What the fuck! Ow!” He yelps, Norbert’s claws continuing to paw at him. 

Defeated, Mingyu moves away from you. The pout on his lips accentuates as he’s forced to sleep beside your demon cat. Norbert’s scratching ceases at his surrender, moving into his rightful spot between you and Mingyu. 

Purring with satisfaction, the pleased cat purrs against you, nose nuzzling into your side. 

“Goodnight baby,” you murmur. 

The blanket is pulled up to your chest, your body facing the small cat perched at your left side. His eyes were round yet also filled with knowing. As if he did have the capability to somehow unlock the door to your bedroom from the outside. Knowing Mingyu’s forgetfulness, you decide that it’s simply not possible. 

“Goodnight,” Mingyu replies wistfully, but you send him a pointed look. 

“I’m talking to Norbert, Gyu.” 

“Whatever.” he huffs at your unamused expression, before attempting to inch closer to you. 

Norbert hisses at Mingyu’s sudden movements before snuggling closer to you. 

“Goodnight Norbert,” Mingyu sneers but pets the feline with affection despite his attitude. 

Norbert meows in return, tapping Mingyu’s cheek with his paw before settling into a deep sleep. 

Kim Mingyu - 0 

Norbert - 1

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 a/n: thank you for reading! please leave a reblog or comment if u enjoyed this little bonus scene! if you'd like to be notified when i post the next one send me an ask or fill out the taglist form located in the winter event masterpost! talk to u soon! - anna ♡

[sheep-from-rad]

Photograph (Platonic Batman x reader) (second half inched on the yan territory)

Notes: I made a joke that I wasn’t held enough as a child. Well, jokes on me because it was apparently not a joke. I'm still shit at making endings, help Merry Christmas folks <3 

Masterlist 

dividers by: @strangergraphics

“Isn’t this for newborns?” 

Bruce sat shirtless on the room’s armchair. The room didn’t exist until this week, back then it was just another one of the big guest rooms inside the mansion. From formal, vintage patterned, dark green wallpapers it changed into a soft pudding yellow (Jason’s suggestion)  and the corners are filled with soft plushies. He looked down on his shirtless self again as Alfred stood by the crib to prepare the four month old infant. Years of fighting rogues but it was the thought of holding a baby that made him nervous. 

He takes a silent pride on his body, from his back muscles to his strong arms, from bruises and scars, he wears them like an intangible medal. He thought that the media would question how a businessman like him would have such build but he was easy to conceal it with his ditzy public persona. Ladies did love it but then again holding a lady and holding a baby are two different things. 

“You might have missed their newborn days but bonding as father-baby is not too late”, Alfred explained. “Ah, skittish like your father when it was his first time holding you” 

Bruce’s hands protectively closed around the sleeping babe. He reclines as Alfred helps lay the baby on his chest, one hand on the head and neck and the other under their bottom. Skin to skin and warm. Warm. He didn’t know an infant could produce such warmth. Is this how his father felt the first time he held him? The feeling of happiness like a small glowing bubble melting in his soul, a warm innocent light in the gloom. 

He tensed again when he felt his little baby moved, their tiny arms stretching with all their might. “Alfred I think they are —” Before he could finish his words, he found himself staring at a pair of (eye color) eyes with their little lips curled in a curious ‘o’. They can barely lift their head for a long time but keep doing so to keep the little staring contest going. “What are you doing? Are you memorizing me?” He cringed a little especially knowing that he just butchered the movie quote. The little cringing turned to a small panic when the baby’s little trembled. He braced himself for a wail but instead he was greeted by a gummy smile and a giggle. 

A giggle! Sure he missed the days of them being a newborn but they were here to witness the giggle milestone. “You think dad is stupid for quoting it wrong?” As if understanding his words, their giggles turned louder. “Master Bruce, language please.” The master of the house didn’t hear the older man nor the sound of the camera going off, capturing the moment. A picture, one of the many to cherish in the later years. 

✮⋆˙(alternate ending here because I can’t make up my mind) ✮⋆˙

Bruce found himself in the room that he hasn’t been in for years. Each step that he took was heavy as his heart, echoing regrets and apologies that needed to be said not just in words but also in actions. 

The room was empty with the exception of the barebone furnitures and thin sheet of dust. The only sign that someone once lived in the now lifeless room was a picture frame that was left behind and placed facing down. It was left behind as if mirroring how they had abandoned you. “Where has time gone?” he asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He is envious of his younger self in the picture. He wished he could turn back time, hold you close and hold you tight, and reclaim the promises he had forgotten to do. Forgotten like the pictures and the memories and the wallpapers in the room. All yellowed on the edges and faded. 

The small sound from his phone snapped him from his trance, he had to compose himself before picking it up. 

“Dick?” 

“B, we found them” 

“Bring them home”

[oblivious-aro]

This was pretty much my exact same thought process a week before I made this post. I do get where you're coming from, but here's a question: when does the episode explicitly condemn Danny for cheating? Does TUE actually say “cheaters deserve to watch their family die”?

Furthermore, consider this line from the end of the episode:

Remembering this line was my turning point. Clockwork is a very wise character (he was literally just established to be omniscient right before saying this), and he’s the one teaching Danny the lesson TUE wants him to learn. If the lesson is supposed to be ‘cheating is bad’, wouldn't that be completely undone by having Clockwork immediately turn around and, by his own admission, and in those exact words, “cheat”? It’s a very prominent line with a lot of attention called to it, too.

“Cheating is bad” is the kind of moral you’d expect this kind of kids cartoon to make, so I think a lot of us preemptively filled in that blank without truly listening to what the episode was actually saying. I get it, I watched my sister struggle through the public education system while getting practically no help or sympathy from it, and I'm sure a lot of viewers were in the same boat as her. Academic pressure can be a sensitive subject, especially if it looks like a character is being chastised for struggling, but that's not what’s happening here. We jumped the gun. The text doesn’t look down on Danny for wanting to cheat. He’s in a difficult position, and being forced further and further into a corner is a feature of the story, not a bug. Danny's situation feels unfair so that the audience understands why he wants to cheat:

"OK! I get it! You're brilliant, I'm stupid, and I'll never be able to get as high a score as you."

"Guys, come on. I'd love to have spent the last month studying, but I was fighting ghosts! Besides, if you two think this test is so meaningless, why do you even care if I cheat? Why shouldn't I open this up and study the answers, huh?"

TUE’s stance isn’t that “cheating is evil”, it’s “cheating isn’t worth the risk”. Despite what Danny’s been led to (erroneously) believe, he’ll have other chances and opportunities if he does badly on a test, even one this big. There are people in his corner looking out for him (Mr. Lancer gives him to come forward even when he knows Danny stole the answers, and literally offers him a make-up test. Clockwork messes with the timeline just to tell Danny that he’s a good kid who deserves more than one chance), but getting caught cheating really could screw up his future. You could still say that’s an anti-cheating message, but the writers do show more sympathy for Danny than people give them credit for.

I don't think the concepts are that abstract. Everything that happens in the present is presented directly, and the main idea you need to get out of the future stuff (bad stuff happened because Danny got caught cheating) is pretty simple and clear. Everyone I've heard talk about the episode seems to get the basic idea.

As for all these events caused by Clockwork… yeah that's 100% true. But given that Clockwork is all-knowing, the master of time, and clearly sympathetic to Danny, it can only be assumed he’s doing what he can to help Danny. Omniscient/psychic characters are kind of weird like that. They make the stories they’re in a bit messy, and you can't really judge their actions by typical standards (ie. Garnet from Steven Universe). Same with time travel, but I won't go into much into detail, because this post is long enough and discussing rules around time travel can get overly technical, but the gist of it is Clockwork is on Danny’s side, but he’s working under some very specific restraints, either from The Observants or from the natural laws of the timestream.

Danny isn’t being taught that cheating makes him bad, he’s being taught not to place such unhealthy (and unrealistic) importance on his academic performance. Sure, this lesson isn’t explicitly stated in exact words, much like the themes in Teacher of the Year, but I don’t think it’s fair to say that the writers were just trying to condemn Danny in either intent or execution.

And as was the original point of this post, the episode really speaks for itself:

"Maybe that's all anybody needs…a second chance."

"I guess the future isn't as set in stone as you think it is."

"And here we are with you, a fourteen-year-old child, risking everything to save the people you care about. You've given everyone else a second chance. Why not you?"

Me for years: I can't believe The Ultimate Enemy is telling kids they deserve something as horrible as watching your entire family die for cheating on a test!

the Ultimate Enemy:

[n0cturnalp1g]

The Dragon, The Bitch, and the Sheer Audacity

Summary: Prince Daemon Targaryen was in a familiar predicament/ But this time aroundit wasn't him that was avoiding his wife, it was his wife doing everything she could to avoid him. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Gwayne Higtower Word Count: 1,040 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Just got inspired to write a short chapter because of @just-some-random-blogger Thank you for the commentary, really made my day when i read it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prince Daemon Targaryen was cursed with the consequence of his own actions. He stared at the empty bed of his marital chambers. Yesterday he had married you and forcefully made you his wife, but he wasn’t much of a monster to force himself onto you–once again he finds himself not consummating his second marriage.

“Where is she?” Daemon had questioned the servant trying to busy themselves with cleaning the mess in the room.

“She is with her sister, the Queen, your Grace.” The mousy servant spoke, fear all the more evident in her eyes–he remembers her to be one of the servants helping with tending to his new wife last night, the verbal lashing they’ve found themselves into and cups and daggers being thrown at one another after. “They are praying in the Septs.”

Daemon couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the notion of the Sevens. Of the devout faith his new wife had because of your own family. One of the few flaws he was willing to overlook at this moment. But he couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better if you had married in the tradition of his house, he could already imagine Otto and his spawns frothing at the mouth at the possibility.

“Tell the dragonkeepers to prepare Caraxes for flight, and ensure that the saddle will be big enough for myself and my wife.”

The eyes of the servant widened but did not voice her reaction out loud as she bowed and left Daemon to his own thoughts–a dangerous thing to do at this moment. It didn’t take long for him to also order to have his wife be brought  to the dragonpit, maybe a semblance of the reality of your new life would do you some good.

His eyes lingered on the mess that still remained in the room. His eyes zoning in on the familiar cloth that was stained in blood–blood cut from his own hand instead of what everyone perceived to be your maiden blood. It was better that way, for everyone to believe a consummation that has already transpired than an avoidance that was all too certain that came between them.

He sighed, slouching his head in frustration.

But somehow, anything that has to do with his own wife means he will no longer know peace. Chaos was now a constant for the Rogue Prince when it comes to his Wretched wife.

“Your Grace.” A guard has interrupted the momentary peace of his chambers.

“What?”

“Your Lady wife has been requested to return to Oldtown to assist Lord Hightower.”

“Of course she was.” He muttered under his breath already knowing the mess his day would be with his wife and everyone that involved the Hightower name.

All your life you had always believed yourself that there was no such thing as a God, and even more so multiple one that would ever place you in such a predicament. But here you were. Newly married, unconsummated and much preferring the presence of your younger sister than your new dragon husband–until her brother had requested her to return back to Oldtown.

“How easy it is for our Uncle to kick me out of Oldtown and demand me right back because of his own incompetence.”

Gwayne spoke your name gently but there was an evident warning in his tone. With nothing but the clothes on your back, you had joined your brother as you were demanded to return back to Oldtown as you were the only one capable of dealing with report reviewing–who knew your insistence of studying more than what was required of you would end with you in this predicament.

The pride of a lord is his ultimate downfall. You know all too well and made good use of it in your time under your Uncle’s ward. You’ve nearly burned down his tower as he tried to prove a point and failed to do so.

One of the only things that brought you immense pleasure was the small little fact that you made sure not to inform your husband of your departure. It brought a glimpse of satisfaction knowing that you were able to one up him and insist upon yourself that you still had control on yourself and your own autonomy.

“I’m afraid of asking why you are smiling, so I will not ask.”

“Nothing that needs your concern at the moment, brother.” You reassured, galloping your horse further.

The sooner you arrive in Oldtown, the sooner you are ensured that you will be further away from your tyrant of a husband.

For the next few days, you and your younger brother travelled by horse from King’s Landing to Oldtown. The presence of your younger brother brought a momentary peace, away from the judgement of your father and sister and away from the control that was not bestowed upon your husband since your marriage to him.

“I’m actually surprised your husband allowed you to travel away from King’s Landing, just a day after your marriage.”

You said nothing as soon as your eyes lingered onto the tower you had known all your life. As many memories of pain and turbulence you’ve endured here, it was a home that you always wanted instead of King’s Landing. You wanted this, the peace and tranquility away from the politics of the throne.

Now you were smack dab in the middle of it all.

“Home sweet home.” You muttered under your breath welcomed with the cautious eyes of the numerous guards lingering at the gate.

But neither you nor your brother could have ever expected that instead of your Uncle Ormund waiting with contempt for you, the sight of a large ugly dragon and equally large and abhorrent rider would come waiting for them both in Oldtown.

“Do you expect you can leave the Keep without informing your Lord Husband, My Dear wife?” Daemon Targaryen smirked, the swagger of a man that was constantly given what he wanted.

Behind him was his dragon, the vicious Blood Wyrm that brought fear and power to his family–and this sense of entitlement that knows no bounds in this day and age.

“And just a day after you wed me, you’re already running away, Dear Wife?”

[puckinghischier]

Can your beautiful mind provide some domestic Christmas Quinn thoughts?

well…i have been thinking about how quinn is 100% one of those men that can’t wrap a present to save his life. so when you’re out doing some last minute shopping one day, he brings all of your presents out of their hiding spot and tries his best.

he starts out on his own, watching youtube videos and tutorials to try and make sure he measures the paper right and creases it properly. but when he ends up with several…wad-looking wrapping jobs he facetimes his mom, recruiting her as a wrapping coach.

“mom, i’ve tried so many times and i just can’t get it right. she’s told me before how much she loved wrapped presents, so i don’t want to just put them all in bags, but i don’t know if i’m going to have much of a choice at this point.”

ellen laughs at her son, pulling out her own wrapping supplies and tries to show him again. she talks him through the whole process, and when he finally wraps a present right, he’s beaming from ear to ear. she stays on the phone and coaches him through the rest of your presents as he thanks his mom over and over again for her help.

just as he’s placed the last one under the tree (the poorly wrapped ones shoved in the back) he hears the door open and in you walk with a hoard of shopping bags on each arm.

when you walk into the living room, eyes glued to the now full space under the tree, your eyes light up.

“quinn, did you wrap all of these?”

he walks over to you, taking some of the bags from your hands. “sure did. all by myself,” he beams at you.

“excuse me, your mother had a hand in this too. where’s my credit?”

you hear ellen’s voice flowing through the speaker of quinn’s phone, the device still propped up on the coffee table, surrounded by wrapping paper.

quinn’s face turns bright red, forgetting his mom was still on the phone. you look at his embarrassed state, endeared more than anything that he cared about wrapping your presents so much, he called his mom as a reinforcement.

“is that true?” he nods his head.

“well, yeah. i kinda botched the first few, and the youtube videos weren’t helping, so aside from taking them all to a store to have someone professionally wrap them for me, mom was my last shot,” he shrugged, embarrassed about the fact his lack of wrapping skills has been outed.

“q, that’s so sweet oh my god,” you gush at him, batting your eyes and bringing your hand to rest over your heart.

“really? you don’t think it’s embarrassing i don’t know how to wrap a present?”

you balk at him, rolling your eyes. “quinn, the fact you went through so much trouble to wrap them, instead of putting them in a bag like every other guy i’ve ever dated, is the sweetest thing ever. why would i care if they’re perfectly wrapped or not?”

“see, quinn! i told you she wouldn’t care if they were perfect!” you hear from his phone, both of you having now forgotten about ellen.

“yeah, quinn. listen to your mother,” you playfully scold him, walking past him so you’re in frame on his phone. “thanks, ellen. what ever would these boys do without you?” you joke with her, earning a laugh.

“oh, you know, probably bug you a lot more than they already do,” she jests back, referencing how often not only your own hughes boy calls you about needing help with finding things around the apartment, or needing you to tell him what the brand name is of that certain kind of protein powder is he likes, but how often his two brothers call you with their own questions and advice requests.

“alright, mom, thanks for your help and all, but i have all the presents wrapped and i need help her put all this stuff away now. i love you, bye,” quinn interrupts the laughter ringing out between you and his mom, picking up his phone and pressing the end call button.

“quinn, you did not just hang up on your mom,” you scold him, gasping at his actions.

“i’d had her on the phone for hours already it’s fine,” he brushes it off. “plus, i don’t think she’d want to witness what i’m about to do,” he walks towards you, pointing up to the mistletoe strung high above your head.

you look back down just as he reaches you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a very heated kiss.

dropping the bags in your hands, he walks the two of you over to the couch, all mention of gifts and wrapping forgotten.

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[lune-moon-nuit]

Thoughts about Mike I had last week while watching the middle of season 4

While watching Season 4 last week (yes, I’m extremely late to the party), I’m truly astonished at how misunderstood Mike is by much of the fandom and the general audience. It’s clear that Mike from Seasons 3 and 4 often comes across as an awkward idiot who can hurt others with his words or actions—particularly Will and El. This starkly contrasts with how he behaved in Seasons 1 and 2. However, it seems people overlook an important factor: Mike is now a teenager. A teenager who already carries a significant amount of trauma yet isn’t in a position to complain, because he has always been the friend or boyfriend supporting the “main victim��� of the story.

Mike was traumatized by Will’s disappearance, by the abnormal events and creatures that turned their lives and town upside down. He has witnessed countless deaths—just in the episode I recently finished in Season 4, he literally watched a government agent die right in front of him after barely surviving a shootout, and he even helped bury the body himself alongside Jonathan, Will and Argyle. Let’s not forget that Mike has also come close to death multiple times. The list of what he’s endured is long. Yet through all of it, he was just a child, then a teenager.

While it’s true he’s sometimes hurtful or clumsy in his behavior toward El—primarily out of awkwardness—people forget that this is his first romantic relationship. And not just any relationship: one forged under extraordinary circumstances. El herself couldn’t initially distinguish between familial love and romantic love, and Mike was subtly pushed into seeing El romantically, thanks to a heteronormative society and remarks like Lucas’s, which suggested a boy taking care of a girl must mean he “likes” her. After all, in such an environment, a boy and girl can’t just share a bond of care without romantic undertones.

Another critical detail the fandom seems to overlook relates to Will. In Season 1, at just 10 to 12 years old, Mike had suicidal thoughts. He literally jumped off a cliff, unaware that El would use her powers to save him. He had no idea. He made a deliberate choice to jump, hiding behind the bully’s threat toward Dustin. But let’s be honest—anyone with a natural survival instinct wouldn’t so easily choose to leap to their death, even under pressure. Mike knew he had no chance of surviving that fall. It was deliberate.

So we must ask: What drives a 12-year-old boy to feel so hopeless, despite having friends and a family who love him? By now, we know that Mike, alongside Will, was a target of relentless bullying, much of it homophobic. Even Mike’s father made homophobic remarks in Season 1, adding pressure that Mike likely didn’t fully comprehend. At the cliffside, hope for finding Will alive was nearly gone. Mike had lost all hope. I genuinely believe that for him to have reached that point, the weight of his struggles was far heavier than we realized.

Mike has suffered immensely. He was already dealing with significant psychological distress in Season 1, which continued to accumulate. In Season 1, his focus was on finding Will. In Season 2, it was on protecting and saving Will. In Season 3, he acted like a “normal” teenager, but he was still targeted—being threatened violently by an adult who lashed out simply because Mike was behaving like any other boyfriend with El. Instead of questioning the why behind his actions, people just blamed him. In Season 4, rather than asking why Mike struggles to express his love for El, the audience blames him for supposedly not loving her enough.

But if Mike is confused—if he struggles to articulate his feelings—why is that? Mike has always been the devoted friend and boyfriend, but the series rarely highlights the immense psychological toll this has taken on him. His reactions, in truth, are quite logical and normal. Especially when you consider the more-than-plausible theory that Mike is either bisexual or homosexual. His internalized homophobia, combined with societal pressure in the 1980s, the fear of judgment, the fear of himself, and his confusion about his own feelings, all align perfectly with his behavior in Seasons 3 and 4. After all, adolescence is when most people begin to explore their sexual identity, desire, and emotions.

Take his words to Will, where he mentions their meeting in kindergarten as “the best thing that ever happened to him.”Mike’s connection to Will is profound. But being a gay teenager in the 1980s—while also not wanting to hurt El, whom he deeply cares for and feels responsible toward—would mean he’s carrying immense self-hatred, frustration, anger, fear, anxiety, depression, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of being “wrong” (a feeling Will also experiences).

All of this makes me believe that Season 5 could greatly benefit from focusing on Mike by making him Vecna’s target. Vecna would have plenty to exploit: Mike’s traumas, his unspoken suffering, and his struggles with his sexuality. It would be a perfect way to force Mike to confront who he is and what he feels for Will—while also allowing Will to learn the truth. Such a storyline would introduce rich internal conflict, both for Mike and for their relationship.

Considering how explicitly queer-coded Mike is in Season 4, it would be an enormous waste not to explore this as a central narrative thread in Season 5. Doing so would not only bring Will and Mike’s relationship to the forefront but would also give us a deeper look into Mike’s psyche—all the pain he has endured silently, all the while remaining loyal and supportive toward Will and El. Mike has worried for them, searched for them, protected them, and fought for them. It’s time the series recognizes that, even without powers, Mike is the heart of the group. Without him, everything falls apart.

[imraespace]

―UNWANTED SURPRISE

SYNOPSIS: you've known your boyfriend for quite some time and he's made it quite clear that he hate surprises, but you just can't do it this year.

note: i was seraching up abt kaiser bc i dont really write for him and his ideal partner is a loving one so!! HE GETS A LOVING PARTNER.

genre: fluff, comfort heheh

Your alarm went off.

A grumble and groan left your mouth as you sluggishly moved to grab your phone. Once your finger finally found it, the phone, now in your hand became silent as your squint at your screen.

4:30 AM

You turned off your phone, letting it rest on your chest as your head turned to face the male beside you, resting soundly.

For once, he had a calm expression on his face. His chest rises with every soft snores that leaves his lips. As a habit, your fingers made it's way up to his face, caressing his cheeks as your attention focused on him.

But, your have something planned before hand. With one last caress, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead and carefully, made your escape out of the bed.

Quietly, you made it out of the bedroom and into the living room.

.

.

Stretching off the drowsy feeling, You grabbed his gift, well one of it. The other one isn't that far, you just gave it to one of your close friend just to make it easier. Said friend made a promise to drop it off!

So right now, you're focusing on breakfast! It's a really simple honestly, bacon, eggs and toast but with the toast, you cut off the sides, using it to make bread crust rusk. The sugary kind.

The smell that took over the kitchen made you hungry, but you refuse to eat anything without him here. As time slowly passed, breakfast was done and just on time, your doorbell rang!

Excitedly, you made it to the door and every bounce in your actions, you opened the door and was greeted with the gift. The dog pounced on you, licking at your face.

You hugged it closely, as your friend bid you goodbye.

The dog in your hand is a familiar one to both you and Michael. Every morning, leaving the house a certain dog always greets you both. Micheal took a liking to the dog so in your opinion, it was the perfect gift for him.

Making it back into the living room, you let the dog down as it began running around, making his surroundings familiar. You sighed, yet a smile on your face as your eyes followed the dog.

Now, the second gift makes sense. It was dog toys and dog food. You sat on the floor, watching the dog run away. Your cheeks hurt from smiling as your watch him, finally it calmed down and run up to you.

Your hand rested ontop of his head, paws on your chest.

Though, he started barking, filling the silence which wasn't a problem but you have a sleeping person inside..

"SHH or something.."

In response all you got was more noise..

A thought came to mind, the toys. You got the bag but the dog grabbed it out your hand and all the toys fell out.

"Oh.." You muttered as the dog ran to bite the closest toy, which was a squeaky one. Therefore more noise!

In the end you just let the dog do whatever, but you forbid it to fo near the tree. Decoration wise, it made you feel more close to the holiday. The memories of planning and decorating with him made your cheeks warm.

Though, footsteps broke you out of your daydream as a question was asked.

"What's happening?"

Your eyes made it's way onto the sleepy male who's trying to make sense of the random noises.

The dog, dropping the toy, and looked in the direction of a familiar voice. He barked and ran up to Michael.

"What.. Why is the dog here?" Micheal asked, watching as the dog gripped on his pj pants.

In response, you stared up at him, smile on your face as a hint of what you've been up to. His face dropped a bit, it didn't bother you one bit.

He stared down at the dog, of course he's happy that the stray dog he meets every morning was healthy and loved in his own home but.. how is he supposed to react?

He slowly made his way on the couch infront of you and just sat down, shoving his face in his palms. It was quiet, minus the occasional barks from the dog that doesn't know what's happening, waiting for Michael to interact with him.

You got up from the floor and made your way right beside him. You plopped yourself right next to him and simply rested your hand on his back, gently rubbing his back.

The silence spoke for itself, but you took it upon yourself to fill it.

"I know you hate surprises but I think you deserve a gift."

.

.

You climbed up on tye couch, got behind him and gave him a back hug, resting your cheek in his hair.

"Because I love you, happy birthday.. and merry Christmas."

IMRAESPACE || MASTERLIST

[ddodol]

action — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, rookie actor!eunseok, actress fem!reader, pet names, eunseok is shy?, oral (m.), eunseok head pusher agenda, dacryphilia, eunseok is also kinda mean. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.6k+

a/n; accidentally posted the draft earlier while i was on my phone </3 i thought it was gone for good adfdaks. anyway :3 merry christmas yall <3

eunseok was a fairly new actor, rising to fame for his unreal features and the innate ability to make a person’s heart go wild.

despite all of that, the proud song eunseok had but one weakness— intimate scenes.

you were casted as a lead actor alongside eunseok, a monumental achievement in your acting career that you don’t plan on taking for granted. you were slightly older than eunseok, more experienced. he was fully aware of that as well, ears turning bright red whenever he had to ask you for pointers whenever it came to scenes that required physical contact.

even after months of filming, eunseok couldn’t break out of his shy demeanor, whether it was with the staff or with you, his co-lead. though, he was professional enough to not let it affect the filming progress— until today, that is.

the director proposed for a break, having messed up one scene countless of times. feeling guilty, the rookie actor was bowing and apologizing to the staff for the delays he was starting to cause. he was lucky to be working with such an easygoing crew, otherwise he'd be getting reprimanded for his unprofessionalism.

nonetheless, eunseok tried his best in everything, and you knew that he'd come looking for you in a matter of minutes after looking over the scenes for tonight.

you met his eyes from afar, exchanging a knowing look. you had no idea how it happened, considering how you were only a few months his acting senior, but he always came to you for help. eunseok walked past the staff, long legs striding, approaching you with flushed cheeks.

how adorable, you thought.

”do you want to try it somewhere more private?” your simple question made him blush once more, making you giggle a little. he gave you a small nod, which you smiled at. “follow me.”

you led the way, the sound of his footsteps filling up the hallway as a reminder that he was just right behind you.

as soon as the door to your dressing room closed, eunseok grabbed your arm and pinned you against the door, taking you by surprise. he was even more breathtaking up close, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor.

you could hear him swallow audibly, lips parted open as he took a deep, shaky breath. “was that okay?” eunseok asked meekly, eyes turning glossy and his cheeks beginning to flush, a huge contrast to how he was acting seconds earlier. that was when it hit you— he was trying out a scene from the drama. you bit your bottom lip, fighting back a giggle.

you teasingly snaked your arms around him, testing his reaction. sure enough, he turned even redder, almost about to explode as his brain processed what was happening.

”is this okay, too?” you whispered, staring up at him. taking it a step further, you slowly ran your hands through his chest, feeling his breath hitch. you chuckled, amused by his reaction.

”you don’t seem to have any trouble with that,” you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. you noticed the way he was shifting around uncomfortably, now avoiding your gaze. you looked down instinctively, eyes going wide at the surprise he had for you.

”oh, wow.”

eunseok cleared his throat, shyly glancing at you. “fuck— i’m sorry, it’s been like that since earlier.”

you raised a brow, eyes flickering up and down. “you mean, you’ve been rock hard ever since our characters were talking about their break-up?” you asked, in disbelief.

”no, no, no!” he sighed, hanging his head out of embarrassment, bright red ears in full display. despite working together for a month, this was the first time you’ve seen him this vulnerable. “you’re a pretty crier,” eunseok mumbled.

oh, that explains a lot.

your couple scenes so far all included some dramatic dialogue, and that meant you were crying most of the time. eunseok always seemed so invested during those scenes, holding you more tenderly and speaking in a way that felt intimate— the exact vibe your director has been trying to fish out of him.

you held back a smile, hooking a finger under his chin to make him look at you. eunseok let out a shuddering breath, eyes fixated on the way your lips curved up. he didn’t care how stupid he looked right now, eunseok was sure that anyone would act the same way if you were doing the same thing to them.

he swallowed thickly, parted lips slowly closing in on yours. you pressed your palm on his mouth before he could kiss you, prompting him to look at you in confusion.

"never said you could have a taste," you mumbled, a small smirk forming on your lips. eunseok was feeling desperate— he did have a massive boner rubbing against your thigh after all.

"please." you chuckled at his desperation, watching him take your ring finger in between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. "i'll get my act together after this, i swear. i just want to see those pretty lips around my cock," eunseok groans, brows furrowing as his lips moved against your fingers, as if he was kissing them instead.

you sighed softly, eyes darting down at his erect length. you reached down to palm him through his pants, making eunseok moan sensitively. eunseok's cock throbbed against your hand, breath hitching in your throat as you felt a flood of warmth surging through your body.

you felt turned on from his soft sighs, intoxicated with the way his pretty face would twist whenever you focused on his tip. you bit your lip, "fuck it."

eunseok watched as you tied your hair up, freezing in surprise when you got on your knees without any hesitation. he swallowed thickly, eyes trained on every single movement you made. he murmured soft curses when you helped him free his erect length, cock standing tall and casting a shadow over your features.

it was your turn to swallow nervously, taking in every single curve and vein of his cock. eunseok's cock was pretty, the tip of his cock already red and leaking. you glanced at him, licking a small strip up his shaft to start.

eunseok shuddered in response, clenching his jaw as he tangled his hand through the messy hairdo you just did. he panted softly, almost willing you to take him in your mouth, desperate to know how you'd feel.

your face contorted, comfortably taking in his tip. eunseok's cock wasn't thick save for his tip, letting you relax your jaw as you took in more of his length. by the time you reached what you assumed was half of him, you could already feel his tip poking at the gummy part of the roof of your mouth, making you gag slightly.

his eyes visibly sparkled when he felt you gagging on his cock, tempted to act on his impulses. he let you bob your head shallowly, trying to get used to his length. eunseok discreetly flexed his hips forward whenever you'd move down on his cock, wanting to see you gagging on his cock, to see you crying as you take him in your warm mouth.

eunseok cupped your cheek with one hand, his other still tangled through your scalp. "i know you can take more," his deep voice rang in your ears, body tingling as you glanced up at him. eunseok's eyes were dark, panting softly as he stared down at you.

it was almost like you couldn't find the same bashful rookie actor you were just teasing a few moments ago— now you were at his mercy.

without warning, eunseok pushed your head down on his length, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. you gagged, closing your eyes shut as tears began to sting your eyes.

eunseok licked his lips, jerking his hips forward as he moved your head for you. he could tell you were overwhelmed, your whines vibrating against his throbbing length.

"fuck," he whispered, watching as a tear rolled down your cheek. your eyes fluttered open, brows furrowed as you stared up at him. eunseok could feel shivers down his spine, adoring the way you looked helpless with his cock filling your mouth.

eunseok could tell that you've surrendered to him, letting him move you as he pleased. his soft moans began to fill the empty room, thighs starting to tense up. he was close.

you let out small, broken moans of your own, gripping on his legs as he pushed you down on his cock, thrusting deep. you could feel your throat bruising, tears spilling from your eyes at the slight pain.

"baby, hold my hand if you don't want me to cum inside your pretty mouth." you stared up at him through your bleary vision, finding his cheeks fully flushed. you had no intentions of stopping him from what he wants, mostly because you were craving for it as well.

eunseok's breath hitched in his throat when he met your eyes, "fuck, fuck— what a good fucking girl." you felt shivers down your spine at his gruff praises.

his hips began to stutter, bucking into your face, balls slapping your chin with each movement. he let out a deep groan, head thrown back as he pressed your head down to the base of his cock. you gagged, unable to contain your coughs when you felt him shooting his cum in your throat.

you pulled away as soon as his grip on your head loosened, coughing violently. you wiped away traces of his cum on the edge on your mouth, as well as the mix of liquids that found its way through your nose.

eunseok panted, placing his hand against the door to support himself up, legs trembling miserably from his orgasm. his eyes flickered, reaching down to help clean your face.

once you were decent, eunseok helped you get up. he chuckled softly, holding your cheek. "you know, every time we get on scene and you cry— this is all i'd ever think about now."

you laughed weakly, voice still a bit hoarse. "guess that means i need to keep helping you out, then."

[alewritesfics]

Bridging realities

ℑℑℑ.- 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

Summary: in which Y/N's slight actions start to- or you'll see on your own.... His POV

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

The night air was cool against Anthony’s skin as he stepped onto the garden, a welcome reprieve from the stifling confines of the ballroom. The distant hum of laughter and music filtered through the open doors, but out here, the world was quiet. Peaceful.

He leaned against the balustrade, running a hand through his hair and exhaling sharply. The evening had been relentless—a parade of bright-eyed ladies and their overly enthusiastic mothers, each vying for his attention, each more determined than the last.

And then there was her.

Anthony’s brow furrowed as his thoughts returned to Miss Featherington. She was unlike the others—sharp, playful, and entirely unpredictable. Most women he encountered were eager to flatter, eager to please, but she… She teased him. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, it both infuriated and intrigued him.

He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the way her gaze had met his so boldly, so unflinchingly. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that—not as a title, not as a prize to be won, but as a man.

Anthony shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when his responsibilities weighed so heavily on him. His family’s future depended on his choices, and his choices had to be logical and calculated. There was no room for impulsive emotions, no room for the kind of connection Miss Featherington seemed to inspire.

And yet…

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze brush against his face. He’d always prided himself on his control, on his ability to compartmentalize his feelings and focus on what truly mattered. But tonight, something about her had unsettled him.

“Bridgerton!” his eyes opened as he was called, he turned his name to see a gentleman he was acquainted with (Honestly I forgot the names of them and am too lazy to search so they’ll be man 1,2 and 3)

He sighed, annoyed his alone time was interrupted but walked towards them nonetheless. “I owe you a drink” man 1 said

“Whatever for?” Anthony asked, looking between the three of them

“With you as the prize catch of the season, the rest of us shall receive a respite from the marriage minded mamas this season indeed” man 1 smirked

“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts” Anthony responded “You, too, will soon submit to this ridiculous rigmarole of courtship,” The doors opened a few feet away, a young beautiful lady walking out without their knowledge. “Squiring every eligible miss around town until you’re barely able to see straight”

“Is one lady unlike any other?” man 2 asks “Simply pick the least objectionable and get her wed, bed and bred. Then you can turn to more pleasurable pursuits”

“And more pleasurable partners” The lady walked down the stairs, quietly walking behind a big bush to listen more closely “You may be cavalier, but if I must leg shackle myself in marriage, the lady in question should have more to recommend her”

“Do not tell us you are hoping for a love match?” Man 1 jokes

“Love is the last thing I desire,” Anthony denied “But if my children are to be of good stock, then their mother must be of impeccable quality. A pleasing face, an acceptable wit, genteel manners enough to credit a viscountess” Anthony was surprised as the words left his mouth, remembering a questionably intriguing redhead said that was what he was looking for. His lips twitched slightly but he composed himself “It should not be hard to find, and yet, the debutantes of London fall short at every turn”

“You want the best. Perhaps the queen will finally name a diamond. Save you some trouble, at least of choosing her, wooing the piece is a different story indeed” Man 2 stated

“I should have no problem there” Anthony crossed his arms smugly, making the men laugh

Man 1 patted himself, “Smoking room, gentlemen?”

“I Shall be there anon” Anthony told them before the three men left, leaving him alone.

Anthony was about to leave when the sound of someone bumping into something stopped him “Is someone there?” he asked, looking back. He walked down the stairs, curious to see what it is “I can hear y-“

“You” He said with a smile as he stared at the mysterious woman he encountered days ago

“Pardon me, my lord” The woman sighed without emotion

“I never got your name” Anthony approached her “I was wondering if we might meet again” he crossed his arms behind his back, giving the woman a glance over

“So you might discern if my wit is acceptable? My manners genteel?” she said with annoyance

Anthony’s smile faded “You were eavesdropping?”

“It was hardly an effort, seeing as you were proclaiming your many requirements for a wife loud enough for the entire party to hear-“

“You take issue with my requirements?”

“I take issue with any man who views women merely as chattels and breeding stock” The lady said angrily

“None of that was meant for-“

“Viscount Bridgerton, yes?” the woman interrupted him, taking a step closer towards him “When you manage to find this paragon of virtue, whatever makes you think she will accept your suit? Are the young ladies of London truly so easily won by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”

Anthony was about to respond when he stopped, taking in her words before chuckling, remembering the same words said by a blue eyed, red headed beauty, some minutes ago, completely ignoring the young lady before him, finding humor in the coincidence.

“You are laughing?” the woman said offended

“no, no,no” Anthony apologized “my apologies, it is just someone told me the same thing before” his mind went once again towards the redhead. Seems like there is more women that share her particular ideals. If they are friends, then he can see why Y/n gets along with Eloise, both a pair of strong opiniated women.

“Then, seems like that person is someone you should listen to” The woman said

Anthony breathed out a chuckle, something indescribable in his eyes “yes…. yes, perhaps I should” he shook his head before looking at the lady again “If you excuse me…. I shall bid you goodnight” he bowed his head before walking away from the young lady

He’s starting to think balls were his thing (hehe balls). Or maybe balls where you were present that is. Although he will never admit that. Or the fact that as he was currently stepping down the stairs behind his mother and sister, and his brother talking beside him, all his eyes did was search around the ballroom, in hopes of seeing a particular lady.

“Anyone here you’ve not yet rejected?” Benedict spoke beside him

Anthony turned to look at his brother, clearing his thoughts “You’re the artist,” His eyes went to the crowd once again “Do you see anyone remotely inspiring?” He cannot help the small smirk that showed on his face as his eyes caught sight of you next to Penelope “We shall have a diamond tonight and I’ll shall choose my wife”

He followed his mother as she brought Eloise in front of the queen, tuning out their conversation as his face unconsciously turned slightly to keep the redhead in sight. He turned back towards the queen, bowing in tune with his family before they left.

“If the queen, in fact, names Eloise the diamond, who will you marry then, brother?” Benedict asked

Anthony turned to look at him “Hush you” He left before benedict could respond as he saw a certain lady leave Penelope’s side and head towards the refreshments table.

Anthony approached the refreshment table with an easy stride, his gaze lingering on you as you delicately poured yourself a glass of lemonade. The crowd around him faded into a dull hum as he drew closer, his curiosity piqued by the way you seemed so at ease, yet entirely detached from the chaos of the ballroom.

“Miss Featherington,” he said smoothly as he stopped beside you, reaching for a glass himself. “I see you’ve discovered the most sought-after corner of the evening.”

You glanced up shocked before a flicker of amusement showed in your eyes. “Lord Bridgerton,” you greeted, your tone polite but teasing. “I wasn’t aware the refreshment table was the highlight of the night.”

Anthony chuckled, swirling the champagne in his glass. “It’s simply a strategic choice. Much safer here than braving the dance floor—or the relentless matchmaking.”

“Ah,” you said with mock seriousness, turning your body to face him “The infamous Bridgerton charm, evading mamas and their daughters alike. I imagine you ae a master at that by now.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “I might say the same about you. I don’t see you dancing with any suitors of your own”

You tilted your head slightly “Sorry to disappoint you but I do not have any suitors” You state

Anthony frowned “How can that be? You’re beautiful” He blurted unconsciously. Your eyes widened at his words, a blush filling your cheeks

His eyes widened as well as he processed what he said “I-I-I mean.” He cleared his throat “I meant that you- you have a charm to you that men cannot deny that you are pretty”

You smiled “Thank you, my lord” you said, hiding your glee at his compliment “Oh, I- I’m sure you have matters to tent to. I wouldn’t dream of monopolizing your time. Surely, there’s a line of young ladies waiting for their turn with the Viscount.”

Anthony shrugged, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Oddly enough, the only company I find myself seeking at the moment is yours.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, though you quickly recovered. “You clearly know how to flatter a lady, Lord Bridgerton. Is this how you court a lady?”

“Flattery?” He placed his glass down with an easy smile. “Not at all. I simply speak the truth.”

“Well, then,” you said, your tone light but edged with curiosity. “If this is the truth, then I wouldn’t dare to say otherwise”

Your gaze held his for a beat too long before you broke the moment with a small laugh. “Well, I hope tonight proves memorable for you, my lord.”

“Oh, it already has,” he said, his voice low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could respond, the trumpets sounded as the queen stepped down to make an announcement.

“Your presence is noted, and your queen most appreciative,” the queen started to say “Allow it to now be my honor to present to you the season’s diamond” she looked around at all the guests

“Miss Edwina Sharma”

You let out a small smile before turning towards Anthony “There you have your new wife” you teased

He turned to look at you “What?” he looked confused

“Was it not the lady that the queen chose the one that is going to be your wife?” You asked

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Anthony said confused

“I have my ways” You shrugged “But anyway, go introduce yourself”

Anthony frowned “I- “

“Go” You urged him “I’ll see you later” Anthony gave you one last look before heading towards the new diamond

“She is a lovely diamond, dearest” Anthony’s mother approached him after the dance with Miss Edwina.

Anthony would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried after finding out that the woman he made such a bad impression on was Miss Edwina’s sister, making things just a bit difficult. Miss Edwina was nice, answering all of his questions with sincerity, awareness and intelligence. She is exactly what he wanted if he was going to marry out of duty.

But surprisingly, he cannot help but think back on the featherington girl. You were…different, you challenged him and you weren’t in awe of him like every other lady in London (If only he knew)

“Anthony?” His mother called out when he didn’t respond

He turned to look at his mother, shaking away every thought of you. No matter how much he enjoyed talking to you, how refreshing he found you to be.

You incited things in him he didn’t dare to pursuit more or acknowledge, things that went against everything he said he would never do, surprising considering you’ve spoken, truly spoken, not small greetings like the ones you gave each other whenever he came across the featherington family or when you accompanied Penelope to her meetings with Eloise, but full conversations for a total of like two times.

It unnerved him.

“She is nice” Anthony agreed with his mother, looking down.

He had to put duty above everything else.

“She is…who I shall marry” Anthony stated, his eyes catching a flicker of red hair from the corner of his eyes, he gave his mother one last glance before walking away

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

*those in white are blogs which don't have their mentions on and thus I couldn't tag them*

Taglist:

@heyyitsreign

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@zestygingergirl

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

[alphaleathergearhead]

Time to serve, skin boy

Marc put on his dark red bomber jacket, the red camo combat pants and his dark red ranger boots. He felt good and horny, ready to go out and look for an adventure on this Friday evening.

After a short stroll through the nearby street he entered his favourite bar on the corner to have some beer for a start. The bar wasn´t crowded yet. Marc went to the counter, ordered his beer and settled down. He grinned at the barman who placed the beer in front of him.  „Nice outfit“, he said to the hunk behind the counter, eying him up and down. The barman was wearing tall boots, leather chaps over an asstight jeans and a tight leather vest on nude skin. „Thanks bro, enjoy your beer“ said the barman and to Marcs disappointment he went away to the other end of the corner, where an older leather bloke was sitting. Most annoying, the two of them chatted animatedly and then the leather guy was kissing the barman.

„Ok“, thought Marc, „tried and failed“. He let his eyes wander through the bar but there was no familiar face to be seen. Marc returned to his beer, sipping on it and thinking what to do next.

„May I?“, said a deep voice suddenly besides Marc. Marc flinched slighty, taken by surprise, and turned to where the voice came from. It was a tall and well-built man, older than Marc, geared up in a black leather tracksuit, black sneakers, leather cap, leather gloves and a woodland camo bomber jacket. Marcs heart skipped….fuck, this was a good looking guy in hot gear.

The man smiled at Marc, took his place besides him and ordered a beer. The barman eyed him up and hurried to fulfill the wish. „I know him well……the barman“ added the man as he saw the irritation in Marcs face. „He fulfills every wish I have. Oh sorry, I´m Dean“.

„Hi Dean, I´m Marc.“

„Great to meet you, Marc. You´re geared up nicely, all to my taste, I would say.“

„Oh thanks, great, I mean…“ Marc stuttered slightly. „I mean, you´re looking great, too.“

„Is this so?“ Dean looked intensely at Marc wo felt himself x-rayed. He then smiled and took a huge sip of his beer. „Cheers Marc.“

„Cheers, Dean“. Marc relaxed after that intense stare and emptied his beer in one.

„Hey, there, another beer for Marc over here“, Dean ordered with a steely commanding voice. To Marcs astonishment the barman reacted at once, leaving his leather daddy alone.

„Now tell me Marc, what brings you here?“

Marc thought that this was a rather stupid question as the bar was wellknown for hooking up hot guys for a night. „I….well….yes….“ Damn, what an embarrasing show he was giving in front of this attractive guy. Marc fell silent and looked dumb on his beer.

There was a long, silent break. Then Dean smiled at him, emptied his beer and stood up. Fuck, if he goes now….thought Marc.

„Well Marc, I was looking for a hot skin for some hot action tonight. I thought, you might be the one. But I may have been mistaken. I leave now. My car is outside. I will wait, lets say, 2 minutes. If you make up your mind, come outside and our adventure will start. If not, then have a nice evening.“

Dean put some money on the counter. „Thats for both of us“, he said, turned around and left.

Marc sat like paralysed on his stool. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought. Then he jumped off the stool and left the bar on a run.

The door slammed close behind him. The street in front of him was empty. Fuck, he´s gone, you are such a fool, thought Marc angrily.

Then he felt a move behind him and a leather glove closed his mouth and nose. „Shhhhh, come with me and no resistance“ whispered Dean in his right ear. Marc was so surprised that he went nearly limp.

Dean steered him around the corner in a dark part of the street. He hold him there strongly against a wall and Marc felt suddenly cold steel against his wrists and heard a clicking sound. Before he could shout, he felt something closing his mouth and wrapping around his head. Shit, you fool, you are trapped, he thought and tried to rip off the thing that was closing his mouth only to feel that his hands were cuffed on his back. Then he lost sight as a black mask was put over his head. He felt Deans hands steering him away from the wall. He heared another clicking sound and then he was thrown into a tight space and a heavy lid was shut firmly above him. A car engine started and Marc knew that Dean had kidnapped him and put him into the trunk of a car.

How long the car ride took Marc didn´t know, He felt endless turns and curves and at a certain point the road seemed to get bumpy, too. Then at last the car slowed down and stopped. He heard Dean open the lid of the trunk and felt his hands on his body.

„Up, come out“ commanded Dean in a voice that tolerated no contradiction. He was dragged out of the trunk and fell onto the gound.

„Shit, get up at once“, shouted Dean angrily and strong hands hoisted him upright. Marcs legs felt weak and he stumbled around, bound and blindfold. Again strong hands steered him in a certain direction and he heard ruttling keys and a door unlocked.

„Watch out, there´s a step“. Helpless Marc nearly stumbled over it. „Stand still“, commanded Deans voice. Another door was opened and a damp and mouldy air reached Marcs nostrils.

„Pay attention to the stairs.“ Led by Deans firm hands Marc stumbled down a staircase, was then led along an even part of that building and then stopped. He heard a heavy door creaking open and was led into a room with better air, which was comfortably warm and dry. He then heard another metallic creaking and received a heavy push, which forced him to stumble forward. Again the creaking noice and then the mask was removed.

Marcs heart sank. He found himself trapped in a massive steel cage in the corner of a dungeon like cellar room. In the cage was a bare matress and a blanket. The cellar room had many devices whose purpose Marc did not know.

Dean stood in front of the cage, smiling broadly. „Thanks for accompaning me to my place. I will leave you for a while so you get used to the new situation. Then I will come back and our adventure will begin. Oh, and don´t try to scream or something like this. Nobody will hear you.“

Dean left the cellar room and Marc heard the door closed with heavy locks.

[swagginmun]

Hello!

I just wanted to tell you that your art and way of storytelling is AMAZING. You're one of my biggest inspirations, and one of the people who got me into LMK (which I am very grateful for! Thank you so much)!!

I also have two questions for you (if you're not too busy! I dont want to bother you-)

What's your process for making illustrations? Yours look so pretty and they are so wonderful to look at!

And, what's your tips for anyone who wants to make a LMK fan-comic, but is a little scared to get something wrong? (Like good representation and cultural no-nos for example. I've done research, but the internet can be a little confusing and messy about topics like this, so I wanted to ask for help!)

I do hope that I'm not bothering you in any way!

Have an amazing day/night!

This is an oldie ask, apologies, but I do have a better way to answer this now! Typically, when I work on my pieces, I have 4 main phases: Roughs, Lines, Flats, and Renders! I'll use this Nezha piece as an example!

My Roughs stage includes getting references, color themes I may want, and feeling out the general vibe I want out of a piece! For this one, I really wanted to push Nezha's face expression (my main) as well as try to emphasize the speed at which he was moving.

Once I do that, I try to space out everything in the background, and refine the sketch with one more rough draft before moving on to the lines!

The Lines stage is pretty self-explanatory: this is when I line everything and make additional changes I may not have thought of from the Roughs stage: For this one in particular, I remember wanting to add details of more wear and tear, such as the sash being a bit damaged, or his bracelet getting cracks, or his face being a little scuffed up.

Next up: Flats! This is when I would flat color, as well as adjust the lineart to have colored lines (its already colored in the prior screenshot, but my lineart starts out all black) I find coloring the linart helps make the colors feel more "lived in" for lack of a better phrase

Finally, the render portion, which usually starts with the BG for me most times; I find if I know the environments colors/lighting it helps concrete where light is affecting the characters

This is your overlays, mutiply, and shine layers in action! Flat coloring makes my soul itch, but rendering really helps quell that pain for me; esp if I get to work with gold/hair shine! I hope that was helpful! And as far as advice for respecting cultural-related things, honestly, as an American I don't know much in the realms of specifics, but I do know to try to have basics understood, which I gather from what has been made thus far within LMK, reading the source material/fact checking information I come across, my own experience of being black in America, and reviewing travel advise funny enough. I wish you a good luck with your artistic journey homie!

[yoursinisforgiven]

GOOD GRACES ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel) 

cw: mentions of murder, mentions of blood, non–canon aspects (ivan’s last name, and the name of his acquaintance), asriel & pet appearance, reader gets flirted with(?). episode 7 & 8 of isaac’s series doesn’t have relevance in this fic.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

Nothing was making sense. 

It had been about a week since Christmas, and Isaac's gift to you—a sleek leather notebook with embossed initials—had already been filled with notes from your latest case. You hadn’t expected to dive in so deeply so soon, but the week had passed in a blur. The case itself seemed simple on the surface: one arrogant rich man owed another arrogant rich man money. The problem? The money hadn't been paid, and nearly eight months had passed since the deadline.

You leaned back in your chair, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples as if that might clear the fog in your brain. Why wasn’t this adding up? Every lead seemed to dissolve into nothingness, leaving only more questions behind. 

The desk lamp cast a dim glow over your scattered notes, and you glanced at the name scribbled across the top of the page: Oliver. That was the client. You frowned, flipping through the notebook to a previous page where another name stood out: Ivan. The two men had been acquaintances—close enough for Oliver to lend Ivan a substantial amount of money. It wasn’t just a verbal agreement, either. Oliver had insisted on a formal contract, a safeguard for the sizeable loan. 

You exhaled sharply and skimmed through your notes again. Ivan had started paying the loan back promptly after receiving it. Bank records showed three substantial payments made to Oliver over the span of three months—payments that covered about 70% of the debt. And then… nothing. No payments. No contact. Just silence. 

You tapped the side of your pen against the notebook and stared at the next document in the stack: Ivan's bank statements. Something didn’t sit right. His accounts were practically drained after those payments, but there was an unusual expense that caught your eye—a sudden trip to Tanzania. You squinted at the details, double-checking the timeline. Why would Ivan, who clearly didn’t have the means to pay off his debt in one lump sum, suddenly spend money on an expensive international trip? The timing was suspicious at best.  

The more you thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Ivan had been diligent in making payments. If he intended to disappear, why bother paying 70% of the loan back at all? It would have been easier to cut and run after the first payment—or to never pay anything at all. 

You jotted down the growing list of questions in your notebook:  

- Why did Ivan stop paying after covering most of the debt?  

- What was so urgent or important about the trip to Tanzania?  

- Was there something—or someone—waiting for him there?  

The weight of the case settled heavily on your shoulders. There was something more to this than a simple unpaid loan. Ivan’s actions didn’t align with someone trying to evade their debts. Something—or someone—was interfering.  

You set the pen down and leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. If this was going to make sense, you’d need to dig deeper. Tanzania might hold the answers—or at least the next clue in the puzzle.  

 ──

“Can we go to Tanzania?”  

Isaac didn’t look up from the stack of papers on his desk. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, his amusement barely veiled.  

You pouted, moving further into his study and dropping into the chair directly in front of him. Leaning forward, you rested your elbows on the desk and tried again.  

“Isaac, I’m serious!”  

“I’m sure you are,” he said without looking up, his tone light and teasing. “But what business, pray tell, do you have in Tanzania?”  

You groaned dramatically, throwing your head back in frustration before sitting up straight. “It’s about my case!”  

That got his attention. He set down his pen, finally meeting your gaze with a raised brow. “Go on, then. Explain.”  

You leaned closer, your voice hurried and insistent. “This man—Ivan. He borrowed a huge amount of money from my client, Oliver. He paid most of it back, seventy percent to be exact, but then he just… stopped. No contact, no explanation. Instead, he vanishes and takes a sudden trip to Tanzania.”  

Isaac tilted his head slightly, an unreadable expression on his face. “And?”  

“And,” you said, exhaling sharply, “that’s the last anyone’s heard from him. He hasn’t paid the rest of the debt, hasn’t contacted Oliver, and now I can’t figure out why he’d suddenly drop everything to go there. It doesn’t make sense.”  

Isaac took a slow sip from his glass of whisky, the amber liquid catching the light. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.  

“He’s dead.”  

The words hit you like a freight train. For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind racing to make sense of what you’d just heard.  

“What?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Isaac swirled the whisky in his glass, his gaze steady but distant. “Ivan. He’s dead. Asriel attempted to cover it up, but clearly, he didn’t do a very good job.”  

“Asriel?” you echoed, your brows furrowing deeply. “Who the hell is Asriel, and what does he have to do with this?”  

Isaac leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Asriel is a name you’ll want to remember. He’s not the type of man you want involved in something like this. If Ivan’s death is connected to him, you can bet it wasn’t an accident. He’s a colleague of mine.”  

Your stomach churned as the implications settled over you. “So, you’re saying someone killed Ivan? And it wasn’t just some random tragedy in Tanzania?”  

Isaac raised a brow, as if the answer were obvious. “Precisely. Tanzania wasn’t a coincidence. Someone orchestrated this, and Asriel’s involvement suggests it’s much bigger than unpaid debts.”  

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The case had gone from puzzling to dangerous in the span of a single conversation.  

 ──

Asriel had killed Ivan.  

That was the conclusion you’d drawn after hours of pacing in the kitchen, replaying Isaac’s cryptic words over and over in your head. Isaac had left the house for a "business meeting," his tone deliberately casual, but you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Would he really confront Asriel—or worse, collaborate with him? The idea that Isaac could be protecting a murderer gnawed at you like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch.  

Your pacing came to an abrupt halt. If Asriel was truly a colleague, wouldn’t Isaac have access to the case files? And if those files existed, they might hold the key to unraveling this entire mess.  

The thought ignited a spark of determination. Without hesitation, you raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and headed straight for Isaac’s study. The faint scent of whisky and leather still lingered in the room, and the soft ticking of a clock seemed louder in the silence.  

Your eyes darted to the large mahogany filing cabinet tucked neatly in the corner. You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door to make sure you were alone. Then, with a deep breath, you crouched in front of the cabinet and began pulling open drawers, fingers flipping through the neatly organized files.  

“Ivan, Ivan, Ivan,” you muttered under your breath as your fingers flew across the labels. “Come on, where are you?”  

Then you found it—a thin folder marked ‘Ivan Volkov’ in Isaac’s clean, precise handwriting. Your heart skipped a beat. You pulled it out and laid it on the desk, your hands trembling slightly as you flipped it open.  

A dossier on a woman named Rhene, complete with a photograph.The photo showed a woman with sharp features, her eyes calculating and intense. The accompanying notes were concise, detailing her connection to Ivan. It seemed Rhene had accompanied him on his trip to Tanzania, though her role remained ambiguous.

A sealed folder labeled "Crime Scene."The label alone made your stomach tighten.

A DNA analysis report.The samples listed weren’t Ivan’s or Rhene’s. Instead, the report highlighted genetic anomalies, with unsettling notes referencing “non-human origins” and “predatory characteristics.”

You stared at the sealed folder, your breath catching in your throat. You knew you shouldn’t open it, but the pull of curiosity—and the need for answers—was stronger than your fear.

With trembling hands, you unfastened the clasp and opened the folder. The first photo hit you like a physical blow.

Mutilated. That was the only word that came to mind. Ivan and the woman, Rhene’s body—or what remained of it—was scattered in grotesque disarray. Limbs had been torn apart, some strewn across the room, others almost unrecognizable. The scene looked more like the work of an animal than anything human.

Your breathing quickened as your eyes darted over the images. Bite marks. They were everywhere, jagged impressions on what was left of Ivan’s torso, arms, and legs. It wasn’t just a random attack—it was targeted, deliberate.

You slammed the folder shut, stumbling backward as nausea clawed at your stomach. Your heart pounded, your vision blurred.

This wasn’t just a murder. It was a massacre.

If Asriel hadn't killed this man, Who—No, what had?

 ──

You had been sitting on the floor of Isaac’s study for exactly 24 minutes, nausea twisting your stomach into knots. The weight of what you’d seen refused to dissipate, the gruesome images replaying in your mind.

Suddenly, your work phone rang. The sharp sound startled you, making your blood run cold. You hesitated, glancing at the screen. Oliver.

For a brief moment, you debated ignoring it—dropping the case entirely and walking away from this madness. But you knew you couldn’t. Not yet.

Alast, you answer on the fifth ring.

“Hello.” You say, trying not to sound uptight. The line crackled faintly before Oliver’s sharp, impatient voice cut through.

"Finally," he snapped. "I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me."

You swallowed, gripping the phone tightly. "No, Oliver. I’ve been working on your case."

"Good" he said curtly. 

"Oliver," you said sharply, unsure if you even wanted to mention the man. "Do you know Asriel?"

Oliver’s silence was immediate, tense.

"Answer me," you pressed.

There was a pause on the line, and when Oliver spoke again, his voice was quieter but no less tense. "Why are you asking about Asriel?"

 "I need to speak with him."

Oliver let out a bitter laugh. "You think you can just speak with Asriel? People like him don’t take calls from nobodies like you."

"Then give me the number of someone who can get me to him," you pressed. "You hired me to solve this, didn’t you? Help me do my job."

Oliver grumbled something under his breath before responding. "Asriel doesn’t deal with most people directly. But I know someone—Vic. He’s Asriel’s right-hand man, and I know him well enough to get you a meeting."

"Vic?!" you said. You curse at yourself, regretting sounding so surprised. Your breath hitched at the mention of Vic, memories of the man rushing back to you. His smooth voice, the way he’d tried to “take you off Isaac’s hands” like you were a burden or a prize—either way, the thought made your skin crawl. "Send me Vic’s number. I’ll handle it from here."

"Fine," Oliver said begrudgingly. "But if this goes south, it’s on you. Don’t expect me to dig you out of any trouble with these people."

"Trust me," you muttered, "I wouldn’t expect you to."

Oliver hung up without another word, leaving you gripping the phone tightly, the tension in your chest refusing to ease. Not a minute after you get a text from Oilver, it was Vic’s number.

The sight of it made your stomach churn, but there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, you dialed the number, your fingers shaking slightly.

The line barely rang twice before a smooth, lilting voice answered. "Well, well. This is unexpected. To who do I owe the pleasure?"

"Vic," you said, keeping your tone measured. "I need to talk to Asriel."

There was a pause, and then a low chuckle. He recognized your voice. "Straight to business, I see. No pleasantries? No ‘How have you been, Vic?’ I thought we had something special."

You clenched your jaw, resisting the urge to snap at him. "I don’t have time for games. Can you get me to Asriel or not?"

"Tsk, tsk," he said mockingly. "Always so serious. But lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today. Why don’t you tell me why you’re so eager to see him? Did Isaac finally let you off the leash?"

You ignored the jab, your voice cold. "It’s about Ivan Volkov. And if you care about keeping Asriel’s name out of this mess, you’ll help me."

Vic hummed thoughtfully, his voice dripping with amusement. "Ivan, huh? That’s a dangerous name to be throwing around. But you’re in luck. I happen to like danger."

"Vic," you said sharply, your patience wearing thin.

"Alright, alright," he said, his tone turning playful. "I’ll arrange something. But only because I find you endlessly fascinating. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Try not to get yourself killed before the meeting. It’d be such a waste of potential."

The line went dead before you could respond. You stared at the phone, your heart pounding. Vic’s words echoed in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine.

──

Three weeks.

Three weeks of complete radio silence.

The days dragged on, heavy with uncertainty. You told yourself that Vic was playing some twisted game, dangling the promise of a meeting just out of reach. But the longer you waited, the more your mind spiraled.

Isaac had noticed your unease, though you tried to mask it. Every time he asked, you brushed him off with a strained smile. "It’s nothing," you’d say, "just the change of season."

But the lie did little to ease his concern—or yours.

Vic’s words replayed in your head like a broken record: “Try not to get yourself killed before the meeting.”

Was it a warning? A threat? Were you being watched, stalked? Did Vic want you dead? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at you. Every creak of the floorboards, every shadow in your periphery felt like a potential danger. Sleep became a luxury you could no longer afford.

Then, just as you began to consider calling Vic again—perhaps to demand answers, perhaps just to scream at him—your phone buzzed.

You froze, the device trembling in your hand as you checked the screen. It was an unknown number.

Your pulse raced. It had to be him.

With a deep breath, you answered. With a deep breath, you answered. "Vic. You arrogant son of a bitc—"

"Well, that’s not how you answer the phone now, is it?"

The voice was smooth, like silk over glass, and utterly unfamiliar. Not Vic.

Your heart sped up, a cold wave of fear washing over you. This wasn’t Vic.

"Who is this?" you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

The man on the other end chuckled, the sound low and rich, reverberating in a way that made your skin crawl. "Why, I believe you already know who I am. You’ve been asking around for me, haven’t you?"

The breath caught in your throat. Asriel.

“What did you use to kill Ivan?" you asked, forcing strength into your voice. "Whatever it was, it’s clearly inhumane. Something that shouldn’t be in the hands of someone like—"

The chuckle came again, softer this time, almost indulgent. "Careful now," Asriel interrupted smoothly. "They don’t like being referred to as ‘it.’ If you want to meet them, it’s important you learn a little respect."

Them?

“Has Isaac taught his own pet no manners?”

You were about to respond when a voice murmured faintly in the background. It was low, guttural, and laced with irritation. You couldn’t make out the words, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Asriel," they said, sharper now.

"Ah," Asriel drawled, the faintest edge of amusement in his tone. "Pet, come here. Come say hello to our curious little friend."

There was a pause, a rustling sound that could have been movement, and then a new voice entered the line. This one was different—softer but no less chilling.

The single word hit you like a cold blade to the spine.

"Hello."

──

author's note: this may be one of my personal favorites, i know many are a fan of the pet x pickle duo so i wanted to write an interaction a little more realistic.

[gachagon]

Who had Eva's Blackmail?

Spoilers for Project: Eden's Garden chapter 1

During the first chapter, we're introduced to the Motive for the characters to begin the killing game, which are these envelopes that contain a photo and a message on the back that reveals their "worst" secret. Damon had Wolfgang's, Wolfgang had Jeans, Kai had Cassidy's, Eloise had Grace's, and Eva had Desmond's.

During the class trial, they tried repeatedly to bring up the motives but nobody ever revealed who had who's motive, or what that motive was aside from Wolfgang's. So that begs the question, who had Eva's blackmail? The person she ended up killing didn't have her blackmail, and as far as Damon is aware she was never actually approached by anyone who handed her an envelope. Meaning someone had Eva's blackmail, but then didn't give it to her.

The reason I think it's important to wonder who had Eva's blackmail is because I believe that her "secret" was something that we haven't heard before. Tozu said that all of the secrets were things that everyone had already unknowingly admitted to, and Eva's "biggest" secret (That being that she's not the Ultimate Liar, but really the Ultimate Mathlete) had been revealed to everyone all at once. This would make her envelope being the same information that everyone already knows kind of useless. (That, and Tozu wouldn't put her secret on the school tablet where everyone could just access the information, because it's supposed to be personal blackmail, if everyone can just know in an instant, it's worthless as a motive)

So Eva's secret has to be something that we don't know right now. I don't believe that Eva's secret was that she "Used to eat in the bathroom stalls" either, like some people have proposed. Because Eva told Damon that after the Motives were introduced, not before. Meaning, her secret could only be something from before the motives were introduced, which means it's something we don't know about yet.

If Eva's secret was something that was really just "lame" or embarrassing, I feel like the person who had her envelope would've followed what Wolfgang asked of everyone, which was to just give her her Blackmail. Unless, her secret was something that was really, REALLY bad. In which case, they either held onto it or showed it to Wolfgang.

The reason I think whoever had Eva's blackmail probably showed it to Wolfgang is because Wolfgang made a declaration to Desmond when they discovered that nobody's doors had locks on them. He said to Desmond to just bring any clues or suspicious things to him first next time instead of bothering everyone, and so if the person who received Eva's blackmail was really worried about it and didn't want to confront her about it, I could see them either holding onto it and keeping it a secret, or just showing Wolfgang for peace of mind.

I guess the only reason I'm so fixated on what Eva's secret was is because it could reveal more about her potential motivations. I always thought, much like Wenona pointed out, that her killing Wolfgang and framing Diana over something so frivolous as her own insecurity about her talent is a little stupid. So i just feel there has to be more to it than just that, you know? I also still think Wolfgang's actions during the whole note exchange thing are a bit suspicious in and of itself.

[enbyfvcker]

"Come back home."

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: a part two continuation from this from @psychohoneywhiskey because it rented a whole fucking condo in my head.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Hurt/comfort, angst, fighting, fluff, kissing, happy ending, Wade needs a hug, Logan needs a hug.

Wade only got home when the sun was already rising. His suit was all torn up, and some wounds still healed from the fight he just had with some stubborn criminals.

He expected to see Logan sleeping on the couch, but he didn't.

Well, maybe he decided to sleep in his bed?

He walks to his bedroom with expectation but also finds it empty.

Actually, not entirely empty.

In his bed layed all the clothes Wade bought Logan folded. All the little thoughtful gifts he gave him. Everything that Wade got him to say through actions that he's wanted.

Looks like the message didn't land.

His heart tightens, tears welling in his eyes as he realizes that Logan left him.

Left after being willing to sacrifice himself for Wade. Left after making this crack house he lived in into a home. Left after letting Wade convince him to stay sober after decades. Left after stealing his way into Wade's heart, his life, his family.

And just like that, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴. Without nothing with him but his suit.

Honestly, Wade doesn't think he should be surprised for this. He knew it was going to happen. He knew Logan was just waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. Who would ever put up with him? God, if he could escape from himself sometimes, he would. He tried many times, too.

So could he even blame him, really?

In that moment, all the words Logan spat at him in that Honda Odyssey at the middle of a god forsaken void came back into his mind. They have been constantly in the past weeks.

He did feel like a ridiculous sad joke. He wanted nothing more than to be able to die alone because at least it meant he would just 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. That his attempts wouldn't just be self-harm anymore and that when he tried blowing himself up, he wouldn't just regenerate back.

He couldn't keep his job. Couldn't keep Vanessa. Couldn't keep Logan. If it weren't for Logan, he wouldn't be able to keep his fucking universe.

He'd never be an anchor being. He'd never make a difference or matter, so why would anyone stay?

He sobbed as he held one of Logan's shirts, burying his face into it and desperately trying to smell any remaining scent of him.

Mary Puppins walks in, her tongue out as she turns her head to the side, looking up at Wade with sad eyes.

"What's all that damn noise? Did you stub your toe again?" Al walks in wearing a sleeping robe and her sunglasses, apparently having awakened from Wade's ugly crying.

"Hey, Al..." Wade just sniffles, his voice broken as he just chooses to ignore her question.

"What happened?"

"Logan left..."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Guess I'm that insufferable that he couldn't stand spending another minute with me."

"He spent whole months with you, Wade."

"Sure, but did he even have a choice? I basically kidnapped him and threw him in a fucking new universe. I'm like an old creepy guy in a van. He was just waiting for a chance to run off. And he did."

"Come here, let's get you some tea." Al gestures for Wade to follow her to the kitchen, and he does, taking the shirt in his hands with him.

"Actually, I could use some cocaine right now. And you could use the cure for blindness to see how heartbroken I am for tea." He remarks, following behind her, dogpool following Wade. "Try not to break any cups this time."

Al puts sets a kettle in the stove and turns it on as Wade sits on a chair, all droopy and his eyes red.

"Did he take anything with him? Any money? Clothes? How do you know he won't just come back?"

"No, nothing. He must be wandering the streets like a lost puppy right now. And I just know."

"I think you boys are just too stupid to communicate properly. If you talked about this shit-"

"Oh, he talked plenty, believe me. He ran his mouth about how much of a joke I am."

"Oh, cut the self-loathing crap. That was before then. You two have been acting like an old married gay couple for the last months, don't give me that. You don't see the way he looks at you."

"Oh, and you do?!"

"I don't have to see it to know that guy would throw himself in the fire for you. If he ran off, then it's probably because the idiot read your sad little kitten act like a sign he's not welcomed."

"What-"

"Shut up. Now, if you don't grow a pair of balls for once and try to find him, I sweat to god-"

"I wouldn't even know where to look. And I doubt it he'd even want me to."

"So you better start right away. Go."

"What about my tea-"

"Go."

...

The last few days were rough. And that's saying something, considering all Logan went through in his universe.

He didn't have a place to stay anymore, so he just wandered around and got from bar to bar. He didn't have any cash on him, so he would flash his claws out to the barman as a threat when he was asked about his bill.

He felt like a goddamn monster, so why not act like it. He's not proud of it, but it's been months he didn't have a drink, and all he wanted was to drown the overwhelming feelings eating at him.

He got banned from multiple bars, always hopping to the next one. Getting drunk, getting in some fights, wandering around...

He felt like he was back in his universe. He felt so fucking stupid to think maybe he could change. That maybe here he could turn the page, start a new life with Wade.

Turns out the place it's not the problem, he's the fucking problem. He's a disease that destroys everything he touches, and he should know better than to try and have any connection with anyone.

He failed everyone. He failed the X-men by not being there. He failed Charles by going into a murderous spree. He failed Laura by not being the right guy. He failed Wade by being the complete jerk he is.

He wasn't sure how many days it had been since he left. He's smelling bad, and his hair is mess, but all he cares right now is finishing one more bottle. Then, one more, and one more, and...

He feels something - someone - poking him. Logan thinks it may be the barman or the manager, so he pulls his claws out. "Look, bub, I-"

"Heya, Peanut. Gosh, I'm getting deja-vu. Ain't ya?" Logan's eyes focus to see Wade standing next to him wearing his suit and mask, and his heart races quickly. "You're a hard one to find, honey badger. And I'm a mercenary, so-"

"The fuck are you doing here?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Save it, bub. I gave you an easy way out. You should have taken it."

"Come on, let's just talk-"

"Not in the fucking mood." Logan grumbles, suddenly feeling his chest too tight and like the walls were closing on him. He stumbles while getting off the chair and heading outside with heavy steps, hearing an angry voice behind the counter as he leaves without paying.

He walks out of the bar, rushing somewhere through the empty street, nightly darkness everywhere. Where? Where the fuck was he rushing to?

He hears a bell noise and other footsteps behind him.

"Fine! I get it, alright?! I'm the worst damn piece of crap that you could possibly be stuck with! You were right, ok? I'm everything you said I am. I'd run off, too." Wade shouts, his broken voice making Logan halt in his steps. "But at least let me return the favor of you saving my universe. Let me try and find you somewhere where you don't have to deal with me-"

"It was never about that." Logan grunts, his heart aching like it was about to break.

How could Wade possibly think it was about that?

"What?"

"I'm poison, bub." Logan sighs, finally turning around. "I destroy everything I touch. I hurt everyone around me, I hurt you. I don't deserve you taking me in. I don't deserve your affection or your family. I shouldn't have thought that there was more to my life than being the miserable monster I am and living with the consequences of my own actions. You got the worst you could possibly have, Wade. I'm just doing you the favor of retracting myself before I fuck everything up beyonde repair." Logan could feel his throat tight like a knot as he fought back stubborn tears.

Wade was stunned, silent for a few seconds before he took off his mask and gave Logan the most puppy dog eyes he ever saw, his eyes glossy with tears matching his own.

"You're an fucking idiot." Wade simply stated, a sad smile in his lips. "You're not a monster. And you're far from the worst I could have. I owe my whole world to you. I know you think I'm a joke, but I couldn't ask for a better-"

"I don't think you're a joke." He interrupted.

"But... in the Honda Odyssey, back at the void..." Wade replies, hearing a chuckle that held nothing but sadness.

Fuck. It never came to Logan's mind that what he said that day actually stuck to Wade. He is an idiot. Those words felt so distant, so different from what he felt now for the merc. After all those months they lived together, getting all domestic and shit. Wade crawled into his heart that had felt dead for years and got a space there.

"That was before, bub. I didn't even really know you, of course now I don't think that shit I said."

"But you did... Back then." Wade looks down, his voice low.

"I'm sorry..." Logan says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "You didn't deserve that. I was a jerk. I still am, but... You make me want to be better, bub. It's stupid, but... You kidnapping me was probably the best thing that ever happened to me in years, and I was just... so scared I fucked it up too, like everything else."

Wade chuckles, and his eyes brighten as he looks at Logan, his heart feels lighter at hearing those words.

"You didn't." Wade gets closer, his hand resting at Logan's shoulder. "You're wanted. Loved."

The care and gentleness in Wade's touch melts Logan, he leans closer too.

"Come back home."

Those words alone broke him.

For so long, he didn't have a home. How could he have ever taken this one for granted?

"Alright, bub."

It was like clockwork when their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss, them holding each other closely as if they both feared the other would disappear into thin air any second. It felt so natural. Their hearts were calm and frantic at the same time.

Suddenly, there were fireworks sounds and colorful lights surrounding them, and they could hear people chanting happily in the background.

𝘖𝘩.

So it was New Year's already.

They kept their lips together for a few seconds as fireworks popped and formed colorful patterns in the sky. When they pulled away, their eyes were filled with longing and pure affection.

"You're stinky." Wade comments with a smile even though he keeps Logan close. Logan chuckles.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Come on. Let's get you home and make you a nice warm bath, peanut. Blind Al and Mary Puppins are missing you." Wade says while putting his arms around Logan's waist as he guides him their way home.

"Just them?"

"No." Wade replies. "Not just them."

[missiva12]

Perception

Chapter 7 - A little find

Excerpt

***

– We should. – Quintus nods in agreement.

It had long since been night on the streets of Iacon, almost everyone had gone offline, as is required once every half cycle, but no. Quintus and Alchemist sat and studied the samples they had received. They were few, extremely few, and that made it difficult to study. They should have taken Naomi and studied her visually, removed the interfering clothing, taken enough samples, finally questioned her about everything. Absolutely everything she knows.

But no one dared to do it that way. Quintus might have been able to persuade Naomi, but he was stopped every time by the Alchemist himself, asking him to wait - she had promised to give the information anyway. And Quintus remembered that. But apparently, he didn't have as much patience as Zeta, who was the main one, who cut off any actions that went beyond the limits.

He says to proceed with caution, not to rush. He did not rush, Quintus sincerely tried not to rush, but the scientific interest did not subside as well as the quiet desire to be closer to an organic person, a human, a girl, to Naomi, which unprecedentedly appeared in all his brothers. No one thought anything alarming about it, not even a thought appeared.

Each of them wanted to socialize, and if Zeta managed to successfully take the main role in this, the others did not have it so sweet. The girl had been afraid for a long time, not to mention that she still feared the same Megatronus. She skillfully hides her apprehension of him on her own face. But Liege assured them confidently that she continued to fear Megatronus. And most likely, all of them.

One wants to know the reason why, but no one is going to ask directly. And Zeta is right - it's early, there's no rush. We have to earn the girl's trust, preferably with everyone.

– What about mass displacement? Do you remember where we left off with Amalgamus?