#just getting it out of his system it's fine

[digitaldaydreamm]

Same person from before - I have a req if this is okay! For childhood bestie au :)

Maybe reader being drunk and sad at a party and her girl friends are all trying to help her be less drunk and sad :( and reader really just wants Rafe. (He may have alr been at the party or comes to it from his house) and stays with her to help her feel better and she feels better but becomes a clingy shy drunk for him in front of everyone because she’s embarrassed that she needed him in the first place?

Maybe she’s too out of it to notice but people can clearly see that reader and Rafe have some unspoken thing.

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | there's nothing wrong with needing your best friend

warnings: drunk reader

a/n: love this concepttttt, clingy reader is me lol. i hope this is what you had in mind!!

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The party was too much. Too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming.

The bass thumped through your skull like a second heartbeat, every laugh, every slurred conversation around you feeling distant, like you were watching it all happen from underwater.

Your head felt light, the alcohol buzzing through your system, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest.

You had barely touched your drink in the last twenty minutes, just turning the plastic cup between your fingers as you sat curled into yourself on the couch, feeling more and more like you didn’t belong here.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Kiara’s voice was soft, her brows furrowed as she knelt in front of you.

You blinked at her slowly, fingers tightening around the cup, but you didn’t answer, afraid your tears would spill out of you like a waterfall. She wasn’t the person you wanted to hear from.

Sarah, sitting next to you, sighed. “It’s Rafe.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

JJ groaned from the armrest, throwing his head back dramatically. “Of course, it’s Rafe. What did he do now?"

You swallowed, eyes flicking to your lap.

“We argued before I left,” you admitted, voice small.

It felt stupid now, all of it.

You had pushed him, wanting space, wanting to prove that you didn’t always need him hovering over you like some overbearing shadow. That you could go to a party on your own. Be independent. And now, sitting here with an empty drink and a hollow feeling in your chest, all you wanted was to take it back.

Sarah frowned. “You should’ve known he’d get mad about you coming here.”

“...I know.”

JJ scoffed. “And yet, here we are.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small, your fingers twitching against the cup.

You didn’t want to be here.

You wanted him.

Sarah seemed to pick up on that because she pulled out her phone without another word.

Your stomach flipped.

“Wait—”

But it was too late.

You watched, heart pounding, as she typed. A thousand different worries raced through your head.

Was he still mad? Would he even come?

The thought of seeing him, of facing him after how you left things, made your breath catch in your throat.

But the alternative—sitting here, pretending you were fine when you weren’t—felt worse.

So, you waited.

And it didn’t take long.

The moment Rafe stepped into the party, it was like the entire room shifted.

He didn’t look around, didn’t acknowledge anyone else. His gaze went straight to you.

His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened—just barely—the second they landed on you.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your dress, your stomach twisting.

Is he still angry? Is he going to push you away?

You didn’t know, and that uncertainty made your hands tremble slightly as you fisted the fabric in your lap.

He was already making his way towards you, his presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly.

The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

When he finally stopped in front of you, towering over where you sat, you hesitated.

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to reach for him.

But what if he didn’t want you to?

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible over the music. You felt your eyes water once more, the tears now threatening to spill.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping just slightly. And that was all the encouragement you needed.

The hesitation melted away as you moved, reaching for the sleeve of his dress shirt with shaky fingers.

He let you, didn’t pull away, didn’t move.

That was enough.

You gripped the fabric tightly, using it to pull yourself up, but the alcohol made your movements sluggish, unsteady.

Your body tilted slightly as you stumbled forward, and before you could even register what was happening, Rafe’s hands were on you.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your hip, steadying you effortlessly. Your breath hitched at the contact, at the warmth of his touch.

Your fingers clenched in his shirt, your face tilting up to meet his gaze, and suddenly, it was impossible to think about anything else.

“I—” You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat.

Rafe just shook his head, taking in your intoxicated state, his grip on your waist tightening. “Jesus, kid…”

You hesitated for half a second longer before finally letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso in a way that was almost shy.

He went rigid for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting it.

Then, his hold on you softened, and he let out a slow, steady breath before wrapping both arms around you completely, his fingers pressing into your back.

You felt yourself relax instantly, melting against him, gripping onto his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

Maybe he was.

You pressed closer, nuzzling against the soft fabric, your voice muffled when you mumbled, “Missed you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your back.

JJ groaned from the couch. “Are you serious?”

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of how tightly you were clinging to Rafe in front of everyone. But when you shifted slightly, he just pulled you closer.

You felt his lips brush the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t.”

You swallowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t need me.”

Your breath stuttered. Because, God, you did.

So, you clung a little tighter, buried your face a little deeper into him, and let him take you home.

[vienssunshine]

Pay Up

pairing: Sevika x fem!reader nsfw: dom!Sevika, bondage/rope, noncon elements wc: 4k author's note: happy i finally got this posted yay! description: oh no, you don't have the money, however will you pay sevika back~?

“Rotten luck, boys,” Sevika gloats, tossing her cards down on the table. An ace and a king. Royal fucking flush.

The cards twist in your grip. You were watching her so carefully, entirely certain she was bluffing. Damn it, the booze must’ve gotten to your head. Or maybe it was her. You last remember admiring the shimmer-infused scars that crackle up her dark skin rather than searching for tells. 

With pressed lips, you reveal your hand to the table. Only a jack and a nine.

The other men who had folded look pleased with their decision, frustratingly so. The only other player dumb enough to bet against Sevika splays out his cards and brings his cup up to his rat-like snout to soothe the pain of losing. 

Sevika’s mechanical hand sweeps your mountain of chips to her side of the table. What were you thinking, going all in for a jack and a nine? 

One of the men who folded uses his metal cane to stand up and hobble over to the liquor cabinet. It was tradition that after every night of gambling, the final game would be rounded off with a shot of abergin, a mix of Zaun’s best hard liquor and a drop of shimmer. It tastes like battery acid.

The other loser pulls a brown pouch from his coat pocket and counts out ten golden coins. He slides them over the table. 

Sevika recounts the payment as the rest of the group cheer at the arrival of a bottle and complimentary shot glasses. 

Sevika takes the abergin and messily pours all the drinks full. Together, you clink glasses and take the shot down. The hot liquid pours down your throat, burning it, but does little to distract from the anxiety tightening up in your chest. 

“Let’s hit The Last Drop,” one of the players calls out. 

“Or just down the street,” the rat-man slurs, “I could use some special company after tonight.” 

“Hah!” The other one pushes the drunken loser’s shoulder. “And how will you pay with all your money gone?”

“I suppose I’ll have to ask nicely.” 

The group erupts into drunken laughter, smacking each other hard on the back as the abergin floods their system with good feelings.

It doesn’t do the same for you, however. You’re sweating, fingernails digging into your knees as you force a grin to keep up appearances. Maybe if you sit here smiling like everything's fine, Sevika will forget you’re yet to pay her.

What a naive thought. She chuckles along with everyone else, but her gaze soon settles back on you. It’s predatory, like an alligator watching its meal from an inch above the waterline. “Still waiting on you, pretty,” she says, “How else am I going to treat us to a round at The Last Drop?” 

The group whoops at the idea, glasses in the air.

“Right,” you agree, awkwardly laughing. 

You pull out your pouch from your bag and shudder at its light weight. Not bothering to open it, you slide it over to Sevika. “I’m…I’m sorry, but I’ll have the rest later.”

The laughter dies down immediately. 

“You don’t have the money?”

“No, I do, I do have the money. I get paid tomorrow, really.”

Sevika’s mouth twists into a scowl. 

You try again to placate, “I’ll have it all to you by next week. I promise, you have my word.”

“Next week?” she snarls. She turns to the rest of the table, ��Have I not beaten it into you all yet?”

The other players are all looking down at their drinks.

“Debts are always repaid the night of,” she states, her mouth in a hard line.

“I know, Sevika, I know…and I’m sorry.”

Sevika pushes her chair back away from the table. “Everyone, out.” She walks around the table to your chair, placing a heavy hand on the back of it. Your fingers tightly grip the bottom of the wooden seat. 

The rat-like man grins, tilting his head. “Aww, c'mon Sevika, you’ll let us watch, won't ya?”

Sadistic freak.

Though, it was typical that Sevika beats the shit out of anyone who owes her money right then and there. It’s meant to make an example out of those who tried to fuck over Silco’s people. 

Yet, Sevika denies his request. “Go get a table at The Last Drop. I’ll be there soon.” She leans down next to you, her face close to yours, “Depending on how stubborn this one will be.” 

The men file out, and as they pass, you don’t fail to notice how each one has a scar, wound, or bruise staining their skin, all from gambling, betting, and promising money they didn’t have. Those marks are supposed to be a lesson, and it’s clear you’re about to learn it. 

Sevika drags you out of the room, down a hallway, and through a door you’ve never been past before. It’s a bedroom, evidenced by the cot with unmade sheets piled atop of it sitting in the corner of the room. There’s an armchair with a side table and a light in the other corner, and right by the entrance, next to a coat rack, is a wooden desk filled with paperwork. Sevika pulls off her red cloak, revealing a tight black tank that hugs her upper body, and drapes the fabric over the coat rack. It’s Sevika’s bedroom.

One step and she’s reaching for the chair under the desk, spinning it around, and pushing you down into it. The door slams behind you. 

“Sevika–” you start, but then she’s rummaging around in one of the desk drawers and pulling out rope. “What are you–”

She gets behind your chair and pulls your arms back, bonding your wrists together with the coil of rope.

“Hey! Not so tight,” you complain, but she finishes the second knot anyway. Then, she begins going through the drawers again. 

“Sevika, I really think we can talk this out, okay? This isn’t necessary.”

Sevika finds what’s she’s looking for and sits down in the arm chair diagonal to you. It’s a small case, and from it she pulls out a stone and a knife. 

A knife? Sure, you can take a few punches, but what the fuck was she planning for with a knife? She’s really that mad?

Sevika runs the knife along the whetstone in slow, rhythmic movements, sharpening it to a finer point. Each grind of the knife sinks your heart deeper into your stomach. 

“Come on, Sevika. You don’t need to do this.” 

She doesn’t look up.

“I thought we were friends,” you try. That’s one way to describe it, though it leaves out the crush you’ve developed since you started running in Silco’s circles. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika responds, “You know the rules.”

Her uncloaked bicep flexes as she moves the knife over the stone. It’s almost fully sharpened. Crush or not, you’re not letting this woman slice you up. 

“Yes, I know, but I will pay you! I just need more time.” 

She brings the knife up off the stone and runs her finger along its edge. Satisfied with her work, she puts the whetstone back in the case and closes it. 

“I need to be repaid tonight.”

Sevika walks to the desk and opens the drawer. The knife remains in her mechanical hand.

Fuck, you’re so fucked. You got caught up in the drinks, the gambling, your idea of a night out on the town with Sevika. You should be partying with the rest of the group at The Last Drop, not strapped to a chair and cut til you bleed out all over Sevika's floor.

She places the case in the drawer. 

That’s if they even made it to The Last Drop, usually the snouted drunk and Sevika get side-tracked at the brothel. 

The drawer slams shut. 

An idea pops into your head. There’s another angle you could try.

“I can pay you tonight,” you blurt out.

“Yeah? With what money?”

“I’d be paying you…in another way.” 

With her back to you, she stills. Then, she scoffs. 

“You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” She turns around and leans back onto her desk, palms flat on its surface, fingertips brushing the handle of the knife. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” you respond, looking up at her. You don’t let your eye contact waver, you can’t.

“No, you don’t. You’re—you’re not like that, sweetheart.”

“What, you don’t think I would be good?” You frown. “Am I not pretty enough?”

“No, no, you’re plenty pretty. I just don’t think you know what you’re doing, offering your body up like this. To me.” 

“I know what sex is, Sevika.” You roll your eyes. 

Sevika crosses her arms, leaning back on the desk. “Sure, but you don’t know what sex with me is like.”

“Well, I’ve thought about it before,” you quip.

That might’ve tipped your hand too much; this deal doesn't work if you get something out of it too. You shut your mouth and wait. Maybe she won’t realize your mistake. 

Sevika smirks. “You’re bolder than I thought, pretty. Should’ve realized that when you went all in on a jack and a nine.” 

“Fuck off,” you say, eyes dropping down to the ground. 

Sevika takes a step forward and crouches down in front of the chair. Blade in hand, she brings the point to the bottom of your chin, forcing it up so you’re back to looking at her. “Tell me what you thought about.”

Her mouth snarling curses into your neck, biting and sucking on the tender skin. Her hand on your back, pushing your face into the mattress as she fucks you. Crying out her name as she greedily laps at your dripping cunt. 

“Well?” she asks. You take a breath, face hot. It’s disorienting, how the same person in your fantasies is waiting to hear about them in real life. 

The knife presses up into your skin. 

‘Bold’ she called you. You can be bold.

You open your legs and wrap them around Sevika’s waist, pulling her into your lap so her face is level with your rising and falling chest. “One thing I’ve thought about is…”—your eyes flick down to hers—“how it would feel to…have you kiss me here,” you say. 

Sevika holds your gaze, her eyes darker than they normally are. They look dangerous, similar to when she found out you didn’t have the money. Though there’s a difference this time, but you need to be watching closely to notice it—the undercurrent coursing beneath her gaze, something fierce, something that wants.

Sevika’s eyes break from yours to wander back down to your chest. Her right hand releases the blade—it clatters to the floor—so her fingers can find your waist. She runs them up your side, past your ribs and breasts, to find the neckline of your shirt. She pulls it down slightly, exposing a few centimeters underneath your collarbone. “Right here?” she asks, running her thumb over the skin in slow circles.

“Yes,” you whisper back, body stiff and hot. Your chest is tight like the rope around your wrists. It’s hard to breathe, to speak. 

She moves closer and you can only squirm—away or towards her you don’t know. God, you do really want her to kiss you, want to know what it’s like to have her lips on your skin. 

Then she laughs, a dark, slow chuckle. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Either to get out of your punishment, or to fuck me.” 

“Sevika,” you say.

“Which is it?” she drawls, playing with your neckline. 

Brain fogged by desire, you’re in no condition for mind games. So, rather than trying to figure out what the right answer is, you respond truthfully. 

“Both. I want both.”

“Honest girl,” she coos, “I have to reward that, don’t I?”

“Mhmm,” you get out, “Please.”

Sevika leans forward, hot breath ghosting your chest, and kisses her lips to your skin. It’s a light touch, but the effect is significant, a warm tingle spreading through your entire body. Your legs slacken, releasing her waist, and your feet return back to the floor.

She retreats and looks up to your face, her lips curling when she sees you looking back down at her, mouth slightly ajar, panting.

“Was it like you fantasized?” she asks. Her voice is lower and deeper than before, the sound coated with desire. 

“Sevika–fuck–that was–”

“I only kissed you,” Sevika says, chuckling softly as she runs her hands along your thighs. The touch makes your skin buzz. 

“I know, I know just, please, Sevika,” you say, “Untie me.”

Her eyelids lower. “You’re the one who owes me, right? So we’ll play by my rules.” 

Sadistic freak, she’s enjoying this. 

Yet, you are too. It’s hot that she’s getting off to your struggle, even if it is, at the end of the day, still a struggle. You groan, shoulders falling. “Right…okay,” you respond. “Your rules.”

“I’m curious now, how you’ll react to other things.” She leans down and presses a gentle kiss right underneath the end of your shorts. You gasp quietly, leg tensing up.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you goad, shifting your weight from one hip to the other, desperate to have some agency in this interaction. You want to touch her, feel her skin on yours, run your fingers through her hair. But there’s nothing you can do with your hands behind your back.

She returns to your chest, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone and down to your neckline. The lower she goes, the more your hands strain against their bindings, desperate to break free and wrap around Sevika’s broad shoulders and pull her further into you. 

Her human hand finds your waist as she kisses you, running up and down your side, while her mechanical hand grips the back of the chair, its mechanisms whirring in your ear. 

Sharp breaths leave her mouth every time she pulls back from her sloppy kisses, a small groan as well as her fingers squeeze your waist.

“Sevika, please…this is—fuck—” 

“Damn it,” she mutters, and then her hand pulls down one of your sleeves, and then the other, so your top pools around your midsection. Instantly her face is buried into your chest again, kissing the exposed space between your bra. Her hand falls from your shoulder to your right breast, squeezing and massaging it.

You groan, eyes fluttering as she sucks a mark onto your chest. Each press of her lips does more to soften to core in your stomach. Then she’s kissing along the border of your bra, which doesn't remain an obstacle for much longer, her fingers lifting the straps over your shoulders. Her right hand reaches behind your back and unclasps the garment from your torso. 

The bra falls from your breasts, and Sevika sits back to look at them, eyes roaming over your panting chest in admiration. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathes. Her right hand travels over your breast, thumb circling your peaked nipple. 

You moan, pushing your chest into her hand. You just want to keep touching her, to keep ‘paying her back.’

“Can’t believe you were hiding such a pretty body all these nights,” she comments, hand running down your ribs, making you shiver. 

“It was always yours for the taking,” you respond, “Like it is tonight.”

A strangled noise comes from Sevika’s throat, and her hand tightens on your side. “Wish I'd known that.” She kisses your nipple. “Would’ve done this ages ago.” 

Sevika makes her way down your torso, touching and kissing as low on your belly as your folded-down top allows. Then her hand is on your shorts, unbuttoning and tugging them off by your waistband. You raise your hips so she can pull the shorts and underwear off, leaving you bare on the seat. 

Sevika brings your knees up so they rest on her shoulders. The metal of her left shoulder is a cold underneath your leg, though the small air vents of the mechanism ghost your leg with puffs of warm air. Her hands cradle your ass, protecting you from the discomfort of sitting on the wooden chair—the metal of her mechanical fingers somehow the preferred alternative. 

With you in her hands, Sevika’s able to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your hip, bringing out a gentle roll of your lower body. You’re enjoying how much closer her attention has gotten to where it needs to be. 

She licks down the V-line of your pelvis, lighting up your skin with her wet tongue. 

“Shit–ah,” you groan out, “Please go lower.”

“Fuck,” she swears back, “You’re so—” she doesn't finish the sentence, instead inhaling through her nose, indulging in the scent of your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” she repeats.

She kisses the bottom of your mound, just above where your lips split to encircle your pulsing cunt. Only a few more centimeters south and–

Sevika turns her head, instead kissing your quivering inner thigh. 

“Sevika,” you whine, fingers curling into fists behind you. How you wish you could do something about this.

She smiles against your flesh. 

“Who’s paying?” she reminds you and your pleas fall silent. 

She returns to your inner thigh, using her big, calloused hand to push your legs open. Then she presses a few more messy kisses to the skin, her eyebrows furrowed and her dark eyes closed. Her hot breath and wet lips are encroaching on your warm center.

A few more kisses and she’s at the part where your leg meets your body. You hold your breath.

Then, her eyelids flutter open and she looks over your glistening folds. Her mechanical hand moves to your lower back, taking on your weight, so she can draw her human hand from beneath you to right in front of your cunt.

Please. Please please please pleasepleaseplease—

The pad of her thumb runs over your folds. You gasp. “So needy,” she says, eyes connecting with yours while she gives you a crooked smile. 

“You’re making me like this,” you say. Your hips grind into the contact her hand provides until she suddenly pulls away. You bite your complaints back and watch her with desperate eyes. She’s testing you again. 

Her eyes roam over your poor, squirming body. She notices the sheen of sweat covering your half-clothed torso, the gentle pants leaving your lips, and the way your hips continue to roll into a phantom hand. You’re a pathetic mess for her. 

“This isn’t even for the money anymore, is it?” she observes. 

“No,” you get out, voice cracking. “If I had the money, I would pay you to continue.” 

“Hmm.” She moves her face to your cunt, pressing a gentle kiss to your folds. “You don’t need to worry about money with me anymore.”

Silco’s right hand, sweet on you. This changes everything.

Your tightened mouth opens and a breathy moan comes out. “T-thank you.”

Sevika pushes her face deeper into you, bringing her tongue out from her plush lips to lick a line up your warm center. You throw your head back, letting out a strangled moan of her name.

Her mouth is warm and wet, and her tongue rolls over all parts of your vulva, stimulating every nerve. Tingly pleasure seeps into your lower body, spreading up through your stomach and down into your legs. 

Sevika’s human hand wraps around your right thigh, fingers pressing into the flesh, ensuring your legs stay open for her. 

Her hold proves helpful as the stimulation becomes more intense, hindering your inclinations to push the growing pleasure away. It’s like a fierce vine rapidly growing up a ladder, tangling within every organ and bone, tying itself up into you. You writhe around, trying to shake it free, but its grip only grows stronger, tendrils thicker and more twisted. 

Sevika tilts her chin up and licks and sucks on your clit. Your whole body tightens in response to the shock wave it sends through you. 

 “God, Sevika…feels so…ah, fuck…”

How does she know how to make you feel this way? It's never been like this before. Not with yourself, or any of your past hook-ups. Her mouth is superhuman. 

“Right there, please, yeah right there,” you moan, gyrating against her grasp on your lower body. Heat clouds your head, burning away your thoughts. 

She groans into your folds. She’s too good at this, fuck.

“Taste so fucking good,” she says into you. She feels so fucking good.

You wish you could knot your fingers into her hair, be the one pulling it back out of the way instead of the hair tie. But all you can move is your lower half, so you focus on it, grinding your hips against her mouth, pushing your center into her lips and tongue. It smears your wetness all over her chin and nose, but she doesn’t care, keeping her face buried into you, fucking you with her mouth. 

The vines threading through you tighten and throb, and with each lick of her tongue and jolt of your hips, brick by brick you’re being built to your peak.

“Fuck, Sevika, oh my god,” you moan her name out sweetly, begging for what you need her to give you. “I’m gonna–”

You rut into her mouth, chasing that building feeling that’s pressing forcefully up into your insides. 

“Give it to me, baby,” Sevika commands.

It hits you in fierce, undulating waves. Your arms lock up behind the chair as your hips thrust up into the warmth of Sevika’s mouth. 

You cry out, cursing her name, eyes pressed shut. The pleasure is hot and violent, taking over your body in a way you didn’t know possible. It flows through your muscles, flexing and releasing them as your body endures the storm of pleasure.

Sevika moans into your cunt, the vibrations only adding to the intense sensation. “God-fu-how my-” you moan nonsensically. 

Your hole throbs, pushing the pleasure out through our body until the fierce wave retreats back into the ocean. It leaves you buzzing. Your jaw hangs, hot breaths rushing out. The world around you doesn’t feel real. 

Sevika lowers your legs back to the ground. They’re entirely limp and fall open. You don’t have the energy to bring them back together. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” She pulls up her black tank to wipe her mouth, flashing her hardened abdomen.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “yeah…yeah I guess so.” You throw your head back, chest heaving. 

Sevika puts her hands on her knees and stands up. Then she walks behind you, fingers running over your shoulder as she passes by. You go to lean into it before it’s gone, and the ropes around your wrists slacken, falling to the floor. 

You bring your hands into your lap, slowly rubbing the angry indentations left on your wrists. They’re uncomfortable, but the pleasure has faded the pain. 

Sevika’s eyes watch your face. “Still up for The Last Drop?” She grins. 

With effort, you sit back up in the chair. “Yeah, okay,” you say, attempting to pull your top back over your breasts, “Just gimme a sec—”

“Don’t know how you’ve made it this far,” she says, scooping you up in her big arms, “believing everything someone says.” She walks you over to the cot in the corner of her room and lays you down on it. “We’re staying here.”

You crack a smile. “But they’re probably losing a bar fight right now without you.” Sevika joins you on the mattress, and you turn onto your side to face her. 

“They’ll have to figure it out,” Sevika says, “‘Cause I wanna be right here.” Her hand hovers over your face, hesitant for a moment, but then she runs her knuckle down your cheek. “With you.” 

You place your hand on her waist, dipping underneath the fabric of her tank. “What if it costs you?” you tease. 

She smirks. “I would’ve paid triple what you owed me.” She brings your hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to your fingers. “Just for this.” 

“Stop it,” you say with a smile, pulling your hand away and giving her a playful push. “I will pay you back.”

“You already did,” she says, drawing you into her arms.

“Okay,” you snuggle into her chest, “Then, next time I’m actually going to.”

“I look forward to it.” 

[this-user-is-new]

"proceeds to complain that i want the show to engage with the long-term consequences of piltover’s actions." how is that spoon-feeding? i mean yeah, imagine expecting a show that presents itself as a mature, political narrative to actually follow through on the themes it sets up. wild concept.

oh, and "gassy"? wtf? whatever. let’s entertain this "fantasy gas" idea for a second.

there’s literally no reason to assume it behaves any differently from real-world toxic gases. arcane itself establishes that the gas behaves like a real toxic substance when it comes to how it destroys the body (kiramman archives). so why would it suddenly not behave like real gas when it comes to spreading? you can’t have it both ways. either the show deliberately left out consequences for narrative convenience, or this is straight-up inconsistent writing. i’ll let you pick one. but i won’t waste time on this again since you’ve already decided the laws of chemistry just don’t apply here anyway.

also, we know children work in the factories of the chem-barons. why do you think isha and other kids were running from the chem-barons' goons? what did they want from them, huh? meaning, yes, kids would have been exposed to the gas at some point. (... even if they weren't there at the moment.) because that's literally where the gas was used. but again, that'd mean you actually understand how gas works so ... yeah. i'm not talking about this again.

and no one’s saying caitlyn and her team intentionally targeted children, the issue is that the show erases unintended consequences, making piltover’s actions seem cleaner than they realistically would be. learn how to fucking read. also, funny how you keep bringing this whole thing back to caitlyn specifically, like this is just some personal attack on your fave instead of a broader critique of how arcane rewrites piltover’s crimes to be more palatable. but do you actually like her? because if anything, this also makes her villain arc boring as hell. you should want to see the consequences of her actions.

"they never erased piltover’s guilt." lmao. really? so viktor’s suffering getting reframed as a personal failure instead of systemic neglect isn’t erasure? orianna’s story being stripped of its direct critique of piltover’s pollution isn’t erasure? the show giving just enough plausible deniability for fans like you to defend piltover’s actions isn’t erasure? be serious.

your focus on viktor’s leg is just a lazy attempt to reframe his struggle. his arc was never just about mobility, it was about survival. we literally see him suffering from chronic illness: fatigue, nosebleeds, coughing fits, and even slipping into a coma. he wasn’t just looking for a "fix" out of some internalized ableism, he was dying because piltover let zaunites rot. the "beauty in imperfection" framing is a deliberate rewrite that removes piltover’s guilt. it’s not just a misinterpretation of viktor’s motivations, it’s a calculated shift to make it seem like he should’ve just accepted his fate instead of demanding more from a system that abandoned him.

"singed’s daughter wasn’t dead, she was dying." you missed the point. orianna was a direct victim of piltover’s pollution. arcane stripped that context away so piltover wouldn’t be at fault. and you’re fine with that because it lets you pretend it wasn’t deliberate.

this isn’t just about individual changes, it’s a pattern. i was asking you about that.

"the seeds were there, you’re just a bad gardener." nah, the writers just ripped the roots out. so yeah, i’ll keep pointing out how arcane carefully sidesteps piltover’s worst atrocities while you keep pretending that’s nuance instead of narrative sanitization. keep dancing around my points, though. anyway, i’m not wasting my time responding again if you’re just going to misrepresent what i’m saying over and over.

has anyone else noticed that the writers were absolutely reluctant to fully commit to the darker implications of piltover's actions? like the gas attack on zaun? but tbh the writers' self-sabotaging of arcane's potential as social commentary is not what's really frustrating, it's that it's not just a missed opportunity, it’s a deliberate avoidance. the writers couldn't make piltover that bad, at least not through the characters we have to follow.

with the gas attack, what we get are scattered hints: a single man coughing, kids praying to janna in a song (in a way that’s super easy to miss), and worship of a painting of janna. but the show never fully depicts the suffering caused by the gas. it never commits to the atrocity and by refusing to depict the actual impact, the show softens piltover’s culpability and allows a big part of the audience to either overlook or justify it.

but the gas attack aside, the writers had two opportunities to make an explicit statement about systemic oppression, environmental racism, and the true cost of unchecked industrial power but they avoided doing so. and those two clearest instances of this avoidance are in how the show handles viktor and orianna:

in season 2, viktor’s story is literally warped to avoid blaming piltover. viktor, a character who should represent the suffering zaunites endure because of piltover’s neglect, is instead pushed into the role of an irredeemable villain for a marvelesque shit show. his transformation discards his humanity so blatantly that the audience is distracted from the actual injustice: he was dying because of piltover.

his ending is framed around jayce’s “beauty in imperfection” speech as if he should have just accepted his disability rather than seeking a cure, when the reality is, he wasn’t just disabled, he was dying because of the system piltover built. that was his entire struggle in season 1, but by season 2’s end, the narrative no longer engages with it to protect piltover.

as for orianna, she is reduced to an easter egg as a gift to league of legends fans (which is funny because the show ruined her lore for them), but more importantly, to avoid critiquing piltover.

her lore was an explicit condemnation of piltover’s disregard for zaunite lives. she was a little girl who helped zaunites, got sick due to piltover’s pollution, and had to slowly replace her own body with machinery until she lost all humanity. but arcane erases this. she’s barely a cameo, and the audience isn’t even told how she died. the show doesn’t just sideline her suffering, it removes it entirely, sanitizing piltover’s guilt in the process.

more importantly, all of this lets a big part of the audience defend piltover. for instance, by never showing the gas’s impact, the show gives certain viewers the option to ignore it: no bodies, no long-term sickness, no undeniable, inescapable horror. and i'm sure we've all seen how this allows for interpretations that justify piltover’s actions in the fandom, whether that means erasing the gas attack’s consequences or framing it as acceptable because the victims are zaunites (who are often conveniently portrayed as violent criminals).

also, ekko’s line about rescuing more people because of gang fighting is a perfect example of how the show subtly misdirects the audience. yes, gang violence is an issue, but it’s not the only crisis. the gas remains, it spreads, it poisons the people, especially the children working in factories. those are also people the firelights must have rescued. but the show chooses to highlight one crisis over another, and we know why ...

anyway, it's sad that the writers had no balls. they let so many people feel comfortable not thinking too hard about piltover’s crimes, and comfortable enough to insult anyone who criticizes characters participating in those crimes, especially caitlyn and her squad.

[howi99]

(This will be part of the rewrite of Jaune is a Genius)

Roman: *crawling out of the wreck of an atlesian ship* Good thing Oobleck forced me to attend those piloting lessons back in the days. *Looking around, seeing the entirety of Beacon on fire but the City of Vale is untouched* I guess Jaune had enough time to deactivate the virus.

Neo: *slowly gliding down towards him*

Roman: Ah, Neo! Tell me, on a scale of "mild disappointment" To "I'm going to dismember you, beginning with the nerves in your theet", how angry do you think our genius friend is?

Neo: *goes to use her electrolarynx, the gift Jaune gave her then-*

*entering call from Jaune Arc*

Neo: ... *Point to herself* 🔇🫢🥺

Roman: ... *Roll his eyes* Fine, i'll answer. *Answer* Hel-

Jaune: *cold anger* I'm giving you 3 minutes to explain why you didn't warn me of the attack at least a day before it happens and if i don't like the answer, i will track you down and turn you into one of my "fun fact".

Roman: *gulp*

Neo: 🔥🫠💀?

Jaune: No... I won't need fire to melt your flesh, a basic compound will suffice.

Roman: I-i-

Jaune: *coldly* 2 minutes.

Roman: *sigh* I don't have an excuse. I honestly just wanted to make sure Neo and you survived. You can be mad at me, but honestly i don't care. I'd sacrifice this city in a heartbeat if it means the only peoples i care about are safe.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* You are lucky that i managed to deactivate the bombs and killed-switched the Atlesian Army.

Neo: 🤔🦠💀?

Jaune: How? Should i remind you i had an hour to try hacking the system with a school scroll and free wifi? It was much easier to just cut everything off.

Roman: And what about Cinder?

Jaune: She managed to Kill the headmaster and whoever was in that weird pod i found. But i think she didn't have the time to get whatever she was truly looking for, since half of her plan had been thwarted.

Roman: ... And your girlf-

Jaune: *angrily* Penny is "fine". In pieces, but her hard drive wasn't damaged and neither was her aura reactor. I'll try repairing my friend when i'll have the time.

Roman: Jaune, we all know you are-

Jaune: Do you wish to know what unfinished soap can do to the skin?

Roman: *panicking* Ok BYE! *Hang up*

Neo: ... 🥺

Roman: I'm not calling back, you can text him whenever you want!

(So yeah, Vale isn't destroyed and there's a lot less casualty and grimms. Also, Pyrrha live! *Stomp* *stomp*)

[cursedcanon]

"Would you love me if i was a worm?"

Asking JJK men an important question😔

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto,Toji , Nanami, Yuji, Megumi

Gojo Satoru:

"Would I love you if you were a worm? Babe, I'd be the most powerful worm protector on Earth." He immediately whips out his phone, searches up "how to take care of a worm," and starts planning out a lavish worm habitat for you. He’s talking terrariums with unlimited snacks, a 24/7 security system, and possibly a mini Infinity barrier to keep you safe from predators. He even suggests putting little designer sunglasses on you because, "If you're gonna be a worm, you gotta be a stylish one."

Choso:

Choso just stares at you. Silently. Like he's seriously contemplating the question on a spiritual level.

"Would I still be your older brother?" he asks.

You: "Huh??"

"If you were a worm, and I was still your lover, does that mean I take on a guardian role instead? Would I have to fight for your worm honor?"

He’s dead serious, and now you feel guilty for confusing this poor man.

Sukuna:

Sukuna stares at you, unblinking.

"You?" He points at you. "A worm?"

"Yes."

"A pathetic, slimy little creature that wriggles around in the dirt?"

"YES, Sukuna."

He grins, leaning in like he’s about to say something sweet—then scoffs, "I'd use you as fishing bait."

You GASP, absolutely offended. "YOU WOULD NOT."

"Oh, I would. And I'd catch a big, juicy fish with you, cook it over an open flame, and enjoy a nice meal."

You glare at him, arms crossed. "You're a monster."

Sukuna just cackles, enjoying your suffering. But later, when you're still sulking, he rolls his eyes and mutters, "Tch. Fine. I'd keep you in a fancy jar or something, happy now?"

Geto

Geto just gives you this fond, exasperated look and sighs, rubbing his temples. "How am I supposed to answer that seriously?"

You persist. "You have to!"

He smirks and shakes his head. "Fine. I'd gather the strongest non-curse worms and create a worm cult just for you. We'd overthrow the ecosystem. You’d be the queen of all worms."

You’re so happy with that answer.

Meanwhile, Gojo (who overheard): "Did you just say you'd start a worm cult? Bro, are you okay?"

Toji Fushiguro

He gives you the most bored look imaginable. "You already eat like a worm. Just munchin’ on stuff all day."

"That is NOT the same thing."

"Same thing to me."

You glare at him, but Toji just shrugs. "Besides, if you were a worm, I'd keep you in my pocket. Probably forget to feed you, though."

You: "TOJI???"

Nanami Kento:

He takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out the longest sigh of his life.

"Kento?" you prod.

He deadpans. "Would I love you if you were a worm? No. Because, quite frankly, I do not have time to be in a relationship with an invertebrate."

You gasp dramatically. "I thought you loved me!"

"I love you as a human, darling. Not as a worm." He pats your head before going back to his paperwork, leaving you heartbroken.

(But secretly, he'd probably keep you safe in a little container. With gourmet worm food.)

Itadori Yuji

"OF COURSE I WOULD!!"

This boy immediately starts thinking of ways to keep you happy as a worm. He’s brainstorming worm-sized adventures, worm-safe cuddles, and ways to keep you entertained.

"I’d take you everywhere! I’d make a little pouch for you so you could still see the world! Maybe even get you a tiny skateboard so you can roll around—wait, can worms even ride skateboards?"

Now he’s the one spiraling, and you just watch as he overthinks your dumb hypothetical question.

Fushiguro Megumi:

He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then: "No."

You: "Wow, that was fast."

Megumi: "Why would I love a worm?"

"Because it's me, Megumi!"

He sighs, clearly tired. "I'd keep you in a safe place, make sure no one steps on you, but love? I don't think worms understand complex emotions."

Now you’re sitting there, shocked and betrayed, while Megumi just goes back to reading his book like nothing happened.

[amalthea-13]

Got my nightcore blasting in one ear and still mad about Mastermind so I'mma just info dump here. If you are a Blitz Stan or Defender please understand I do love Blitz, he's honestly one of my favorite characters and Stolitz is my comfort ship. However, disliking things he does doesn't mean I don't like him. I can feel frustrated or struggle with things he does. A complex character makes you feel complex things so it just is a testament to the writers on this show doing a good job with their cast and writing them perfectly. So before going on a rant defending Blitz, just hear me out.

I'll be honest I did not like how quickly Blitz turned lovey-dovey after the trial. The shit hit me like a fuckin chancla to the head and gave me whiplash. The reason I have this issue with Mastermind is purely because it felt so- unfair. Stolas has been struggling to feel validated and seen by Blitz for SO long. I mean that man gave him an Asmodean Crystal, fought to treat him with respect by changing many of his behaviors from S1 to S2, no longer teasing him or calling him pet names. He goes to hell and back multiple times, nearly being killed by Striker and couldn't even get a solid text back from Blitz.

However, the MINUTE he lays his life down, loses his daughter, and gives up any sense of a decent reputation suddenly Blitz gives a fuck. Losing his home, his powers, his family, EVERYTHING, and suddenly Blitz cares about what Stolas wants or needs. It genuinely makes me wanna rattle him around and yell:

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HEALTHY AND NICE TO HIM BUT YOU WAIT TILL HES CHRONICALLY DEPRESSED!?"

Like fuck me dude, but he never cared for Stolas before. He consistently dismisses his humanity by cognitively distancing himself from Stolas by just boiling every part of him down to his wealth, stripping him of any and all humanity he remains to have.

Suddenly when Stolas is a husk of his former self and his depression can no longer be hidden by magic or pills, suddenly Blitz cares. I just- I don't know if it's'cause of my own personal trauma, but I hate when people wait till you are at your lowest to give a fuck.

How much more did Stolas have to give for him to care? Or did it have to be his own life? My issue with this part is it perpetuates that Blitz can ONLY humanize those he hurts if they are sad and miserable like him. That the only time you can be loved or seen by him is when you are sad and pathetic, beneath himself. I really hope ya'll are picking up what I'm putting down because I am BEGGING ya'll to stick with me.

Blitz still has his family, his life, his friends, but Stolas has none of those things and SUDDENLY Blitz is further interested in him. Now that he has some pseudo-surperiority- he finds him attractive? He's interested? He wants a deeper relationship?

You can't tell me that doesn't feel so- so backwards right?

Like yeah, wait till the sweet owl man looks like THIS. Oh, yeah, ain't that just fuckin attractive? He's miserable and tried to OFF himself, but no, no that's healthy. It's fine, Amalthea, it's fine that this is the SUDDEN moment Blitz cares. That suddenly he gives a fuck. /sarc

Don't get me started on the fact that before he got to know Stolas he was COMPLETELY fine wrecking a perfectly good (from the exterior) home without considering Octavia, despite being a fucking father himself.

Blitz waits till Stolas is miserable to actually show him an OUNCE of humanity or love or reciprocity.

Yet everyone excuses ALL of his behaviors and problems on his trauma and the pain he has been through, but those same people will call Stolas a deadbeat and terrible person just because he is an awful flirt and a literal DV victim recovering from being COMPLETELY repressed due to the fact that the system that gives him his wealth has worked against him to the point he has no autonomy.

No one seems to ever get why I'm so angry and it's just because- these two have so much potential to work, but at every corner Blitz will make the shittiest decisions and the fandom writes it off as trauma or hurt or whatever, but god forbid Stolas mess up IN SEASON 1 he has to pay for it in Season 2 and be burned at the stake yet while burning at the damn stake the only person he wants to care or worry for him ONLY cares when he is actually set on fucking fire, not bothering to douse the flames or care when he wasn't about to get burned.

I love Blitz, I really, really do, but Mastermind reframed so many of his behaviors for me and made me step back purely because I realized he REALLY does not care unless he can have a false sense of superiority to someone.

I initially said both Stolas and Blitz were at fault for the Full Moon episode, but rewatching the argument I fully blame and fault Blitz for the arguement. Sure Stolas wasn't perfect, but instead of I dunno yelling at the owl man, why don't you- I dunno ASK HIM FOR A MOMENT???

People act like Blitz is some 16 yo teenager, but no thats an ALMOST 40 YEAR OLD MAN WHO CHOOSES TO POORLY COMMUNICATE. He literally could have been uncomfortable and said; "Stolas, this is a lot to process... can I have some time to think? I just- this is a lot."

Stolas wouldn't have forced him to stay! He was willingly letting him go! Blitz complains about the class differences between them but when he tries to fix it suddenly it is a fucking problem?

"But Amalthea, Stolas was hanging his livelihood over his head. He was abusing his power."

See I'd validate that argument and agree with it- IF IT WASN'T ALSO STOLAS'S LIVELIHOOD THE FUCK???? That grimoire was just as important to Stolas as it was to Blitz, more so since it gave him his STATUS, but he WILLINGLY sacrificed all that for Blitz.

Stolas did his due diligence to protect BOTH of them, but yet there is STILL a problem?!

"Stolas made him believe it was just sex between them!!!"

You wanna try again? Do you REALLY want to believe Blitz is so oblivious to this man's advances?

Then explain why he knew Stolas would accept a date to Ozzies. O_O. If Stolas was really just some "ditzy blue blood" to Blitz why would he get dolled up and ready for a date with some measly imp? Why would a Goetic Prince go in public with an imp?

Unless Blitz was FUCKING aware he'd've accepted because he feels so deeply for Blitz. He's so desperately in love he'd do anything to be around him again. Blitz KNEW what he was doing. He KNEW Stolas felt this way, he just chose to be dense and overlook it until it benefited him.

Blitz's insecurities blind a lot of you to the fact he is a CALCULATED and SMART man. Sure, he is a dork who makes us laugh, but he's a CALCULATED dork.

Also I hate to bring up how these two sweetpeas met, but WHO BIT WHO? Who SLEPT WITH WHO WHILE DRUNK?

"But Stolas was flirting with him! He wanted Blitz to sleep with him!"

Yes and no. Initially when Stolas flirts and realizes Blitz wants to sleep with him, he immediately says NO and steps away!

See that kids, that's called a headshake, which means what? Let's all guess now?

NO! IT MEANS NO!

I hate to drive my point this far home, I REALLY do.

Another layer of this is ALL the advances are made my Blitz after Stolas says no.

"Amalthea it's hell! What are you on about morals and consent!?"

Literally because in this situation Blitz had the power. He had the ability to walk away, but started all of this just for his buisness and despite how it all started, Stolas supported him through it all.

It is also before Blitz knows about the abuse and knowing Stolas is a father, still chose to homewreck a family even after Stolas said no.

My point in all of this- anger and frustration is that Stolas has put up with so much of Blitz's BS and stupidity, but only now is Blitz concerned. Only now he gives a damn.

You break into a mans home, sleep with him, rob him, then ruin his life, but you only feel bad when he's lost everything? Sure, that's cool. That's awesome. That's totally fine. /sarc

... this arguement is always hard for me to make, because i just have to watch Stolas be traumatized over, and over, and over and he is always still so sweet and loving to a fucking prick of a man.

Rant over, Amalthea out.

However if you have questions, my ask box is open loves.🩷

Edit 1: While you all can comment, I strongly encourage utilizing my ask box. Moving on I understand ppl may disagree with me. That is okay you're a beautiful individual with your own thoughts and opinions which is fine by me. However please refrain from insulting my intelligence. You can always block me, doesn't hurt my feelings anyway.

[midnightshindig]

You write the Cecil’s kid hc’s so well! Could we see him assigning his kid who’s already friends with Mark to try and get more info on him after the events of season 3 (basically betray his trust and spy on him a little)? Bonus points if Mark didn’t know the reader was related to Cecil when they became friends :)

Idk how to title this just read the ask

This is such a cool idea!! I've been kind of frustrated with Mark this season, but he's also a teenager just trying to navigate the world in a way that makes the most sense to him.

SEASON THREE SPOILERS!!

Hcs below the cut!

After Nolan goes insane and abandons Earth, Cecil decides he needs a constant feed of information on Mark's mental state

Enter stage right: his teenage child

Who, up till now, was a secret from all but the highest ranking government officials.

but now he's transferred you to Reginald Vel Johnson High School, rigging the system just enough so that you have three classes plus lunch with Mark.

He gently suggested it might be a good idea to make friends, and send you on your way.

and much to his chagrin, you and Mark hit it off immediately!

You only find out why your dad made you change schools when Mark reveals his secret identity to you

but luckily for Cecil, you know your dad well

He has reasons for things

"Y/n... I'm... Invincible."

"oh? OH-! Cool- thats- amazing, Mark, really! I'm gonna be right back!" And you crash into the hallway, running down the stairs out to your car and calling your dad

"Y/n I told you not to call this line at wo-"

"YOU SET ME UP WITH INVINCIBLE?!"

"Woahhhh, no. No, not like that I just- I need to keep an eye on him. I'm not asking you to spy or betray anybody, just make sure he's level-headed and not an evil Viltrumite. Okay, kiddo?"

So you begrudgingly start reporting to your dad on Mark's mental state

And this goes fine, for a while

You and Mark get into college together, staying in contact even when Mark goes rogue

All until Mark threatens Cecil, and Cecil reveals he basically has an audio bomb implanted into Mark

Mark comes home to tell you and William about it, not understanding when you choked on your drink at the news

"He did WHAT?" You yelled, slamming your mug down onto William's dorm table and pulling yourself to your feet "That fucking- I can't believe-" You mumbled incoherently, trying to keep your cover

Would Mark still be your friend if he knew?

Would your dad blow this for you?

You didn't know what to expect at all

Mark's right across from you, talking about how he threatened your father, and you don't know if he would do the same to you

I mean, of course he wouldn't

You've known Mark almost two years by now, you're practically family

You go on like this, nervously keeping your fathers secret

and it's fine until he starts asking more and more of you

Ask deeper questions, get more specifics, figure out what he's planning, try and convince him Cecil is right

and how can you say no when his throat is purple and bruised

you loved your dad

and so you start digging deeper into Mark

"Say, Mark," you pop a fry into your mouth, him, you, and William at a drive through parking lot "Why don't you believe in rehabilitation? I mean, like, you were pretty anti prison in highschool, remember that whole presentation we had to do?"

Mark tenses, and he can't give you a better answer than "It's just not right. Y/n, it just.... it isn't okay."

There isn't a lot you can do with that.

Mark, in secret, is growing suspicious

He's paranoid, though, and can't take his suspicious seriously

What if though? What if you're an alien or a spy or someone who could get someone really hurt?

He asks Rudy to run a background check on you

"I'm surprised Mark, what do you want to know?" He seems candid, like this is an unusual request but nothing he can't do

"I want to know- uhg- everything! Where they come from, are they evil? A criminal past? Wh-"

Rudy cuts off Mark, with a curious voice "Where they come from? Mark of course they're human, just as human as Cecil is, and he swears the mother was human as well"

"What does Cecil have to do with this?"

"Oh. Oh you don't know."

Mark is growing impatient "Don't know what, Rudy?"

"Y/n is Cecil's child. How else would I know them?"

"I didn't know you knew them! I- what???" Mark is furious, his chest starts heaving and he crouches down on the floor of teen teams hideout

He has to talk to you.

Tensions are high when you meet

in the woods

behind your university

alone.

He knows, he has to know, there's not way he doesn't know and he's not going to totally murder you oh noooooo

So when Mark arrives, and you're shaking like a leaf, it only reaffirms your guilt in his eyes

"Y/n- You're working for Cecil? Why?!"

"Why? Mark- he's my dad!" You're on the verge of crying, a state of hysteria Mark has never seen you reach

But he's relentless, and continues "Our whole friendship was a lie?! You've been, what? Spying on me? Poisoning me slowly in my sleep? What- are you just waiting to strike?!"

He approaches you, and you duck to the ground, covering your head with your hands

"Please don't hurt me!!"

Mark pauses, watching his friend- who never felt scared of him before- cower beneath him, flinching when he raises his voice

He felt his soles hit the ground, unaware he'd even begun flying

"Y/n.... I'm not going to hurt you."

He patted the top of your head as you looked up at him, bleary-eyed

"But... I can't let you hurt me either."

and with that, Mark was gone, the fallen leaves flying everywhere as he left

and you were left alone in the woods, still shaking like a leaf

Mark was hurt and betrayed, and he couldn't hurt you

but he could definitely hurt Cecil

and he just might.

[rimatsu]

WIP Word Game

rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word

tagged by my idol @newtkelly for the word DAWN thank you muahhhh <3

i went with longer excerpts because i'm a yapper

-

D: “[D]on’t you dare,” Evan hisses, shoulders going tense with something akin to indignation, and Tommy recoils in a reflexive flinch at the sharp tone, unfamiliar and stinging like a zap of electricity.

There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw, Evan’s expression hardened into something firm and foreign and angry, an emotion that doesn’t quite suit his face, usually sweet and plump like a berry.

That familiar weight settles over Tommy’s chest again, adrenaline flooding his system, instinctive and self-preservative. His lizard brain demands that he turns around and gets the fuck out of here — a simple animal urge to run — but his feet stay rooted to the ground like a tree grown in well-drained soil, exposed to Evan’s ire with no protective gear to reduce the impact.

Suddenly the air is thinner, deoxygenated and harder to breathe, and Tommy feels mildly hypoxic the way he does in high altitude with his hand wrapped around a cyclic.

“Don’t insult me by implying I fell for some illusion like an idiot,” Evan continues, merciless. “I wanted the guy who fought a wildfire all night and still showed up to my sister’s wedding. I wanted the guy who took care of me when I busted my shoulder and the guy who humored me when I planned a funeral for a centuries old skeleton. Don’t you dare tell me that guy doesn’t exist.”

A: [A] breeze rustles the branches overhead. The sunlight that filters through the leaves casts a dappled pattern on Evan’s face. It makes his hair shimmer like threads of gold, painting him over in warm tones. It’s nearly enough to conceal the worrying pallor of his flesh. Under this lighting, his eyes are the blue of a frozen lake, fragile and cracked, unfocused and utterly terrified.

Another wet, gurgling sound escapes Evan’s mouth as he struggles to draw air into his lungs, lips parted wide open like a hooked fish.

Tommy’s hand is trembling where it’s clamped tight around his throat, his own vision getting narrow and kaleidoscopic, two decades of professional calm melting into blank panic. The bleeding is so profuse his palm can't stem the flow, fluid of life staining their skins and their clothes and the pavement bright red. Fear strikes Tommy’s heart like a spear. There’s no forgetting what EMT training has imparted upon him: a fatal hemorrhage is a matter of minutes following a ruptured carotid artery.

W: [W]ith a few long strides, he closes the distance between them to peer at Tommy through the fine brush of his pale lashes, lips pursed just so, sweet and enticing. That's his let's-butter-up-this-poor-sucker look, tried and true.

Tommy scowls at him in defiance. Not discouraged one bit, Evan shuffles even closer, winding both arms around his neck.

"Well? What do you think?" he prompts, eager for an answer.

"I think this is very sudden," Tommy says with a pointed look, one he hopes telegraphs ‘have you learned nothing from the past’, but he supposes what is bred in the bone will always come out in the flesh. "Most people ease into the topic over time."

"I’m not most people," Evan dismisses. "And I think I've been admirably patient."

N: “[N]o. He’s like herpes,” Tommy laments into his drink. “No matter what I do to get rid of him, he keeps showing up.”

Beside him, Benson snorts. “You got a real way with words, Kinard.”

“Yeah, I’m a poet alright. That’s how I get all the boys,” he says miserably.

-

no pressure tags: @trombonechurchill @sad-girl-hours23 @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake @beefcakekinard @bisexualbrainrots @rcmclachlan @setmeatopthepyre if you feel so inclined, my word is EDGE 🫶

[lsunstreakerl]

my prompt has been extremely fulfilled but im just putting this out in the universe… maxiel or lestappen, with a Significant age difference where max is inexperienced, like a shy blushing type. and oop, daddy kink unlocked…. 🙂‍↕️

obviously, again, this has gotten out of hand. in the name of the father, the son, and the holy coldplums, I gift to you all the reason for my relative radio silence: maxiel corporate boytoy.

I've got. hmmmm. about 8k of it written at the moment, so I'm posting the first few chunks for you all to read. here is 2.5k of exposition, alternating POV's. HI: kink prompt. obviously. explicit content ahead.

pairings: daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

relevant heads up: power imbalance, age difference, work environment that would make an HR department cry. dirtbag daniel (somewhat), inexperienced max.

Daniel doesn't really keep up with the interns- supposedly he's been observing them all year, narrowing them down the best ones, the perfect fit for the company.

In reality, he pays them no mind and lets the supervisors tell him who they want. It's a good system, and it hasn't failed him yet.

He's walking with Blake down across the loft portion of the fourth floor- he can see down across the glass at some of the other levels, and it still blows his mind sometimes that everyone he can see works for him.

Blake is nattering on about the next fiscal year's budget- Daniel will pay attention to it when the paperwork is on his desk, and not a moment sooner. His eyes are bouncing around, landing on familiar and unfamiliar faces, older and experienced supervisors training the young blood.

His attention snags. There's someone across the walkway, half leaning over a desk and gesturing at something on a monitor. Daniel is more distracted at the way his slacks fit, hugging his thighs and narrowing into a waist that Daniel immediately wants to take a bite out of.

He's not sure when they started hiring pornstars.

"Blake- who is that? Over by Scarlett's desk."

Blake looks confused for a moment before his face lights up in recognition.

"Oh! That's Max- he's one of the interns for the year, and he's really good on the numbers end- kid's got a real solid brain in him. I was actually hoping to talk to you about him- he's my favorite intern I've ever had in the department, and I think he'd be really good full time."

Daniel thinks he'd be really good bent over the desk. All the way.

"Yeah, for sure man. Well bring him on board."

"Uh, Dan?"

Daniel's still walking, but he's pivoted his course, making his way over to Scarlett's desk. She and Max have their heads together- probably trying to actually do Daniel's company some good, honest work.

Daniel doesn't care.

There's more details as Daniel gets closer- Max has blonde hair, just on the side of too short around the back of his head, slightly longer at the top. It's gelled, which- they can fix that. If the women in the company don't break him of the habit, Daniel will just change the dress code.

His shoulders are broad under the white button up, which really adds to the waist thing he's got going on- Daniel wants to wrap his hands around him, see if it feels as perfect as it looks.

He's definitely not complaining about his back view though- Max has a cute ass. Daniel wants to put teeth marks in it.

Scarlett notices them approaching, straightening up.

"Daniel! Blake! This is Max, our finance and accounting intern for the year. Max, this is Daniel- you should know who he is, and Blake- you should also know who he is."

Max spins around, and Daniel wants to hire him on the spot. He's got a unique face- European of some kind, probably. He also has a perfect set of DSL's.

Max smiles, eyes scrunching up into little crescents. There's a freckle on his lip.

"Hello! Mr. Friend, it is of course nice to meet you again. It is nice to meet you as well, Mr. Ricciardo."

Oh, he has a lisp. They're definitely keeping him.

"Just Blake is fine, Max. Dan over here prefers his first name too- everything else is too stuffy. We're not that kind of workplace."

Daniel reaches out to shake Max's hand- he has long fingers, blunt squared off nails. No jewelry, and most importantly- no ring.

He flashes Max his best smile, and the kid goes a bit red, cheeks flushing as his eyes dart away for a moment.

Bingo. Point for Daniel.

Daniel likes the way he blushes, wonders how deep it can get, how far it can go.

"So Max- how do ya like working for the company?"

Daniel keeps his voice light, but his eyes are locked on Max. To his credit, Max doesn't look away again, holds his gaze as he starts talking.

"It is very nice! The teamwork is helpful, and everyone has been kind."

He talks with his hands, which reminds Daniel of the Italian side of his family- although with the accent, Max has got to be some kind of Northern European.

"Glad to hear it, Maxy."

Ding ding! Another point for Daniel.

Max goes red, stuttering over his words for a moment. Daniel drinks it in, the way Max is completely derailed, just at the nickname. He's cute.

Daniel gives him another smile as he starts walking away again- and then a lightning quick wink, just to see the way Max blinks, like a deer in headlights.

Blake lets them get out of earshot before he starts complaining.

"Dan, mate- do not fuck my intern, please. I want him to stick around."

Daniel's grinning, hands in his pockets. This day is going great.

"Relax, Blake. I'm not going to fuck your intern."

Blake eyes him suspiciously.

"Really? Because those are kind of your textbook steps on the way to getting laid."

Daniel whistles, thinking about the rest of the day. He'll cater lunch to the finance department, as a little treat. Make up some shit about good budgeting.

"I'm going to fuck my employee. There's a difference."

Blake stops in his tracks for a moment.

"Dan. You cannot seriously tell me you're going to poach one of the brightest minds to come through my department to get your dick wet man, come on."

Daniel shrugs.

"I'll let you give him some busywork- not too much though, I'll be keeping him occupied."

Blake rolls his eyes.

"Busy on his knees, maybe."

Daniel snaps his fingers, shooting him finger guns. This is why he likes Blake- he gets him.

"Exactly! I'm buying your department lunch, what do you guys like?"

"Oh sweet- there's this Greek place a couple blocks over-"

------

None of the other interns even stood a chance- Max is unofficially hired four months before the end of the internship period.

It doesn't look as biased as Daniel had wondered- Max really does stand out from the other interns in terms of the quality of his work, and he gets along well with the team.

It would be a shame Daniel isn't actually interested in that from him, if not for the way that he's just so cute. Daniel's a bit hedonistic, believes in having fun, and Max definitely looks like fun.

He's gone ahead and let Blake handle telling Max about his responsibilities shift- he's got some bullshit analytics job Daniel hadn't even known they had. The important thing is that it requires him to visit Daniel often. He normally hates being interrupted, but this is one he won't mind, not if it means getting to tease Max in the relative privacy of his office.

Now he just has to wait.

------

Max carefully flicks through his printed report. He's nervous- everyone has said Daniel is nice, but he also has a famous hatred for paperwork, and Max is about to dump some on his desk. He'd seemed friendly enough in the few moments he'd talked to Max, even if Max had thoroughly embarrassed himself, stumbling over his words and losing his train of thought.

He knows he's checked for typos a million times, but this final check is the most important. The new responsibilities on Max's plate aren't quite what he was doing before, but he's up for the challenge.

He checks the last page, satisfied, before tugging at the end of his shirt sleeves, hopes he looks presentable enough to be going to the top floor. He's never really gone higher than six- certainly has never had a need to go to eight, where Daniel's office is.

The elevator ride is quick, and Max is on the eighth floor sooner than he'd like.

He passes Blake's office on his way to Daniel's, who gives him a weird little half salute- odd, but most CFO's are.

Daniel's door is closed. Max had really been hoping it would be open- having to knock is stressing him out. He's not sure if Daniel is in a meeting, or has guests, or anything.

Surely his report can't be this important. Technically, his report should be able to go to Blake, but- that's none of Max's business.

He breathes out slow before he raises his fist and knocks, knuckles rapping firmly against the door.

There's a moment of silence during which Max assumes he's about to be fired- before he's even officially hired on, which would surely be some kind of office record.

"Come in."

Daniel's voice is clear, and Max pushes the door open, slips inside. Daniel is leaned back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his other knee. His suit jacket is open, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, showcasing his neck- long golden skin, the kind of tan Max could never manage.

"Hey, Maxy. Whatcha got for me?"

Max wills his fingers not to shake as he steps forward, shoes quiet in the plush flooring of Daniel's rug.

"I have- from the last quarter, the missing earnings report."

Daniel's eyes are... not on Max's face. He hopes he hasn't somehow spilled something on himself.

"Yeah?"

Max nods.

Daniel moves his mouse, minimizes his monitor screens before moving a stack of binders off of the side of his desk.

"Sit, tell me about it."

Max blinks, confused. There's no chair across from Daniel's desk- and he doesn't think he's being asked to sit on the floor.

"Sit..?"

Daniel nods at the space he's cleared on the desk, and Max's heart jumps into his throat- it feels inappropriate somehow, but Daniel is saying it's okay, so-

He's not quite tall enough, has to do a little hop braced on his hand to get up there, and one of Daniel's hands is hovering near his waist- maybe in case he falls.

Max clears his throat, tries to ignore the heat in his face.

"So, the materials department, and their quarterly budget-"

------

Daniel is very pleased with himself. Sure, Blake looks annoyed every time he has to bring his own chair with him to talk to Daniel, but it's a small price to pay for what Daniel gets in return.

He's been carefully inching the clear space on the desk closer to him- Max is so delightfully nervous about sitting on his desk, even two weeks after he'd made him do it the first time.

Daniel is taking things slow with him- slower than he normally would, but that's because he's been accused of playing with his food.

He can't help it- Max is too cute. The way he's just slightly too short, has to do a little hop, the way he squeezes his thighs together to try not to take up space- Daniel wants to take a bite out of him.

He's being patient.

It's especially delicate today- the space Daniel has cleared, the only available space on the desk- it's practically right in front of Daniel. He has his chair scooted back a bit, so that Max won't feel like he's directly in his lap, but- he might as well be.

He's looking forward to it, and if he's lucky Max will really go pink. Surely he notices when he's bright red, but he always powers through anyways.

Blake walks into his office, doesn't bother knocking- everyone else knows Daniel doesn't care for it, but he likes when Max does it.

He sighs, leaning his hip against the desk.

"Would you just fuck him already, please? He's a phenomenal worker Dan, I'd like to actually take advantage of that."

Daniel smiles at him.

"What, you don't want to sit on my desk and tell me that?"

Blake rolls his eyes, and he has the expression Daniel knows means he's begging for divine patience.

"You're toying with him, Dan."

Daniel shrugs, twisting a pen between his fingers, spinning it like a drumstick.

"Yeah babe, that's the point. He's cute like that- perfect little toy, I kind of want to wrap him in a bow. But I'm being patient, Blake, I thought you wanted me to work on that?"

Blake snorts, snatching the pen from Daniel's fingers.

"I meant that in terms of company growth and you know it. But I'll keep the ribbon thing in mind for the office Christmas party, how's that?"

"You do love me!"

------

Max straightens his stack of papers. He's got another report ready, and he's splashed cold water on his face, a reminder that Daniel is his boss- his boss boss, the CEO. Just because he's terribly attractive doesn't mean Max gets to drool over him.

Not to mention- he's so busy there's almost never space on the desk, so Max is probably just a passing blip in his day, barely noticeable.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open, and Max gives Blake a small wave as he passes by his office door. He's not sure what's endeared him to Blake, but the CFO treats him somewhat fondly, in a way that's almost demeaning. Max can't figure it out.

Blake waves back anyways, and then Max is knocking on Daniel's door again.

A beat of silence, and then Daniel is calling him in, but he has a finger pressed to his lips when Max slips inside, and Max freezes. There's voices from one of Daniel's monitors, and Max moves back towards the door, only for Daniel to snap his fingers at him.

Max looks back over and Daniel gestures at his desk, moving his mouse for a moment.

"C'mere, it's fine- I'm almost done."

There's not- Max looks for his usual space by the corner, but it's messy again, the only space is along the edge right in the middle, directly in front of Daniel.

Surely Daniel doesn't mean...

Daniel quirks an eyebrow and Max shoves the doubt down, carefully hopping up onto the desk. Daniel's camera doesn't look like it's on, thankfully, but he's afraid to even breathe as they all exchange their goodbyes.

Daniel chimes in with his own, and then he's leaning forward, chest between Max's knees as he reaches past him to fiddle with the speakers, one palm pressing on Max's thigh to support himself.

Max feels the heat of his palm like a brand. He's frozen still- his face has to be bright red, there's no way it isn't. He fights not to squeeze his thighs together, ignores the warmth starting to pool in his gut.

Daniel just wants to talk about quarter reports.

More like listen to Max talk about quarter reports, but the point remains the same.

Daniel gives Max's thigh a little pat as he leans back, grinning at him.

"Sorry about that babe, meeting went long. What do you have for me?"

Max swallows, tries to pull himself back together.

"So I noticed in the fiscal budget for 2016 a few years ago..."

[fanaroff]

Above the Nasty Burger Ch. 4

Ao3 Link Here << Previous Ch. Next Ch. >>

Danny didn't like it. 

Not the Obsession part, he loved that. He loved the freckles that looked like constellations. The way his pupils looked like vast galaxies if they were into for too long. The connection he could feel towards the planetary systems sitting outside of Earth’s atmosphere. He could feel the Earth.

But the changing. He didn't want it. It reminded Danny too much of a time he thought he'd left behind in that thermos Clockwork watched over. Sure, there were differences, but each time he caught a glimpse of the fangs and the skin, his mind would flash back to similar ones that belonged to a bigger, scarier him.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror wasn't doing him much good, he knew that, but he couldn't help but try to stare his reflection into submission, forcing it to go back to the way it was before. Glaring the blue-green skin away, the fangs he was still getting used to, the pointed ears, the reflective eyes. He looked... demonic (all he was missing were the horns and black sclera). His ears would twitch at sounds, move up and down with his emotions, he was like an Ancients-damned elf (not that there was anything wrong with said damned elves). Just... he'd like it a lot better if he didn't look as if a younger version of Dan had a love child with Legolas. And if he looked how he did before. 

Mainly that last bit.

He'd have to get used to it. 

Danny covered his face with his hands and let out a low groan. Ancients, Phantom will never be able to be seen in Amity again. Not looking like this, not when there were already so few that believed Danny was good. If he went out there looking basically like a stereotype for a demon, they'd attempt to exorcise him for sure. Or call the Guys in White. Or his parents. He wasn't sure which was worse. Probably all of them at once? His luck was like that. 

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to tell his parents he was Phantom either. If they asked him to prove it and he showed them this? It wouldn't end well for any of them. A lot of tears and an early retreat to the Ghost Zone would probably be the best outcome he could hope for. Could he even show Sam or Tucker this version of Phantom? What about Jazz? Definitely not Valerie, he was already on thin ice enough with her. 

Would Dani end up looking like him? 

Fuck, this was probably how Vlad felt when he first had his change. 

Danny's jaw chattered unbidden as his anxieties and fears whirled in his mind, bringing frost to his skin and rising into the warmer air with wispy vapors. He needed to calm down. He knew he needed to. But there was so much to get overwhelmed by. He clenched his hands across his arms and hunched in on himself. 

What was he going to do?

"Danny?" his mother's voice and gentle knock on the door startled Danny enough that he full-body flinched in surprise. He tried to catch his balance, yelped when he didn't, banged an elbow painfully on a corner of the sink, and yet his scared mind still had enough smarts to somehow transform back into his human form as his ass hit the tub. He winced. That... was a lot of noise. 

"Danny, are you okay?" The doorknob jiggled. 

"Ye-yeah! Just lost my balance." Danny called back. That was a bit too close. Thankfully  he'd locked the door beforehand but still... damn.

”Are you sure? You’ve been in there for a while and that was an awful amount of noise!” 

“I’m fine! I promise! Just uh… just had a stomach ache!” Danny winced as the lie came out. Sure he was in the bathroom and it would be a normally believable lie, but even that one sounded fake to his ears. 

His mom went quiet on the other side of the door. Maybe a bit too quiet for maybe a bit too long. He heard her sigh. It sounded tired. He knew the feeling.

“I- Danny, can we talk? Please?” She asked, sounding just as tired as her sigh.

Danny could feel his heart beat pick up at the question. He really didn’t want to talk with her right now. He really, really didn’t. Lists of excuses flew through his mind as he searched desperately for one he could use. 

None would work, though. He knew this. She’d already heard him on the other side of the door and there were literally no other ways out of the bathroom. Just the door his mother was currently standing in front of, blocking it and making it impossible for Danny to escape without being noticed. 

There wasn’t a choice. The only thing he could do was be thankful that he was not stuck in Ghost Speak.

He opened his mouth and closed it. Then he took a deep breath as he stood up from his collapsed heap.

“Yeah.”   

Saying it felt almost… final. 

Danny had to make an effort to calm his breathing and keep his posture loose while he stepped to the bathroom door and unlocked it. When he opened it, he got a fresh look at his mother. 

Maddie looked a little rough. The hood of her hazmat was lowered showing ginger hair that was greasy and sticking up in places. Her eyes had bags that almost rivaled Danny’s and her posture was slumped. Some parts of her hazmat were covered in black oil stains. She looked like she’d just come out of a week-long inventing binge and hadn’t had a chance to shower in a while. That may have been the original reason she came to the bathroom and Danny just happened to be having a little freak out inside of it that she could take advantage of. What timing.  Upon seeing Danny, his mother straightened up and looked him up and down critically before smiling softly. “There you are! It feels like I haven’t seen you properly in ages!” 

Danny had to refrain from mentioning that it HAS been ages. It was his fault for the most part, recently at least, but all with good reasons. Some of them being new inventions with the name “Fenton” in them. Some of them deadly. 

He could only manage a smile that felt as fake as his earlier lie. “Hi… Mom. Sorry, there’s been a lot going on.” That wasn’t a lie, but his mother looked at him skeptically.  Maddie's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him as if she were trying to see through the layers of his excuse. She probably was. Her head tilted and she stepped just a bit closer. She was a tall woman, but it suddenly struck Danny that he was eye to eye with her now. Just one more thing that changed. 

His mother smelled of old gadget grease and something faintly burning that clung to her hazmat. A familiar smell made stronger by Danny's biology.  "You've been acting different, Danny," Maddie said quietly. Her voice was soft with a thread of concern laced through it that sent a tightening through his chest. "Are you sure you're okay? We haven't... we haven't spoken one on one in a while... even longer for your dad it seems."  Danny's heart thrummed in his ears as she took another step forward, her eyes flitting between his and searching. "What's going on with you?" And wasn't that just the question he couldn't answer?  His tongue went dry in his mouth. He had to answer her, he had to give her something, didn't he? Breath hitching, he broke their gaze and turned his head slightly to the side, struggling for an excuse he hadn't already given her. "I'm- I'm just tired. School is tiring and everything is tiring and...." He trailed off, risking a peak at his mother. She looked concerned, if not more so than she was when she first opened the door. Eyebrows pinched and lips pursed just so. Then her concern deepened into skepticism.

"You've been more than just tired," She said matter-of-factly. "You've been avoiding all of us. Me, your dad, your sister. It even seems like you're avoiding Sam and Tucker. It's been a while since you even brought them over. What's going on? I know there's something bothering you. You can tell me. There is nothing I wouldn't do to help you."  And didn't that just try to bring tears to his eyes? Danny wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about dying and coming back, the pain that was the accident. The pain that was his self-imposed duty to protect his family and Amity Park. The sleepless nights of being kept up by fights and fear and injuries he had to take care of himself. He wanted to tell her about Pariah Dark, the Ghost Zone, his trips through time, the timeline he went dark, and Ember being his friend. But most of all, he wanted to tell her about becoming the Ghost King. That soon, he wouldn't be able to speak with her like this again. That soon, he would have to leave all the living behind and close all the portals to the Infinite Realms. That soon, he would have to die. For good.  He wanted so bad. He couldn't risk it. There was more than just himself riding on his choices now.  So, Danny bottled up his wants and emotions and looked his mother directly in the eye. He forced a smile through his panic, through his want to throw himself into her arms and sob. "I'm fine." What a lie.  It felt too easy, dismissive. What could he possibly say? I got killed in your invention? I'm not human anymore? We'll never see each other again until you die? 

And if he did say something? What then? His parents already stated they would tear Phantom apart "molecule by molecule." No, he couldn't risk it.  Furthering his lie, Danny reached up to rub the back of his neck. His skin, once warm, was cold and clammy, even to himself at times. "I just need a little..." He almost said space and he could almost feel his newly discovered Obsession trying to wiggle into being the first chance it got. "time. I just need a little time." He dropped his hand. "I'm fine. I promise."  His mother stared at him a moment, the two left standing in silence with one closing up and one trying to will the other to just talk to her.  Finally, Maddie's shoulders slumped and she sighed. A hand went to pinch the bridge of her nose and she closed her eyes. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Danny. But you don't have to hide from me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."  Danny swallowed again, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.  "I-" and then the word slipped out before he could stop it. "Maddie, I just-" Her eyes widened. His heart froze.  He'd just called his mother by her name. He never did that. He hadn't meant to call her that. Since when had she become "Maddie" to him?  His mother's expression faltered and her eyebrows knit together. Her face showed the hurt she was no doubt feeling and Danny panicked. "I mean Mom! Sorry-" He rubbed a hand down his face. "It's just I've been... thinking a lot. I just need more time. There's... there's more going on right now than I can word. Please, just- I just-" He could feel his lip trying to tremble at the onslaught of emotions. He dropped his hand again. "I'm sorry." Maddie blink, the surprise and hurt on her face fading back to concern. She took a half-step back, crossing her arms loosely. "It's-it's okay, Danny. But I want you to know you don't have to shut me out. I'm your mother. I'll always be here for you." The words stung. Not because they weren't true, but because he wasn't sure if he could even be a good son to her anymore. There was no way she would accept him as he is now- not with what he had become and the path he was about to take.  With a sigh, Maddie spoke. "I'm going to take a shower. Your father spilled some oil on me again and I feel gross because I let it sit for an hour before I could reach a stopping point in what we were working on. You can take all the time you need, but I'm still here okay?"  Danny nodded quickly, stomach churning with relief, and he stepped to the side to let her through into the bathroom. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll be fine." He stopped a moment, then asked almost shyly. "Can I ask what you're working on?" Maddie paused and looked at him. Their eyes met fleetingly and Danny froze. Her face was... there wasn't a word he could really put to it. Not suspicious but... there was something almost considering. Then she smiled. "I'll tell you later when we have a chance to talk again." And with that, the door closed and Danny was left standing in the hallway by himself. As the water turned on in the shower, he couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Even if he thought he had no right to. Normally, if he asked his parents about their inventions, there was nothing that would stop them from telling him about them. Nothing. There were many times he stood next to his grease-soaked (or other stuff) soaked parents and listened happily. Then, later bored. Then, because knowing their inventions kept him alive.  This was the first time, to his memory, one of his parents didn't immediately dive into talking about what they were working on. And that sent a thought niggling into his mind. Were they suspicious? More than Jazz had thought? Did they suspect there was more going on than teenage angst? The thought scared him. His chest tightened and dread creeped in. He hadn't convinced her he was fine, had he? Not this time.  Next time, it would only be harder. If there was a next time. 

Danny turned to head downstairs. The hallway felt longer than usual with the quiet weight of his thoughts pressing down on him with each step. It took a moment to realize, but he had been holding a breath. He'd almost forgotten how to breathe around the tightness in his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out.  Everything was different. Even more so now since his Obsession Trance. The sensation of his own transformation, the overwhelming hum of his cored. And now, his mind was spiraling, trying to reconcile everything that had happened. The lights of his house felt too bright, the air too still, and Danny just wanted to find a way out of his situation.  But there was no escape. There wouldn't be, ever. 

Danny turned the corner to the stairs and stopped when he spotted Jazz at the bottom. She was perched on the lowest step, one knee hugged to her chest, and was turned to look up at him. She was already staring at him with that, "I'm going to figure you out," expression and it made his stomach twist.  "Hey," She called quietly. Her voice was almost too calm. "Can we talk?" Danny stalled. He already just had a conversation he barely wiggled out of with his mother. He didn't want to have to do it again with his sister. But he owed her a small conversation, at the very least, for all the help she'd been with distracting their parents. He didn't want to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her anything just yet. Not yet. He wasn't ready. If he gave her an inch, she would take a mile. Jazz was smart- too smart. And he was too damn exhausted to keep up the charade.  Jazz raised an eyebrow when Danny didn't immediately answer. "I heard Mom corner you. Are you okay?"  Danny shrugged and made his way slowly down the stairs.  His sister continued, "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're freaking me out. And, you know, when you're freaking me out, it's serious."  He managed a half smile at that. "You're always freaking out."  Jazz sniffed and crossed her arms. "I'm always serious." Danny's half smile turned wry. "There are some things going on." He admitted and Jazz whipped her head to his face, obviously surprised he was actually telling her something more. "I can't tell you about it yet. There's..." He ran a hand through his bangs. "There's so much and it's easier to handle without anyone poking their noses into things." He tried to look apologetic, and he was, but it was harder to show that when he had to keep doing the things he was apologizing for. There was a moment of silent contemplation from Jazz as Danny took the final couple of stairs down to sit next to her on the final step.  "Do you ever think about the things we used to get up to as kids?" She finally asked.

Confused, Danny nodded. "Honestly? All the time. Things seemed so much easier then."  Jazz nodded and stuck her chin in a palm, elbow on her knee. "I keep thinking about the books I used to read to you. How much closer we felt then." She turned to him. "I practically raised you, didn't I?" Again, Danny nodded. She practically did. With their parents distracted by inventions and ghosts, it seemed that more days out of the week left Jazz and Danny to their own devices at an age that seemed too young for it.  Jazz smiled, a soft nostalgic expression lighting up her face. "We used to sneak up to the top of the Ops and fiddle with that old telescope, remember?  The mention of the past hit Danny harder than expected. His core pulsed, making his heart skip a beat, and a surge of Obsession flooded his senses. Danny froze in place. He could feel his core thrumming with an energy he would not be able to hold back. Not yet. The sensations were too new. Before he could stop her, Jazz continued.  "There was that one night all the clouds were gone, and the moon was so bright. It felt like it was glowing just for us. We actually saw a few stars, remember? You were so excited. You wouldn't let us go back inside- you demanded we stay out there for hours, just staring at the moon through the telescope." The energy hit him like a title wave. The memory of that night- the pure joy, the excitement in his chest, the way the night sky seemed to open up before him- it felt almost too real. It was nothing like the vast sky that connected him to his Obsession, but it was just as beautiful in its own way. 

Sparks of energy crackled in spots across Danny's face and before he could stop it, constellations bloomed across his cheeks. With a desperate, panicked and involuntary movement, he buried his face in his hands.  "It was cold, so you ended up getting a cold and- Danny?" Jazz's voice faltered, clearly started by his sudden movement. A hand gently grasped his shoulder. "Danny, are you okay? What's wrong?"  He could only shake his head through his hands, the weight of his emotions and the situation too much to put into words.

"Hey- what's... Danny? Are you- are you glowing?"  Shit.  Danny's head snapped up, eyes widening as he stared at the glowing lights that were slowly creeping across his hands. He could feel them traveling over the rest of his body too. The panic set in harder as he turned to Jazz. His sister's mouth was hanging open as she stared, eyes tracking the lights making their way up his neck to his ear. They two of them were frozen, locked in the moment, the air suddenly so much thicker with tension. "Danny, what-" She started. Then her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed and realization flashed across her face. "I was talking about the stars from before and you lit up like them. Did you... Danny, did you find your Obsession!?" He could only nod, his throat too tight to speak. Jazz cracked a wide, beaming grin and she lunged to throw her arms around him in an excited hug. "It's space isn't it?" She cried.  "Yeah." Danny managed to say. His voice was barely more than a whisper. Jazz back slightly to search his face with a puzzled frown. She was no doubt trying to figure out why he wasn't reacting with the same level of excitement. She blinked, clearly confused.  "You're in your human form." She said then, her voice trailing off. She gasped. "Danny you're human. The stars! While you're human!? But-"  Her words faltered again and her expression softened, almost pitying, as she looked at him with a gentleness he wasn't sure he deserved. "Oh, Danny..." And that was it.  The dam inside him broke. His lips trembled, his face crumpling as the flood of emotions overwhelmed him. In the next moment, he couldn't hold it back anymore. His body shook and Danny burst into tears.

<< Previous Ch. Next Ch. >> >>A longer post to try and make up for how long it's been since I updated this fic! The last time I did, my mom passed shortly after and I lost a lost of motivation for a lot of the fics I was working on at the time. But I've recently gotten a spark back for this one! If you'd like to be tagged for future updates, please let me know in the replies so I can start implementing tags! Hope you enjoyed!

[fishyfcuk]

superboy 1993 #59

(okay rant-ish(?) thing: im sure yall havent noticed/dont care but i feel like i dont post superboy nearly as much as i do others and tbh its def bc it took me So Long to get into. and its not bc i dont like him, hes one of my favorite dc characters. its fully bc of tana and knockout, i could not stand that shit. and the fact that none of the adults around kon said anything abt it??? like wtaf. omfg and tana breaking up w him bc he wasnt mature enough, like obviously mf hes literally fucking 16?? his brain is at a wildly different stage of development compared to her, thats deadass biologically impossible. and she made it out to be his fault that he wasnt maturing like she wasnt a literal grown ass woman that shouldnt have been around him anyway? like jfc how was she not embarrassed to literally be picking her boyfriend up from high school??? and why did the teachers not say jack shit? AND THE FUCKING TRUANCY OFFICER?? bro was so concerned abt kon getting an education bc hes underage but was absolutely silent abt his 20 smth girlfriend. and when knockout was going after him tana was just Jealous, she wasnt like hm this is disgusting hes a teenager. but ig she wouldnt considering shes also an actual predator

anyways

the reason this is tana-centric is bc im pissed that the writers seemed to realize kons relationship w knockout was wrong but then went and acted like his and tana's relationship was fine

in conclusion, im past all that shit now and i'll be posting more sb93/94 (ik it's called sb94 but the comic run literally started in 93 so that makes no fucking sense to me)

js has to get ts out of my system, now back to our regularly scheduled program 🫡

[t1red-twilight]

firefighter!dean x reader

masterlist d. w. masterlist blurbs

your cat was still inside.

you stood on your lawn, watching your house practically melt down. the various men around you prattled on about your furnace, and freak accidents and such.

you tried to speak over and over again, attempting to scream at them that “pillsbury doughboy” (your dumbass orange kitty) was still inside.

panic setting in and adrenaline flooding your nervous system, you scoffed and tried to push though the broad shouldered men that had circled around you. you couldn’t hear their condescending reprimands over the harsh ringing in your ears.

they began to hold you back as you tried desperately to save the one thing that many the most to you.

your hands shook immensely as he tried to push through their hands continuously pushing you back. “my cat is still in there,” you started. ”can’t – i won’t be without my cat.” you heard what almost sounded like a laugh from one of the fire firefighters.

suddenly, you saw out of the corner of your eye another firefighter push the other ones off of you. “look, i’ll get their cat. stop being dicks.” you turned and saw the most beautiful man that you had ever seen in your life. he had a strong nose, and a sharp jawline. wow, you thought. he looked as if he had been carved from marble by michelangelo or something.

the other firefighters threw up their hands and defeat. they spoke over each other as they responded to him. “okay, fine winchester.” another said, “if you want to die saving a dumb cat, be my guest.”

winchester, it seemed, rolled his eyes at their statements. “it’s not a dumb cat. clearly, the furball means a lot to them.” he just gestured over to you.

as he entered into the burning building, your heart seemed to stop. what if he was too late? what if your cat hadn’t made it?

you heart stopped in times seemed to slow to a halt. finally, he emerged from the building with your cat. mr. doughboy was covered in a thin blanket of ash, but miraculously it seemed as if no harm had been done to him. and, was he… purring? odd, given the circumstances.

when “winchester” approached you, he was very clearly scratching behind me. doughboy’s ears. “he was in the living room. there was barely any smoke in there. seems like he’s fine, just a little dirty. i still would take him to the vet, though.” a small smile sat on his face. initially, you hadn’t really figured him to be a cat person. but considering the current circumstances, maybe you were incorrect. also, your cat had obviously taken a liking to him.

“oh, thank god,” you sighed out. there was a little bit of a struggle trying to get the cat out of winchester‘s arms. when he finally returned to you, your eyes couldn’t help but feel a little glassy. you held your cat close to you. “thank you, so much.”

he waved it off. “just my job, sweetheart.” he winked. when he began to walk back to the fire truck, you called out to stop him.

“who do i um, – have to thank?”

your mysterious hero crookedly smiled. “dean winchester, darlin’. who might you be?” you mumbled out your name. with that, he waltzed away with swagger.

[taylorsfolkmoredress]

title: none yet km working on it gimme ideas

summary: after years of seeing the worst happen to the people around him, Aaron starts falling into some bad habits when he meets you

definitely going to be a darker fic but idk how dark

tags: MDNI (some arent seen yet but will be as the fic progresses) age-gap, stalker!hotch (reader ends up liking it dw), hotch is so protective/possessive its literally dangerous. longing. perv!aaron. idk more maybe

pls lmk if i should continue this!

wc: 617

Aaron Hotchner has been working in the Behavioral Analysis Unit for a long time. He’s seen, and experienced, things most average humans couldn’t even begin to describe. He tried hard not to let it harden him. Not to let it turn him into the very thing he hunts, but after so long in the field, the struggle became too much.

When he saw you for the first time, he finally reached his boiling point. You were so soft, so sweet, and every time he looked at you all he could see were the many different ways men his size could kill you. He tried everything within reason to stop the thoughts, but after months of trying, it became too much. He began to try more… unconventional methods to assuage his fears.

It started small. Well, small in his mind anyways. He swiped your phone one day and installed a discreet tracker. He made sure to delete all evidence except the application itself, which was hidden as an innocuous system app. He kept the app connected to his own phone, and kept a close eye on it when you weren’t at work. At first that was fine; his brain was quiet enough that he could exist without worrying about you, but all wins are short-lived with him. He noticed the anxiety creeping back up one night, after everyone had arrived home from a case.

He was watching the little dot move around, and while it moved, he felt at peace. While it moved he could go about his day knowing you were safe in your home. But then it stopped right by where he knows is your front door. His breath catches as he watches, waiting for the little dot to either leave the apartment or move back towards the rest of the house.

But it didn’t.

It didn’t move at all. Not an inch for the next 20 minutes. In that time, Hotch found himself getting restless. It started with a bouncing knee, slowly moving towards pacing the room, and before he knew it, he’s grabbing his keys and rushing to his car. He’s halfway towards your apartment before he realizes whats going on, and he half considers turning back before all the possibilities of what could have happened to you fill his head.

He parks himself far enough away from your building that he’s unlikely to be seen, but close enough that he can find your window with ease. He feels a burst of concern-turned-anger at the sight of your blinds and window open. He knows you know how easily someone can stalk you through an open window. He’s just glad it was him and not some creep with bad intentions. No, he merely wants to keep you safe, wants to keep you secure in your home with nobody coming in who could hurt you.

He keeps his lights off, stays hidden in the shadows so no one can see him. He knows deep down this is wrong. He knows you can protect yourself better than most, but that doesnt stop this need. This overwhelming, visceral need to see your safety. He’s tempted to stay all night, he wants to more than anything, but the remaining rational braincells tell him he has to leave. He can’t risk being seen, otherwise he may not be able to protect you any more.

His fingers flexed over the steering wheel as he took one last look at you for the night. He took in your curves, your soft hair. He watches you slip out of your day clothes and move to the bathroom. With a deep breath he drives away, forcing himself not to go any further. Not yet.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do a fic where the sister is like 14 and the triplets notice she’s acting off and they take her to a psychologist and he diagnosed her with bipolar disorder and depression and they help her through it

yep

“Through the Highs and Lows”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : bipolar.

The Sturniolo triplets had always been protective of their little sister, Y/N. At fourteen, she was the youngest, but over the past few months, they noticed something was off. She wasn’t acting like herself. One moment, she was full of energy, talking a mile a minute about random things, barely sleeping, and throwing herself into hobbies obsessively. The next, she wouldn’t leave her room, barely spoke, and seemed drained of all energy. It wasn’t like her usual moods; this was different.

“Have you noticed how Y/N’s been acting?” Nick asked one night as they sat in their living room.

Chris nodded, fidgeting with his rings. “Yeah, I thought she was just having a rough time at school or something, but it’s been months. She’s either too happy or too sad—there’s no in-between.”

Matt sighed. “I tried asking her what’s wrong, but she just says she’s fine. I don’t think she even knows what’s going on with herself.”

That was the breaking point. They knew they couldn’t ignore it any longer. The next day, they sat Y/N down and gently brought up their concerns. At first, she was defensive, insisting that she was just dealing with normal teenage emotions, but as they talked, she broke down.

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” she admitted through tears. “Sometimes I feel like I can do anything, like I don’t even need sleep, and I’m on top of the world. But then, all of a sudden, I just… crash. And I can’t get out of bed. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Chris pulled her into a hug. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’re gonna get you help.”

They scheduled an appointment with a psychologist, who, after a thorough evaluation, diagnosed Y/N with bipolar disorder and depression. It was overwhelming, but at least they had an answer.

“Medication and therapy will help,” the psychologist explained. “But most importantly, she needs a strong support system.”

The triplets took that to heart. They helped her stay consistent with her therapy, kept track of her medication schedule, and learned everything they could about bipolar disorder. They made sure she had someone to talk to, whether it was a late-night drive, a movie night, or just sitting with her in silence when words felt too heavy.

Some days were harder than others. There were times when Y/N would snap at them, feeling irritable for no reason, or nights when she would cry herself to sleep, feeling hopeless. But her brothers never wavered. They were patient, understanding, and never made her feel like a burden.

One night, as they sat on the roof of their house, looking at the stars, Y/N spoke up. “I’m really lucky to have you guys.”

Matt nudged her shoulder. “Nah, we’re the lucky ones. You’re the strongest person we know.”

Chris smiled. “And we’re always gonna be here. No matter what.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed them. She wasn’t alone. She had her brothers, and with their support, she knew she could get through anything.

[varpusvaras]

Quinlan: Okay so, Thorn, as much as I only wanted to come down here to see you, I actually have something I need to ask Fox about. Is he here?

Thorn: ....I mean, yes, he is, but I don't think now is the best time for you to ask him anything

Quinlan: What do you mean?

Thorn: *opens the door to the hallway*

Distant, loud crying coming from Fox's office while "I bet on losing dogs" by Mitski plays on the background on full volume:

Quinlan:

Thorn:

Quinlan: .....I'll come back later

[egophiliac]

So.... what are your thoughts on Ace's UM, if you haven't been asked this already?

sneaky magic for the sneakiest boy

no but really, I think it fits him really well! I had thought his UM would probably involve something kinda sleight-of-handy or pickpockety! and I looooved that it made such a nice loop-around back to episode 1. ❤️ I was. kind of half-expecting him to just run out and punch Riddle in the nose again. but instead this time 'twas he who offed the queen's head! it was great! and he did it while stone-cold terrified out of his mind! because Ace is the only remotely normal or well-adjusted person at NRC and therefore the only one who is like "we're going to literally die, this is super effed up". but he did it anyway!!!! I AM SO PROUD