#pictures of the floating world scans

[solradguy]

The Sea Off Satta In Suruga Province (Suruga Satta Kaijo), from the series Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (Fuji Sanjurokkei), 1858, by Utagawa Hiroshige I. Woodblock print (nishiki-e); ink and color on paper, 10 x 14" (25.3 x 37.4cm).

Scan of loose print included with Pictures of the Floating World: An Introduction to Japanese Prints by Sarah E. Thompson.

[k-hotchoisan]

missing piece

<seonghwa x fem!Reader>

Building legos is important business and Seonghwa knows that very well when he realises he’s missing a piece.

So who would’ve thought two people attempting to search for one Lego piece would lead to other things?

genres/warnings: smut, pwp, softdom!seonghwa, missing Lego piece (don’t worry it’ll get found later), dirty talk, it’s legit teeth rotting fluff and smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, established relationship, mild choking, clit stimulation

a/n: another fic exchange with @bro-atz 😎👊🏻 it’s a competition of who can kill each other faster and we both LOSING. love u bro <3 and also finally serving you all the softdom! Seonghwa you all deserve 😛 enjoy my loves 🩷

read bro’s one here 💘

wc: 1.9K

‘A couple activity idea’—apparently the amount of countless generic couple websites would list this idea. 

Yeah, this would qualify for a couple activity idea casually, not when it seemed like a big business deal when it came to Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa had the ambiance set, his station ready—the Animal Crossing Soundtrack Playlist with Rain playing through the speakers, his desk clean and white—only stacked with the Animal Crossing Lego sets prepared to to be unboxed, in his favourite oversized shirt, and not forgetting you, who he dragged into his room to watch him build his little building block empire—comfortably seated across him on his bed. 

You didn’t mind watching your partner build the latest Animal Crossing Lego set he just easily blew a couple of hundred on hours before. You watched his inner child take form when he made you sit down with him to watch him unbox the first set he was gonna build, his eyes large and twinkling, just like his Animal Crossing character in-game.

Seonghwa hums softly, and it’s definitely his favourite soundtrack from the game. From time to time, Seonghwa would make the little critter noises his animal villagers would make while he fixes the animal villagers and you can’t help but giggle whenever he does the impressions. He’s finished a cherry tree, making sure he flailed his wrists to get your attention. Your lips pull to a smile when your eyes land on the pretty cherry tree he built, reflecting his satisfaction with his plump lips too. 

Then he’s back to his workstation, and you’re absorbed back into playing your switch. 

“This set is pretty easy”, you hear him comment. 

“Is it?” You reply, your attention focused on trying to slay the beast. 

“Yeah. I think I could finish this in another half an hour.” He sounds confident. 

“Good luck with that sweetheart”, you respond, your eyes trailing back to your game. 

Then midway through, Seonghwa demands your attention again, and this time you watch the way his eyes light up the whole damn room when he shows you the way the little Lego letter fits into its little Lego mailbox. Not gonna lie, it was a very adorable detail. He yaps about it for a good seven minutes before he sinks back into his building block world. 

“Now here’s the million dollar question—pink or brown for the door?” He asks, loosely fitting both coloured doors after one another 

“Pink, obviously”, you pick. Seonghwa seems satisfied with your answer, and you swear you see the little musical notes float out of him when he fixes the door onto the house. 

A couple more minutes later, you glance over at the messy pieces of Lego strewn all over Seonghwa’s table, below his half-completed Animal Crossing cottage. 

He has his cheeks puffed out, and his eyebrows knitted together while he’s carefully scanning over the table. 

“Are you missing a piece?” You ask, setting your console on the bed. 

“Yeah, I think I am”, Seonghwa mutters, his index finger pointing over each piece on the table, in hopes of finding it. 

You take the instruction booklet from his hands, skimming through the pictures before you settle it down onto the desk, your eyes laser-focused onto the mess too. 

“Do you wanna come over to my side instead? Maybe you can spot it better from this view”, you suggest, which Seonghwa takes, so he shuffles over to the bed, and moves to sit right where you are—and now you’re on his lap, with his chest pressing right against your back as he towers over you, arms hugging you from behind. He continues to search for the missing Lego piece. 

You take part in the search too, the game completely forgotten by then. You realise it’s nice just having Seonghwa sitting close to you like this. Maybe this was what they meant by building Lego as ���a couple activity”.

“Did you drop it or something?” You ask, shifting slightly to have a better view of the floor. You hear Seonghwa grunt behind you, but you pay no attention, focusing on finding the piece. 

Seonghwa swears he’s focused on looking for the missing piece too—he really wants to complete the set, but at the same time, he’s watching and feeling you move against him on top of the way he’s able to wrap his arms around you easily, smelling his scent on you—it’s not helping his case. He bites his bottom lip, trying to manage himself. 

Obviously, it does nothing, considering he’s having you in such close proximity, and every movement you’re brushing against him is starting to make him grow sensitive. 

His hand snakes down to your thighs, drawing circles, his other hand sifting through the endless pieces of Lego. 

He forces himself to concentrate, and it works for a split second, that is, until you absentmindedly shift his free arm on under your loose shirt, and he snaps. 

“If this is your way of breaking my concentration, you’re doing a good job”, you hear his deep voice ringing in your ears. He’s letting his hands roam all over your body hidden underneath your shirt, his fingers grazing against your nipples teasingly, and it draws gasps out of you. 

“Focus on finding the block, Park Seonghwa”, you tease, readjusting yourself, making sure you press against his growing erection underneath his loose shorts. 

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to draw a shaky breath every time your clothed ass comes into contact with his erection.

You pretend to ignore him, but you can’t ignore the way he’s massaging your tits, and you find yourself sighing and growing hotter through each passing moment. 

You think he’s finally giving you a break, but you’re proven wrong when his hands are sliding down the waistband of your shorts. 

“You’re not finding the block, Angel”, Seonghwa points out, and you pout at his words. Your hand slips under the large opening of his shorts and fuck—his erection is only growing thicker. 

You hear him groan behind you when you let your hands wander to stroke his cock through his underwear. So he retaliates with his finger sliding past your panties, cursing when he realises your pussy is growing wetter by the second.  

“We’re supposed to be looking for the Lego piece, Hwa”, you mutter, mind growing hazy as his fingers get drenched from your slick, circling your clit gently. 

“Mmhm. We are, baby. You’re just not focusing”, Seonghwa replies, his index and middle finger spreading your folds open letting his index finger find your clit more easily, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. 

Your legs push open automatically, your hands pausing stroking him off, well, not that Seonghwa minded. 

“That feels so good”, you sigh. Seonghwa’s other hand cups your jaw, and you turn to face him, feeling the way his hands slide down your throat while Seonghwa has your lips on his, eating up your whines and moans before letting you catch your breath.

“So fuckin wet for me, Angel. You like it that much?” He teases. 

“Mmhm, your fingers feel so good Hwa”, you nod, your grip around his arm tightening as the pleasure builds in your stomach every time his finger strokes against your clit. At this point, you can’t even pretend.  

His lips are pressed against your ear, his voice deep yet you sense traces of whining in his tone when he says, “Sit on my dick. I need you on my fucking dick now, Angel.” 

Of course, you comply, despite your legs trembling slightly, letting Seonghwa slip out of his bottoms. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him, his lips making a whole garden of bites down your neck before he has both his hands lift your hips. 

Seonghwa lines himself against your fluttering cunt and he pushes himself into your pussy hole, his moans of relief sending you into a spiral on top of his cock sinking into you. 

Fuck, he’s filling you up so fucking good.��

“Fuck. That’s it, babe. You’re so fucking good”, he groans when you squeeze against him. 

“Hwa, oh my fucking god, you’re so full in me”, you sob, trying to adjust to his length. 

“Do you think we can find the piece better like this?” He jokes while peppering kisses down your neck to distract himself so he doesn’t fucking just burst in you just yet. 

Even in your pleasured haze, you still manage to laugh while you try to keep your eyes open. 

“I think we can”, you reply with a giggle, before squealing when you feel him twitch in you. You shift forward slightly, feeling his cock shift in you, dragging along your walls, a small whine escaping past your lips. 

With the last of your sanity remaining, you glance over the desk one more time, biting your lip to stay grounded, obviously to no avail, especially not with Seonghwa and his little movement behind you. 

“I really think it’s-fuck-not here”, Seonghwa mutters behind you, forcing himself not to thrust into you, his fingers slithering down to your wet clit once more. 

“I’m pretty sure it d-dropped. We haven’t checked the floor yet-ngh-right?” you manage to ask.

“Mmmm nope”, Seonghwa responds, mesmerised at the way your slick growing thicker on your clit and on his cock as he continues to rub your clit. “I guess we can do that later ‘cause I really need to fuck your pussy right now, Angel.” 

He doesn’t give you much time to answer because you’re a complete goner when Seonghwa is making you bounce off his cock while he gets you off with his fingers. 

You’re trembling from the sheer pleasure, your vision slowly growing hazy, the knot tightening in your abdomen more quickly than you thought. 

“H-Hwa! Gonna cum-Oh fuckkkk”, you draw out, white clouding your vision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, dopamine shooting up your body while you completely let go on his cock as Seonghwa fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum on my dick like that, Angel”, Seonghwa groans into your ear, his gaze traveling down at the way your thick cream streaks down his cock when he pulls out. He shuts his eyes, sighing into the nape of your neck while he listens to the way your cunt is just so loud and wet for him while he fucks your cream out of you, thrusting his hips upwards. 

“God, your pussy feels so fucking perfect. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good baby”, he pants before his hips thrust and press against yours, filling you up with his warm and thick cum accompanied by his low groans. 

You feel Seonghwa’s hands run down your body, soothing you after emptying his fucking load into you before he slowly pulls out of your cum-filled pussy. 

“I’ll get you a towel, Angel”, Seonghwa tells you, pressing his lips on your temple before leaving the bed. 

He retrieves a spare towel from the bathroom and cleans you up, before releasing you to wash up in the bathroom. 

When you renter his room, Seonghwa is switching gazes between his half-completed set and the instruction manual. 

He looks up at you with a grin that’s making you feel uneasy. 

“Babe, turns out I wasn’t missing a piece—I already had it in all along!”

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @woojirang @jjoongstar @yuyusgirl

[a-leg-without-fear]

Heartbeats

started watching xmen '97 and seeing logan standing in the doorway of jean's hospital room, watching jean and scott be happy parents together, gave me parasites like you wouldn't BELIEVE. enjoy the tender, calm moment shared between you and logan after giving birth

Ship: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Wordcount: 522

Warnings: birth, pregnancy, hospital visit, and hoLY SHIT I'M CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE

The steady beat of a heart rate monitor was the only sound that filled the calm silence. Smooth, even, computerized beeps that tracked your pulse, consistently relaxed in their beat. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Logan breathed a content sigh into the crown of your head, stirring the hair he had brushed not two hours ago. The strands were tangled loosely in his beard and tickled along his chin. He smoothed his palm along your bare arm. Rough calluses passing over once sweat-soaked skin.

You stirred slightly against his flannel-clad chest. Shoulders, clothed in a hospital gown, burrowed against him. He could practically feel the groan of your sore muscles under your skin. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breath breezing across the stubble under Logan’s jaw.

He let his eyes fall open. Dimmed fluorescent lights bathed the hospital room in a dull, white glow. Shiny linoleum floors reflected the rising sun streaking through the wall-length windows. Vases of flowers, all your favorite kind and color, sat on the windowsill, petals practically glowing in the sunrise.

The TV nestled in the upper hand corner of the room was still on. Blessedly silent, as Logan had muted it once you’d fallen asleep, yet still playing a collection of your favorite movies on repeat. He chuckled quietly while remembering how insistent Jean had been about getting the nurses to play the discs she’d shoved into their hands.

Logan’s gaze shifted from scanning around the room to the bundle you held to your chest. A thick, heavenly soft hospital blanket was bunched in stripes of blue and green. The cloth rose and fell with your deep breathing.

Tucked away inside the blanket cocoon was the result of the fifteen hour labor you’d just endured. Eyes too big for her tiny head squeezed shut, small hands tucked against her chest under the swaddle, mop of dark curls brushed along her scalp. Quick heartbeats pumped life through her bite-sized body.

April Saige Howlett. Born at seven pounds, ten ounces. All the fingers and toes a baby could need just where they should be. Completely healthy, with bright, hazel eyes set under a deep brow bone. 

A warm hum rumbled in Logan’s chest. The two people most important to him were cradled in his arms. You, his exhausted wife, and April, his newborn daughter.

Daughter.

The word sounded foreign to him. 

Not once had he ever imagined this kind of happiness for himself. Never would have pictured himself propped up in your hospital bed, chin resting on your head, arms embracing the love, now loves, of his life. Steady beeps coming from the heart rate monitor, flashes of bright colors on the TV, the calming scent of dozens of flowers floating in the air.

He pressed a soft kiss into your hair. Warmth bloomed in his chest like a blossoming rose. Petals of light and peace drifting through his blood, leaving him utterly enraptured by the world held in his arms.

Logan closed his eyes, cheek resting on the top of your head, as he let himself drift off into the first tranquil sleep of his long life.

i'm crying now

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[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Hey, how are you ? I wanted to request a scenario that reader has the starry eyes of Ai hoshino, and the cast of bungou stray dogs see pictures and videos of reader as a child. Can you please?

Have a great week and take care ok?

Hello! I am doing good. I hope, you enjoy the scenario. I will take care of myself, thanks for your concern ☺️

Starry eyes

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x GN! Reader

Description: BSD cast can't wait to finally see your face. One day, they saw pictures of you. And your eyes.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

🐾 For BSD Cast, you are Little Light, a shapeless light blob. Embodiment of your emotions, that floating above them, sometimes snuggle to them and purr.

🐾 For BSD Cast, you are a figure of light. Always changing presence, that came to them, when their emotions were at the lowest.

🐾 For BSD Cast, you are Guiding Light. Human from other world. Reader, who were with them during important moments of their lives. Reader, whose emotions made them feel alive. Reader, whose words made them whole again. Reader, who show them light in this dark, chaotic situation.

🐾 For BSD Cast, you are one of the reasons to get into Real World.

🐾 You are many things to them. And BSD Cast wish, that they knew how you look like.

🐾 Every day, Elise draws a picture of you. And every day you have a different appearance.

🐾 And one day, while still been in their world, they saw you.

_____________

"Okay, I have finished scanning my old photos and almost finished with saving my old videos on my computer. Time to store them in cloud drive."

BSD Cast feel exited. Finally, they will see you.

The moment the first photo was stored in cloud drive, Fyodor, Katai and Ango start working on getting it.

Thirty minutes later, BSD Cast gathered in a Meeting Room. Main Screen was lit up. Ango clicked on first file.

The photo appeared on the screen.

Your baby photo.

Melville chuckled.

"They were a cute baby."

Then everyone heard Kenji's gasp. Miyazawa looked at your picture in awe.

"Their eyes are so pretty!"

Everyone finally paid attention to your eyes.

Kenji beamed.

"They have starts in their eyes!"

The next few hours were full of photos and videos. Of a child, of a teenager. Of Their Guiding Light with Starry Eyes.

________________

🐾 Everyone are mesmerized by your eyes. They are so unique. They already knew that you are unique, and your eyes just a future-proof of you been unique.

🍰 💉 Elise immediately drew a 'correct' picture of you. Despite all his pleads, she didn't drew a second picture for Mori and keep the first one for herself.

🚬🐋 Each member of BSD cast had a few copies of your cutest child photos. Melville and Hirotsu already bragging about how cute you were as a child. Like proud grandfathers.

⭐⭕ Kyuusaku feel that you two a somewhat similar, with one of their eyes also a starry. Feel spiritual connection to you. Feel proud of themselves.

🐾 BSD Cast want to see you face to face even more now.

🐾 They want to make sure that stars in your eyes will always shine brightly.

[inkskinned]

i get lost a lot. i am good at many things, but none are related to direction. these days, sign posts on trails sometimes have QR codes on them. i think about that a lot. after us, will aliens find these little shapes and say - this was religious.

in 50 years, will QR codes be completely out-of-date, so young kids are used to seeing the shape but just assume it means something else; like how floppy discs mean save. looking up at us with their brows knit. what do you mean you had to scan it?

i think a lot about how if i had been born even 50 years ago, i'd be dead by now. there are a lot of reasons for that. i can read a map pretty well, but that sense-of-direction thing will really getcha. i usually wayfind by pulling up my phone's compass. there's something so odd about that - about using something like a smartphone to figure out my cardinal direction. to figure out which way is home.

for a long time, i didn't have a smart phone. whenever we went to places that required a QR code, i'd just have to shift uncomfortably, waiting for someone else's page to load. not to sound like an old grump but - these days it feels like half my world is behind scan this or register with your email to sign-in or sign up for our listing or click the link.

i think a lot about the digital detritus we leave behind. about how different the world looks, literally, than in the 90's. how much waste has become things like laptops, chargers, wires. i think about the drones over city; flying in the shape of an advertisement. i think about graves. my grandmother's had a trademark on it.

in the middle of the woods, someone had put up a jesus is risen laminated poster. it had an underwater turtle on it, which i thought was funny. i took a picture for my group chat. he rises from the deep i guess i send them. the signpost was unhelpful - inconclusive arrow, jesus turtle poster. no map. i pulled up my compass, which is to say i took out my phone.

i wonder how much is waste we're making and how much is just making our mark. at some point, all my writing - this post and all the others - will be left, floating around on the internet. it will all outlive everyone who created any of it. every fic and overly-personal recipe and idle drawing and abandoned webcomic and sanctimonious twitter post.

i hope they are all living in the same place. i hope they get along. i hope they never feel alone.

i hope somewhere out there on the internet, someone or something finds something i left and says - oh. so that's how i get home.

[phamminji]

moving along

non-idol!yu jimin x fem!reader

synopsis: part of ❓

wc: 2.3k

"what's your problem?!"

"you're the problem, y/n."

jimin regretted saying those words, back then and even now. the argument that lasted five minutes felt like five hours but that was all it took to crumble down the perfect relationship you thought you had.

jimin knew she was the one who fucked your relationship up but her senseless pride didn't want to admit it. knowing the fact that you wouldn't come back to her again, not that night, not anymore.

but still she waited for your calls for weeks end, graphing texts to your chat only for her to hastily delete it, hoping you were the one who reached out to her first. although jimin did send out a few messages on some drunk occasions, it didn't really matter anyway since you couldn't see them.

jimin slumped into the bed as she reached for her phone on the night table, occasionally wincing from the head pain, starting to sober up the little hangover from last night's drinking adventures.

it's been months since jimin broke up with you but her mind was only flooded with you. caressing the pillow on the other side of the bed, that used to be yours. she swears she can still smell the scent of you from time to time.

making her way downstairs, she reminisces the times where you would be cooking breakfast for the both of you in the kitchen. how jimin wishes she could still hold your hands and wrap her arms around your frame and give you kisses, living in a world where the two of you lived happily together.

jimin misses everything about you. she slouches on the couch as that thought floats about her head for the ninth time that day. she misses the way your eyes form crescents when you smile, the way you hug her, compliment her, how caring you were, the way the words baby, my love rolled out of your mouth, how you were so kind towards other people, how easily everyone finds you likeable-

how everyone finds you likeable. too likeable.

jimin scrolled through her social media recently, like she does every once in a while and she had randomly come across a picture of you and another girl. the space between the two of you was a little too close for comfort for jimin. seol yoona was it? she confirmed her assumption when she clicked on the tags, scanning through the comments.

jimin remembers you mentioning about yoona before. part of your friend group and someone who jimin had to 'watch out' for. jimin scowls at the remembrance that yoona had confessed to you as a joke at a party before. or was it a joke?

she knows she isn't in the position to feel that there was anything wrong even if the two of them had something going on between them. but why- just why does her heart feel shattered? she feels torn, stinged like a splinter that she couldn't take out. all the rage, anger and hurt inside her boiling with the thought resurfacing every now and then. she knows she shouldn't be feeling like that. she doesn't have the right to.

the thought that you might have already moved on from her, but not only that as you could already possibly be together with yoona etches a frown on jimin's face.

she hates this feeling, utterly.

jimin clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes as she sends a few messages to her friends. it was going to be another long night of alcohol for jimin.

☆

"why the sudden meet up?" aeri questions jimin when she's settled in to the space next to her.

"did you downed all of this already?" yeji asked, holding a bottle in each hand from the opposite side of the booth.

"thanks for coming, guys." jimin talked with a slight slur. "there's no specific reason... i just... wanted to drink." jimin sighed as she lied through her teeth, hoping her friends would take the bait, but of course she knew her friends were smarter than that.

"you called us out... just to drink? don't lie jimin, we know you better than that." ryujin protested, her sharp gaze always making jimin feel like she couldn't fly a lie pass the short-haired girl.

"i'm just-" jimin was still at least half sober, she couldn't get the words out of her throat as she took another bottle and downed a few gulps, "just... missing someone today..."

the other three girls throw each other a knowing glance as yeji sighed, "jimin. is this about y/n again?"

"ah ah ah, let's not mention her name, shall we?" jimin's face glowers, downing the remaining half of the bottle.

is it bad that i'm hoping that you're broken

is it bad that i'm wishing you're still broken

that you haven't found fish in the ocean

"how is she?" jimin is the first one who breaks, after what it seemed like five minutes of silence. she knows why her friends don't answer her questions about you. you were their friend too and they knew jimin had done it wrong big time.

"is she dating someone else?"

another five minutes seem to go by and nobody wants to give jimin an answer, that is until aeri breaks.

"she just looks fine. at least to me. in the least, she isn't crying about you anymo-"

"aeri, you do not know that." yeji cuts off the japanese girl and sends a fierce glare to her.

"i know. i know." aeri defends herself as she hold her arms up, "i just- wanna help them."

"you're not helping them in any way by doing this, aeri. this is their problem to solve. not ours." yeji emphasized, before turning to jimin, "look jimin, the two of you are our friends. i love you but i can't understand why do you care so much about her anyways? weren't you the one who broke things up with her?"

"i know! i know. i know i'm the stupid one. i know i'm the one who ended things. and now i'm the one regretting it but i can only blame myself... i just... don't know why i couldn't admit it earlier. i keep thinking about her, it's gonna make me go crazy." jimin buries her head in her hands as the other three girls watched her sob to herself.

although yeji knew better than to feel sorry, she couldn't help but to feel bad for jimin. as much as she loved seeing the both of you when you were a couple, there had to be a reason why the two of you split apart. yeji had always been there for you. she knows jimin is her friend too, but she wanted to tear jimin apart for breaking your heart. she had watched you cry and sob and scream into your pillow, whenever you looked back at the memories you and jimin shared. as much as she could understand that you missed jimin dearly, she couldn't understand why you would still hold onto your love for her. the amount of heartbreak she felt while looking at you is something she swore to ryujin she would never make her go through.

as her gaze falls upon ryujin, the said girl tapped on her arm, "i think jimin fell asleep."

"let's go guys." yeji said as she stood up from her seat. "we'll send you home, aeri."

"what about jimin?" aeri asked. "is it safe to leave her here like this?"

"don't worry, i've already arranged for someone to take her home."

"oh, alright."

to: y/n come to XXX bar, jimin is drunk. could you send her home? i know you still care about her and this might be a wrong decision i'm making. but i know you need answers. although a drunk jimin isn't the best option, it's all i can offer you. if you don't want to, it's fine.

from: y/n okay. i'll be there in 15.

from: y/n thank you, yeji.

☆

you winced at the smell of alcohol once you had stepped foot into the bar. you never really liked alcohol in general neither were you a person who liked going to these kind of places. the things you do for jimin. were you going to tell yeji you actually needed to take five minutes of deep breaths outside the bar before entering because you were nervous to see jimin again? absolutely not. you didn't know why you were so nervous for. you were just going to bring jimin home, settle her down and you're back home, end of the night.

it's been months since you last seen jimin. you always thought she'd come around and tell you to come back after you left her house that day. but the day never came. that day. a day you didn't want to remember but it's forever etches in your mind that you couldn't forget.

what made you so angry that day? what were the two of you arguing about? what made jimin say that you were the problem? why did she say that? these questions floated in your head for months as you tried reaching out to her, searching for the answers to your questions. but to no avail, she blocked you.

you sigh as you spot jimin, sprawled all over the table.

it's been months, and yet, this woman was still pulling at your heartstrings. why was it so hard to let this woman go and just continue on with your life?

come on y/n. just send the girl home and on her way. then you'll go home once again like nothing happened.

you grabbed one of her arm and slinged it around your neck, trying to get her to stand up, "come on, jimin. let's go home."

"yeji?" jimin slurred, "is that you?" as jimin brought her face closer to yours to get a closer look.

you winced again as you could smell the alcohol from her breath, "yes. it's me. let's go."

the car ride to jimin's place was nothing special. just jimin murmuring a few mutters and you trying to keep your heart intact from jumping out of your chest, reminding yourself that she was the one who had broke your heart and made you feel sorrow.

"jimin, we're here."

with no response, you shift to her side and release the buckle.

"jimin." you try waking her up again, tapping her on the shoulder.

which seemed to work as jimin got up from her slumber for a short moment, still not recognizing that it's you and not yeji.

"yeji, could you help me to the room? my feet feel funny."

you wanted to break a smile as you walked over to the passenger's side of the car. jimin was just goofy as always, just like you remember her to be.

while walking up the stairs, you could feel jimin's face rested against your neck. "yeji... why do you smell like y/n...?"

keeping your silence, you opened the door to her room, as you admired the small area. it was just like you remembered it, where jimin placed her headsets, the clothes she liked to wear as you continue glancing around the room, the photo she took for the both of you was still pasted on the wall.

you felt jimin's hand on the back of your neck, "y/n. i know it's you. this perfume... is yours."

you didn't want to turn around to face jimin. especially not when she had already recognized you.

"y/n... please... can you give me one more chance? please don't be with her... i missed you... so much." you could feel yourself shivering as jimin whispered those words into your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"it's not that easy jimin. do you know how long have i been trying to get an answer from you? you always close up to yourself. was it me that was in the wrong? do you know how long have i been thinking to myself, maybe i was in the wrong, but i never knew what was i in the wrong for." you pull jimin's arms away and you turned to look at her.

"i love you, y/n."

"i don't need that right now, jimin. what i need are answers. how are we going to fix the problem, how am i going to fix my problem if i don't know what the problem is?"

jimin cups your cheek with one hand, then the other. without saying anything, she dives for it. holding your cheeks tight, pulling you into a desperate kiss, her lips moving sloppily against your frozen ones.

this is not what you want, she's under the influence.

you push her shoulders away, "you can't just break my heart and then try to mend it again, jimin. it's broken. saying that you love me or you miss me isn't going to fix the broken pieces."

you bite your lower lip, trying not to tear up in front of jimin.

"i really want us to work out again, y/n." jimin reaches out to grab your hand but you pull away.

"then why? then why didn't you look for me when i left? how do you want us to work out if i can't even see you trying? why do you only know how to say you miss me or you love me when you're drunk?" the tears now falling down from your cheeks, not even caring if jimin sees you crying.

"i promise things will be different this time." jimin tries to reassure you, but you've seen too much to know it.

"you know what, call me when you're sober tomorrow, jimin. if you mean what you say... maybe i'll consider it." you wipe your tears, before leaving jimin behind in her room, without looking back.

"wait y/n, please! stay with me..."

once you reach home, you flopped onto the floor as you sob to your pillow. once again, all alone. all by yourself, knowing that that phone call will never come.

yu jimin broke your heart again.

SORRY i am late but here it is the first part of the poll! sorry if this sucks, i really lost touch and am very rusty :( thank you guys for 500 ❤️

(this one's for @perfectsunlight @rosiehrs)

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers Lost Eden Stellaworth Tokuten Short Stories スペシャル特典小冊子 ☽ Azusa ver.

This short story booklet was part of the Stellaworth set for Lost Eden! Keep reading below the cut for Azusa's version. And with that, the translations of all of the Sakamaki and Mukami stories are now finished! Stay tuned for the Carla, Shin & Kino ones ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

S ☽ [Ayato’s version by @kyouxa] [Laito’s version by @kyouxa] [Shuu’s version] [Reiji’s version] [Kanato’s version] [Subaru’s version]

M ☽ [Ruki’s version] [Yuma's version] [Kou’s version] [Azusa’s version]

TK ☽ [Carla’s version] [Shin’s version] [Kino’s version]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As always, special thanks to @karleksmumskladdkaka for providing the scans ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I stretched out my left arm toward the box of pictures, which I was going to put in an album. As I did, I lost my perception of depth and the picture I thought I had picked up floated to the floor as though carried away by the wind. 

This time, I picked up the picture with my right hand and stuck it in the album. With that, the album was finished. I let out a small sigh.

It hadn’t been that long since I started going through life with a mechanical arm. It took some getting used to. Even now, it restricted my freedom. 

Still, I never regretted the decision to amputate my left arm. 

That day, she and my brothers had given me this mechanical arm as a present, and it had become indispensable to me–a treasure, really. Even if the four of them were far away, I still felt them with me through this arm. It taught me that I was never alone in this life.

“It’s okay. I know what it means to protect…”

That’s why I won’t make the same mistake again. I knew I would never be forgiven for the sin I committed once before, no matter how much time passed. No matter if everyone… if she forgave me. I deserved to atone.

I knew that atonement wasn’t just about wallowing in all of my past regrets. I needed to move forward. I needed to do whatever I could. That was all I could do to face my fears and repent in this world.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A continued knocking sound reverberated through the room. I felt her presence on the other side of the door, and my face broke into a smile.

“Azusa, can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course…”

Had she just come out of the shower? She poked her head into the room, having changed into her roomwear. I hadn’t said anything, but she sat down beside me.

“Hey, is it okay if I… comb your hair?” I asked tentatively.

She smiled gratefully in return. 

Using the mechanical arm, I slowly and awkwardly opened the duffel bag we had brought from the human world, though my arm was not yet accustomed to these kinds of movements. The bag held many things that were precious to me. 

I motioned for her to sit with her back to me, and her soft hair gave off the fruity scent of her shampoo. Her scent. I wished I could smell it all the time. As carefully as I would handle something fragile, I gently ran the brush through her hair.

“...Eve. I like you…”

When I finished brushing her hair and promptly whispered my confession into her ear, her cheeks reddened. As though her eyes would answer for her, she sought me out, and said, ever so softly, that she felt the same. 

“You know, Azusa… I’m really happy.”

“...Yeah. Me too. I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. I love you, Eve…”

“I love you too, Azusa…”

As if to confirm each other’s feelings, we whispered those words to each other over and over. My heart was overflowing with love. 

I could not dress her in pretty clothes. I could not make delicious dishes for her to eat. No matter how much I thought about it, I felt incredibly lacking compared to my brothers.

But still, the fact that she loved me… was all that mattered. 

If all she desired was for me to whisper my words of love to her, I would do it until she was satisfied. If she was lonely, anxious, and… afraid to be alone, I would stay by her side. I would hug and kiss her… Hehe, although that was just what I wanted to do of my own volition. In any case, I had no intention of letting her go for the rest of my life.

As I embraced her from behind, I trapped her in my arms. I felt her warmth, her quickening heartbeat. It made my heart flutter. It was such a thrilling feeling.

“Promise me… we’ll stay together forever.” 

“Hehe, I’ll pinky-promise.” 

We sat there, smiling sheepishly at each other, and she curled her pinky finger around mine.

“Pinky… promise.”

I could not bear to let go of her when our fingers connected like that. I gently pushed her down onto the sofa… and kissed her.

The gentle light of the moon, which was high up in the night sky of Eden, peeked into the room through the window. It seemed as though even the twinkling stars were wishing for our happiness.

[solradguy]

Kingfisher With Iris and Wild Pinks (Kawasemi, Shaga Nadeshiko), from an untitled series known as Small Flowers, c. 1834, by Katsushika Hokusai. Woodblock print (nishiki-e); ink and color on paper, 7 x 10" (19 x 25.8cm).

Scan of loose print included with Pictures of the Floating World: An Introduction to Japanese Prints by Sarah E. Thompson.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 5 (final)

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Masterlist

Summary: Spider-Man saved everyone he could. But this time, you have to save him — and yourself.

Word count: ~10.4k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! (We're finally to the lovers part <3) Canon-level violence. Swearing, blood, injuries. Angst. Fluff and more fluff!! Love confessions!!! And smooching ;)

A/n: Today's my birthday, so here's a little birthday present to all of you :) Thank you all for your patience with this story. It's the longest one I've written, and I'm grateful for everyone that's read it. Your comments mean the world.

I'd be happy to write an epilogue or little snippets of their lives during or after this story if anyone would be interested. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy <3

Pain. Unrelenting pain settling deep into your body was the first thing you noticed. Your closed eyes squeezed shut harder as the back of your head pounded, a shaky exhale leaving your cracked lips. You could feel dried tears stuck along the planes of your cheeks.

When you tried moving your arms, you found you couldn’t — not with them bound behind you to the chair you sat in, and not with the deep ache stretching from your shoulders down to your wrists. The skin there felt rubbed nearly raw by rope holding them together. Even your chest and ankles were tied to the chair. 

Despite the ache in your ribs, you forced yourself to take long, deep breaths. Each one shook through you. Blinking slowly, you let your blurry vision adjust. The bright fluorescents were now dimmer than before, only half of them on. You shivered slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin in the cool temperature of the warehouse. 

Forms of people here and there began to come into focus in front of you. They seemed to be packing things into large boxes, the same wooden ones you’d seen before. And as you took in the tall windows and many shelves, you saw that you were in a shadowy corner of this godforsaken warehouse.

You could’ve screamed if your throat wasn’t so dry and your head wasn’t swimming. Your jaw ached as you clenched your teeth together over and over again. Panicked, uncontrolled thoughts flew through your hazy awareness. No matter how hard you tried to swallow them back, you couldn’t ignore the worry festering in your stomach — one uneasy idea decomposing into another.

Where was Peter?

A thin breath punched from your lungs as you remembered the hurt in his voice over the phone. He’d never allowed you to see him like that before, but still, you could picture his face twisting and the blood staining his suit dark. The image floated on the edges of your vision as you scanned the people moving throughout the warehouse.

Somehow, no guard stood watch over you. If what Will had said before about his horrible suit being missing, his workers must have been scouring the city — stretching his people thin and unable to be everywhere all at once.

With a possible window of opportunity open and beckoning you to take, you shifted your wrists, testing out the rope around them. Wiggling your arms made the binding a tiny bit looser. Each movement stretched them out but brought burning pain with it. It wouldn’t get you anywhere but tired and too hurt to function.

Like Peter, desperate and hurt. Who tried to keep you from walking into your demise… using secrets and lies. You clenched your teeth, hoping the pressure of it could shove away these half-feelings twisting and knotting around themselves.

So, you looked around, careful not to turn your head too abruptly in case any workers looked over. Though, even from afar, all of them looked terrified to do anything but hastily pack. Orders from Will himself, you were sure of it.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a jagged metal beam broken and sticking out from a beat-up shelf. It looked dull, but it came to a point. It’d have to do.

As silently as you could, you used your feet to inch the chair backward — timing each push with the sound of people shouting at one another or loudly loading up a crate. Your ears rang and your rapid heartbeat dulled your focus, distracting you with each intense spike of your nerves firing off.

Over several minutes, you positioned your bound hands to the piece of metal shelving and began to rub the rope across it. You paused at each lull, each possible moment that you might be caught. It gave you temporary relief from the strain pulling in your shoulders as you continued sawing away at the rope.

Sweat beaded across your skin as time passed — how long exactly, you weren’t sure. But eventually, the strands turned thinner. They felt as tight and ready to snap as your resolve. But when the rope loosened, becoming big enough for your hands to wiggle out, it instead filled your body with quenching relief.

The rope had barely pooled along the concrete floor before you began working on the binding stretching across your chest to hold your torso to the chair. It was tedious and forced your aching arms in horrible positions, but you pulled and pulled at the binding, squirming around to even gain an inch of room.

It kept catching on the bunched-up fabric of your clothes, but it moved. So, so slowly, it moved. It was an effort to keep your breaths silent when you wanted nothing more than to just shout for anyone to come help you. But Peter wasn’t here to help, so you sunk your teeth into your lip and kept quiet as the rope loosened.

Pushing your elbows out, you slipped the rope over your head. You allowed yourself only one unrestrained inhale before bending at the waist and working on the knot tying your ankles to the chair. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes constantly trained on the workers as you moved. But the sight of that rope falling from your body made you blink away stinging tears.

Your best bet would likely be looking for a back exit and hoping you could sneak by anyone there — or fight your way out if it came to that. On unsteady legs, you raised yourself up, ignoring the wave of sharp pain pulsing at the back of your head and down your spine.

But before you could even take a step, get a real breath of freedom in your lungs, a sharp blade appeared at your neck.

“Going somewhere, sunshine?”

Within an instant, William Beaumont appeared next to you, and had he not held a tight grip to your upper arm, you might have collapsed. Though the blade pressed against you, your body instinctually writhed to get away from him. But even in the dim lighting, you saw the darkness that clung to him, the stillness in his eyes, the heavy weight he held. This wasn’t the Will you met before.

“Or Rose, is it?” he asked, his voice cold and calculated.

He pulled you forward and yanked your arms behind you. Your throat felt tight, your chest ready to rip open as you felt a zip tie tighten around your wrists — the plastic rubbing right where the rope had been just minutes ago. It had been too easy. Did he give you that hope on purpose? Just a lion toying with its food? A wretched feeling of fear shot through you at the thought. 

Will shoved you back in the chair, a labored grunt shooting out of your lungs and a dizziness hitting you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to get up again, he took a step back, careful to keep the long blade pointed at your throat. 

You dully registered a piece of wood rolling to your feet as Will aimlessly paced before you, kicking scattered debris. Sweat coated his skin, his hair damp against his forehead. For a minute, he just wordlessly walked back and forth, his eyes staring unfocused toward the ground. But you couldn’t look at his face for long, not with the sunken shadows settling into each curve of his expression. He almost looked sickly. Your gaze instead dropped to the handgun tucked into the back of his waistband; then you looked to the sharp piece of metal in his hand, recognizing it as one of the wrecked pieces from the Green Goblin’s glider.

When he paused, your breaths stopping too, he turned to stare at you. “Where’s my suit?” he asked, simply and without room for negotiation.

Despite the nearly deafening roaring of your heartbeat, you held his stare and willed your voice to come out steady. “Where’s your father?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you wondered how you hadn’t ever seen the similarities between those two before — the eerie air around them. 

“Ellis is a bit busy at the moment. Why? Want to snoop around his mansion some more?” He tilted his head, pursing his lips just slightly. The look brought an anger next to your fear — anger and frustration that they could do good with what they had and keep their promises, but they were just adding more filth to the city.

He came closer then, squatting down so he was nearly eye level with you. You could barely stand to look at him this close, but you did your best not to flinch away. It was just another character you had to play. 

Almost unnoticeable, you saw him wince in pain as he lowered. Watching him, you swallowed the fear trickling down your spine and asked, “Feeling sore?” At his unimpressed look, you merely squared your shoulders, raising your chin.

A breathy half-laugh escaped his lips. He stared down at his hand as he flexed it.  “Jus’ some growing pains…” He shrugged. “ No change comes without a cost.”

“And is the cost worth all this?” you asked, your eyes motioning to the wreckage of the warehouse behind him.

“I’m just living up to the Beaumont family name. We’re cutting through endless miles of red tape with a snap of my fingers. I think you know the answer.”

“Your fingers?” you questioned. “Ellis is making you do all the dirty work?”

Will just rolled his eyes, his grip growing tighter on the blade. Letting out a sharp breath, he stood up, his body wavering just barely as he did so. Still, you went rigid as he towered over you. “Where’s the suit?”

You shook your head, trying to stay calm. But your resolve, this mask, pulled in all directions. “You said you wanted to educate people. What kind of change can be worth whatever you have planned? Worth a super suit and bodily experiments?” You remembered the way he’d bent the shelving’s metal like it was nothing.

“I prefer the term enhancements actually. Because they have made me better. Made it easier to ‘negotiate’ with clients. To educate the city on who really controls things around here.” He stared down at you, letting his words sink in.

Your tone rose, a tightness taking hold of your throat. “And who controls it? It’s certainly not you if your daddy’s bossing you around.” Despite the cold anger flaring behind his features, you continued. “Who says he won’t just keep you as his little lackey to do his bidding forever?”

His jaw twitched, his hand gripping the blade harder. You fought the terrified waves of nausea sitting in your stomach as he said, “Shut your mouth. You know nothing about the empire he’s planned for me.”

Your voice lowered with venom pooling around your tongue, one eyebrow raising. “Oh, and he’d never lie for his own personal gain, right? Even at the harm of others?”

“Where’s the suit?” he gritted out.

“I don’t know.”

You jolted backward as he slammed the metal blade against one of the shelves. The echoing clang of the hit made you curl into yourself, the blood draining from your heart.

His hand raised high, clenched above his head, before it slowly unfurled. He pressed his fingers into his temples. “I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” Punctuating each word with a step closer, he said, “Where. Is. The. Suit?” 

A pulsing vein appeared along his neck, his breathing coming harder. Your hope of getting out of here dwindled with each second he got closer to losing it. 

Trying to keep your voice calm, you said, “Will, I swear I don’t know.”

He charged toward you then, gripping your chin in his hand despite the yelp you let out. “You’ve come to this warehouse before. You’ve been in our house. You stole blueprints. And you think I’m going to believe you?”

You let out a shaky exhale, muscles twitching and screaming at you to get away from him. “I never broke in here. I wouldn’t be able to take all those boxes of the suit by myself, not without being seen. I don’t know where it is.”

His gaze considered you, roaming across your face like he was listing all the ways to torture the information from you. “Then you had help. Maybe that little ‘husband’ of yours knows — he might talk more than you when we find him.” He paused, his hold on you growing a little tighter, making you wince. “And that spider will talk when we string him up and force it out of him.”

Your expression dropped, your eyebrows tightening together. So they didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, at least not yet. And if you could get out of here alone, it could stay that wa-

A flash of red flew past the windows near the warehouse’s ceiling. Any sense of calm, no matter how forced, dissipated into uncatchable smoke. No, he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t bring himself right into the waiting mouth of the beast that was hunting him. Silently, you pulled at the zip tie holding your wrists. 

“Speaking of cutting through red tape…” Will muttered as a thud on top of the roof had his gaze shooting upward. Silence covered the entire building — all of the workers immediately stopped their movements. 

You could barely slump forward when Will let go of your chin before he brought the blade back to your neck, his body standing behind you. His words echoed as he called out, “Come on out, Spider-Man! I promise we’ll let her go…”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the pain in the back of your head pounded harder, tears threatening to pool on your eyelashes. You whispered, “And then what? Where does this end, Will?” 

A jagged smile was evident in his words. “Who says the fun ever has to end?” His hands forced your head to turn, your gaze pointed toward the warehouse entrance. “Isn’t that right, father?” Will asked loudly, calling to the man walking toward you both with a gun at the ready.

The sight dropped a deadening weight into your stomach. Ellis looked wild, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His usual well-kempt look was forgotten, his suit ragged and hair free from its slicked-back style. More guards continued to enter the warehouse after him, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shaking.

“Or maybe the fun’s just beginning,” Will said into the curve of your ear. It made you stretch to get away from him, but that only pushed your neck further into the blade — pain prickling along your skin.

You revolted against the dread, the horrific realization, that you may watch Peter die here — while he was trying to save you. It took everything in you to not let it incapacitate your ability to think or even function.

Ellis directed the guards this way and that. You watched with unfocused attention as he followed the large group up toward the roof. Normally, you would say he was sending them to their demise with Spider-Man up there. But an injured, desperate Spider-Man? That struck icy fear into your veins.

And you’d never known Spider-Man to have a noisy approach ��� careless enough to make noise and draw the enemy’s attention to himself. He’d have to play it smart, which became evident a few minutes later when Will yelled to one of his guards… and got no response. Peter was picking them off one by one in here while they searched for him outside.

Will’s free hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, his body continuously moving in small twitches. You could feel how on edge he was, and you wondered just how dangerous this family could be. Full power over the city, and all they needed now was to remove the one man stopping them.

You fought to keep your breathing even, your mind clear, so you could stay calm. And it worked to ground you just as a web shot from the sky. At blinding speed, it hit Will’s arm, sending the blade flying away from you. It clattered across the floor, the sound the sweetest thing you’d ever heard. Before he could fully realize what had happened, you lifted your foot and brought it down against his knee using every bit of strength you had.

By the time he’d crumpled to the floor, you’d run the other way. His scream froze your heart, but you knew he wouldn’t be down long with whatever experiments were coursing through him. Weaving between shelves with your hands still bound behind you, you tried to find somewhere safe — maybe the back entrance you’d planned to go to before.

But there were sure to be more guards outside now, and you couldn’t get far with your hands tied together. Your steps slowed, trying to become silent as you looked around for something sharp. Among the debris were ammo, rope, chemicals… but nothing to cut the zip tie. 

Will’s words sounded far enough away, but that didn’t stop your head from whipping in his direction as he yelled, “You’ll fucking regret that!” Without so much as a breath, you took small steps backward away from the threat.

You only got a few feet when a gloved hand wrapped around your mouth. Before you could even scream, you were lifted into the air. The warehouse passed in a blur, but relief broke through as you felt summer night air hit your skin — as you recognized the sounds of the man swinging you both a few blocks away.

The two of you landed in a different alley, this one empty and finally safe. A second later, you felt the snap of the zip tie, and your wrists came free.

“Thought you might need a han-”

He only spoke those few words before you turned around to lunge into his arms. A quiet grunt shot out of him as you hugged him until your arms shook. You sniffled back tears budding up, your fingers clenching tight onto his suit. You breathed in him.

“Peter,” you whispered against him.

“Uh… I’m not sure who that is. The name’s Spide-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you pressed in closer to him. You could have sobbed when his arms wrapped around you too. To have him here, real, and breathing felt like the aching quiet after waking up from an unending nightmare, like the first rays of morning sunlight peeking above the horizon.

But the memory of when the two of you last spoke washed over your senses in an unrelenting tidal wave. You pulled back, your hold on him tightening as you looked at him. Your breath fizzed away like bubbling remnants of the crashed wave.

Blood splattered across his suit, broken up by dirt and rips along his body. His chest rapidly rose and fell, tired in a way you’d never seen the superhero. He’d pulled his arms from you— one of his hands rested against the building, using it to hold his weight. His other hand wrapped around his left side where blood-coated webs held together what looked to be a bullet wound. But what stole the breath from your lungs, what grabbed you and forced you to come to terms with all that’d happened, was his face. 

A jagged tear in his mask stretched from his cheek to his forehead, leaving one of his bloodshot eyes exposed. The skin around it looked marred with cuts and aching bruises. At the top of the rip, pieces of his shaggy hair stuck to his forehead. He was barely recognizable. Your bottom lip trembled, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. But before you could open your mouth, Peter brought you back in against him, hugging you tight. He whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.”

Pressing your hands against his chest, you created a little bit of space despite how your body protested. “Peter… are you okay?”

His exposed eye traced across your face, the soft brown looking paler than usual. “I’m fine. I got the suit out — and hidden. That’s what matters.”

You gave him an exhausted look because that was not all that mattered, not as he stood there looking like that, but you didn’t argue further. He was here. And stubborn.

So you just allowed yourself to do what you hadn’t done before the fundraiser. Raising your hand, you paused for a brief moment before gingerly fixing his hair. You tucked the strands back under the mask before swiping a thumb across his forehead. 

His hand came up to grab your wrist, lowering it from his hair but not letting go of you.

“How are you doing?” he asked. His fingers were gentle against the marks on your wrist.

You blinked against the throbbing in your head but nodded, breathing out, “Uh… yeah. I’ll be okay.”

And too many other things to say passed your mind, some you wanted to tell him and others you couldn’t. With a hoarse voice and downcast eyes, you settled on, “You came.” 

You hoped he heard all you meant underneath those two words.

And you didn’t have time to register his answer — “of course” — as he moved his grip from your wrist down to your hand. He squeezed once then let it return to your side.

“Okay, I need to head back,” he said, raising his arm to shoot a web back in the direction of the warehouse, “please head to the hospital, and stay safe. I’d bring you there myself, but–” He gestured to his injured side, his face wincing in pain.

Instantly, your face twisted, a dizziness coming over you as any relief you had shattered to the ground. “You’re not going back in there. Not like this,” you nearly pleaded, your words coming out faster. “You’ve done enough. Call- call the police, and let them handle it.”

He shook his head. “I already called them. But with Will’s powers, it’ll be a massacre. I’ve got to go.” He said it with such certainty, with no room for argument. He tried to step past you, his gaze stoically not meeting yours. 

“Then I’m coming too.” You stepped to the side with him. You hurriedly explained, “Something’s not right with Will, like his body is struggling with whatever’s coursing through him. So I think if we-”

“What? No. I mean, yes,” he told you. “Will is using DNA from supervillians, and I think his body’s rejecting it. But no, you’re not coming with me.”

“Could we somehow increase his symptoms then, or speed them up?” Your palms came up to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded rapidly beneath your touch.

“I mean, probably. If we incubated it with heat or lights maybe, but…” He cocked his head. “Stop talking like we’re doing this together. We’re not.”

Turning your chin up at him, you argued, “Well the plan where you get yourself killed sucks.”

“Well I happen to like the plan where you get killed a lot less, so you’re staying,” he said, raising an arm to shoot out a web again. He held stern, but you heard the exhaustion coating his words, how tired he really was. 

Spider-Man always had a plan, Peter always knew what to do. And now it seemed his only plan was to stop Will at all costs — even at the cost of his own life. You shoved away the emotion that thought brought bubbling up your throat.

You clenched your hands into fists, refusing to let him go so easily. “Peter, you’re not leaving me in the dark anymore. The secrets and hiding have to stop here.”

You watched his eyebrow sink into a frown, his voice becoming more serious than you’d ever heard. “Secrets and hiding? Yeah, I have to keep my identity hidden, but don’t you get why I did all of this?” He asked as if it was the most obvious question. His hands gestured out to the side as he took a step back — your own hands falling away from him.

He turned his head away from you, and you could only watch his jaw clench and unclench with each passing second. The silence rang in your ears, until he breathed out, “It was to keep you safe. ‘Cause all this? It does no good if… if you’re gone.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beating wildly throughout you. Heat crawled up your body at his words. Quietly, you asked, “What does me being gone have to do with stopping Beaumont?”

Shaking his head, Peter breathed out the ghost of a laugh. In an instant, he stepped so closely that it nearly gave you whiplash. Slowly, the tips of his fingers slipped under his mask to pull it above his mouth. He shifted even closer, his lips merely an inch from yours as his hands cupped your jaw. His body overtook all of your senses. He whispered, “Christ, are you this dense on purpose?” 

With that, his lips pressed against yours, your eyes fluttering shut on instinct. At first, you didn’t move at all — afraid that it would break whatever moment you somehow found yourself in. Thoughts and emotions yelled for your attention, for you to analyze what was happening, but none were quite as loud as the feeling of his body melding against yours. That familiar warmth of him enveloped you, and all you could do was melt with him.

It wasn’t like the hurried kissing at the fundraiser, all teeth and tongue and newness. This almost felt familiar, as if you could come home to this every day. Your hands snaked up, holding onto his shoulders as he dulled your senses into a fuzziness. You felt your mind nearly go blank — but not completely.

With waning will power, you pulled away, trying not to relish in the soft noise that escaped his throat as you did so. You both caught your breath — the yearning exhales mingling in the small space between you. And with the way his hands still held onto you, now dropped down along your body to find a home on your hips, you knew there was no way he’d let you go with him.

“I… you, uh, need to get back” you began with a long, heavy breath. Swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, you took a resistant step backward. He kept one hand on yours as you moved. “Just, Peter, please be safe.”

He slowly nodded, and you watched every movement as he grabbed his mask and brought it back down. His thumb rubbed along your skin. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. And after…”

“After?” you asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “After. Let me take you out.”

“After,” you promised. You swallowed, wrapping a hand around his forearm and squeezing once. But before he could move away, you said, “Wait! Do you have anything I could use? To defend myself, I mean. I’d just feel safer — in case I happen to run into their guards on my way to the hospital.” You offered a closed mouth smile, one that told him not to worry too much about you.

“Uh, yeah…” he said, patting along his suit and up to his wrists. Removing part of his left webshooter, he set a small metal piece into your palm. You thought it looked almost like a flash drive as he curved your fingers over it.

“It’s not ideal, but it’s the best I have right now. It helps control my electric webs, so you can use this part as a sort of taser if someone comes at you,” he explained, waiting until you nodded before pulling you into a hug. It crushed your body, feeling like a hug you’d give someone you might not see for a long time. Or ever again.

So, you whispered, “Good luck,” and watched as he stepped away and swung away slowly. One of his hands still held tight to his side.

You waited there for a minute, bringing a thumb up to your lips. You felt how they still tingled and how they curved into a smile. But as soon as you were sure Peter had made it back to the warehouse already, you began making your way there with quick steps.

Maybe you were in over your head. Peter would probably call you stupid or reckless. But if he couldn’t handle if something happened to you, then he’d have to understand why you weren’t leaving him to go in there alone.

So you found yourself marching back to the place you never hoped to return to. Intense pounding went through your head with each step. Your palm felt slick with sweat, but you held tight onto the makeshift taser until your knuckles began to ache.

You were glad the warehouse was so secluded — hopefully no passerbyers would get caught in the fray. Or hear the commotion coming from inside. The muffled noise came from the far side of the building, near the front, so you hugged the opposite side of the alley as you made your way to the back. You guessed that they all concentrated on where Peter must have made an appearance, which only left one guard standing at the door.

Eyes flicking to the ground, you caught a glimpse of rock sitting in the cracks of the alleyway. Silently picking it up and pressing yourself into the shadows, you took a steadying breath that did little to calm your nerves in the midst of this insane idea. Still, your shaky arm reeled back to throw the rock up and over the guard, making it land on the other side of him.

As soon as he turned away from you, gun trained on the strange noise, you stepped from the dark and crept toward him. You gave yourself no time to second guess yourself before coming up behind him. Your internal monologue repeated, Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god as you raised the taser.

But as you went to press the taser into the guard, he turned back around in shock — throwing his elbow into your cheek in the process. A silent groan sat in your throat as your mouth hung open, a loud ringing going through your head. Pain bloomed outward from your face, and it took a moment to push past your swimming vision. Using all your strength, you lunged at him again and shoved the taser into the flesh of his neck.

In an instant, his body began convulsing. You did your best to try and let his weight down gently, but he just slid to the ground alongside you, unconscious and still twitching. Pushing him off, you sat on your knees and tried to catch your breath. You let the pain slowly dull with each passing second.

As you sat there, a glimpse of white against his dark uniform caught your eye — an ID badge hanging off his hip. It worked perfectly against the card reader at the back door, unlocking with a soft click for you to slip through. And there you were again, stood in the mouth of the beast once again.

In the back hallway away from the open floor, you could hear crashing and yelling coming from across the building. You only made it a few feet before footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. Deep voices echoed off the concrete walls, each word louder than the next. You didn’t move or breathe until eventually, finally, they began to grow quieter.

From where you stood, heart still in your throat, you could tell the warehouse lights were still dimmed. So you searched along the walls, ears always listening for anyone coming back. You opened up the door after finding a circuit breaker, tracing a finger down the length of it. None of the switches were labeled, so after a moment of consideration, you flipped them all on — washing the building in bright fluorescents.

And just a few feet down the hall sat the thermostat. It was set to 65 degrees, but your hand quickly turned the dial up to the 89 degree mark. Within a few seconds, you heard the heater turn on and rumble through the vents. 

You nodded, hopeful that this could begin weakening Will enough for Peter to take him out. While bleeding and injured. While dozens of guards also tried to kill him. How could you let him come back here? How could he come back here and make you come back here to help his ass?

You began to turn around to go find him when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.

“Freeze-”

A gasp caught in your throat as you whipped around out of instinct and fear, immediately shoving the makeshift taser at the woman. It connected with the bottom of her jaw. With wide eyes, you watched as her body shook and fell to the ground just like the other guard. Your hand came up to cover your mouth while you stared. You didn’t think you would ever get used to that.

Slowly, you backed away down the hall. You did manage to grab her gun and hide it on a shelf when you made your way out there — rather than take it and risk shooting yourself or Peter, even if he did have superpowers.

Superpowers that you almost began to resent as you stepped into the open area of the warehouse — and the man himself immediately dropped down in front of you. You placed your hand over your mouth and swallowed the yelp that threatened to escape. Instead, you watched Peter as he guided the both of you behind a shelf. 

His chest rose and fell much too quickly, his stance wavering and unsteady. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to affect his attitude though, as he came closer and angrily whispered, “What the hell are you doing here? I can’t believe you did this.”

You gave him a soft, disbelieving look, a closed-lipped smile on your face. “Yes, you can.”

He brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A long sigh left his mouth. “Alright,” he said, “I can believe it. But you need to leave now.” He tried weakly pushing you toward the back door again.

You didn’t budge. “Oh, okay. Yeah, now that I’ve snuck in to help — by electrocuting two guards into unconsciousness, by the way — I’ll just go on my merry way,” you whispered back, twisting your face into a mocking expression. “How about you shut up and just let me help?”

“That’s why you asked for the weapon?” He quietly groaned before looking at you again, his head cocking. “Two guards? That’s not bad.”

“Thank you. Now, I’ve turned up the heat and lights. So let’s go.”

For a moment, he considered you. His eye covered by the mask looked expressionless, distant. But his exposed eye made you pause — his gaze feeling resigned, desperate in a way that made your heart twist. You didn’t want to imagine the other compromises or sacrifices Spider-Man has had to make over the years. And you didn’t have time to. So you swallowed those thoughts and simply grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his to pull him farther into the warehouse.

As you slowly moved down the aisles, you whispered, “Give me one of your web shooters.”

You already knew his answer from the blank stare he shot sideways at you. “I’m not giving you one of my web shooters. I need them.” Part of his words told you he really did need them to get you both through this. The other part said he didn’t trust you to not accidentally shoot him with his own webs.

“Well don’t you have an extra one or something?” you shot back.

“Do you see this suit? Where could I even keep an extra web shooter on me?” he quietly asked, his free hand raising outstretched and exasperated.

You let your eyes trail across the suit per his suggestion — until Peter said, “Okay, that’s enough ogling.” And even for the briefest of moments, it felt good to smile with him. 

But at another crash several aisles down, he stiffened. You felt his rapid heartbeat pulse against your skin as he held up a hand. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

You tried to squeeze his hand, to give him some sort of mention to be careful or to not get himself killed out there, but his fingers slipped through yours as he instantly swung away. Your palm radiated leftover warmth as you hid, thinking through the plan. Hopefully, the two of you wouldn’t have to wait long for Will to show symptoms, which would just leave many guards and Ellis. Peter seemed confident that they couldn’t fight their way out of this.

But under the commotion of guards around the warehouse, yelling and fighting coming from seemingly everywhere, you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps until they were too close. Whipping around, you saw Ellis appear at the end of the aisle, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He raised his gun, aiming it right at you as he said, “Found you now.” His voice sounded colder, void of any of the charm he had when speaking to the public.

Instinctively, you backed away from him — from the man that made cold dread creep through your body and steal the breath from your lungs — but your steps stuttered when a web came from the ceiling and yanked the gun from Ellis’ grip. It flew upward, but you didn’t wait to see Ellis’ reaction before silently thanking Peter and sprinting the other way.

Only to be met with Will standing on the other side of the long aisle. 

His twisted smile and disheveled hair falling into his face fueled the icy weight dropping into your gut. His bloody fingers tightened around the end of the blade he held in one hand. The other gripped a pistol.

You turned to look back at Ellis to see him fighting against more webs. As Will approached with heavy steps, his arm shaking as he aimed his gun at you, you forced your body to move.

Without thinking, you ducked and crawled past boxes sitting on the large shelf and emerged into the next aisle. You couldn’t think about the thudding sounds of bullets hitting metal around you.

You knew he’d be on you soon, his mutated powers making him too powerful. So you crawled across to the next aisle, pushing aside scattered equipment before throwing yourself through that shelf too. You went through a few more aisles and shelves to create at least a little distance. In the last shelf you passed, you hid yourself between the boxes. You stilled just a second before you heard him enter the aisle.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut as his footsteps grew louder with each passing second. Your other hand began to ache from gripping the taser between your fingers.

“Run all you like. It won’t change how this all ends,” Will seethed, his voice becoming closer to you. A raggedness filled his words, and you hoped that meant the plan was working.

Still, Peter’s name repeated over and over in your mind, a silent prayer for him to come help. But you could hear more guards approaching, each one feeling like an extra shovel digging your graves.

The guards seemed to be coming to find the commotion, but from the sounds, it seemed like Peter was holding them off. You could only imagine the exhaustion and pain riddling his body as he never stopped fighting.

And you hoped he wouldn’t stop as a shaking, powerful hand wrapped itself around your arm and yanked you from the shelf. No sound could escape your mouth — every inch of it went dry in the face of Will’s bloodshot eyes. 

One hand reached to claw at his grip while the other brought the taser up to his neck. But he knocked it away before sending you flying from the aisles into the open space. You heard a growl rip from his throat before it disappeared under the ringing in your ears, a breathless groan dribbling from your agape lips, as you fell against the concrete.

In between slow blinking and painful winces, you caught sight of Peter coming down and fighting against Will. Even with the sweat starting to bead along your skin, the extra heat and lights weren’t enough yet to weaken him. You saw how fast his punches were, how slow Peter was to dodge them.

Your arms trembled as you pushed yourself onto one elbow. Gritting your teeth, you ignored the ache throbbing behind your eyes. You began to stand up again only for a blow to knock you back down and sliding across the floor.

“God, I’ve just had fucking enough of you. Stay down for once, sweetheart. Okay?”

Past watery vision, you raised your head to see a bloody Ellis pointing a gun down at you. You held your breath, not daring to move as nausea and fear turned to sludge in your stomach. His knuckles look torn and raw, his suit ripped along his shoulders and arms. One hand of his ran through his hair, leaving a smear of blood along his hairline.

Just as you were to silently call for Peter again or to close your eyes and wait for this all to be over, a strangled groan echoed throughout the warehouse. A second later, Peter’s ragged body flew from the shelves and hit the ground, sliding until he slammed into the building’s wall. A cry escaped your mouth at seeing his limp form, and you only breathed again once you saw him beneath the debris and dust. Blood dribbled from his shoulder. More rips spread along his suit. But weakly, slowly, you could see his chest continue to rise and fall.

Before you could try to crawl over to him, Will emerged from the aisles — his smile victorious even as his muscles shook. From where you lay, you couldn’t see any more guards. Peter must have gotten them all. Now you just needed a little more time.

“His current state is going to make it harder to get answers out of him, William,” Ellis said. He stretched his neck side to side as he continued to train his gun directly at your heart.

Will let out a breathy laugh as he made his way closer. “I was just having some fun testing out my powers.” He flexed his hands in front of him, his heartbeat visible in the raised veins just beneath his skin. “Besides, I’m sure there are ways to get him to talk…”  

His gaze rose to connect with yours.

He dropped the end of his blade to the ground, letting it drag against the concrete with each step. The slicing sound may as well have been the blade itself running along your throat.

You began to shuffle backward, needing to get as far away from him and his torture plan as possible. Your teeth dug so far into your cheek that you began to taste blood. Fresh tears pooled along your eyes as you called out, “When were you going to tell him, Ellis?”

Still several feet away, Will paused for a moment, the blade hanging looser from his grasp. His eyes flicked to his father’s.

Ellis' shout echoed across the building, making you flinch. “What are you doing? Grab her. We need to leave.”

You didn’t let either of them think before blurting out, “When were you going to tell your son that his body’s rejecting the DNA? That they’re going to kill him?”

Ellis nearly growled out his next words as he stalked closer. “Shut. Up. You don’t know anything, you worthless girl.”

You scrambled back farther, your hands searching for anything along the ground. Your fingers grasped a broken shard of glass, bringing it in front of your body. It looked so miniscule, so useless, trembling before him.

“Is that true?”

Will’s words broke through, and for a brief moment, you recognized him again — he was the man you danced with. Only this time, he looked empty.

The question made Ellis stop this time, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.

“Father?”

You saw how Will’s skin looked red and blotchy, how his breathing became harder with each passing second. He knew something was wrong.

“Tell him, Ellis. Tell him why he’s becoming weaker by the minute.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and though it wavered and scratched, it still struck the tense thread holding them together.

For too long, no one spoke. You fought to not look away from Ellis’ stare that pierced through you. Every breath, every tiny move he made, you watched him from behind the broken glass.

Will pleaded, shouting,“Dad!”

Finally, Ellis broke from the trance and dropped the gun just slightly, turning toward Will. You took the brief moment to glance to Peter. In… out. In… out. He was here. He was okay. He would be okay.

You turned back when Ellis let out a resigned sigh, refusing to fully meet his son’s gaze. “We are working on a cure… a treatment to stabilize your body’s reactions. There was no use in worrying you before we found it.”

“Except that tiring his body worsens it — it kills him faster,” you gritted past split lips, despite flinching when Ellis aimed the gun at you again.

“Shut the hell up!” he yelled, gripping the gun’s handle until his knuckles turned white. You raised your chin higher.

“Is she right?” Will asked.

“I…” Ellis began, groaning and dropping the gun to his side. He reached his other hand toward Will, turning toward him completely. “It’s…” And for once, you heard Ellis Beaumont have nothing to say — no lies to spew. Still, he approached Will, trying to embrace him.

But Will backed away, his tripping over one another. “You did this to me,” he whispered, almost in awe. Then, his voice rose with each word until he was shouting. “You used me as some lap dog and knew that it was destroying me from the inside out?”

Ellis approached again. “Son–”

“No! Get the hell off me,” Will screamed, pressing his hands into his father’s chest and shoving with all his strength.

Ellis stumbled, and you relished in the way his mouth opened and shut without saying anything. 

“No. Don’t say another goddamn thing. No more telling me what to do like I’m a child,” he paused, his jaw clenching. His irises seemed to glow a sickly green, his voice becoming deep and alien. “Like I’m just some tool to get you your money.”

What lit the awaiting wick, though, was Ellis — in all his confidence and cowardice for his own safety — raised his gun at his son. You swore you saw the instant Will lost all semblance of control.

His body surged forward, tackling his father to the ground. Ellis yelled out, but it cut short when he hit the concrete. Any noise he made disappeared under the sound of Will’s fist hitting his dad. An animalistic growl rang out, and for a moment, you sat entranced, watching the pain pass across both of their faces as they battled. 

You stared at the tears flying from Will’s eyes until your arm could no longer hold up the shard of glass. Its sharp edges pressed into your skin, but as they continued fighting, you dropped it to crawl toward Peter’s body.

Your eyes stayed on the two men while you passed over debris and the occasional webbed-up guard. You pushed away the wreckage despite the aching fire licking across every part of your body. Glimpses of red peaked through as you uncovered Peter. Immediately, you felt his chest for a pulse, for his ragged-but-stable breaths. A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt it dimly beating. You then moved to put pressure on the bullet wound on his side. 

The pained groan he let out choked your heart. On the tip of your tongue, his name stood begging to leap off the edge and surround his body until he was okay again.

Instead, with darting eyes and trembling lips, you whispered, “Spidey.”

When he didn’t respond, you took hold of his arms and shook him slightly. Tears dripped down your cheeks, your voice becoming more desperate. “C’mon. We have to go. You have to get out of here.” You pushed his exposed hair back under his mask again. He barely stirred.

“Please,” you cried out, pulling on him, prepared to try and drag him out of there. “You can’t ditch me, asshole. I’m not doing this alone.”

Beneath the yelling of Ellis’ pleading and Will’s incessant punches, you heard Peter murmur something. You didn’t dare breathe, only whispering for him to repeat.

“You’re… an… asshole,” Peter grumbled, his face twisting as he opened his eyes. His head lolled to the side, a dry swallow passing down his throat. If he wasn’t in so much pain, you might’ve thought about hitting him for that. Instead, a splitting smile overtook your face.

But you didn’t have time to stop when Peter’s hands tensed around you. He moved just slightly to look toward the Beaumonts, prompting you to whip your head in their direction again.

You looked just in time to see Will wavering above Ellis, his eyes blinking slower and slower. A second later, he slumped forward and off of Ellis’ body onto the ground. Will appeared to be breathing still, but he was weak. 

Any momentary relief you felt vanished as Ellis sat up, that wild look back on his face. Your hold on Peter tightened, your body thrown back into desperate fear. Ellis reached a few feet out to grab the blade Will had before training his eyes on you — like a predator locked onto its prey.

“You little-”

Grabbing Peter’s nearly limp arm, you repeatedly pressed down on his web shooter’s trigger before Ellis could finish his sentence. Webs flew out and encompassed the man, wrapping him and sticking him to the floor.

“Thank you,” Peter muttered. “He was giving me a headache.”

You were sure it was the multiple head injuries doing that, but you appreciated the humor while your heart rate returned to normal.

“C’mon. We’re leaving,” you urged him. With all of your strength, you did your best to support Peter’s weight as he slowly stood and staggered onto you. You could hear the groans he continued to bite back.

You held onto him tight, keeping him balanced. “Okay, do you have your phone on you?”

“Yeah…”

You waited for him to fish it out from a slim pocket. Using your free hand, you took several pictures of the Beaamonts lying there and the ruined warehouse. Your investigative heart wanted to take a hundred images from every angle, but your rational mind told you to leave. It took all your effort to move on. Trying to ignore the dizziness in the corners of your vision, you wrapped an arm around Peter’s side and walked to the back of the warehouse.

You both passed through the back door, out over the threshold of that place — finally out into the night for good. He’d be okay.

Along the warehouse’s high windows, flashes of police lights reflected down onto Peter’s face. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm to the skyline, staring into your eyes. “Ready, sunshine?”

You let yourself be pulled in closer to his side, blinking away the stinging tears.

And from this angle, with cascading cherry and violet lights raining down onto Peter’s profile, you found that you didn’t mind red and blue so much anymore.

Nodding, you slowly drew your eyes to his. “Ready.”

—

Your words spilled through gritted teeth, your jaw clenched tight. “I hate you so much, Peter.” 

Your palms were sweaty as you forced yourself to stay focused despite that rage building in your chest. It continued up your body, crawling along your throat.

“Really? After all I’ve done for you?” Peter asked, his tone incredulous. You could feel the waves of heat rolling off of him.

Your expression sinking into a frown, you muttered, “It’s only fitting, considering that you lie and hide secrets.”

“Oh come on…” He scoffed, holding up a hand. “That’s low. And if you think about it, it was really only one secret!”

“That you lied about multiple times!”

He sat back next to you against the couch cushions, the weight of him drawing you closer. “You’re just a sore loser, and you’re angry that I whooped your ass in Mario Kart. Again,” he said, and you finally turned your gaze from the screen to look at him.

Light streamed in through his apartment’s window, the afternoon sun dancing across his face. His eyes turned to a soft caramel under its attention. His hair was undone, feathering along his forehead. Slowly, he grew closer, raising one eyebrow as if daring you to tell him he’s wrong.

Crossing your arms, determined not to be affected by his stare, you told him, “I literally beat you in the last game.”

He rolled his eyes. “Cause you cheated!”

“Look who’s the sore loser now,” you laughed out, your mouth turning into a gentle smile.

The two of you were face to face on the couch, breaths mixing together. A moment of silence passed, Peter’s softening eyes roaming across you. His thumb reached over to brush along the outside of your thigh. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

You didn’t try to fight your wide grin or the heat rising to your cheeks. In a whisper, you asked, “You think I’m adorable?”

His only answer was a slight huff as he leaned forward, kissing you. It only lasted a moment, your lips chasing his when he pulled away. “I’m gonna grab a drink, don’t sabotage my controller while I’m gone,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” you said, laughing when he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, he rose from the couch, taking heavy breaths as he winced. His healing injuries — mental and physical — were better, but they weren’t gone altogether. Neither were yours. 

They probably wouldn’t be for a while. Though, after waking up panicked and breathless from repeated nightmares, it helped having someone there to bring you back down. It helped having someone take care of yourself when that seemed impossible. And it helped knowing you weren’t alone in this.

You watched him make his way to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. In these past days since the warehouse incident, it sometimes scared you how easy this was. Staying at his apartment together, helping one another recover. Your things sat scattered around his place, like they belonged. You wondered when he was going to say something, to ask you to go back home and tend to your wounds alone. When you both healed, would it all go back to how it was?

When a notification sound came from Peter’s phone, your eyes drew down to it for a second. Not knowing whether it was urgent Spider-Man business — not that he should’ve been doing it given his state — you called out, “Your phone dinged!”

Head still in the fridge, his words muffled, Peter called back, “Can you check it for me?”

You paused for a moment, letting a feeling of warmth settle in your chest before grabbing his phone. Just from the notification preview, you could tell what it was.

“Add another tally to your offers to interview for a job,” you told him, shaking your head — a smile evident in your voice. “This one’s for a junior photographer position.”

“What does that bring us up to now?” he asked, closing the refrigerator. He brought a glass of water and what you assumed was Dr. Pepper that’d gone flat.

“I think we’re tied at three each — though they’re just asking us to apply and interview.” You let out a sigh, trying not to get your hopes up. “It’s no guarantee of a job. They’re just interested in our story.”

Peter pointed a finger at you from around the glass. “Our story that kicks ass and put the corrupt city manager and his son away. That’s a piece that belongs on something bigger than The Daily Bugle.”

“You really think so?”

You looked up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Sunshine, the greatest compliment Jameson could spit out was that it’s a ‘mighty fine’ story — before obviously yelling at us for not getting more pictures of Spider-Man during it… and that our injuries were no excuse, of course,” he told you with a wry sarcasm as he set the glasses down on the coffee table. Sitting next to you, his expression softened. His hand wrapped around yours. “But now you have the chance at something bigger.”

You grinned back at him. “But how could I ever pass up a job with… how’d he say it? ‘Minimal benefits and guaranteed maximum overtime’?”

Peter’s laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating a comforting rhythm against you. Next to you, your phone buzzed this time. Picking it up, you told him, “Oh, another one! It’s 4 to 3 now — I’m in the lead.”

His grin made yours even wider, and you were unable to fight it as his hands cupped your jaw, his fingers careful to avoid the bruises along your cheekbone. “You see? You’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.” His eyes pulled you in, begging you to fall into him completely as he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You could’ve stayed there forever, sitting on that ripped couch in Peter’s apartment that you swore to never return to. Your fingers twisted in the ends of his hair pulling him even closer. The rest of the world melted away for at least a little while, leaving just the two of you in this bubble. When you eventually pulled away, your foreheads rested against one another, your nose nudging against his.

“Oh!” you said, leaning back, “I almost forgot. I picked up a frame while out grocery shopping — I couldn’t help myself.” You stood up, grabbing a bag from the dining table and pulling out a cheap picture frame. The story you’d already cut out from the newspaper felt smooth between your fingers as you carefully placed it in the frame.

You kept it close to your body while looking around for a good spot to hang it up, not that the walls had much — or anything — really on them. Deciding on a nice place between the door and living room, you asked, “Want to do the honors?”

Fishing out a nail from his tool drawer, which was really just a kitchen drawer full of scattered household items, you held it out to Peter along with the frame. It took some willpower to not gasp as he merely pushed the nail into the wall without a hammer and hung up the frame.

Straightening it just right, he stepped back and wrapped his arm around your back. You took it in, the first real decoration in his apartment — the story that brought the two of you together framed against the pale walls. Your names shone clearly at the top, next to the large letters spelling out, “Fundraiser or Fraud? The Beaumont Empire Falls.”

Leaning into him, your palm rubbing circles on his lower back, you asked, “Do you like it?”

His voice came out soft, the words curling around the ends of your body. “It’s perfect.”

It wasn’t, not with the ill-fitting frame or the story that likely needed further digging and refining. But right now, with Peter, it was perfect. You let your mind run through everything you two had gone through together, how you’d ended up here.

After a minute of thinking, though, something kept drawing your attention. Pursing your lips, you turned back to him. “Hey Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“I just have a quick question. When we were trying to get into the fundraiser, you said you ‘knew a guy.’ Did you just mean yourse-”

“Myself? Yeah. I’m the guy,” he told you, nodding repeatedly. Nonchalantly.

You scoffed, slightly laughing. You really were insane to have gone in on this project with him. “And then you made fake IDs and gave me some fake wedding ring so we could sneak in…” you said in disbelief.

Turning to grab his drink from the table, he furrowed his eyebrows. “The ring you borrowed? ‘S not fake — do you still have that, by the way?” he asked, taking a sip. “Need to return that.”

You took a beat staring at him wordlessly. Your mind crossed several things to say that you decided to hold back. “Peter, what do you mean it’s not fake? That giant rock on my finger was real?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it as a favor from a jewelry store. I saved the place from robbers breaking in.” He shrugged, the flannel his wore swaying around his body.

This relationship was going to take years off of you… 

Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to kill you,” you half-heartedly murmured. Your eyes raised to meet his, your finger pointing at him. “You know, you’re so careless about all this. I fucking knew you were Spider-Man for so long.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he laughed out, walking closer to you. “Now you didn’t. And as long as we’re being honest, I was going to give you the Daily Bugle job offer at the end of the internship the whole time. So really… you didn’t have to do any of this.” His face morphed into a teasing cockiness that sparked a fire in your chest.

The two of you stared at one another, eyes alight but mouths fighting back smiles. All at once, a calm washed over you. “Are we done bickering?”

Peter rested his hands on your hips. He nodded softly, sweetly, as if nothing but you filled his mind. “Yeah, we’re done.”

You leaned forward, kissing him once before whispering against his lips, “Great, now grab the controller — ‘m gonna kick your ass in Mario Kart again.”

@dil3mma @hollandweather @reidslovely @a-lumos-in-the-nox @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @agent-tempest @olivezgalore @qwintlimon7 @eddieslooneymoonie @aheadfullofsteverogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[imagionationstation]

Mismatched Twins - Take Two

Leo really should have known better than to portal without a set destination. He can still picture Donnie walking into his bedroom with his trajectory board to explain the one hundred and one reasons to never do that, but he’d made the mistake of lecturing while Leo had a video with subtitles playing, so it’s really his big-brained brother’s fault that his attention had been rightfully preoccupied.

He’s always been more of a learn-on-the-job kinda hero.

And now that he’s free-falling hundreds of feet with the turtle that he intended to save- he’s definitely learned something here.

Impossible danger is excellent teaching material.

He almost loses his grip when their decent begins, scanning for any kind of landing point. As the turtle screams and Krang roars, Leo locks onto what he’s looking for. The familiar glow of blue tears at his chest and flickers his vision, but they land safety on crumbling rock.

He’s bumped off of him because his grip laxes without his consent, momentum sending him into a weak roll.

Every contact with the rock is like a blade jabbed through a crack in shell, twisted and titled to widen the entryway. His inhale comes in a wheeze, pressure heavy on his chest as he tries to breath through a swaying world.

He gags on the thick liquid in his throat, spitting out the scarlet gunk and tiny splotch of white. He’s pretty sure he liked that tooth.

He’s no longer holding his sword, clumsily scrambling onto his arms, lunging for the hilt. His fingertips scrap it and he doesn’t dare use a spurt of power for convenience, dragging himself to it.

It’s in his hands. He can roll over and let air into his lungs.

He does, photo and sword clung tightly to his chest, and exhales.

He closes his eyes, blood rushing and heart hammering, and tries not to think about his burning eyes and the throbbing ache that has nothing to do with the wounds across flesh.

He opens his eyes, blinking hazily.

There’s a voice behind his daze.

Time to faceman.

He looks up, bringing his blade closer, taking in the upside-down turtle face with frazzled eyes. Leo smirks as he watches him gesture to the sword, not taking in a single syllable through the high-pitch ringing. He could use a nap.

“Never seen ninpo before?” Oh, wow, his voice is weeiiird to his own brain. Does it sound as cool as it should? “Your loss.”

The turtle stares at him. The way his chest moves say that there might be slight hyperventilating going on. Leo’s pretty sure he was the same way during his first Krang battle.

The turtle looks away, alert and panicked. Leo rolls to his plastron, hating every second of it, and watches as a bright streak of purple crashes into the nearby floating island. He hears the distant sound of rocks crumbling under mass before a whoosh of air welcomes another crash. It happens twice more as Leo struggles to get his bearings, looking to the turtle that stares back at him.

He tries to stand, only to crumble under the weight of agony, but the turtle catches him to take him to his knees.

He says something, but Leo misses it. His heart is pounding too loud as he watches the dust clear. He doesn’t want to see what’s down there. He doesn’t want Krang to look back.

Who needs to learn lessons anyway.

“‘Kay.” Leo instructs with the sparse air, tucking the picture safely away. He meets wide brown eyes with a weak grin. “‘aat’s my cue.”

His ninpo flares.

FLASH.

They’re on a different terrain.

Krang screams, “I’LL GET YOU, YOU ROTTEN LITTLE-”

FLASH.

“-YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM-”

FLASH.

“-FIND YOU AND CRUSH-”

FLASH.

Bare, floating islands are apparently out of style. The world changes so that everything is coated black. There’s a rock wall dosed in his perfect ninpo light beside him. The turtle starts to speak, but he’s cut off as something shrieks in the dark. The grip around Leo tightens as their world is swallowed in the safe blue.

FLASH.

They land on a platform and come face-to-face with a massive, leering Krang suit, and it’s false face is inches from Leo’s and someone screams.

He tries to kick away from in, pressing further into the grip that holds him, burying his face away from the danger. The torment must have already started because his breaths are sharp and broken, each inhale like lightning in his chest. It takes him too long to realize that the shrill ringing in stale air is his because he’s going to die and he’s still here when he should already be gone.

“Hey, hey, woah-”

The voice in unfamiliar and the shadow swallows him and he knows pain is about to rain down like he’d fallin’ into hell itself and he squeezes his eyes shut and runs.

“Look, it’s emp-”

FLASH!

FLASH!

FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH-!

Leo falls into the safe, mindless panic and unleashes his portals in rapid-fire spurts. He doesn’t care where he’s going or where he ends up, as long as it’s far, far from Krang. He tears and claws at everything his ninpo can offer and then some, ignoring the way it fizzles and sparks as he clutches what’s his and runs.

“STOP!”

His eyes shoot open and his ninpo stutters, dropping him off on stable surroundings. His companion has torn away from him and he locks his hands over his head in panic, knees curled up to his chest. Electricity is bouncing off his skin to strike the danger. It’s not a beautiful whirlwind of power- it’s scattered and desperate and wild. It’s not him, not his intention, not his doing- it’s his ninpo reacting, almost like an injured animal lashing out.

And yet- and yet when he closes his eyes and focuses, when he reaches to console what’s scared, what’s his, it ducks away.

And he doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand how something so infinite and fundamental to his very essence, his very being, could feel so broken and ragged. It’s the Hamato legacy imprinted on his soul and it’s dying after he did everything in his power to preserve it, to protect his friends, his city, his family back home-

Back home. Back home.

And then he understands.

His soul is still clinging to what the mind knows that it can’t have, searching for the other three parts that make the living legacy whole.

He preserved their legacy, and then he left it behind.

He did everything right so why does it feel so wrong?

Everything hurts- every inch of skin down to his very soul. His ninpo can't hurt and shouldn't hurt but it does- shattered and torn and barely sputtering with life- did he do that?

This place- It’s a dimension created by magic. It was made as a barrier to keep everything in. To keep anything from reaching out.

He did this. He tore his ninpo away from the web of power and then ripped it to pieces as it struggled on its own. He’s no better than the Krang. He’s lucky the string remains intact at all.

He focuses on it like he’s cradling an injured child, willing it back together with devastated apologizes and shaking hands. The pieces sputter and spark, insignificant and torn, and he aches as he concentrates on his home and his family and the drive that brought him to this prison to suffer so they could flourish.

The prickling leaves his skin and the warmth fills his chest as the delicate pieces knit themselves together. His ninpo is dull and tiny, but it pulses like a heartbeat, still reaching for the fourfold connection that it will never find.

And for the second time that day, Leo tears himself away from something that he needs more than the air in his lungs, releasing the one link that he has to his family so he doesn’t erase it entirely.

He needs it.

Leo needs it, so when he dies, he still has a chance to find Karai.

He can still feel it, faint but alive, and he opens his eyes as the marks fade from his blade. He’s freezing, now, empty without the familiar strength to draw from. The hilt falls uselessly from a limp hand and he thinks that now would be a good time to curl up and die.

He attempts the curling up part, but he’s distracted from the latter with a hand on his arm. The turtle is still here, kneeling down at his side. He’s pointing into the distance but Leo is not moving ever again, thanks.

The turtle tries again but he doesn’t sound like he’s using words. Maybe he never was and Leo’s brain just pretended that he did.

He waves at him, vaguely. “No hablo… That.”

The turtle takes in this information. He looks off to the side and then seems to make up his mind. He ignores the sputtered complaints as he grabs his arm to drag him up.

Leo tries to fight it, but he quickly loses the energy to do so. The turtle forces his slumped body to sit up, frustrated when Leo keeps every muscle slack and tries to go back down. His back burns when his shell is forced straight up, so unless the turtle has pain killers, he’s happily staying on the ground.

The turtle has different ideas. He forces him back up, positions hands under his knees and above his carapace, and then hoists him into the air. He yelps and his sword sparks.

Leo quickly tears away from the power that flows back, stamping down stubbornly on the disconnect.

The turtle keeps walking, and Leo can feel that limp, so why this is happening is beyond his understanding. He’s set down against a leaning surface, and the turtle disappears from his vision, only to return cradling a large rock. Leo squints at him as he drops it and shoves it to Leo’s side. He grabs Leo’s upper bicep, to which Leo obviously attempts to bite the offending arm.

The turtle glares and Leo gives him a grumpy look.

The turtle gets up and walks away.

For a moment, he’s the winner, but then his opponent returns.

The turtle is not to be deterred, and before Leo sees the dastardly act coming, his sword is in the turtle’s hand. He sets in on the other side of the rock and Leo lurches for it, catching the hilt in his fingers. Then the turtle is behind him, a steady hand on his carapace to keep Leo’s plastron against the rock, other hand running down the cracks in his previously perfect shell.

It’s an uncomfortable position, but it doesn’t hurt like sitting up does. He drops his arm over the rock to rest his chin on, flinching when a finger touches the deepest crack along his middle. He hisses at the sudden pain and the turtle murmurs softly.

A hand on his elbow helps him back to the smooth, bent surface. He leans against it, giving the invasive turtle the stink-eye. He doesn’t look up, frowning when a soft pressure against his plastron has Leo flinching. That’s the area where his ribs are. That can’t be good.

A gentle hand moves over his plastron, testing the stability of grooves and brushing against cracks. His plastron is annoyingly more sensitive than his carapace and he kinda wants to knee this guy in the chin to stop him from ever laying hands on him again.

Instead, he allows the shudders and the hands lift immediately, concern pinching calculating brow, and all Leo can think to say is, “At least take a guy on a first date.”

The turtle says something, muffled but definitely sarcastic, and reaches for his head. He runs a hand over Leon’s cheek, temple, and skull, probably testing for fractures with as many times as Krang decided to go for the face. He tries to focus on the discomfort of the fingers pressing against the bruise on his jaw and not the ever-present memory of fiery eyes and metal meeting bone.

There's something building up on his tongue. It travels down to his throat and he gags, tilting his head to spit it out, red dotted with white splattering the rock that the turtle had brought over.

Leo only realizes that the turtle asks a question after his mouth has finished moving, and even then he can't remember what it is.

The turtle wipes the blood from his mouth and then gently presses against the sides of his jaw to open it. Leo's guess is that he's trying to make sure the blood is all from his gums and not internal.

He only lets him because he doesn't have a mirror to check himself, hoping it doesn't look as bad as he suspects it is. Only a fiend like the Krang would dare deprive the world of his beautiful smile.

Then again, Leo supposes that he did that himself.

His stomach twists, an invisible force pressing down on it.

The turtle is unwrapping his hand, faded white revealing some of the scarred palm underneath. He takes a tiny knife from his belt- aw, man, what's that called, a kani? Kuani? He's close he knows it- and cuts through with an obvious practiced precision, letting the loose part hang as he begins wrapping Leo’s skull.

“Can’t do anything about the mask.” The turtle admits and wow, Leo can hear again, that’s neat. “But if there’s one thing to be thankful for, it’s that he was more focused on your jaw than your brain.”

“Yay.” He croaks, a weak fist raised to the sky.

The turtle’s expression changes as he looks down to meet his gaze, almost softer. “Cognitive awareness. That’s a good sign. Is anything numb?”

Leo stares at his arm, dripping on the rocks below him and practically coated in red. “You’re bleeding out.”

“It’s fine. Let’s worry about your spine first.” He regards him anxiously. “Anything numb?”

“Everything is on fire.” He announces triumphantly, because his spine is too tough to break that easily. He eyes the wound in front of him. “And that’s going to get infected.”

“Okay. I’m just going to hope for the best then.” The turtle ignores him completely and turns his attention back to his skull. “Lil’ worried about potential brain damage. Cool with you if I ask you some questions?”

“Name’s Leo, fifteen years old, my favorite color is blue, I have three brothers and one sister, boy does my head hurt, and yes, I can count to ten in two languages- applause not necessary- uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez.” The turtle tightens the end of the bandage as he finishes and Leo preens, “Family physicist, at your service. No concussion here!”

“Leo, huh?” The turtle’s movements have slowed, forehead creased as he peeks at Leo’s sword. “Short for anything?”

“Leonardo.” He studies his face, all-to-aware if the brief shock that flashes before he quickly looks away. “Got a problem with that?”

“No.” He says, a bit to fast. “It’s just… Interesting…” He adjusts the blue mask, a new splotch of red on the side, back down over the bandage- he removed it? When did he- “And you mean physician.”

He levels him with a superior look. “I’d think I’d know what I am.”

“And yet you don’t.” He collapses backward with a sigh, bringing his fingers to press against the blood staining trails down his arm. He winces and mutters, “You said you had three brothers?”

“And the world’s best sister.” He decides because while sister’s not technically official, he’d like to die with that thought in mind. He makes grabby hands. “Lemme see.”

The turtle shakes his head, but his face is definitely paler than it was before. Leo does not think it’s all blood loss. “Dude, you’re clearly not good with bodily fluids, hand it over.”

“It’s just blood. I can handle blood. It’s a perfectly normal bodily function even if a lot of it happens to be leaking-” His face has gone three shades paler and definitely queasy. He groans, “I hate blood. Holy mother of mutations, I hate blood.”

“Dude, you just wrapped me.” Leo remarks, amused by the glare that he earns. “Of course, I did. I had too.”

“But it’s different when you’re seeing your own?” Leo offers a cheeky grin. The turtle looks uncomfortable. “Classic. C’mon. The real medic says hand it over and stop being a bad patient.”

“That’s ironic coming from the limp noodle.” He agreeably drags himself from the ground and plops down next to Leon, looking the other way as Dr. Leo examines the wounds.

“Sooo.” Leo drawls as he notes that the turtle needs stitches and wonders how he’s going to accomplish that here. “Do I get a name, Broody, or do I get to make one up?”

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Pshhaw, your name can’t be that bad.”

The turtle side-eyes him, affronted. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with my name.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Leo presses against the wounds to stop the consistent flow; the black wrappings on his palm stained with red. “Give it to me.”

A beat of silence. “Donnie.”

“Aw, hey, that’s not too crazy.” He reassures brightly, since he doesn’t want to tease the guy that’s clearly insecure. “I actually know someone who-”

“It’s a nickname. Short for Donatello.”

“Heh.” He quirks a smile. “Kinda a coinkydink ‘cause-”

“Hamato Donatello.” Leo’s head shoots up and the turtle looks back. “My brothers are Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo. They have nicknames too. Mikey, Raph…” He tilts his head, urging, “Leo.”

Leo stares, looking for any sign of deception. The turtle keeps talking, almost as if he’s trying to get the words out before his brain can catch up. “We’re a team. We fight crime and save people. I have a father. We call him Splinter. He’s a rat. Used to be a human. Adopted me and my brothers, taught us ninjitsu.”

Leo’s paralyzed. He waits for the snickers, or for the punchline.

The turtle does not shirk away, eyes bright with the maniac look that Donnie gets when he proves a theory correct and is dying for a single person to acknowledge that he’s the smartest being on planet earth.

“So. Leo.” It’s conversational, calm, eager. “What’s your family like?”

Previous Current Next

[alyssawolf2410]

Chapter 1 - Where am I?

As I tried to open my eyes, they stung with a burning sensation. I could only see pitch black, but a faint light shone above. I struggled to swim towards the light while my lungs burned from holding my breath. I finally reached the top and took a deep breath. I threw my arms over a nearby ledge and stayed there for a while, catching my breath. As I looked around, I realized I was in a park. Also, it was the dead of the night. I suddenly realized that instead of my feet floating. I was now sitting on the floor. As I looked down, I was indeed sitting on the floor. Curse the weird infinite foundation.

Behind me was a three-layered foundation with a woman on top. She had long hair, she wore a simple short dress, a white veil, and her eyes were closed. With her hands raised to the sky. As the water falls down her hands. I stand up and throw my legs over the ledge. I realized that I wasn't wet at all. I look around this park. Nothing about it is familiar. I couldn't tell at all which world I was thrown into. In the corner of my eye, something shined. I turned to the foundation and looked down to see that dang coin. I go to pick up the coin; however, my hand doesn't feel like I put my hand in the water. When I pull my hand out of the water with the coin. My hand and the coin remain completely dry. I examine the coin that put me in this situation in the first place. It looks different than the last time; instead of being blank, it has a sparkle with three gems connected to it. So, what should I do now? I am still determining which world I'm in! It's the middle of the night, and I have nowhere to sleep! Do I even have any money on me?! I dig through my pockets but realize that my outfit is different. Oh! Of course, every Isekai character gets a new look! Maybe it will give me a clue as to which world I'm in!

I have a yellow jacket, a white shirt with gray trim, light blue shorts, a yellow belt or ribbon tied around my waist, orange socks that barely stay up, and white tennis shoes. Never mind! That wasn't helpful at all! I look at the coin in my hands. The lady said something about me making one wish per world. But what do I even wish for or do I want to use it this soon!? AHHH! Okay, calm down. What usually helps iskai characters. There is usually a higher being that transfers them to the new world. Check! However, "The Lady" is not helpful at all. The second one is they have a universe that helps them; however, I haven't even met anyone. All the other ones figure it out themselves. I'm not that smart! Wait no. There was the manhwa who had a game system-style thing and helped him. Maybe I can wish for something similar but remove the locked things. It can help me figure out where I am, my friends and love interests, my levels, and all my notes. Yea! That's it! "I wish for my own game system style!" I flipped the coin in the air. As the coin falls, my head starts to ring. I fall to my knees. I feel a burning sensation in my eyes along with a screen appearing. A loading screen with G.G. on the front. Ok, that was a lot more painful than I thought it would be. "Hello. I am your personal Game System Style. How can I help you today?" In front of me is a golden see-through screen and a robotic voice speaking to me. Displayed on the screen is a character sheet, resembling that of D&D. It has a character profile but no picture as well as the name. "How can I help you?" The Game System asked again. Stop zoning out me! "Oh, right! Can you tell where I am?"

Scanning...Scanning...Scanning...

The World You Have Entered: Lego Monike Kid

*Gasp* "Season 4 is already out but I was waiting for the next season!! Do you know which season I'm in?"

Scanning...Scanning...Scanning...

Season 1 Has Not Started Yet. You Are In The Prologue.

"The prologue? So Mk hasn't got his powers yet. All I understand is, that Mk was abandoned at Pigsy when he was young. But that is about it. Shoot! Do we know how far back we are?"

Scanning...Scanning...

There Is No Available Information At The Moment. To Require More Information Leave The Haven.

"The Haven? Is that what this place is? What can you tell me about this place?"

The Heven Is A Safe Place Where You Can Go. You May Use This As A Place To Hide, Comforted Yourself, Or Get Connected To The In-Between. However, I Can't Guarantee You Will Get A Response.

"Good to know! So is me being in here preventing you from getting information?"

Yes And No. No, Because For Me To Get You Information On The World. You Need To Be Exploring The World. As Well As Interact With The World And Characters. Yes, Because In The "Haven," I Collect Other Information You Don't Need Right Now.

"So, how do I leave this place?"

Just Walk In The One Direction. You Should Be Able To Exit. But I Should Suggest You Stay Until Morning So You Don't Have To Worry About Getting Hurt By Anyone. Also, Before You Ask, Yes, You Can Return Here Anytime You Need To.

"Your guess was correct! I was going to ask that."

You Tend To Ask A Lot Of Questions.

"True. I am an inherently curious individual. Well, better get comfy." I lay on the floor. The seat may not be the most comfortable, but it is sufficient. "Night System." I lay on my hands before closing my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

I feel the warm sun on my face. I raise my hand over my face. I slowly open my eyes.

Morning. We Should Get Moving.

I jerk upwards. "Lord! A warning would have been nice!"

Sorry. I Will Remember This Next Time.

"Well, I'm wide awake now." I stand up. Stretch my arms out. Lord, my body hurts. "You said I just need to walk in a direction then I would be out?"

Correct.

I begin walking down a path. The once bright green trees are turning brown and orange, and many leaves are falling to the ground while others are piling up on each other. The air smells organic and earthy with a hint of cinnamon. Suddenly, a strong breeze blows at me, causing my hair to blow wildly in the wind. I hug myself to keep warm because it feels freezing outside. Eventually, I came across a bus stop. The sign next to it says "One Way." Just then, a bus pulls up and opens the door. "You getting on, kid?" asks an older man sitting in the driver's seat. "Oh! I am," I reply. And get on the bus as it drives away. Outside the window, I see trees turn into city buildings. This looks more familiar to me.

In episode 1, when Mk makes his deliveries to the underground. The bus comes to a stop, and I go to get off. "Ma'am, You need to pay." the driver reminds me. "Oh, right! Um..." I dig through my pockets but find nothing. "Umm. I don't have any money..." "What! You need to pay!" the driver insists. "I'm sorry, but I have nothing on me!" I start to panic. "I can pay for her," a voice suddenly speaks up. I turn to see the one and only Mk. He has a very tan complexion with golden eyes, which could be a foreshadowing of him acquiring Monkey King's powers. He has dark, fluffy hair that I wish to mess up. He is wearing a small yellow sweater paired with orange baggy pants and his red shoes are left untied. You know I didn't think he would be so tan. Don't get me wrong he looks good tan but I didn't know I thought he would be yellow like a lego. Mk hands him some money. The man counts the money and then opens the door. We both get off the bus. The doors close and the bus takes off.

"Thank you so much! How can I repay you?" Putting my best acting face. Like, I didn't know all the trauma this kid goes through. "Please don't worry about it!" He sheepily smiled and rubbed the back of his head. " Just glad I could help." "You helped more than you realize. I have been struggling for so long." I put my head on my hand, leading on it. Closing my eyes and putting on my best sad face. "Oh really?" "Oh yes! I have been fired from my job! My house burned down with all my important papers. So I can't even get a new job!" I sighed. Hoping Mk can buy this. Even though some of it is true. I open my eyes to look at him. He has a sad smile and looks like he is thinking really hard. Before he snaps his fingers and shouts. " I got it!" He then grabs my hand and starts to take off. Well, this is a good start!

You Have Met The Protagonist.

Trust: 1/10

Love: 0/10

Friendship: 1/10

Previous or Next

[thefrontofmymind]

Baby Bug

a/n: this was supposed to be just a little drabble but it...evolved. hope you enjoy xx

SYNOPSIS: a slice of life from your pregnancy with yours and Matty's first baby

WARNINGS: pregnancy stuff (obvi), the smallest allusion to sex (what do you expect, babies have to get made somehow), epidural.

WC: 1.7k

It certainly wasn’t the perfect time for you to get pregnant. You were well on your way for a promotion at work, and Matty’s new album was just about finished and ready to be sent off, in preparation for a world tour. It wasn’t like it’d never be on the cards for you–you were both in your thirties and not flat broke so it was only a matter of convenient timing for you.

Though as you were sitting on your bathroom floor with the positive test–the fifth one you’d taken that day just to be one hundred percent sure–there was a part of it all that just felt right. There were butterflies in your stomach–and not just from the constant nausea you’d been experiencing for the past couple weeks, but excitement.

You couldn’t even think of a cute or witty way to tell Matty like you’d seen a thousand times on Instagram and Tiktok, you just needed to get it out. As soon as he came home from the studio that day you greeted him at the door with a giddy smile on your face.

“What’s up with you?” He said after giving you a gentle kiss as he took off his coat.

“You know how I’ve been sick recently?” He nodded, giving a ‘hmm’ in response. “I figured out why today…”

“Was it a bug like I said?” He laughed.

“No…It’s um-” This was it. “It’s a baby…”

He looked up at you in shock–wide eyes and a gasp. “You’re…You’re?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, as did his. “I am….”

He fell to his knees, he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he grabbed your hips and cradled your stomach.

He laughed as you felt your tshirt begin to become wet with his tears. “Oh, you’re the best kind of bug!” 

~~~

From that moment on, Matty waited on you hand and foot. If he could have it his way, you wouldn’t have to even think about housework or cooking or any other task that may float into your head–which was growing more and more cloudy by the day. Your obstetrician told you it was perfectly normal though, you liked to think it was the baby taking all your brains so they could become a supergenius–wouldn’t that be neat? Any time Matty was home, you were delegated to the sofa, with your feet up and whatever show you were currently bingeing. And as your baby grew, the more grateful you became of his efforts for you to relax. And when he wasn’t home, he was just waiting to be by your side again, doting on you as much as he could–including quenching any craving you had, food and otherwise.

“How’s the bug doing?” He said, getting comfortable next to you on the sofa.

“They’re alright, been moving non stop…I think they’re training for a boot camp or something in there…”

“Hey, you!” He wiggled down so his face was level with your ever-growing bump. “Stop giving your mum a hard time! She’s growing you, for Christ’s sake…”

You felt an extra hard kick, an answer of ‘I’ll do whatever I please, thank you’

~~~

When it began to get closer to your second trimester–and you were convinced you were showing, as deluded as you may have been–you and Matty started to think about how you were telling everyone you loved about your happy news. To you, being able to let your loved ones in on your secret and seeing their reactions was something you’d been itching for.

First was the grandparents, over a small brunch one Sunday morning. On your back patio you gave them a box to open all together, containing the pictures from your twelve week scan. Through their tears, they told you all about how ecstatic they were for you.

“A grandmother! Me!” Denise laughed. “I’m too young!” You all joined in on the laughter.

When it came to telling the band, you had more of a strategy. You decided to tell Adam and Carly first–they were parents, themselves, and probably knew all the answers to the questions you both had concerning, well, just about everything to come over the next six months–and beyond.

You’d called in at theirs one afternoon, just for a cup of tea and a catch up. It shocked just how much their son had grown within the few weeks it had been since you saw him last, he was up and walking and almost like a proper person now. And he just wouldn’t leave you alone all afternoon. Every toy he’d go to play with, he’d want to show you, when he wanted one of the muffins you’d brought–picked up from a bakery on the drive over–he wanted to share it with you.

“Someone’s got a new favourite!” Adam said after the fifth time he brought you a drawing of some nondescript blob crafted with every colour marker he had at his disposal.

“You know what they say about little kids…” You started, earning confused looks from the couple, while Matty just grinned. “They’re really good at sensing things…Like…Well…”

“Oh just say it before I do!” Matty interrupted after a brief moment of stuttering from you.

“I’m pregnant!” You finally got out. 

Carly immediately burst into tears, while congratulating you with a warm hug, then Adam did the same–sans tears.

“How far along are you?” Carly asked excitedly.

“Just thirteen weeks,” Matty answered for you, as you could hardly speak from the smile that pulled at your mouth. “We’ve only told the grandparents, apart from that, you guys are the first to know.”

You saw a glint of a tear in Adam’s eye as he went to hug Matty, and Carly asked you about pretty much everything so far, giving you some handy tips to keep in mind.

Once you got used to telling a few people, it was a cake walk. You told the rest of the band at a dinner you held. It sort of just slipped out when George asked you why you didn’t have a glass of wine like normal, the whole room erupted in congratulations.

~~~

When the time came for your twenty week scan, you were a bundle of nerves. This would be the first proper time you'd be able to see your baby in all their glory, arms and legs and ears and eyelids, the whole shebang. The technician would be checking for physical abnormalities and–if you wanted to know–the sex of the baby.

You spoke with Matty about it, and ultimately decided that you would wait for the surprise of the sex for when the bug was born. It wouldn’t really make much of a difference for you both, you didn’t have a preference and you liked the idea of not going with a stereotypical blue or pink colour scheme–and at least this way, no one would pester you to tell them, because you couldn’t.

But your spine was practically jelly as you laid on the cold bed with a metal wand being prodded as hard as humanly possible. As you saw the outline of a face and you heard the heartbeat–much stronger than at your twelve week scan a few months back. When the technician asked you both if you would like to know the sex, you felt your heart ache.

“I, uh-” You started, quietly. “I kind of want to know…” Matty let out a sigh. “Oh thank god because I want to know too!”

The technician laughed. “It’s a…drumroll please….” Matty patted his lap, making a drumroll sound. “You’re having a…boy!”

At the news you couldn’t stop yourself from bursting into tears. Your emotions had gone into overdrive in the past couple weeks, you practically cried at everything these days.

“We’re gonna have a son…” Matty said, looking at the screen with tears in his eyes. “A little boy…”

~~~

“I hope he has your hair…” You said, laying on your bed rubbing your bump in an attempt to soothe your ever-so-active baby boy so you could possibly get at least half an hour of sleep–which was a more and more rare occurrence the further you got into your pregnancy. 

Matty scoffed. “Could you imagine?”

“You’d be twins!” You laughed.

“I hope he looks like you,” he said, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side–as best he could with the bump growing out of your front. “He’d be the most beautiful baby in the world then.”

“Oh shut up, you,” you said, playfully batting his chest.

~~~

Your third trimester was a battle to say the least. With swollen feet, a sore back, and complete and utter exhaustion at every moment of the day, you were ready for your bug to make his entrance into the world. 

But he wasn’t. Your due date came and went, and you remained pregnant and irritable. You spent most of the day afterwards in bed, mostly on the verge of tears. You became so overwhelmed by the whole thing, you were so, so tired but you knew this was the most rested you’d be for months, with a newborn baby to keep you up for most of the coming nights.

You had an appointment with your obstetrician, but you hardly noticed–you were practically a zombie by then.

“I’ll book you in for an induction then?” She asked once she got a look at you in all your misery, scrolling and clicking around on her laptop. “I can do 3 days from now which would be…” She checked her calendar. “Next Tuesday. Sounds alright?”

You’d never been more animated than with your nodding. “Please…Just get this baby out of me!” You laughed.

Three days. You could feasibly do three more days if it meant you’d finally have your baby bug in your arms. You just had to stick it out.

~~~

After you were induced, your labour was shockingly quick. There was barely time for an epidural–which you had to beg the nurse to give you when she was tentative about it, given how quickly you were dilating. After only about 3 hours of active labour, your baby bug was swaddled and sleeping in a bassinet by your side.He was very fortunate, he looked exactly like his dad–who, for the record, was sleeping curled up on an old hospital chair next to his son. You looked at your boys, both sleeping peacefully, curly hair and shielded chocolate brown eyes. You couldn’t help but shed a tear at the realisation that you’d somehow gotten the most perfect life.

[malum-forev]

Secret relationship with Rogers!reader or famous!reader please🙏🏻

Hi hiii, thank you for your ask! I really really liked how this turned out, and I hope you do too!

It was no secret Bucky is a private person. He’d once pushed Torres off a plane for asking him what his plans for the weekend were, there was that time Bucky added 200 push-ups to the training routine after an agent asked him why he’d cancelled last week’s session, and finally, the day Bucky ran over Sam’s foot with his bike because he joked about it being Bucky’s turn to host Friday night dinner- they didn’t even have a Friday night dinner! Bucky is private private. 

Whispers about him dating someone started when he put in time for a vacation. The man hadn’t missed work in years, decades! 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, nudging his friends shoulder as they watched the agents spar. Bucky only growled in response. 

“You can’t expect me to not be curious!” Sam pressed on. “You’ve never even asked for a weekend off, and now suddenly you’re leaving for two weeks!”

Bucky crossed his arms. “I didn’t come into work that one time, two years ago.”

“You broke your leg!” Sam rolled his eyes. “Hospital visits don’t count as time off. And even then, you only missed a day!”

“It’s none of your business.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“Can you at least bring me a souvenir?” Sam batted his eyelashes. “Please?”

An uncharacteristic- and honestly, terrifying- smirk appeared on Bucky’s mouth. “I know just the thing to bring you.”

Two weeks later, Bucky came back with a nice tan and a gallon sized bag of sand, which he dumped all over Sam’s desk. 

“I’m back.” Bucky smiled. 

Three months after his vacation, Bucky was met with the slam of a magazine on his desk.

“A ha!” Sam boomed. “I knew there was something fishy about you!”

Bucky glanced once at the gossip magazine, uninterested, sipping his coffee. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Sam tapped on the small picture of Bucky on the cover, the headline read: Winter Soldier? More like Winter Cinephile? A source close to the Super Soldier tells us all about Bucky Barnes’ favorite movies. 

Bucky was covering most of his face on the picture as he excited the back entrance of a movie theater. What caught his eye was the small sliver of leg that was cut from the photo. Someone walking behind him. 

“Last time I checked, it’s not illegal to go to the movies.” Bucky eyed Sam from the ring of his coffee cup, hiding a smile. 

“You’re being weird-“ Sam narrowed his eyes. “weirder than normal.”

But the thing that made Sam go insane was the fact that Bucky was wearing a suit. A suit! With a tie and everything! Sam’s eyes just about popped out of their sockets when he saw Bucky walk into the Stark Fundraiser.

“You’re here?” Sam’s eyebrows knit together. 

Bucky ordered a single malt whiskey, trying to loosen his starched shirt’s collar. “I told you last week I was coming.”

The crease between Captain America’s eyebrows deepened. “I thought you were kidding, I thought it was a joke!”

“Well, I’m here.” Bucky said, leaning his back on the bar. His eyes scanning the room. 

It was filled to the brim with A list people from all around the world. Hollywood’s finest actors, politicians, royalty, philanthropists. Tony Stark would be proud of the guest list. 

Where are you, where are you? Bucky thought.

Suddenly, the large double doors opened and there you were. You waltzed in, your dress fit like a glove, highlighting all of your best features. All your features are your best features. You could hear Bucky say. 

You floated through the room with your publicist on your left and your agent on your right. You craned your neck left and right, trying to find him- your eyes met his celeste orbs. A calm sea wanting to bring you in.

Bucky sent you a half nod, not wanting to bring attention to him and you responded by tapping the top of your thigh three times. A secret signal the two of you had made up. 

Torres appeared next to Bucky and ordered a double shot of vodka neat. He huffed three times, trying to get all the nervousness out of his body. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Sam laughed. 

Torres’ eyes were glued to your body. “This is my time to shine.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose for a second, looking between you and his coworker. 

“I’m going to ask her out.” Torres gulped.

“You are going to ask her out.” Sam laughed. “She’s an easy 10 and you’re a-“

“You’re a five, and that’s reaching.” Bucky patted Torres’ back, giving him a sympathetic smile.

Torres looked at the two men angrily. “Chicks dig the soldier look, I’m rugged!”

“Sorry man, not happening.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders. 

Torres snorted. “Like you’d have a chance with her.”

“You’ve got a mysterious vibe but, she’s an A list actor.” Sam threw his head back with laughter. “She’d never look your way.”

A pride filled smile sneaked its way onto Bucky’s face as he saw you chatting away with other famous people in the room. “Let’s make this interesting. If I get a date out of her, you two bozos pick my lunch up every day for a month.”

Sam and Torres looked at each other once and doubled over, howling with laughter. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Better yet, if I get a kiss out of her you will do my laundry and file all of my paperwork for a month.”

“Deal.” Both men laughed.

“Can’t wait to see you get slapped around.” Sam yelled as Bucky walked towards you. 

Sam and Torres waited eagerly, they watched as Bucky came up to you and tapped your shoulder. You turned around with a smile. Bucky nestled his head in your shoulder, his mouth close to your ear. They watched as you push him away playfully, giggling nervously with a flushed face, only to pull him closer. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles before lowering his hand to the small of your back. Bucky tipped you backwards holding your knee close to his hip and lowered his head. Smashing your lips together. 

The ballroom became quiet around the two of you, low murmurs here and there. When you came back up, Bucky cleaned up the side of your mouth where your lipstick had smudged. He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek and turned back towards the bar. 

“Close your mouths, you’ll catch flies.” Bucky said smiling.

“You-how-why?” Torres stuttered. 

“We’re dating.” Bucky shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “Coming on a year and a half now.”

“You’re dating her?” Sam asked, his eyes pingponging from your face and your body to his friend. “How? you’re so- you and she’s-“

“She’s amazing.” Bucky sighed, looking back at you. 

You tried to concentrate on the person in front of you but Bucky’s never-ending stare made you nervous. When you finally turned to him, he tapped his thigh three times. I love you. 

“You mean-“ Torres tried to get words out but he was too stunned. 

“I mean,” Bucky said. “That purple mark just below her ear she’s trying to cover with makeup, is my work of art.”

“She’s mine.” Bucky growled, his eyes like bullets as he looked at Sam and Torres. “Understood?”

The two men nodded furiously.

“A month of not doing laundry or paperwork.” Bucky sighed with a smile. “A dream come true.” 

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

[metalomagnetic]

Voldemort meets Sirius.

He knows this one will be different as soon as he steps foot in the messy house.

The wards that guard it are borderline dark magic, barely legal. They are well executed, as well. An auspicious beginning, Voldemort thinks, as he patiently dismantles them.

The Black scion isn’t home; Evan dutifully let Voldemort know he’s drunk in some Knockturn pub.

“He often comes to drink in Knockturn, but always alone. Never with his Gryffindor friends. He’s a mean drunk, too, my lord. Perhaps if you wish to have a semblance of a rational conversation- as much as it is possible with any Black- you shouldn’t approach him when he’s wasted.”

The walls are …colourful. The paint was once white, but the young Black heir hung posters of muggle singers everywhere. Perhaps actors, too, Voldemort isn’t familiar with what passes for famous these days in the muggle world.

He only recognises Elvis, mounted over the fireplace.

They all look the same- tall, dark haired, dressed in leather.

Pictures of his friends are up there as well. He recognises Potter in many of them- hard not to, with that trademark Potter hair. The girl draped on his arm, red head, must be his mudblood. Voldemort forgot her name. Something flowery, but it escapes him.

Bella and Evan, occasionally Rabastan often complain about Black’s entourage, but they only name Potter.

“Stupid Potter, his mudblood and the werewolf! He left us for those little worms!”

He thinks the werewolf must be the thin one, an air of misery draped over him in every picture. Greyback complained about him, too. Remus, that’s the one, it comes to Voldemort. Remus Lupin, werewolf.

“With a name like that, I had to bite him,” Greyback smirked, in one of his rare funny moods. “He was destined to be mine, but Black stole him.”

The other boy that appears in almost all the pictures, Voldemort doesn’t even try to place.

He got a report on all of them, marked as Dumbledore’s puppets, but he only remembered the important names on that list.

The girl, he knows. Only one picture with her. Marlene McKinnon. A fighter- a good fighter. She killed three Death Eaters. A Healer, too. Voldemort always looks after powerful witches. They are sorely misrepresented in this war. It upsets Bella, who is trying to recruit more girls, with little success.

She’s in Black’s lap, head thrown back, while Black sucks a bruise on her throat. Voldemort tilts his head, wastes a second more than it is needed on the picture. He’d never seen a picture this vulgar, especially put on display on a wall. The girl is engaged, isn’t she? With one of the Prewett brothers.

He scans the walls for them, but he can’t find them anywhere.

He finds muggle telephone numbers scribbled in lipstick on the walls, instead.

The most amusing- a picture ripped from a newspaper, showing the Dark Mark floating over a house. It has many sharp objects stuck in it-

Darts. Yes, that’s the name of the game.

He smiles. Black has good aim- one of the darts is stuck in the eye of the snake.

Under the bed, beneath a loose floorboard, he finds a box kept safe by no less than five curses. He opens it to find a picture of Orion Black. It is clipped from a newspaper article, cut carefully and precisely around the edges. And a letter. It’s clearly the second page of one- the first is missing.

‘-no need to play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You know fully well it is not cursing the half-blood that bothers me, but your lack of decorum. You are a civilised young man, you represent our family, and you should act accordingly. I warned you I do not enjoy having to correspond with either McGonagall or Dumbledore, yet you’re forcing me to do so when you blatantly misbehave. Am I to presume you do not care about my displeasure, and this is why you disobey me? Or should I conclude you would like to please your father, yet you lack the self-control to do it? I struggle to pick which option is worse. This is the seventh time in a month I receive letters about your detentions. Do stop assaulting your schoolmates, or if you must, show some cunning and do not get caught. Or else we will have to have a serious conversation when you come home for Yule. I assure you, it is not a conversation you will enjoy.

Furthermore, I hear you intend to take a mudblood to one of those holiday celebrations Slughorn likes to host. Surely, I heard wrong. You would be wise to invite Helena Edgecombe to this function. Her father mentioned just the other day that she finds your company delightful.

Flitwick was accommodating enough to send me your Charms paper, along with your grade. He mentioned it was the best paper he graded in all his years of teaching, and, after reading it, I must agree it was quite extraordinary. I am half tempted to send it to my old mentor back at the Institute. Very well done, Sirius. You certainly can make me proud when it doesn’t inconvenience you.

If only you would show proof of your upbringing in your social life, as well, I would be most content.

With love,

Your father.’

The letter has blotch marks on it, as if someone cried over it. The word ‘father’, especially, is almost erased, and Voldemort imagines Black often moved his finger over it.

Bella mentioned Sirius Black was ‘unnaturally close’ to Orion, and that his father’s death broke him. She credits this event with the boy running away from Grimmauld.

Voldemort carefully arranges these apparently precious possessions back into the box, seals it under the floorboard with the same curses he found on it.

The house is messy, unorganised, clothes thrown around, bottles of alcohol everywhere, full to the brim ashtrays lying around in odd places, and burn marks on the rug.

Yet his collection of muggle records is organised in alphabetical order, neatly. And there, hidden behind the impressive collection, Voldemort finds eight tomes filled with dark magic. All illegal.

His bathroom cabinets are just as messy, and clearly his female guests left behind bottles of lipstick, or similar products. They also left behind some lingerie. A pair of pink knickers is half hidden into a tiny gap underneath the bathtub. He wonders if they belong to the same women who left her bra between the couch cushions in the living room.

Voldemort finds a secret compartment, coming out from the side of the bathroom cabinet. Hang-over potions, peppers up. Polyjuice.

Veritaserum.

Hidden further still, he finds three lethal poisons.

If he didn’t know better, Voldemort might think two different men share the house; a careless, Bohemian womaniser, a blood traitor surrounded by mudbloods and half-bloods and other blood traitors, with muggle musicians on the wall.

And the Black heir, interested in dark magic, poisons, sleeping with his father’s picture under his bed.

This will be easy, he thinks, as he sits in an appalling armchair that doesn’t fit with the rest of the furniture.

Charmed into the armrest, there’s a letter, covered in plastic for preservation. “You fucking dog, how dare you steal my armchair! Give it back, or I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life writing horrible articles about you!”

It amuses Voldemort, as it probably amuses Black, hence why he decided to place it on the armrest, permanently.

When the young man stumbles his way into the house, he contains his surprise to find Voldemort there remarkably fast.

People have been telling Voldemort Black takes after Walburga; he might, it’s too soon to tell, but his first impression is that Sirius favours his father.

Voldemort is yet to meet an unattractive Black- and he’s met them all- but the boy is something else, even for the Blacks.

His tall, broad body is on display in the muggle attire he wears, hair falling around his shoulders with a casual elegance; he is both handsome, with strong, sharp bones and beautiful, with soft lips and long, thick eyelashes, made even darker by the paleness of his eyes.

It has been so long since he felt attraction; it travels up his spine as he takes in the boy.

Who very quickly decides he will die a hero; Voldemort can see that decision forming in his eyes. Not with Legilimency. It’s just made obvious by the way his impressive shoulders straighten with pride, his jaw sets in determination, anger replacing the fear in his eyes.

And there was fear- Voldemort is intimately familiar with fear of death, can easily recognise it when it shines in front of him.

Yet he spent his life fleeing from it.

Sirius Black walks towards it, bold.

It takes only a minute of conversation to charm him; easy, indeed. Sirius’ interest is picked instantly; pride flickers in his eyes that someone like Voldemort would bother coming to kill him; even more pride when Voldemort explains he’s there to recruit him.

He is a Black, down to his last bone. He calls Voldemort a mudblood; he declares himself the purest being in existence. He speaks of his mother; the boy in the pictures is not there, the owner of muggle records, the blood traitor- no; only the Black heir speaks to Voldemort that night.

Powerful, too, like any Black. A diamond in the rough, his magic true and strong and raw as he unleashes it. Dark curses fall with a practiced ease from his wand. Fiendfyre engulfs the room in seconds.

What a treasure. As unhinged and powerful as Bella, this one.

And there it is, his pure blood spilling over the floor, staining the carpet. Voldemort has the impulse to taste it; a momentary madness, but the boy enchants him so.

His clothes are ripped and burned in places, and Voldemort can glimpse tattoos on pale skin. Voldemort wants his mark on that skin; he wants to hold the boy’s strong forearm and brand him as his own. Claim him for himself.

Sirius Black fights readily, bravely. With his wand and with his words.

But Voldemort can smell the mountain of insecurity hidden under the fury, like the boy hides his poisons under harmless perfumes.

Some men- most men- cower when confronted with violence, bend and break under pain, especially pain caused by Voldemort’s wand.

Not this one, Voldemort understands. No, violence will only be met with violence, here.

Voldemort will need a different approach.

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 @halloweenaesthetic @timid-raccoon

"Come on, put on some fresh clothes." Noah stands from my bed, holding his hands out for me to take and leaving my question floating in the air. I do nothing but blink at him, confused and honestly a little hurt that he left me hanging. He takes my hands in his and pulls me to my feet, and I stagger a bit from the weight on my ankle, not preparing to stand so abruptly. "Noah, what are you doing?" "Just trust me. Put on something you like, and I'll be downstairs when you're ready," he tells me, and he's shutting my door behind him before I have a chance to say anything else.

I'm stunned. One minute I'm crying, the next he's kissing me, and now he just bolted out of my room. I didn't know what to think of it.

I sighed and turned to my closet, flipping through my attire before settling on a light pink cardigan and skinny jeans. I changed and situated my boot, cleaned up the mascara I had running down my face, and met him downstairs like he said.

He flashes me a soft smile, holding up the keys to my car. I quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to stifle my bashful grin. I glance around the room; my parents are in the kitchen with Leora, and Nick's leaning against the back of the couch with his arms folded over his chest, a smug look on his face.

"What is going on here?" I eye my brother with suspicion, and he all but shrugs. "I told you, just trust me. C'mon, we're going out," Noah clarifies, waving me on. I roll my eyes and make my way over to him. "Did I say you can drive my car?" "No, but Nick did," he laughs, opening the front door. I huff, following him outside. "Of course he did."

The car ride to wherever he was taking me wasn't very long, but the air was heavy with things unanswered. All I could think about was the way his hands framed my face and the way his lips felt against mine when he kissed me. I swear I could feel them tingling, the residual spark still lingering on them.

He parks along the side of the street, and I scan the familiar strip of restaurants and shops. My brows furrow when I realize where he's brought me. I turn my head towards him, one eyebrow perked. "Welly's?" His mouth curls into a sheepish grin, and he nods shallowly. "You remember coming here, right?" "Yeah," I confirm, and I feel my cheeks warm at the past memories. Of course I remembered where our very first date was all those years ago. Of course I remembered each and every other time we came here.

We gaze at each other for a beat, and I swear I could see a blush crawl across his face, too. With a clearing of his throat, he exits my car and rounds the front of it, presumably to open my door, but I beat him to it. He makes a face and I snort, thanking him anyways.

We're seated shortly after we enter the restaurant, and flip through the menu, deciding quickly; I hadn't realized how hungry I was until my eyes roamed over the pictures of burgers and pasta dishes. We sat in a not-so-comfortable silence after we placed our order, waiting for one of us to break the ice.

"So," I start, taking a sip of my water. "Why'd you bring me here?" He shrugs, doing the same. "I think we both deserve to get out and enjoy some food after everything that happened." "I guess you're right about that one," I chuckled. "But why Welly's?" "The food's good and it's been years since I've had it," he answers matter-of-factly. I nod slowly, accepting his excuse that I didn't exactly buy. It's been a while since I've eaten here, too, so I guess I couldn't say much. But I know that it was more than that.

It was a place he and I were comfortable in—or had been, anyway. Whenever we were here, it was like the world around us didn't exist. It was just the two of us. We'd zone everyone and everything out and cherish our time spent together, each conversation we had, each laugh we shared. I felt like maybe there was a part of him that wanted that right at this very moment, but it just wasn't the same.

Even after we got our food and ate for a few minutes, he still seemed stiff as a board, but I couldn't handle the tension anymore. I put my fork down and wiped my face with my napkin, staring at him until he noticed.

"What?" he asks, slowly putting his own fork down. "Do I have something on my face?" "No," I laughed lightly and shook my head at him. "Spit it out. Why exactly did you bring me here?" "I already told you," he starts, averting his eyes to his plate, "I like the food here and it's been a long time—" "But you know this is where we had not only our first date together, but many, many more after that. This was our place, Noah." He presses his mouth into a line and nods curtly, still not looking at me. "Why didn't you answer my question earlier?"

I could tell he was nervous, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He's fidgeting with his silverware now, and he tries to avoid the question by shoving another forkful of food in his mouth. I roll my eyes and say his name sternly, trying to bring him back to the conversation.

He finishes his bite of food with a huff, slowly bringing his attention back to me. His dark eyes lock with mine, and I can see the timidness radiating from them. "I don't know," he whispers. "I don't know what we are, Amelia. All I know is that I still care so deeply for you, and it scares me." I shake my head, puzzled. "What do you mean it scares you?" "I fucked up when I left. I never should have, I should have stayed, and because of that we'll never be anything more than people with a troubled past." There's a pang in my chest hearing him say that. "And a child," I remind him. "And a child that I don't want to leave behind."

I'm stunned for a moment hearing those words come out of his mouth. The pang that I had felt was replaced by a warmth that was beginning to blossom in my chest, and I couldn't help the smile spreading on my face. He wanted to be in Leora's life.

"Really?" I asked, barely audible. "Really." I'm filled with relief, and I have to fight back the tears brewing because of it. "So, what are you saying?" "I'm saying that...that I want it to be the three of us. You, me, and Leora. I know it won't be easy and I can't just jump in expecting you and her to accept me, but I've done a lot of thinking." His eyes bounce between mine as he speaks, and I can see the sincerity pouring from them. "It's always been you, but now it's you and her." "What do you mean it's always been me, Noah?" He gives a short chuckle. "I've never wanted to be with anyone else besides you, Amelia. I've never even been with anyone else."

Once again, I'm stunned. Was he telling me that he still loves me after all these years? If that was the case, then why the fuck didn't he ever reach out to me? He never did, not once. No phone calls, no texts, no letters. So I asked him, trying to keep my tone level so that it didn't sound accusing.

"Because when you cut ties, I respected your wishes and did what you asked of me and never spoke to you again."

That's all he said, and I knew that he was right. I had no one to blame but myself; I should have reached out. I should've told him about Leora before she was even born. And as mad as he was when I first told him while trapped in that prison, he didn't seem angry about it now. He was level-headed and genuine. Maybe a little hurt, and I regretted hiding Leora from him because of it.

"I'm sorry that I kept her from you, and that you had to find out the way that you did," I tell him wholeheartedly, a twinge of guilt hitting me. "I shouldn't have done that." "As long as you don't keep her from me now, I guess I could forgive you," he muses, a smirk gracing his lips. I huff a quick laugh. "I won't. She really adores you, you know." "Yeah?" I nod, grinning lightly at him.

But now this brings the next question: do we tell Leora that Noah is her father? And if we do, how do we go about it? I wasn't sure how she would take it, or if she would even understand it. It wasn't every day that a 5-year-old gets told 'Hey, you know this stranger you've known for a few months? Yeah, he's your dad'.

My stomach churns with nerves from the thought of it. I push my plate away slightly before bringing my hands to my lap and wringing them together instead of picking at my nails.

"What's up, Meels?" Noah asks, and I can see the concern on his face from the crease in his brows. "It's just...where do we go from here? Do we tell Leora right away or do we put it off? I don't know how to go about this, Noah, and it makes me anxious just thinking about it." His face softens, a miniscule, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "We take it day by day. You'll know when it's the right time to tell her."

-

My skin prickled from the chilly air inside the building, soft music and the quiet hum of the freezer filling the room. I had Leora propped on my hip as she peered into the glass countertop, watching her smile grow wide from the variety of flavors. "Which flavor do you want? Point to it!" I brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she leaned closer to the display case. "Pink!" she enthusiastically taps on the glass, and it fogs up from the heat of her breath. "Leo, there's three flavors of 'pink'," I laughed. "Do you want strawberry, cotton candy, or bubblegum?" She hums and pokes out her little tongue as she ponders. "Cotton candy!" "Okay, cotton candy it is. What about you, Noah?"

I turned towards Noah; his hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie as he shrugs. He was never a big sweets guy, so it didn't exactly matter to him what he got.

"I'll have Leora pick for me." He flashes a toothy grin, ruffling her hair. "Pick a good one." She giggles, batting his hand away from her playfully before turning back to the glass. "That one!" She points to the right side of the case. "M&M? How did you know that I liked M&Ms?" "Everyone likes M&Ms, duh," she sasses, rolling her eyes. "Duh," he mimics, sticking his tongue out at her.

I chuckle and shake my head at them, placing Leora on the floor once she was handed her ice cream. She doesn't waste a second, digging her spoon into her early-summer snack with such force, it nearly toppled out of the cup it sat in. She takes her first bite, her face melting into that of pure delight just as Noah nudges my shoulder. I turned and thanked him when he handed me my ice cream, and we exit the little shop shortly thereafter.

Noah's hand dwarfs Leora's as he takes hold of it, guiding her across the street safely; my heart warms and I smile at the sight, following behind them. She pulls him over to a bench that was settled underneath a decent sized oak tree, the branches swaying gently in the wind and allowing in just the right amount of sunlight to keep you warm in the shade. I joined them, Leora now sandwiched between us.

Noah was right. He said I would know the right time to tell her, and right now seemed to be it as I watched them eat their ice cream, Leora's getting all over her face. He laughed when he noticed the mess, taking a napkin from his pocket to wipe her face. She whines, pushing his hand away, and I allow it to happen with a giggle—there was no use in cleaning her face, it was only going to be covered in a blob of pink within seconds.

"You win this round," he tells her with a huff. He gives up and crumples the napkin to shove it back in his pocket. "I bet you would let Mom clean you up. Isn't that right?" I snort. "Yeah, right. Kid does whatever she wants, even though she should listen to her mom and dad," I tease, tapping the tip of her nose with my spoon. "I don't have a dad," she simply states, ignoring the drop of ice cream I left on her nose, and goes back to shoveling a mouthful of her dessert in her mouth. "Well, actually Leora..."

I trail off and glance over at Noah, my heart suddenly in my throat. His eyes quickly meet mine, silently surveying whether I was going to tell her or not. When I don't say anything right away, he gives a quick nod, urging me on.

I cleared my throat, putting my dish down beside me on the bench before turning myself towards her some. "You do have a dad," I start, running a hand down the length of her hair. "I do?" She looks at me with perplexity while simultaneously taking another bite of her ice cream. I grin lightly from her innocence, now brushing a piece of her hair away from her face. "Everyone has a dad, Leo. You know how Papa is my dad?" She nods with a small 'uh-huh'. "Well, Noah is your dad."

I watched as her brows furrowed with uncertainty, and she looks back and forth between me and Noah. Slowly but surely, her face lights up and she breaks out into a huge smile. "Yes!" She shouts. "I was gonna ask if he could be my daddy!" She turns and wraps her little arms around Noah, never minding her ice cream that I'm sure was now all over the backside of him. He hugs her back with his free arm, a grin painted on his face as she practically squeezes the life out of him.

"That's not quite how that works, but I'm glad you like having me around," Noah laughs, rubbing her upper arm. "I certainly like being around." Leora cranes her neck so that she's looking up at him, still holding him close to her. "Does that mean you'll stay here with us?" "Well, that's up to your mom. I'd like to," he tells her, then turns his attention towards me, his eyes glistening with hope. "I'd like that, too," I simply tell him, a subtle smile gracing my lips. "Yes!" Leora cheers again, letting go of Noah and attaching herself to me in a vice grip. "He's going to be the best daddy, ever."

I certainly hope so.

[lilac-den]

I’ve seen this ask circulating and thought it would be cute, so… How would the ROs react if they came home and saw MC asleep on the couch with their baby on their torso?

Zeus: The moment they walk in and see the sight, their heart squeeze with feelings only MC and their child can erupt from them. A faint smile crosses the usually stoic face and Zeus would move to get a blanket, covering them. Then they sit in front of the couch, in case MC and their baby accidentally tilt - at least then, Zeus would be able to catch them instead of having them faceplant on the ground. It would most likely be simpler to move them to the bed, but Zeus doesn't want to. They wouldn't want to risk ruining this perfect moment, this beautiful sight of their future.

Zeus sighs, blissfully. They never thought their future would be like this.

And it's glorious.

Hermes: They walk into the house with quiet steps and, not hearing the squeals or chatter of MC or their baby, a set of alert ruptures for a moment until they see the two sleeping on the couch.

They sigh with relief. They scan their eyes over MC and their baby, just sleeping soundly and without worry about the world. A genuine smile crosses their lips. They sit on the floor just next to the couch and look between MC and the baby before lightly pinching MC's nose.

Rather than waking up, MC's brows furrow and wrinkles their nose like a hamster. The sight made Hermes chuckle before their eyes dart to their baby, who produces the same face and squirms as if copying their other parent even in their sleep.

They end up pulling out their phone to commemorate this memory with a picture, even if it pales in comparison to the real moment.

Dionysus: "[Name], [Child name]! I'm-" Dionysus immediately shuts up upon hearing the soft snores. Moving with silent steps, as if they're floating, Dionysus moves for the couch and smiles widely at the sight before them.

MC has a hand on their baby, letting the cute little one sleep on top of their torso and making sure their body was flat enough to not let the baby slip off. Dionysus goes for the blankets, covering them with one blanket and then cushioning MC's neck with a neck pillow they bought after MC talked about a sore neck from sleeping on the couch years ago. They even leave a kiss on the forehead to bless them with good dreams.

Then Dionysus reaches out to pat their baby on the head and plant a forehead kiss too, which elicits a cute little noise from the baby - one of glee, as Dionysus can tell - before they snuggle into Dionysus's palm.

The sight warms their heart more than the rise of the morning sun.

Ares: "Hey, cadet, how's our little recru-"

Ares stops in their words, realizing that both their cadet and little recruit are sleeping soundly on the couch. A chuckle leaves them. They must have been spending more energy than usual if they fell asleep on the couch.

Ares moves over to the front of the couch and, without breaking a sweat, they put up both MC and their baby and lift them up, leaning back slightly to prevent any accidental tipping to the front.

Easily, they carry their family over to the large bed, where they set MC down on it. As if sensing more room, MC relaxes a bit more and even spreads out their body, except for the hand that continues to protectively hold their child.

Ares's cheeks warm from the sheer joy and they lean over to first peck on MC's temple, and then their little recruit's head before they move for a shower.

Once they finish said shower, they'll situate themselves to spoon both MC and their baby, holding them close yet not suffocating.

If Ares was ever asked what their favourite moment would be, this would be it.

Dolos: "Tweeety bird! Little baby bird! I'm ho-" Dolos stops in their tracks upon seeing the sight. It's taking everything in the fibre of their being to not squeal or fangirl/boy over the moment.

They check to make sure the temperature isn't too hot or cold. If the weather is too hot, then they'll turn on the AC or fan. If the weather is too cold, they'll check on the heater to see if it's on or put a soft blanket over them.

Then they grab their sketchbook and sit down in front of the couch, taking a picture of this momentous occasion. But before they get started on their drawing, they lean in to plant a little peck on their baby bird's cheek.

"Hi, baby bird." Dolos says quietly and softly, not trying to wake them up. Then they move their focus to MC, where they plant a light, almost feathery kiss upon their sleeping spouse.

"I'm home, tweety bird." They whisper against their lips, one full of happiness that Dolos can't help the sting in their eyes as they smile.

To have this happiness again...Dolos couldn't-wouldn't-ask for more.