#smallest bit of projection but WHATEVER

[nvmbersix]

he's a 10 but his tastes in men are questionable at best and god awful at worst

[cyberjam]

E!42 MILES DATING A SHY!SOFT READER . . . ☆

warnings - black fem!reader in mind but you can imagine it however you'd like, miles having a soft spot for you, pink coquette vibes from reader, profanity, slightly suggestive.

word count - 2.2k | lowercase intended.

main masterlist | proof read?: kinda😭

song rec for fic?: yo love - from "queen and slim: the soundtrack - vince staples, 6lack, mereba <3

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. . HOW YOU FIRST MET . .

ఇ . . . you two were assigned as partners for a science project that would play a big part in your final grade. you knew of each other but never fully interacted until now.

ఇ . . . miles knew you as quiet, only speaking when spoken to. you were an approachable person with a warm smile. you carried yourself well, and treated others kindly, even if they were undeserving. he was entranced by you to say the least. with how things were currently going in new york, he was surprised that the city hadn't dimmed your light. miles wanted to know more about you and this project gave him the perfect opportunity to do so.

ఇ . . . you knew of miles as well. he had the reputation of being an unapproachable person. easily intimidating others without trying, and keeping his circle of people small. you took a small interest in him as well. you'd catch yourself glancing at him every now and then, trying to break down his character. he didn't seem as mean as everyone claimed but now was finally your chance to see for yourself.

ఇ . . . that project was only the beginning of your and miles' relationship.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

. . CRUSHING STAGE . .

ఇ . . . miles protectiveness increases the more your relationship grows. he'll cut into situations and defend you before you can fully form a thought. he never hesitates to step in-front of you as a human-shield and tell someone off with a simple phrase.

"ay, watch yo mouth." | "huh? repeat yo'self." | "i know you not talkin'-"

ఇ . . . he starts eating lunch with you. his friends get on him for being a simp but he brushes it off every-time. he enjoys the convos you two have during lunch and would rather sit next to you than a rowdy group of boys who use the lunch food as science experiments.

ఇ . . . he seeks you out. during school, after school, on his nightly patrols, etc. without even fully knowing it himself, miles is always looking for you no matter where he is. he just naturally gravitates towards you. you bring something to miles life that he hasn't had in a long time. peace.

ఇ . . . let's you mess with his hair. when he's over your place he'll let you put your cute baby pink hair clips in his braids and even tie in some hair bo-bo's at the end of them. but only if you take them out as soon as you're done and don't take any pictures. (you still take pictures)

ఇ . . . let's you draw on him. you can't remember when it exactly started but it's became a routine for you to doodle and write on his hands in every class you two share. he'll return the favor, if you ask nicely. he copies whatever drawing you did on his hand to yours so you'd be matching. (he dreams of getting matching tattoos with you.) <3

ఇ . . . scares classmates away. whether it be a glare from across the room or an arm slung around your shoulders, miles is always scaring your classmates away. even if they show the smallest romantic interest in you.

ఇ . . . maintains eye contact. he's always looking for your eyes and trying to remain in contact with them when you talk. he just loves staring into your pretty doe eyes while you ramble about something you like.

ఇ . . . nicknames. miles doesn't want to scare you off by being too forward, so he'll limit his nicknames. the ones he does call you while crushing on you are ma and princesa.

ఇ . . . passes notes in class. he's a bit of a "model student" in class (not talking back, not interrupting or disrespecting classmates, turning in his work early on time. he just wants to be left alone lmao) but he's more than willing to pass notes with you throughout the entire period. you'll catch him up on the newest gossip and he'd update you on the stuff him and his homeboys get into.

ఇ . . . he'll help you study. if you don't know spanish or you're just a struggling student, he'll teach you everything you're having a hard time with at a comfortable pace. he'll quiz you every once in awhile just to make sure you fully understand and don't feel behind in anything. if you've shown a significant amount of improvement he'll treat you by taking you out for your choice of dessert. (it's really just an excuse to take you out on a date without using the word date)

ఇ . . . there's an unspoken rule that you are his. classmates know, your friends know, his homeboys know, hell, even the teachers know. you're the only person miles gives the time of day. you're the only one who gets to walk around with his arm on your shoulders, have his undivided attention, as well as be the reason for his smile. you are his and he is yours.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

. . DATING STAGE . .

ఇ . . . late night facetime calls. you two are truly never apart. when you're not together physically you're on facetime with each other. he loves when you call him and showcase the cute things you bought for yourself using his card. he also just loves the comfort those calls bring him. seeing you engulfed in a warm blanket fast asleep while he's doing his own thing just makes him feel content. you're able to be there for each other without physically being there and that's enough for him to wait patiently until he's able to hold you again.

ఇ . . . clingy as hell. although, he'll never voice out his wants for your touch he will initiate it. miles will be the one to commence 80% of affection. partly because you're shy and mainly because he can't keep his hands off of you. miles is always touching you in some way. whether it be an arm around your shoulder, a hand resting on your thigh, or a hand rubbing your ass while you're cuddling. he can't resist kissing you either. his lips always finding any available part of your skin to kiss when he feels like it.

ఇ . . . compliments. every chance he gets he'll remind you how good you look. always hyping you up and telling you how beautiful you are. whenever you get overwhelmed by the flow of affectionate words that smoothly flow out of his mouth, you'll cover your face with your hands and turn away from him. it only gives him more fuel in the long run because he loves to see his girl get all shy and cute for him. sometimes he doesn't even use his words. a simple look up and down while licking his lips will leave you weak in the knees.

"that's all mine right there."

ఇ . . . genuinely hates arguing with you. he hates when you're upset with him. there are plenty of times where miles has provoked you to the point you've gotten upset with him and that's usually when he knows he's gone too far. you're his girl, his everything. he can't have you sulking because of him. although, miles does have a bit of a short-temper, he remains calm throughout these situations. he lets you both voice your sides and he won't let the situation go until you come to an agreement. he tends to avoid arguments at all costs. usually murmuring a "you got it, ma." before it turns into something more. after settling long disagreements, he'll engulf you in a hug and give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"love you. don't want my girl goin to bed mad at me."

ఇ . . . nicknames! his nicknames will consist of mi vida, mi reina, ma, mami, baby, etc. any term of endearment you can think of he's most-likely called you. usually consisting of 'my/mine'. he's very possessive. your contact name in his phone is 'mi corazon 💘' and you're the only one with an emoji next to your name.

ఇ . . . spoils you. you want it? you got it. although, miles isn't incredibly wealthy, he does have money. he uses it to take care of you and his mom, providing help for the both of you. he helps rio with actual necessities, while with you he provides you with gifts. ranging from shoes, eyelashes, lace fronts, plushies, clothes, or electronics. the most expensive gift he's gotten for you is an ipad and apple pencil. it was for your birthday and he knew he had to get it for you after hearing you fangirl about it nonstop.

ఇ . . . lets you do his hair. he usually only lets rio do his hair, he's a major mama's boy. so, when you were granted the privilege to do his hair you felt honored. he also just loves when you take his braids out and give him scalp massages. he's fallen asleep on occasion because of how gentle and soothing your hands are. he's also tender-headed as hell so, please be careful or you'll get a earful of him complaining.

"damn, ma. why you gotta pull so tight?"

ఇ . . . buys matching sets. he buys you both matching shoes, clothes, and jewelry. he likes the simplicity of being able to match with you and show everyone you're his without voicing it. you two are the couple that matches on christmas. matching christmas tree pants, and santa hats...rio thinks it's adorable. for your 5 month anniversary you were gifted a gold necklace with his name written in cursive and once he helped you put it on he revealed the necklace that was under his shirt that had your name in gold written in cursive. only time you two take it off is when you're in the shower/pool. he'll take it off during prowler business as well, he doesn't want to disclose any of his personal business at work, it's very dangerous for the both of you.

ఇ . . . cant sleep without you. once miles gets a taste of what life is like keeping you close and holding you to sleep, it's hard for him to go without it. he loves cuddling with you and if there were any instance where you two wouldn't be together he would toss and turn all night and look at the ceiling until his body physically shut down itself. it's not the healthiest way to go by so when he starts to show up to school with deeper eye bags than usual, you decide to give him a plushie of his own. he'll buy the plushie little clothes and change them every now and then. he names it after you, and he even bought the exact perfume you wear and sprays it on the stuffed animal before going to bed and cuddling it. he's embarrassed to admit it, so he'll never tell you how much he pampers it. (you don't need him to tho, you've caught him kissing the top of the stuffed animals head before cradling it in his arms and murmuring 'goodnight, mi vida.')

ఇ . . . will go to the barbie movie with you. he'll thrown on a pink hoodie, black jeans, and pair it with some jordan's while you're decked out from head to toe in pink. he's gonna cry at one point during the movie and you have to pretend you didn't see. when you ask him if he liked it he'll shrug his shoulders while sniffling. he def gave his mom a big hug when he got back home. :')

"yeah, yeah...it was alright, i guess."

ఇ . . . talks about you to his mom. mile's didn't speak much of you when he had a crush on you, but he really didn't have to. his mom knew there was something or more so someone occupying his mind whenever he'd come back from school with a slight dazed expression and the tiniest smile.

ఇ . . . graffiti's your initials together. whenever he's bored and has a little extra time on his hands he'll graffiti his and yours initials together. sometimes replacing your last initial with an 'M' for Morales..

ఇ . . . treats your stuffed animals like they're your children. he scolds you if he catches one of them on the floor, he'll name them future child names he has in mind because he def wants to get married and start a family w/ you, he gives them hugs and buys cute little tutu's for them. lowkey will throw a fit if he finds out you gave some of them away.

ఇ . . . buys/sends things that reminds him of you. he'll buy you your fave bag of chips if he sees it in the store, he'll pick up a keychain with your name on it and attach it to his bookbag, he'll send you memes or recommend a tv show because the character reminded him of you. you're really on his mind 25/8.

ఇ . . . bakes with you. he loves baking with you. you two will bake the hell out of some chocolate chip cookies or some brownies. nothing that takes too long or a lot of preparation though, he'll get antsy and kinda touchy which leads to burnt products and a ruined cake pan.

ఇ . . . shows you off/brags about you. his friends and close family members know all about you and your achievements. if you play sports he'll cheer you on and brag about your wins, if you're an artist he'll post your artwork, if you have a small clothing brand he'll wear it and tell people to buy from your store if they ask, if you knit/crochet he'll ask you to make him a bucket hat or a mini version of you and him, if you dance he'll stay up all night on the phone while you show him your new choreography. it doesn't matter what you do, miles will continue to support you and brag about any and every achievement you accomplish. big or small.

ఇ . . . miles morales loves his sweet soft significant other.

currently re-writing my miles morales fic that was 6k words because tumblr decided to randomly delete it 🥲 i'll try to get it out soon! <3

also sorry for inactivity, i've been busy w/ school and work but i'll try to shoot out fics faster when i get the time :) !!

[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[atiny-moon]

ATEEZ as Boyfriends

Genre: soft, fluffy, suggestive

Pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

Tags: a little bit of everything <3

Word Count: 1.6K

HONGJOONG

Definitely the type of bf to fix your clothes - like if you’re going out somewhere, i can see him helping you pick out smth to wear or even styling you himself. And when you two are out, he’s constantly adjusting your fit so you don’t look bad. The type of guy wander off in the middle of a party just so he can admire you from afar

Though he isn’t too fond of being overly emotional, will hype you up to anyone who would listen and not even in an annoying way, it just so happens that the majority of his sentences start off with ‘oh, my partner..’

Loves leaving marks - biting, hickies, etc. in places only he knows about

Will call you every time he’s eating, even if he doesn’t say anything, just bc he missed you and wanted to have you around for a little bit

Doesn’t like to cuddle but does give the best kisses the kind where he just holds your chin in place and plays with the ways his lips touch yours

Ultimate king of push and pull

SEONGHWA

Ugh, the way this man would absolutely dote on his partner. Anything they wanted - he’d be all over it. Think acts of service type of love

Loves all the cheesy romantic shit, all of it - the matching accessories, matching hairstyles, coordinating outfits, taking an insane amount of cute couple photos, going to the most aesthetic date spots just so y’all can take photos together. Knows your best angles, duh

So many gifts. And expensive gifts, too! Hwa’s got super expensive taste and i feel like he’s the type of bf to dote on you so much that he wouldn’t want you to wear inexpensive clothing. Like he’ll be like, ‘oh, babe, i got you these new silk pajamas because you said mine were so comfy’ meanwhile he’s already replaced like all of your clothes

Super comfy stay-at-home dates where you do skincare and watch the latest episode of whichever drama you’re watching. Even when he’s hella busy, he’d find time to video call you so you could watch the newest episode together.

Always smells incredibly good, addictive even

Forehead kisses & top of the head kisses are his favorite

YUNHO

Textbook romantic gentleman. The type that makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, opens every door for you, never ever lets you lift a finger, and will always give you his jacket if you’re cold

Super sentimental. Like if you put together a scrapbook of all of your time together, guaranteed this man will cry. Especially if there’s a handwritten letter explaining how much you love him - he would simply be undone

Tries to remember every single detail about you so he can either plan the perfect date or gift you the perfect item. Truly works soo hard at being a good boyfriend. Also really good with birthdays. Like, scary good.

And tbh, the type of bf to call you out on your bs - like when you’re being a little unreasonable or if you’re telling him about a situation that you’re going through, i think yunho would be the type of bf to tell you when you’re wrong but in a nice way! (maybe.. he can be kinda savage sometimes lmao)

While I don’t think he’d be super into PDA i do think he’d just always be near you like close enough to reach out and hold his hand or close enough that you two would be able to talk without raising your voices

This man loves back hugs

YEOSANG

The best at good morning and goodnight texts. They somehow always make you feel loved and special

Super supportive? The type of bf to set reminders in his phone so he can wish you good luck on whatever upcoming project you’re working on. Even if it’s like the smallest thing ever, he’d be so proud of you for working toward it and even more proud when you achieve it

Really deep and interesting conversations

I think it would be so easy to be with Yeosang - like the both of you wake up together, get hungry at the same time, get sleepy at the same time, etc

It’s not that he’s not into PDA, he just forgets about it like of course he loves holding your hand, but he got distracted thinking about what he wanted to get for lunch

Laying his head on your lap is his preferred way to fall asleep

SAN

Loooooooves physical affection. Cannot get enough of it. I think his ideal would be being able to glue himself to you so two could just walk around permanently attached to each other. also I feel like San runs really fricken hot - like a cute lil heater

The ultimate hype man. It could be a pre-workout selfie, a just finished taking a shower selfie, an all dressed up selfie, a sleepytime selfie, a i just woke up selfie, IT DONT MATTER!! San is going to hype you up every single time. Which obviously does wonders for your confidence (which was his plan all along ;) )

Loves to stay in and just watch movies. Mostly so he can spend as much time as he can cuddling with you. Matter of fact, most of the dates he plans are just excuses to spend more time with you - physically and emotionally

Speaking of, San would be such a good listener! Like I feel he’d understand where you’re coming from emotionally and provide support in a positive and affirming way and never ever make you feel like your emotions are wrong or you were wrong, for that matter truly wants the best for you

And bc he loves you so much, I feel like he would also respect you a whole heck of a lot which means the first time you guys wanna do anything sexual, it takes him a loooong time to be okay with it. Like i think you would have to initiate

That said, he would absolutely blow your back out every chance he got once he got comfortable

MINGI

Loyal af. Once he makes a decision on who he likes, it’s that person FOR EVA so get used to the idea of having song mingi in your life

The wildest communicator - like, y’all abandoned texting very early on in the relationship and now exclusively communicate via selfies/photos, voice memos & memes. His voice memos are hilarious and sometimes incredibly lewd. Like will sing you an entire song that he just made up. In voice memos. Then follow it up with what he wants to do to you in excruciatingly graphic details.

While he won’t do completely matching outfits, he is super down to coordinate outfits - wear the same colors, or complementary silhouettes, something that lets ppl know you two are an ~item~

And though I think he likes being Princess Mingi, i think he would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taken care of - whatever you need, he’d get it for you.. Or get someone else to get it for you lolol

Will always pull you into his lap. He likes how easy/fun it is to manhandle you.

Loves PDA. I’m talkin full on make-out sessions, ass grabbing, hand holding, and everything in-between. good luck getting him off you!

WOOYOUNG

Likes biting. A lot. Especially the marks it leaves

Super generous. Like, the most giving man you have ever met. Will give you the shirt off his back even if you don’t ask for it. This also extends to anyone you know, especially! family. He likes knowing he’s the one taking care of you && yours

This man is crazy into fashion and i think his style would end up affecting your style, not bc he wants to but bc he just looks so cool all the time, you’d wanna match him, if you know what i mean. Definitely gives me gomez & morticia addams vibes.

Learns your favorite dishes and cooks them for you.

I think Wooyo’d be the type of bf to be a little controlling or ride the line of being a little mean just so he can rile you up. It turns him on when you get angry. But would also definitely cut it out if he saw you weren’t having it.. He wants to fuck you, not make you mad!

Can and will makeout with you for hours

JONGHO

Would have such a hard time telling you how he feels, but has no problem showing you how he feels - whether it’s buying you a little trinket, or making sure you ate, or even just listening to you, i think you would always feel loved when you’re with Jongho

Is actually really funny? Or maybe he’s just good at learning what makes you laugh and then gets good at telling you jokes that align more with your humor

Your family would absolutely adore Jongho

Wants to experience new things with you so all of your dates are either trying out a new restaurant, or visiting a new pop-up event, or going to a new city for the weekend, anything that helps creates memories with you

Hella anti-PDA. Will actively avoid holding your hand in public. But as soon as you are behind closed doors, will be the sweetest and most loving bf - being silly/cute, soft sweet kisses, plenty of hugs (which he’s surprisingly really good at), and sooo many massages

Jongho would give the best aftercare

[winchesterwild78]

The Weight of Guilt

Characters: Jensen x Reader (wife)

Warnings: Mention of injury, language, Jensen being a bit of a dick (at the beginning)

A/N: Just another quick story. Idea from @cheekygirl2309. Thanks girl! I hope I did the story justice. 😀 This is a work of fiction, Jensen is married to reader. Does not depict real life.

Jensen had always been a private man, but lately, he'd been more distant than usual. His normally cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a brooding silence. Tonight, he returned home, his face etched with worry. You could tell something was wrong, but he refused to share.

"Jensen, please talk to me," you pleaded. "I'm here for you."

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. "I can handle this alone."

You knew better than to push. Jensen had always been fiercely independent, and you respected that. But as the days turned into weeks, his behavior grew increasingly erratic. He'd have nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding. His anger seemed to be boiling just beneath the surface, and he'd snap at you for the smallest thing.

His drinking became heavier and he would stay in his office, leaving you alone for hours. When he would come out he barely spoke to you or looked at you. Jensen stopped kissing you, holding you and making love to you.

Your heart ached for him to tell you what was wrong. Your own anxiety causing you to think he didn’t love you anymore. You couldn’t figure out what happened that caused this shift in him. 

As Jensen walked out of his office with another empty whiskey bottle you reached for his arm, “Jensen, honey, we can’t keep living like this. You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me anymore. Please baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Jensen’s jaw tightened and his bloodshot eyes flashed with anger and sadness, “I told you I’d deal with this myself. Fuck! Why can’t you get that through your head?!”

After the harsh exchange, You couldn't take it anymore. You packed a bag and left for your mother's house. You needed time to process his behavior and to heal from the pain of his words.

Days turned into weeks and Jensen wouldn’t return your calls. You felt like you were on the brink of a divorce. Your heart ached, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d call and leave messages for Jensen, send him texts, but you were met with nothing but silence. 

Finally after almost 4 weeks apart you sent him a text.

You: Jensen, I love you but I deserve better than this. I deserve better than being ignored. I want to help you with whatever is going on, but if you won’t open up to me I can’t. If I don’t hear from you I’ll know you want this, us to be over. I’ll always love you Jensen. 

Sitting on the bed you cried. When you married Jensen, your heart was full of so much love and excitement for the future. The two of you had talked about your life together, which included children. Now it seems like whatever was going on was enough to shatter that dream.

A few days later, Jensen called. His voice was filled with desperation. "Please, come home, Honey. I need you."

You hesitated. "I will, but only if you tell me what's going on."

Finally, he confessed. On the set of his latest directorial project, an accident had occurred. Someone had been critically injured. Jensen blamed himself, believing he could have prevented it. The guilt had been eating away at him, driving him to the brink.

You listened to his story, your heart aching for him. You offered him comforting words and encouragement. When he was finally calm, you told him that you were coming home.

As you walked through the door, you were met by Jensen's outstretched arms. He held me tightly, his tears soaking your shoulder. You spent the next few days talking, healing, and rebuilding your connection. 

“Jensen, you have to share things with me, the good, bad, and ugly. I’m your wife, your partner. We work through things together. If you put walls up, our marriage won’t last.”

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I was afraid you’d blame me too. It’s my responsibility when I’m directing to keep everyone safe, and I failed.”

You cupped his face, “Jensen, it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault or anyone’s fault.” You kissed his lips softly. 

He pulled you flush to his body and deepened the kiss, “I love you so much, Y/N. I’ve been so foolish. I almost lost you.” 

“I love you too Jensen, you didn’t lose me. You could never lose me.”

The weight of his guilt had been lifted, and you knew that you would weather this and any future storm together.

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.  

Tags: 

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@lmg14

[brighteststar707]

To enter Saeyoung's study is like getting the smallest peek at the inside of his mind. He has never been one to try to put everything in his mind down on paper - it's too vulnerable, you see. It's not as messy as you had expected it to be at first (though it's by no means tidy, though).

Even in its tidiest state, you can spot little details that give you some more insight into his mind and habits: the little cross indentations on the surface of his desk where he absentmindedly dug his nails into the soft give of the wood. The chips in the paint where his box cutter nicked the desk. The overlapping marks of hot mugs placed down without a coaster. The tiniest little mark of your initial on the far corner (that he blushed at the first time you pointed out - a momento from the CCTV days).

This changes the second he takes on a project, especially one of those good ones that you know is going to be a marvel. That's where the corkboard comes in. And the whiteboard. And the wall.

At some point, he seems to have given up on having a dedicated space for his ideas and allowed them to encroach on his space.

When he's in one of these frenzies, you step into the study and find the walls covered in different sticky notes and papers with equations, find the whiteboard covered in diagrams you can't make sense of (and strange annotations to boot). The desk is strewn with more bits of paper and the beginnings of whatever he's trying to build.

Then, once it's all done, the study is restored. The blueprint is made, the doodles and calculations aren't needed anymore. Everything gets tidied and the wall reappears.

You used to spend the early days in there with him most of the time. Either curled up in Vanderwood's chair next to him or tucked up close to him on his lap. You can't count the amount of times you fell asleep to the sounds of him tapping on his computer keys and the soft humming under his breath. They're some of your best memories from that difficult time.

Then, later on, you found yourself bringing your work into the room with you just so you could be busy next to each other. He'd clear a corner of the desk for you and leave you little sticky note messages when you weren't looking.

This habit of yours was what led to him surprising you with your very own desk on the opposite wall of his study - an anniversary present. He still leaves you sticky note love letters and little origami creatures to keep you company. Then, sometimes, for posterity's sake, he'll pull your chair up to his desk so you can relive the old days.

While the room is still mainly his, knowing that he has made space for you in what once used to be his hideout from the world has been one of the best gifts he has given you so far (and he has given you so many).

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Crotch-Punching Distance

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Jim, short for James, James short for Gabriel- or was it James, long for Jim and short for Gabriel? Is really getting on your nerves

CW/AN: this is just a bit of a crack fic request

Requests are OPEN

Gomens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You are really fucking tired of Jim, Armageddon, Heaven, Hell and everything in between. Well, except for Zira and Crowley, of course. But you were tired of the sheer metric tonnage of bullshit that seems to follow them no matter where they go, what they do, or who they talk too.

Hell, even those they don’t talk to. For God's sake, Gabriel, or Jim, or James had just shown up at the bookshop doors one day unannounced. It was enough to drive a person to pack up and move half a continent away (or half a Universe away, if Crowley’s plan was to be taken into serious consideration) just to get some peace and quiet. 

Anyway, it was safe to say that Jim was annoying the shit out of you today. Every day, yes, but today specifically. It may have been a good question to ask as to when Jim did not annoy the shit out of you. The answer to that question was ‘not very often.’ Wow, you think to yourself. It’s a good thing Aziraphale can’t read your mind. He’d be absolutely mortified at the amount of poor language and blasphemy filling up your mind this morning. 

Speaking of your Angel… He and Crowley were doing their utmost to ignore Jim, short for James, James short for Gabriel. Or was it James, long for Jim and short for Gabriel? Whatever. Your two loves had left Jim/James/Gabriel to your mercy and were not entirely certain whether that was a good idea or not yet. Only time would tell. 

Currently, Jim was standing before you and continuing on with his ridiculous project of arranging the books by alphabetical order of the first sentence of the first chapter. It was driving you mad, but Aziraphale had just told you to leave him be. He’d fix it up later. 

“You know,” Jim says, stopping his work to turn to face you. He was looking at you with a glint in his eye that meant he had something that he thought just absolutely had to be said. “You are the smallest person I’ve ever seen!” 

You blink once, twice, and then pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. 

“No, really-” he says enthusiastically. “Like… hmm, what are those things? Oh! Yes, like children! But bigger.” 

You glare up at him. It was true you were on the rather small side, but that didn’t mean it needed to be pointed out like that. 

"You know, Jim,” you reply, giving him a very tight smile. “You’re talking mad shit for someone in crotch-punching distance."

Jim cocks his head and blinks in confusion. “Crotch-punching distance? What’s that?” 

Your smile grows tighter, if that’s possible and your fingers twitch, itching to just punch him.

“Would you like to find out, Gabe?”

Jim splits into a wide grin, echoing your question with an enthusiastic “oh, boy!” 

You wouldn’t actually punch him. It’s not his fault he doesn’t remember what an arse he is. But it doesn’t stop you from fantasising about it either. 

“Alright, love?” You hear a suave voice from over your shoulder. You sigh, and nod. 

“Peachy, Crowley, but I’m tapping out. Your turn for Jimsitting.” You give Crowley a peck on the cheek and escape before he has the chance to protest. You can hear his spluttering from the other side of the shop. 

“I’m going to make some tea, Zira, love. Would you like some?” 

Aziraphale looks up from over his glasses and smiles warmly, the thought of tea appealing indeed. 

“Oh, that would be wonderful, dear. Thank you.” He goes back to his papers, trying to decipher something terribly interesting, you imagine. You give Aziraphale a peck on the cheek too for good measure on your way past. 

That Jim, though. He better watch it, because you did not take bullshit lying down, that was for sure.

[quietblueriver]

They’re in my head again (always) so here’s some more Southern Gothic fluff. Once again very minor spoilers for last night’s ep but mostly just them being perfectly, disgustingly in love.

-

The bones on Laudna’s garland knock together overhead as Imogen ducks under her arm, laughing and stepping close again, squeezing Laudna’s fingers (gently, always gently) before standing on her toes to reciprocate the spin.

Laudna has to bend a little awkwardly to compensate for the height difference, a familiar crack of joints just audible over the music as she turns. She’s laughing when she comes back, smile haunting and bright, and Imogen pulls her close enough to press a kiss to her cheek before twirling her out again.

It’s not long before the deck fills, the rattle of bones a charming if entirely off-beat accompaniment to the music, and a few minutes later, Imogen feels the tap of a skeletal finger on her shoulder. She turns, keeping one hand on Laudna’s waist, to find one of the crewmen shifting from one bony foot to the other.

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.” And Imogen knows that bones can’t blush, but she can almost see it anyway, nerves working themselves out through shifting hip bones and twitching phalanges, a clenching mandible. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Flaming blue eyes dart to Laudna and Imogen smiles, feeling fond and strangely kin to the skeleton, grateful to be surrounded by souls who see Laudna a little more like she does, who can appreciate the particular beauty of a wilting flower that refuses to give up its spot in the sun.

She raises a brow at her girlfriend, who nods, rubbing a thumb over Imogen’s wrist at her waist.

“Not at all.” She presses another kiss to Laudna’s cheek, a little too close to her mouth to be friendly, and Laudna shakes her head fondly even as she blushes.

No need to worry, darling. I only have eyes for you.

Imogen winks, only the smallest bit embarrassed to have been called out. Can’t blame a girl for tryin’ to make things clear. She tucks a strand of Laudna’s hair behind her ear before stepping back and gesturing to the skeleton waiting patiently beside them.

“Y’all have fun.”

The skeleton dips his skull and moves closer to Laudna. Rather beautifully tattooed waves circle down his radii and ulna, which move hesitantly toward her hand and waist, and Imogen thinks that maybe Kyle isn’t the only sensitive soul on the Crimson Abyss. She hears an enthusiastic, “Hello, there! I’m Laudna,” and smiles as she steps out of the crowd for some quiet.

-

Laudna finds her leaned against the railing, staring into the fog. She braces her forearms next to Imogen’s, pressing their hips together as she says, “Platinum for your thoughts?”

At Imogen’s raised brow she grins and waves a hand, “They’re clearly worth more than a copper, darling, although we might have to come up with some sort of payment plan if you intend to collect. We could resurrect some of the old shows with Pâté and Sashimi, maybe? Or, I have a few craft project ideas…”

Imogen gives a cursory glance to the crowd near them and then puts a hand on Laudna’s jaw and turns her, leaning up for a kiss.

“You can have ‘em for free, darlin’.” Laudna leans down and kisses her again, lips cool and, thrillingly, a little bit familiar now. “You can have whatever you want from me.”

She means it as a tease, even if she’s absolutely serious, but Laudna’s face changes, brow furrowing as she traces her nails up Imogen’s cheek, brings her fingers down to rest against her nape.

“Yes,” she says, quieter. “About that.”

And Imogen knows, braces, waits. Laudna’s eyes, dark and appraising, meet hers. “Your soul is too precious to risk.” It’s definitive, the usual joyful rhythm of her words traded for a series of hard stops.

“So is yours.”

Laudna blinks. And Imogen understands that even now, even after…after, Laudna can’t quite believe what she means to them, what she means to Imogen, but if this is what helps her to understand, then Imogen is more than willing to give it.

“I…”

She waits patiently, but when Laudna seems unable to find her words, looking down at the railing of the ship and biting her lip, Imogen says, “I know she’s in there with you, and you know I support you doin’…whatever it is you want to do about that. It’s your mind and your body and your soul, Laud. I would never, ever try to take any choice away from you.”

She risks tilting Laudna’s chin up with her pointer finger, a gentle pressure that leads Laudna’s eyes back to hers.

“But I need you to understand how important you are to me. To us. I had to live without you once, and…” She clears her throat as a cry comes from the crowd behind them, the music changing and Chetney yelling something she can’t quite make out. Laudna presses closer to her.

“Imogen.”

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “I don’t intend on doin’ that again, unless you ask me to.” Laudna shakes her head vehemently, nearly dislodging her rock chisel, and Imogen smiles at her. “But even more than that, it’s…you bring so much good to the world, Laudna. You. As you.” She gestures at the garland and tilts her head back to the crowd. “You bring so much joy.”

“That’s kind of you, darling,” she murmurs, ducking her head again, “but joy isn’t power. I don’t have much of that, without her, but you…you do, Imogen. You’re important. Too important to risk.”

She doesn’t sigh, not out loud, but inside she wants to scream. She wants to give Laudna her soul, to dive into her and destroy the bitch who has spent so long torturing the best person Imogen has ever known.

“There is nothing too important to me to risk for you.” A disgruntled noise, but Imogen pushes on, determined. “Think of what you’d give me for me, Laud.” There’s a tiny drop of ichor at the corner of her eye when she looks up, and Imogen catches it with her thumb as it falls. “You have to know I’d give the same for you. You don’t have to understand why, but…you believe me, right?”

Laudna bites her lip again, and ichor wells there too, the skin split with the force of her incisor. It’ll heal, Imogen knows, but she has to stop herself from tutting, settles for freeing the lip with the same thumb already stained black. Laudna watches as Imogen sucks reflexively on her thumb before bringing it back to Laudna’s cheek.

“Laudna?”

Finally, she nods. “I believe you. Of course, I believe you.”

Imogen nods back at her, says softly, “Good. Then you know, when I said you could suck out some of my soul, I wasn’t offerin’ anythin’ that ain’t already yours.”

Laudna sucks in a breath and Imogen kisses her and kisses her until another cry rises from the crowd and they break apart, breathing slightly heavier.

It’s a lot, all of it. Too much, always too much, to have to carry, even if it is easier between them. But as the music strikes up again, another new tune, Imogen wants to take advantage of the chance to do something a little bit normal and dance with her girlfriend. And if it’s in the most abnormal of circumstances—on a ghost pirate ship with music blasting from their sentient robit friend while bone garland swings from above—then that’s okay. That’s perfectly them.

“And anyway, didn’t you say it was kinda hot? The thought of suckin’ out my soul?”

Laudna barks out a laugh and purples, hand moving to her own cheek.

“Imogen.”

She gives her best roguish grin and winks, grabbing Laudna’s hand.

“Dance with me?”

“Always.”

Their friends are in a circle when they return, Chetney throwing his body against the ground in a strange approximation of a worm as the others clap, and Laudna leans into Imogen as they settle between Orym and Ashton to watch, cheering him on.

[layanomaly]

Okay- so I feel like im a bit calm (definitely real) after yesterdays finale to properly make a statement about it

And I really want to put a few of these points out there while the tags are still trending and while I still have time cuz now that AAA I finally over I really need to focus on my studies which is gonna be hard…..but yeah it is what it is

And honestly 

Look idc what anyone says anymore

Yes there were some loose ends and a whole lot of questions

And I get that a lot of people were upset…..believe me I was too and still am

But I wanna be a voice of positivity

cuz I feel like whatever plot wholes they left 

Like jac said were there for US to interpret

Or as my delusional ass is telling me maybe theyre setting up for another season???

And yes for those of you whore saying that we shouldn’t be the ones to figure theyre story out YOURE RIGHT, I AGREE WE SHOULDNT

But at the end of the day it still was a marvel show

And Whatever it was 

It was an amazing experience

Yes we had our highs and lows 

And Looking back on Agatha’s story, yes I do feel a mix of admiration and frustration. There was so much potential in exploring her relationship with Rio and the complex layers of her own journey, which felt overshadowed in the end. At times, the focus on Agatha's role as a mother felt like it could have been handled differently and Instead of fully delving into Agatha’s growth, her story was ultimately used to elevate Billy’s arc, leaving her character, her grief, and her love for Rio without the closure they deserved.

That being said 

Again while it's fair to wish for a bit more closure for characters like Agatha, Rio, Jen, and Alice,

I truly do think jac schaeffer is a genius

like for a really long time i used to think that we were reading too deep into scenes and that they arent actually that deep and we’re just being delusional

But watching, reading interviews of her 

Finding out that as a matter of fact it actually IS that deep

And that everything means something and nothing is unintensional

just hearing her talk about the characters she writes is such a fulfilling feeling you have no idea

its the way she understands those characters and portrays their trauma….She really cares for themm 

she does her research and makes sure she understand her characters and the lore

unlike *cough michael waldron cough* 

Who couldnt even be bothered enough to watch a show which was an indefinitely important arc for one of the characters he was assigned to write for a movie 

Its just-

Look all im tryna say is

Shes a master in her craft and no one does it like her 

despite everything she provided us with two of MARVELs best shows up to date and no one can tell me other wise

Cuz While the narrative pivot left parts of Agatha’s story untold, Schaeffer's dedication to character depth shows her commitment to storytelling which you can really see in the way she talks about those characters

again while I wasnt satisfied with the finale its her dedication to understanding these characters, down to the smallest detail means so much to me. 

Cuz it’s not just about the story—she collaborates with her actors to bring out the arcs they envision which makes it even more special

And It’s truly disappointing that Marvel didn’t fully capitalize on the opportunity to explore Agatha’s own arc in its entirety, especially with such a capable writer at the helm. 

Still, I’m hopeful that future stories will revisit and give the characters like Agatha and Rio the focus they deserve

And i reallyyy hope they sign jac up as a writer for future projects

Cuz ultimately, I think her approach to these characters makes her one of the standout storytellers in Marvel right now, and I’m excited to see what she does next with all the new responses from the fandom 

I hope you guys get what im trying to say

Anyways to conclude my thoughts

Whatever it was

I truly did love this show

And ill really miss coming back home on Thursdays to watch the new episodes drop

[swifty-fox]

@bcolfanfic number 1 enabler so heres some Curt/Ken tenderness for the late night crew

Sequel to Bcol's

and immediate sequel to my drabble here:

Curt can tell when Gale has fallen asleep because the entire house seems to take a breath. He lays in the guest bedroom still in his clothes from the airport. From the gym. Hadn’t even stopped at his shoe-box apartment to change out of the loose black joggers and shirt with his nametag. His windbreaker wasn’t nearly enough for the Wyoming winter.

“John had a gun.”

Janie’s got a gun Janie's got a gun her whole world’s come undone from lookin’ straight at the sun.

Curt taps the tune out on his chest and glances over at the blinking alarm clock. Only Buck and Bucky would still have an honest-to-god analog clock in their home. But it’s comforting in a way, reminds him of childhood where things like suicide didn’t yet exist. Three-thirty AM. The witching hour his mamo would say and blow a kiss to the Brigid's Cross over the door frame. It’s late, painfully so and Curt’s eyes are so tired they feel covered in sand. But his body is wired, wide awake; fingers stained from drywall and fresh paint flecks. 

The hole was patched.

The aftermath was going to take a lot longer to fix.

Now that Janie's got a gun, she ain't never gonna be the same.

His phone chimes suddenly and he tugs it from his pocket. He knew he was hot shit but a Grindr notification this far out in the middle of nowhere was a surprise. He swipes past it without even looking. Ken’s name is at the top of his list, several unread texts from hours ago left unanswered after Buck’s assurances. 

New York was two hours ahead of Wyoming. The sun would be rising there. 

He tries to tell himself he doesn’t need to talk to Ken. It just felt right to update him on their friends. It wasn’t about Curt and whatever comfort he needed from the younger man. You didn’t seek comfort from things that meant nothing. So it was nothing. So he shouldn’t reach out.

Besides, he shouldn’t text Ken so early when the other man was probably deep asleep, shouldn’t text him and make him feel guilty for missing any updates on Bucky. He flicks his thumb up and down, hovering over the cracked-barely-beyond-use phone screen.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles, exhaustion and dialect blurring the words together into a mumbled ‘fuggit’.

He flicks out of imessage and opens Discord. Ken’s icon was lit up, the scrolling text below it taking Curt a moment of squinting to decipher. He wasn’t old, he was tired thank you.

KennyLemon playing Among Us.

Sweet boy, Curt thinks and then pulls a face at himself. His stomach untwists the smallest amount. 

The discord call rings for all of half a second before Ken’s voice comes over the phone.

“Curt?”

His stomach untwists just that much more. “Heya Kenny. You should be asleep.” 

“I couldn’t.” 

That's what Curt loved. Liked. Hated. About Ken. He was so sincere it was sickening, cracked his damn molars with it. How he’d made it through everything without bruising that tender center of his beyond repair was a wonder to Curt. Like a peach, one Curt was more than used to sinking his teeth into. 

You got one juicy ass Lemmons.

“Curt.”

“Yeah Ken?” He liked it when the kid said his name. Made something in his chest go all soft and gooey like chocolate. 

“I said, how’s Bucky and everything else?” 

Curt blows out through his lips, tries to exhale every bit of breath in his body until he could sink into the mattress and hide from this whole damn day.

“Brains all where they should be.” 

Sometimes it was good to be vicious. It kept him from feeling too much, feeling too tender. He was a New Yorker, take away his meanness and he’d be a hermit crab without its shell.

“Jesus, Curt.”

“I dunno what t’ tell ya Kenny. He’s halfway across the state where we can’t talk to him. Buck’s half dead from exhaustion or shock or both. I spent half the night patching a bullet hole in a wall my best friend tried to put in his head.” To his shock, his vague horror he feels his throat closing up, his eyes growing hot with burning tears. “Fuck.” He sits up, wipes his eyes violently and tries to yank his jogger leg up to get the straps of his prosthetic. The soft fabric catches on the plastic, on the velcro, on anything it can find. “Fuck,” he spits again just because he can.

“You okay B?” Ken’s voice was so soft and tender Curt wants to bare his teeth at it; just to protect himself. He does, only cause the other man couldn't see and so it wouldn’t hurt his feelings. 

“Can’t get m’damn leg off.” He mumbles, feeling hot shame mingle with the frustration. It was all grief anyways, hidden cleverly behind the mask called complex emotions.

“Wish I was there. I could help you.” 

Curt closes his eyes. Sweet boy. Wish you were here too Kenny.

He didn’t catch feelings. Was renowned for it, prided himself on it. He kept things casual because it was better that way, could see the way Ken was skittish as a stray kitten at the idea of anything real. He wasn’t about to go wading around in someone else's shame, but it did hurt in a special sort of way knowing the fear Ken battled with.

“It’s pretty tense here right now anyways. Probably for the best youse not.”

Kenny’s silent for a long time and Curt tries to swallow his regret, finally winning the battle with his leg and dropping it to the floor with a pointed thump. Take that you bastard. “Yeah you’re probably right.” 

Aw Hell. “It’s not that I don’t want you here Kenny.” He says haltingly, rubs a hand through his hair he still liked to keep short, “I just- I want you here a lot. First thing I wanted to do when Gale finally went to bed was call you.”

“Oh.” Kens voice was a little shaky.

Gentle gentle, be gentle with him Curt. His ma’s voice; always lecturing. You’re too rough Curt, Slow down Curt. Don’t push good things away just cause you’re scared Curt.

“Just so you don’t forget.” He finishes awkwardly “I like havin’ you around.” 

Curt thumps AC/DC against the hollows of his ribs.

Little lover, I can't get you off my mind, no, Little lover, I've been trying hard to find.

“You’ve got a real way with words Curt.” Ken teases.

They laugh, Curt pitching his low so as not to carry through the too-empty house “If y’wanted a poet you wouldn’t be with me.” He teases. A question hidden in a statement, the first time he’d dared acknowledge there might be something.

Because fuck he wanted Ken here. Couldn’t lie to himself now that he was hearing the younger man's voice over the phone. Wanted to tuck him against his side and bury his nose into those curls; sweet smelling and warm. Wanted to press him into the mattress and remind himself that they were alive and things were okay. Ken was sweet and sugar, sometimes Curt swore he licked it off the man’s skin. Whispered it into the shell of his ear as he ground his hips into Ken’s ass until there wasn’t a single ounce of space between them.

“You taste like dessert Lemmons.”

Curt grunts and adjusts himself. He couldn’t help his brain, his drive. But it felt beyond wrong to start anything right then and now.

“Yeah,” Ken smiles. Curt can tell. Ken smiled with his words and his body, just just his sweet mouth. “You’re right.” 

Too sweet, too sincere. It made him violent, made him want to bruise and mark and tease. He rolls onto his stomach with a groan, pressing his face into the mattress and counting backwards from twenty. 

“I wanna fuck you Kenny.” His words are muffled into the duvet but still legible. 

Ken sucks in a quiet breath, Curt can practically hear the other man blush. 

“You’re just sad and scared B.”

Curt squeezes his eyes shut so hard dots spring up behind his eyelids, his throat burns hot and it takes him several breaths to stave off the tears. 

“Yeah.” he mumbles “But I still wanna fuck ya.” 

Tug his curls, lick his stomach that wasn’t quite flat despite his fit state (Curt liked it that way). Kiss him til his lips were swollen and red. Red as his pretty curved cock when Curt took it to the root and slipped two fingers inside. Ken liked his fingers, he said. Liked how thick they were, the way the callouses caught and dragged inside him. The strength of them, liked to wrap his lips around middle and index and drag his tongue between them until Curt lost hold of his already thin control.

“You don’t gotta fuck away all your feelings sweetheart.”

It’s not bitter or reproachful, Ken’s statement. It’s gentle and kind. A reminder out of love, a lever opening the floodgates on the things Curt tried to keep in control. 

He gasps. The bed sheets are wet with tears, his nose running with snot. Fucking gross. 

“I dunno how t’ fix this one Kenny.” he whispers “The goddamn bullets still in the wall, rattling around in there like a fuckin ghost. I asked Gale if we should try to get it out and the look on his face-” 

“You can’t fix it for them.” 

“Whatdy-”

“You can’t,” Ken insists. “You can hold ‘em up and support ‘em and do all the things Gale can’t manage right now but the only one who can fix Bucky is Bucky and the only ones who can fix Buck and Bucky are themselves. You can’t put that burden on yourself or you’ll crack and all youse will end up resenting each other.”

“When’d you get so smart huh kid?” 

“I’ve always been smart, and don't get weird on me.” 

Curt sniffles loudly and grossly that Ken remarks on it, making them both laugh. 

It’s Buck and Bucky he owes his life to, who he would lay down his own for. But right now he doesn’t know what he’d do without Ken Lemmons.

It’s a sobering thought, a terrifying thought; one he can sit with for only a few moments before he’s drawn into that reactionary headspace of fuck, bite, take this tender thing and force it inside your ribcage before it hurts you. 

Kinda fucks you up when you’re raised that drinking a guys blood is the ultimate act of devotion.

“I miss you.” he says and fuck him he means it.

“Take care of our boys and come home soon B.” 

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PROJECT PASSION — xavier thorpe

WARNINGS: 18+, aged up characters, soft bodied reader, slight hand kink, frottage, biting, coming in pants, this got kinda long... sorry?

A/N: what's that, I'm posting another fic in the same month?? well, that's because my new fixation is here!!

The hallways are silent as you make your way out of your room and towards the boys wing. Most people were outside in the out of season warm weather, and while you normally would be doing the same, you've been tortuously given a project for every single class you're in. Which wouldn't really be a problem, except the first one due is a partnered assignment. One that you don't get to pick who you got to do it with.

And it's not like you hate Xavier or anything! Quite the opposite, really. Which is the root of your problem. The not so small crush you've let develop into something bigger after he broke up with Bianca. He's kind and smart and amazing at art, how could you not like him based off of that alone? It helps that he's also very good looking, able to draw your attention at the worst of times when you should otherwise be paying attention to your teacher.

Thankfully you two are friendly enough, having spoken to each other a few times before to know the other as more than just an acquaintance. And after talking to him those times you could comfortably add thoughtful and witty to the list of things you liked about him. That's probably why your crush has taken off as hard as it has.

But now, as you near the room he now gets to himself, you can't help but wonder if it would be easier if you didn't really know him at all. If the awkward air would be easier then you having to fight down how flustered you are by his mere presence. How just the smallest of smiles from him will have you weak in the knees.

Standing in front of his door you smooth your clammy hands over the skirt of your sundress. You wonder if you should have dressed more casual, like you had planned. It's the weekend, so everyone takes the opportunity to wear whatever they want, and you had taken the chance to doll yourself up a little. But now, staring his door down, you wish you didn't listen to Enid and gone with something I little less revealing.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, looking around to make sure none of the teachers or another student sees you in the boys wing. There have been many horror stories of the lockdowns people get for getting caught sneaking into the opposite sex's wing of the school, and you don't want to deal with the rumours that would come from being caught here, either. Not when your doing something as innocent as working on a project.

Xavier quickly opens the door, and you're immediately assaulted with the smell of whatever "boyish" body wash he uses and his wet hair, shoulders of his white t shirt damp from the water dripping from it. You can't pull your eyes away, mesmerized by how good he looks with it down and framing his face. He doesn't have it down all that often, and you forgot about how hot it makes him look when he does.

And his smell, my god. You just wanna stuff your face in his chest and breathe deep, chase the smell and have it linger on your clothes when you leave. Your face heats with your less than platonic thoughts, and you really hope he can't see how flustered you're becoming as you stand in front of him, having to look up to see those beautiful green eyes.

"Hey, come in. Sorry it's a bit of a mess, kinda knocked some paint over and had to clean in a rush," as you step past him and into his room, you're met with all of the wonderful drawings pinned up on the wall on his side of the room, starting from above his bed and ending over his desk. He still hasn't gotten a new roommate, no one new joining Nevermore since Wednesday Adams.

"You can sit on the bed if you want, just wanna clean the last of my brushes before the paint dries," he darts into the still open bathroom, hunched over the sink as he continues his cleaning. You toe off your shoes, putting them next to his by the door so that you don't get his surprisingly clean room dirty.

While he's distracted, you take the time to look him over, his slim but fit body and the slightly baggy clothes that hang off of him. The sweats he's got on are a deep burgundy, the legs of them a bit too short for his long legs. It leaves his ankles exposed, and you find yourself watching his feet tap out a rhythm before you remind yourself that all this staring is surely becoming creepy.

Instead of gawking at him like some sort of stalker, you take the time to snoop a bit, setting your bag at the foot of the bed while you take in all of the art he's done.

Most of it is pinned to the walls, quick sketches and intricate pieces filling the space. There's even an easel set up by Rowan's old side of the room, with a canvas set up on it. The easel is turned away and placed as close to the garage wall ass possible, obviously dragged there so no one could easily look at it. While you really want to take a look, you don't want to betray his trust by looking at something he clearly wants to keep to himself.

Instead you focus on the ones you can clearly see, a mixture of random still life from around campus to random people and animals and little doodles that fill in the spaces. You're honestly a bit in awe at his skill, pushing your bag over so you can sit at the end of his bed, back resting against the metal frame to comfortably admire the drawings.

You don't notice when Xavier leaves the bathroom, too enamoured with his art. You do notice as drawing of a moth comes to life, twitching before fluttering off of the page. It flies around before heading towards you, and you hold your hand out for it to land on. It feels strange on your skin, not like how bugs feet normally feel, but also kinda similar. You go to run your finger over a wing to see how it feels, gasping when you notice you smudged the intricate pattern made from what you think are pastels.

"I'm so sorry!" You say in a rush, turning to look up at Xavier. He doesn't look upset though, a smile on his face as he watches you. You gently hold the moth out to him for him to fix, and instead of taking it from you, he reaches the hand not animating the moth to gently smudge the other side.

"There, now it matches again," he says before guiding the moth off of your hand and back to the paper it was on. It's still got the twin smudges on it as it settles back into place, and you find comfort in knowing that he isn't mad about it at all, "Alright, what part did you wanna start on first?"

"Should probably do the boring written part first. We can figure out the creative part later." You say, already knowing that if you start with the more fun part first, you won't have the energy to even think about the written part today.

Xavier nods, walking around the bed to grab his own notes and his laptop off of his desk. He sits across from you, back to the headboard, one foot on the ground while his other leg is stretched out on the bed. The bed seems to be just long enough for Xavier to lay down in comfortably, but with you in it as well, you realize that the bed can barely accommodate the two of you sitting as you are, your bent legs close to touching his bare foot.

With both of your sheets laid out, you get to work organizing all the notes, grouping them together in a way that makes the most sense. Then, you both get to work merging your notes together, you reading them out while Xavier types it out on his laptop.

His speedy typing combined with your ability to levitate the notes all around you makes the written portion of the assignment go much faster than you could do on your own. You're only able to keep two sheets up at a time if you were the one typing it out, attention too split to keep more sheets levitated without causing yourself any unnecessary strain.

Now you can rotate five or more sheets at a time, floating them around the both of you as you speed through the work. Sometimes he has you holding a sheet up for a while, wanting to pull a direct quote from a passage or to try and figure out how to blend both of your words together. It's during those moments you take the time to really admire his face. The shape of his nose, fullness of his lips, shape of his jaw.

There are a few times he almost catches you in the act, but the curtain of drying hair obscured most of his vision before he could fully look up from his hunched over position, giving you enough time to look away and pretend you were reading over the notes hovering in front of you. The notes that have slowly started to drift down during your distracted staring shooting back up into their original spots.

While actually looking over the notes, there are a few times where you think you can feel his gaze on you, but when you look up, you can never catch him in the act. So you just brush it off as your wishful thinking. Why would he be looking at you, anyways?

You get through a huge chunk of the written work faster than you though you would, getting through nearly half you your notes before Xavier had pushed his laptop away with a tired sigh. It was more than you had ever thought you would get done, and that's including the creative part that hasn't even been started yet. So the both of you agree that you can finish the rest another day, when your heads aren't swimming with jumbled up historical dates and places.

"What were you thinking of doing for our creative piece of the project?" Xavier asks, closing his laptop and setting it onto his bedside table. You find yourself staring at his hands

"It's probably more work, but I thought we could do like, a board game or something? I think it'll still have enough education to it while still being artsy and creative," you say, guiding all the papers back to you. You sort through the papers, setting Xavier's aside while you put yours back in your bag, loose with all your other random notes you were working on before coming up to his room.

"That sounds like it would be fun," Xavier says, pushing up from his bed to head over to his desk. There's a few big canvases leaning against the wall, some unused while others had beautiful portraits of people, all of which you didn't recognize, or captivating scenery. When he pulls some of them back there's some big pieces of poster paper tucked in behind them. He pulls a white one out, holding it up so that you can see it better, "This size work?"

You nod, quickly moving his papers off of the bed and onto of the laptop. He grabs up a stray pencil case too, carrying them all over to the bed. The pencil case he's got is worn, stained with finger shaped smudges of all different colours. He opens it to reveal an array of coloured pencils in a brand you don't recognize, probably the expensive kind that's higher quality than the crayola ones you have in your room.

While you sketch out the path of the game board in light pencil strokes, Xavier takes to filling the empty spaces with relevant historical sketches. They're beautifully done, and when you tell him that he's waves your compliment off with a blush high on his cheeks, a wide smile on his face while he tells you that it was nothing.

Soon the entire paper is full of a pencilled out outline of what you know will be a masterpiece. It already looks good as it is, but Xavier assures you that some colour and line work will really bring the whole thing together. You don't even bother questioning him, nodding eagerly while you levitate it up in the air, wanting to get a better look at it.

Your proud of your work, even though all you contributed was the path the player would take and some small decorative doodles drawn on the important spaces. But Xavier had told you you did a great job, causing your face to heat under his compliment and warm smile.

When you spin it around for Xavier to see, you catch sight of him staring at you. He's got the same smile on as he did when you were holding his animated moth, a soft one that makes your insides swirl and face feel hot. The look has you so distracted that the board game falls out of the air at a weird angle, fluttering to the floor. It lands face up, with thankfully no bends or smudges on it that would ruin all your hard work.

As your reaching over to grab the dropped assignment at the same time Xavier does, you misjudge where you put your hand down to brace yourself. It's too close to the edge of the bed, sheets sliding under your weight and causing your hand, and subsequently the rest of you, to go with it. As you suck in a breath, about to slow your fall to hopefully catch yourself with you levitation, you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist.

You can't help the full body shiver that goes through you as he pulls you back into his chest, unconsciously leaning back into it to chase the warmth of his body. His legs are bracketing you as he sits down behind you, body long and lean as he plants his feet firmly on the ground.

"You okay?" He asks, voice low as he dips his head down to speak right by your ear, "I know you probably would have caught yourself, but I kinda moved without thinking."

"No, uh, it's fine. I was caught by surprise. Probably would have smashed my face off the ground or something." You say, unconsciously lowering yours as well. You don't know why you do it, but you don't want to speak louder than him and break the probably one sided tension you could feel between the two of you. This is the closest you've been to him, and you want to memorize the feel of him against you for later.

Turning your head to thank him, you don't expect his face to be so close to yours. Or for his half lidded eyes to be staring at your lips. Your tongue quickly swipes over them, tasting like vanilla gloss, a nervous habit that you've yet to kick, and his eyes somehow grow heavier as he sucks in a quick breath through his nose, "Xavier?"

His arm tightens around your waist, the other that was used to prop him up moving to rest on his thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing the bare skin of your own. You can feel the muscles of his thigh through his sweats, firm from all the runs he goes on, such a stark contrast to the plushness of yours.

"Can I kiss you?" He leans foreword just slightly, hair falling from behind his ear and tickling the side of your face. Your hand reaches up to tuck it back behind his ear, letting your hand fall to cup his cheek in the same motion. He leans into it slightly, eyes trained on yours as he waits for your response.

"Please," Xavier wastes no time once the words are out of your mouth, closing the small distance to press his plush lips against yours. His lips are soft, smoothed by chapstick but made sticky by your lipgloss as they move against yours. The angle is awkward though, with your back still pressed up against his chest. You have to turn your head over your shoulder to keep kissing him, and while you're enjoying it immensely, your neck is starting to protest.

You gently pull away, a small smile on your face when Xavier immediately tries to follow your lips, eyes still closed. You huff out a laugh, running your thumb over his pink cheek before you let him go, moving to stand up. His grip tightens on your hips as his eyes flutter open, strong fingers digging into soft flesh, trying to pull you back to him. His eyes are heavy as he stares up at you and his lips are tinged a light pink from your lipgloss, but you're able to use the small space between you to turn around and climb into his lap.

"Shit," Xavier mutters, hands dropping down to your ass, long fingers reaching past the bottom of it and brushing against the back of you leg. He tugs you into him as he immediately reconnects your lips, fingers digging into your skin. You roll your hips foreword to get as close as possible to him, landing right on Xavier's growing erection as you press your chests together.

You both moan at the contact, Xavier quickly closing the distance to press your lips together again, much more desperate than the first one. His lips are insistent against yours, arms moving to wrap around your waist to keep you as close as possible. You loop your arms over his shoulders in turn, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck as you tentatively lick a stripe across the minty chapstick that coats his lips, tinged with vanilla from your lipgloss.

Xavier instantly opens his mouth, tongue pressing past your lips and rubbing up against your own, and you're in heaven. You don't mind the sloppy desperation that seems to take over the both of you, spit coating your lips as you both try to pull the other one impossibly closer.

The desperate little moans coming from your mouth would have normally embarrassed you, becoming this pathetically horny for him from kissing alone. But you can't bring yourself to care as Xavier effortlessly pulls them from you with his skilled lips and rhythmic rolling of his hips up into yours. The answering groans coming from him as you roll your unsteady hips with him sounds somehow more wrecked than you do, fanning the flame of heat settling between your legs.

Pulling back, you try to take in a deep, steadying breath, hands smoothing down the back of his neck and dipping beneath his shirt, nails grazing along his spine. Xavier shivers, a moan low in his throat your only warning before he's pulling you back in, sealing your lips together.

He bites at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to smooth over the sting left behind before he's desperately licking into your mouth. You match his pace happily, hands coming back up to grab a fistful of his long hair and pulling. Xavier pulls away from your lips with a loud moan, eyes closed in bliss and mouth parted. He shudders under you, head falling forward and landing on your shoulder.

"Fuck," Xavier whispers, word drawn out and coated in arousal, "do that again."

And you do, pulling on it a little harder than before. It has him rolling his hips up into yours with a deep, guttural groan, his prominent erection pressing against your damp panties. His hands guide the roll of your stuttering hips against him, moans filling the room, as you follow his slower but firmer rhythm, keeping his hair tangled in your fingers.

You feel his head move against your shoulder, the barest brush of his spit slicked lips brushing against your skin. It has you holding your breath, fingers twitching in his hair. The first press of his lips against your neck is soft and barely there, but it still makes your breathing shaky, one hand dropping from Xaviers hair and gripping onto the back of his shirt.

The small pecks slowly start to get open mouthed, lingering as he lightly sucks and nibbles at your skin. His tongue smooths over any particularly hard bites, when you're hips would meet perfectly with his and he couldn't control the way his teeth would clamp down on your flesh. You don't mind though, the sparks of pain forming into pleasurable tingles that have your toes curling in your socks.

"Ahh, feels good. Please," you mumble, bearing down harder onto Xavier's clothes erection as you desperately chase the high you feel lingering just at the edges. You don't even know what your asking for, just that you want more.

Xavier moans against your throat, a question and a sound of pleasure rolled into one. He's sucking on the skin with more intent now, surely leaving bruises that you can't wait to feel when they fully settle in.

"Wanna feel you," you say, tugging on his shirt for emphasis, "mark you up so we match."

He pulls away from your neck with a loud smack of his lips, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before he's pulling back from you just enough to rip his shirt off over his head and toss to the side. The second he's free from the shirt he's ducking back into your neck on the other side, sucking what you assume are impressive hickies into your skin.

His hands settle on your thighs as yours loop around his neck, his fingers pressing into your flesh as they run up, up under the hem of your dress. His fingers catch onto your underwear, tugging your panties up and between soaked lips in his haste to get at your skin. It has you nearly wailing in pleasure as the soaked fabric is pressed right up into your clit, walls clenching around nothing as your head falls back.

Xavier kisses up your exposed jaw, giving you a teasing bite as he mumbles a quick apology against your skin. He detangles his fingers from your panties, hands moving to settle against the swell of your hips. His skin against yours feels euphoric, warm and slightly calloused from archery.

"It's okay," you say around a moan, slightly disappointed that the added pressure against your clit is gone. Your eyes feel heavy as you blink, slowly letting your head fall back down. As you do Xavier pulls back from your neck, eyes trained on your marked up neck. His hands come out from under your dress to tug at the bottom as he stares at you.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, giving your dress another little tug as if you didn't know what he was talking about. You nod, arms going above your head and hips stilling against his. He's quick when taking your dress off, throwing it in the same direction as his shirt before he's leaning back to get a better look at you.

You're left in just your bra and panties, miss matched but thankfully on the nicer side of your collection. The first thought that comes to your head is that you really hope he likes what he sees. But the admiring way he trails his hands up over your hips to sit on your waist has any worries melting away. That, and the awe filled look in his eyes as he traces over all the newly revealed skin.

"Fucking beautiful," Xavier breathes, fingers digging into your flesh. You can't help but watch the way your skin dimples around his long, strong fingers, admiring the contrast of your bodies. One of his hands skim up over your a bra covered breast and along your neck to cup the side of your face, pulling your attention away from his hand still on your waist and to his face.

"C'mere," he whispers, and you waste no time connecting your lips. This kiss is similar to the first, slow and sweet as you both let your hands roam free.

One of his hands come to rest on a covered breast, giving it an experimental squeeze. It has you rolling your hips again, swallowing Xavier's moan as you lick into his mouth. The hand not palming at your breasts comes down to rest on your hip, leaving them there as he lets you control the pace of your grinding hips.

"Think you can cum like this?" Xavier says as he pulls away from your lips, dropping his hand from your chest to join the other on your waist. He starts guiding your movements that have become sloppy in your gaze of pleasure. You nod, biting your bottom lip as your pussy clench's around nothing, "Yeah? You gonna cum for me pretty girl?"

You nod again, hips moving at a desperate pace, the slide of you bodies made easier by you arousal that has soaked through your panties and all over the front of Xavier's pants. You can't keep in the stream of moans that pass your lips, chasing your orgasm. Tucking your head into his shoulder, your nails claw at his back move above him.

You're on the precipice of the end, can feel it taking over every finer of your body. Xavier helps you through it all, whispering praises in your ear, broken up by kisses to the side of your head.

"C'mon, already got my pants soaked. Wanna see how much of a mess you can make me," Xavier urges, matching you thrust for thrust. You lean back, trusting that he hand hold you up with the arms wrapped around your waist.

The newfound space between your bodies let's you see just how wet you've made the two of you. The dark maroon of his pants have become nearly black from where your cunt has been rubbing up on him, a mixture of your arousal and his pre. His pants are so wet that you can see the outline of his cock almost perfectly, looking long and perfect and like it would fill you up 'till you could feel him in your throat.

"You see how good you look rubbing up against me?" Xavier taunts, fingers turning bruising as you both start to speed up, "gonna cum in those cute pink panties without me even touching you."

Nodding along to his words, you drag your nails up his back to pull at the hairs at the nape of his neck. His reaction is immediate, eyes squeezing shut while he moans long and low in his throat. Xavier's hips stutter underneath you before going still, the grip on his waist turning painful. You barely notice that he's stoped moving, continuing to grind on him until your cuming hard, moan caught high in your throat and thighs clamping around Xavier's legs.

Face hot and panting for breath, you force open your eyes that you didn't even notice you had closed. Xavier has his eyes screwed shut, but in a way that seems like it's done out of pain than pleasure. You quickly let go of his hair, thinking you had pulled it to hard and hurt him. You smooth you hands over the back of his head, hoping to soothe any pain.

Xavier shakily inhales, pulling you back into him. You stop him with a hand to his chest before he can press the two of you together, your other hand coming down to pull at the band of his underwear.

"What're you doing?" Xavier says, voice rough, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. It's loose enough for you to pull free of, but firm enough to keep you from pulling at his waistband anymore.

"Want you to cum too," you say, dipping foreword to mouth at his neck. You can feel his answering moan against you lips, sucking a mark that won't even do justice to the amount you know litter yours.

"I, uh," Xavier swears under his breath, letting go of your hand to anxiously push his hair back, "shit, don't laugh, okay?"

"Why would I laugh?"

At first you don't think he's going to tell you what's going on. He just stares at you dejectedly, eyes darting away from your face to stare down at his destroyed pants, "I already came."

"That's okay. Don't know if you noticed, but I came pretty hard and I've still got my panties on," you say, a smile on your face. It pulls a tiny smile from Xavier, and his hunched shoulders start to loosen, "Really, I don't care. Honestly, it's really fucking hot that you came in your pants for me."

All tension seems to leave his body, the small smile on his face blooming into a beautifully large one, "Yeah? Think it was good enough to go on a date with me next weekend?"

You feel giddy with excitement, smiling wide as you cup his cheeks. You can feel as his smile somehow grows wider, and you can't help the excited giggle that escapes you.

"Hell yeah."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[queertranshappiness]

The last few days have been hard, news wise, for us. However, we still want to celebrate a bit of joy we had, because it's important:

There's an older transmasc nonbinary person who we met through a mentorship program, who we have meetings with occasionally to talk through things and get advice. He helped us today, and we want to tell you what he said (with some of our thoughts attached), incase it helps someone else tonight, or whenever you see this.

The world is cruel at the moment, and life is a bit shit. There's bad stuff everywhere. When life is like this, the important question to ask is 'how can I make things better in someone else's little world, and my little world?', and 'how can I do what's not done before?'. When you can't see the forest for the trees, it feels like it never ends. But it will end someday, and we've got to get through it. The only way we will is by taking action. Do fun stuff and support your friends. Write poetry and essays, tell your story to others. Coin new terms, flags and create new neopronoun sets that make you or others, even if it's just 1 person, feel heard. Tell someone they are loved today. Donate to organisations fighting the good fight. Find, create, and spread resources. Be as visible as you safely can, and please... don't give in to the people on reddit or twitter or wherever they are who tell you we are doomed, or that it is not worth fighting. That will get us nowhere. And if you do believe that... we understand why you feel that way, but even in your desire for a better world there is the chance of positive change. Don't dash that chance before you can take it. In his words: 'there is another world you haven't yet seen'.

So, despite it all, we've decided to launch a new project with our uni's trans society, which we are helping to run this year... and we're very excited about where it could go, if we can make it work. We might end up putting details here, someday. But we don't think we'd have had the courage to do that without talking to him.

Even on days like this... we still had some pretty cool stuff happen. We went out with our queerplatonic partner in person for the first time since the beginning of summer, and got to see an exhibition on one of our biggest special interests, which he may now be into. (/lh) We managed to pass a grading for our martial arts club, which was very cool. Why do we bring these up? Because even in days like this, in a dark world full of hateful politicians... our joy matters and is sacred.

So please, no matter what, keep on fighting, in whatever ways you can. Keep on dreaming, keep hold of your desire for a better world. To the degree you can, hold onto hope, even if it's of the smallest thing getting better, whether that be queer-related or not.

Trans and queer elders are sacred. They are some of the community's best weapons for fighting this current hateful political bubble, and many of them have been through similar waves to the one we are currently in. Their wisdom and experiences can help us. They inspire us, show us a future where we can be happy, and pave the way for a better world. In the future, we will do the same for the next generation of queer and trans youth... but we have to be there to support them. So keep on going and take it day by day, so when the sun rises again, whenever that may be... you can help someone who was in the same situation as you in the past not have to fight quite so hard. Be an elder, not a martyr. That's how we'll fix things in this world.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Okay so, I have a headcanon that Alastor's distortion ability means that Vox just straight up can't see the guy properly even if they're face to face.

Imagine the rage you'd feel, the frustration and sorrow and anger, of knowing that what you want is literally within reach but what's the point if you can never SEE it properly?

What if the only time the distortion stops is if Alastor wills it, or he's unconscious and unable to project it. And after all this obsession, after everything he has had to do to just get a glimpse of his old friend, his rival, the person he-... well, once upon a time and all that shit.

The pathways between desire, obsession and violence are all melted blobs of plastic in his mind, and he starts to find a perverse joy in harming the other. Soemthing Valentino encourages because of course, sinners regenerate no matter what he does to them, why not indulge?

It's also infuriating because it stops Vox from using his hypnotic suggestion on the other. Sure, it hasn't worked before... but that was then, and he's almost more powerful and influential than any other overlord around these parts now.

He itches to try, to see if this time he could win. If he could turn things back to how they Should be, how he Planned for them to Be. Not whatever this shitshow is.

His ace up the sleeve comes in the form of the drone footage from the battle. Alastor would rather die a second time than allow that to fall into the public domain, of course... all ego, Vox would think with not the smallest iota of irony.

A lure, a call and a taunt across the radio waves that draws the other close enough to blur before him. Triumph spreads through Vox's chest, a smug satisfaction that even the snide dismissal he receives can diminish.

What does he want?

You.

A sharp laugh stings something inside that felt too fleshy to be purely mechanical. He clenches sharp talons into fists, fans whirring as he fights for calm.

'Alright fucker, what are you willing to do to keep your dirty little secret off the air?' he needles.

"...why, nothing, my dear box. If you release it, I will sway the peoples to my side... after all, I faced down Adam and you... watched."

Enraged, he lashes out, fury rising as the other dodges with ease. Or, no... wait, his mechanical mind caught something and he runs back footage from a camera across the room. Hah, fucker's still hurt, isn't he?

Well, no need to share that he knows, just yet.

He presses on, using just enough telegraphing to let Alastor know where he intended to strike and how... subtly moving the other in the right direction. He sees, SEES with a hundred hidden eyes, the distortion starting to fade... the tremble in the rigid limbs, the taut way the other refuses to bend and twist as he normally would. The hint of sweat on a brow and the quiet wheeze with each breath.

"C'mon Al, I promise that if you were to just... forget all the mess of the past and join the Vees, we could absolutely help you turn this PR nightmare into a campaign to get that shitty hotel at full capacity. You just need to play along for a bit, and maybe consider letting us try out some modern tech with you. It won't burn."

'I'd rather no- ack!'

Vox grins wildly as the cables of his command chair lash out about the other Overlord, ensnaring whatever it could to tangle the man into motionlessness. Normally, the other would drop into shadow... but this... was a victory unanticipated, it looked like Al couldn't.

He pulsed low currents through the cables, forcing the other to focus on not screaming instead of bantering with Vox. The urge to laugh maniacally came and went. Subsumed with momentary awe at this accomplishment... at the glimpses of Alastor's form he saw between the electricity. Fuck, he'd missed that face.

"Hey, just... stop fighting and we can get the ball rolling on our new collaboration, right?" Vox filled the silence, his hands outstretched to take the half-glitched face between his palms. "Shhh, c'mon, just give it up already. You know this is the best thing for us."

"There isn't. An. US." Alastor ground out, limbs shuddering in the metallic web. His next words fell into garbled static so distorted that Vox couldn't even guess at the sentence... but the world seemed to snap silent a second later anyway.

The distortion fell away, as the fully-defined exhausted expression of the Radio Demon came into his view. The man finally unable to cloak any longer as electricity crackled thrrough his veins and blood dribbled through several layers of attire.

Vox's heart thundered, his eye swirling, body tensed like a spring about to launch skyward. "Al... I see you. Fuck, I can-... no, just-..."

He takes a breath, letting the sensation of his power slip into place like a glove, even as he made certain to capture the gorgeous features from every angle for the future in case this didn't work out...

"It's okay, Al. You're going to be okay, and you're going to be part of the Vees... part of the Us we were always meant to be." Something hot pooled in his abdomen at the sight of swirling irises overtaking the radio dials in those beautiful, sinister eyes. "We can take as long as you want, I'm patient, promise. But the Radio Demon will join the future, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into it..."

He laughs, but the sound trails off as the wet plip-plip-plop sound of crimson striking the metallic floor can be heard, and the subtle shuddering under his hands became more pronounced.

"Shit... seems like he hit you harder than we thought, huh? It was hot as fuck, but the Vees take care of their own. You're going to listen to my voice now, and push the pain aside to somewhere you can't feel it anymore... then when I say the word, you're going to take a nice long nap while we fix this mess you made of yourself. Get you all sorted out, huh? Then when you wake up again, you'll remember how badly you wanted to join us, and everything we talked about just now. Okay?"

Alastor shuddered, one hand clenching like he was tugging at an invisible string. Something green flared to life briefly.

"...lotte... lp" the Radio Demon mumbled around the hypnotic hold.

Vox wags a finger in front of that angular face, grinning at th audacity. "Uh-uh, that's being sneaky, Mister. I think it's time you went to Sleep."

As the form slumped, Vox took the other into his arms.

Well, if the stubborn beautiful bastard had really summoned someone here maybe he could use them to get a message back to that Princess and her father. See if they'd be open to a little deal or two for good press, if one of them could heal Adam's little 'love tap' here.

No sense going to all the trouble of capturing his beloved nemesis if the man died immediately of angelic stupidity.

He hurled them into the electicity stream through a nearby camera and stepped out into the combined Vee suites in the penthouse.

"Daddy's home, and he brought a friend!" he crows, as Valentino and Velvette move over to assess the situation.

"No fuckin' way, I can actually get a picture of the red-haired ponce!" Vel exclaimed, and lowered the phone. "Maybe not now, cause that's a right bloody mess, but soon... I'm going to have the rarest selfie in all of the 7 rings, I will. Might wanna let me have a go with my threads though, looks a bit fucked up, there."

"If you don't mind, babydoll, I would love for you to fix whatever mess he's got going on..." Vox responds, using cables to keep Valentino's hands from straying too far in any direction on the deer. "Hey, this is mine first, you know that, look but don't touch too much right?"

"Aw, but Voxxy, I wanna see what he's hiding..." Valentino grinned, but pulled back his hand as the wetness of the shirt made contact. "Ugh, maybe later then... I'm all for fluids, baby, but that's just gross."

The contact jarred the Radio Demon back to some level of wakefulness, earning Val a glare from Vox. The moth rolled his eyes and exhaled pink smoke over the deer, dulling the sharpness of whatever discomfort Alastor may have been experiencing.

"See? I can be kind, Voxxy... you let me know if you need more of that to keep him settled. Not that I don't want to see the feisty side, but... well, he looks a little close to second-death, which is a bit of a turn off."

Vel storms back in with a first aid kit the size of an imp in one arm and the Anti-Horni-Val squirt bottle in the other. He gets doused.

"Okay, everyone fuck off and let me fix this."

----

Across town, Charlie paused mid song as the chain at her wrist flared pitifully, tugged upon in something that felt like suffocating panic clawing up the back of her throat.

"Char...lotte... he...lp..." seemed to fill her mind, and she knew at once who had called her. Her head throbbed, unused to hearing the other through the links.

Vaggie stepped forwards, nearly slamming into Lucifer, as they both tried to find out what had happened. Why she'd stopped singing.

The link on her wrist flared again, and her father's eyes filled with rage.

She waved them off, desperately.

"Listen, I don't know how or what's going on, but I just heard Alastor in my head asking for help... and he sounded really hurt. We... we have to go find him."

"No."

"Dad, I'm going."

"Do you feel a compulsion to go anywhere specific?" Vaggie asks.

"...somewhere full of... my skin is prickling like there's static all over me now." Charlie replies, trying to wrack her brain for a clue.

"Reckon he's probably trapped at Vee Tower, and this has something to do with Vox, Princess." Husk interjects, holding a frantic Niffty in one arm as he entered. "That's where the chains are running to when we summon 'em. And if he's there, we gotta move fast. I hate the bastard but... he don't deserve what Vox will force him to do if he gets the chance."

"Hey, King of Hell? Can I speak now? Good. Charlie, forget the deer. I can get you a new overlord!"

"Dad, NO. It's part of our Favour anyway... I would have to go even if I wasn't planning on doing it anyway because he's my friend.

"...fine. But if he's pulling a prank, I'm gonna pull... his legs off and beat him with them."

"Well fuck me sideways..." Husk mumbles, catching attention from around the room. He turns around his phone screen. "Angel just took this, said Vox came into the penthouse with Alastor, and Val was so interested in the situation the moth forgot he was there. Looks pretty bad."

Charlie tugged at her hair as the image depicted an alarming amount of blood on her hotelier... and something wrong with his eyes. Then it hits her. "Wait, how did Angel take this photo? He does the..." she wiggled "to photos and videos."

"That's never a great sign." husk agrees, and rolls his shoulders, releasing Niffty. "Well, let's go beat the shit out of three overlords who need a reminder on the concept of consent, I guess."

Niffty was the first through the portal, her laughter shrill as the world filled with the sound of Valentino's horrified screaming, and the wet slick-crunch-slush sound of a blade in motion.

"Alright, hands off the bellhop, that's hotel property..." a bored Lucifer mumbles, blasting the sinners away from the red overlord on the couch. He glances at the wound, and winces as a sudden swell of Adamness washes over him. "Ugh, okay, I'm gonna throw up... and we'll need to patch that up later, alright? Don't you die on us, Busboy, because if I have to take on your paperwork tasks for the hotel I can and will launch myself into the Abyss between Worlds. So many fucking forms, I swear..."

As long as he's talking, the King doesn't have to acknowledge any kindnesses done to the daughter stealing motherfucker he's basically carrying out of there.

"Char-char, got your deer, let's go home!"

She's got Vox pinned under the trident, wrath on her face as he frantically tried to hypnotise her. "I think we can help you, Mr Vox, with our therapeutic approach to making Good Choices. Maybe Valentino too... a lesson can be learned about keeping our hands to ourselves, maybe?"

"Charlieeeeeeeeee my darling, we can kill them later, let's just go before my shirt turns red."

"Oh, oh shit... that's not great, huh?" Charlie is back to her regular self, frantic once more.

Vaggie, on the other hand, pointed her spear at the barely alive Valentino. "Hand it over, fucker. I'll call Niffty off if you give me the contract..."

He spat at her feet and used a truly heinous slur. But after a few more gentle prompts in the form of Niffty's knife and the spear, he grumblingly handed over the scroll binding Angel to himself.

"Much obliged."

"t-ttttake him from meeeee3333 and I will make sur3333e all of Hell sees that fight!" Vox yelled, desperate as control spiralled away. "He333'll be killed the next ttttti1111me3 you let him out of your s-iiii-iiight, Hell lov33335ss a chance to ki111lll an Overlo0000rdddd when they're WEAK!"

Vaggie swings her spear around. "What are you on about?"

Charlie has her eyes narrowed. "I think... when he fought Adam, something went wrong and he had to leave... and Mr Vox was watching. But we're not leaving him here. You can release the video, but hell will go through me first to get to him, to any of my friends."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Give me 45 seconds without all this drama and I'll have this fixed. What were you gonna do with it, stitch it closed and hope for the best with your little brain trick keeping the pain away? Now THAT'S weak planning at its finest."

"Yer a fuckin' creep, Vox... so we're going. Stay classy." Husk grins, tugging a stunned angel with one hand and holding a writhing Niffty by the back of her dress with the other. "Don't forget, we can always release Niff back into yer space anytime, and you gotta sleep eventually... so best back off. You know she loves Al almost as much as you think you do. Not a fan of you tryin' to hurt him, got me?"

That blank, feral eyeball falls on Vox. "He... hurt Sir?"

The knife raised pointedly.

Vox felt he was about to Download in his tailored slacks.

Charlie clapped, "Okay veryone, let's go home!" she chirped. Her eyes shinging as her brain caught up with the fact everyone had worked together to achieve this goal.

They stepped through the portal in a clump of bodies, leaving behind a decimated tower and at least one half-dead overlord.

Vel couldn't help herself. "Well that could have gone better."

Vox briefly thought about electrocuting her... but first he needed to switch pants.

----

etc.

[theleetoalerandalertoalee]

Ler!Alhaitham x Lee!Kaveh

Day 4 - Weak Spot

I know that the plot “weak spot” isn’t tied very well in this but I hope you all enjoy it either way ^^

“This is killing me-! How can he say no to this design?!”

Alhaitham came into his house, disappearing to his room immediately upon entry. The Acting Grand Sage wanted nothing to do with whatever it was that the architect was whining about.

“Agh…I followed everything he asked for! I can’t lower the rate or price any more! These materials- this is insane!”

Alhaitham spoke from his seat in his room, “is this level of volume necessary to complete your project?”

“Well- no- but it’s just- it’s really annoying!”

“Oh. I couldn’t tell.”

The architect scoffs, looking away, “can’t you pretend that you care for once?!”

“Fine,” Alhaitham stands up, setting down his book and walking towards the architect.

“Kaveh, I can see more of your designs than I can of the very floor in the house.”

“Well, I’m sorry that you simply don’t understand what the lifestyle of an architect consists of!”

“Does it include being on the poverty line?”

“You-! Ugh- I don’t even know why I bother with you!”

Alhaitham suddenly puts his hand on the window in the back of Kaveh’s shirt.

The architect jolts forward in his seat, caught off-guard, “ghk-! What are you doing?”

Alhaitham speaks from his stance behind Kaveh, “there’s no words that I can say that’ll get through that thick skull you have. So, I’m going to not attempt that route anymore.”

Alhaitham slides his fingers down Kaveh’s shoulder blades, focusing on the muscles right beside the architect’s spine. The Acting Grand Sage knew full well what he was doing.

Kaveh gasps, “ah-! Wh- what are you doing? Stop that-! Gah!”

Completely ignoring his words, Alhaitham continues, “you were at the tavern the other day, as always. You kept griping about how tense your shoulders have been because of stress- and, since you don’t take care of it- you’re making it my problem, so here am I fixing it.”

Alhaitham digs his thumbs into the muscle he was grazing with his fingertips just seconds beforehand.

“Alhaitham wait- don’t!”

Alhaitham ignores Kaveh, continuing with his mischievous massage with the smallest of smirks on his face. Kaveh jolts in his seat, laughter pouring out of him, like the wine that’s seemingly pouring endlessly into his glass at night.

“Hm, I’m surprised that somehow you can become louder than before I came home. I could have sworn I could hear your complaining from the House of Daena. I’ll wager the researchers at Sanctuary of Surasthana can hear you now.”

“Alhaitham-! Wh- hahahahaha! This isn’t- hahaha- helping!! Hahahaha!”

“This is your weak spot, so you might as well embrace it.”

“Wh-? How do you know- hahahahaha!”

“You can barely handle even fabric on this spot, so it’s natural to infer this.”

“Well it’s uncomfortable to wear- gah! Stop it- hahahahaha!”

“Hm, I doubt you actually want me to stop. You are free to stand up and walk away, and yet you haven’t.”

Kaveh’s face flushed. Alhaitham is right- of course he is…when is he not, at this point?

“Just shut it- hahahahahaha!”

“Now you want it to be quiet? Hm, how amusing.”

Kaveh gives up acting like he wants it to end. He needed this attention. He’s been nothing but neglected, and the only attention he got was when he was being degraded or rejected…but just this once…neither of those are the case, and it’s nice to say the least.

Alhaitham stops the massage, walking away to his room silently to continue reading his book.

Kaveh whirls around in his seat, feeling more relaxed but a bit disappointed that it was over, “umm- Alhaitham…?”

The Acting Grand Sage turns, waiting to hear what the roommate had to say.

“Thank you…”

“Sure.”

Alhaitham continued to read his book quietly. For the first night in a while, Kaveh reached for a bottle or water rather than a glass of wine. Maybe this weakness is a secret benefit after all…

[lovelyiida]

kiribaku as your bestfrieds!

INLUDES: KATSUKI BAKUGO, EJIRO KIRISHIMA

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, FLUFF, intimidating kiribaku yas, vulgar language, COMPLETELY PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP

A/N: sorry guys if this seems rushed, I currently have two projects due and I’m trying to get this out of the way so that I’m able to post lol.

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2K WORDS

Kirishima and Bakugo as your best friends is truly something…

As the only girl in the group of friends besides Mina. It wasn’t easy getting into the friend group off the rip, it was almost like a secret association.

You had to know someone, to know someone, to see someone, then talk to said someone, then finally befriend that person to get in said friend group.

It wasn’t a simple: 'hey! Can I join your crew?'

You were introduced to Kirishima by a friend in hero engineering. They told you that he was cool to be around if you just wanted to talk, so that’s what you did.

You didn’t know later on that it would lead you to have four more friends down the line. One of those friends being Bakugo Katsuki.

He didn’t like you at first.

You'd come around with Kirishima and he just scowls at you, he wouldn’t even ask for your name and just call you an “extra.” And as completely narcissistic as that sounds—you still came around him.

Because I’m reality, you could give two shits whether he liked you or not. You had four other cool ass friends to be around anyways. And that irked him.

“So you aren’t gonna talk to me?” Bakugo spits.

It was passing time and you just so happened to run into the infamous 1-A crew in the hallway. It would be rare for you to see them on occasions like this, since you were in hero-analytics.

You bubbled up seeing all your friends, diving to Mina and Sero for a high five, waving at Denki and doing a secret-not-so-secret handshake with Kirishima.

And there was Bakugo too.

Turning towards him, you smirk. “And you’re name is?…” you ask, your tone overflowing with sarcasm as your words trail off. This makes Bakugo scoff, a stinky scowl etched over his lips.

“You know who I am, dip-shit.”

Bakugo walks up to you, pushing your shoulder a little bit, you flinch. “Watch who you’re pushing!” You yell, pushing him back.

“Well then watch who you’re talkin’ to!” He yells, pushing you back even harder. “I got one of the most powerful quirks in the whole school, watch your tongue—cause I can blow it off.” Bakugo says, a smug smirk present as he watches you shake in anger.

Walking away, he bumps your shoulder and heads to class. You see your friends walk away with him, as they scold him. Frowning you look up to see Kirishima with a guilt grin, “hey, I’m so sorry! Bakugo gets a bit pissed off when he hasn’t eaten lunch yet ha ha.”

Kirishima apologizes, a bright grin on his face as he reaches out to help you up. Smiling you grab his hand and push yourself off the ground.

Patting yourself down you look up at Kirishima and shake your head, “you shouldn’t excuse his behavior, he’s an asshole!” You spat.

“I know, I know, it’s just—listen, I think he likes you! He just doesn't have a lot of experience when it comes to the whole adding another person to the friend group thing! Just let him warm up to you, it’s only been a week!” He reassures.

You roll your eyes at his words. One part of you hangs on to the false hope that maybe he’s right.

“Yeah, whatever, see you around.”

The two of you would argue throughout the rest of the week. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter when, and it didn’t matter what it was for—the both of your were gonna argue like you life depended on it.

It could be over the smallest minute thing, like one time the both of you argued over how you don’t like spicy food ( if you do just pretend you don’t lol ), you didn’t understand why you were arguing because why is Bakugo upset that you don’t like something he likes?

Why can’t we just agree to disagree?

It was like a switch in your head that told you that if you saw him it was time to become more aggressive than ever. You were completely out of your nature, and when people you knew walked by, they would be shocked because they'd never seen you like this.

One day, the sky was blue and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. The birds chirped and the sun glared down harshly with ease, it was a cool spring day that was too beautiful to waste.

You were taking a walk outside until you spotted Kirishima on the grass working out, talking for a while, you noticed that somehow everyone else appeared as well.

you thought you were enjoying the time you were having until Bakugo tells you how the way you ties your shoes is wrong.

“Does it really fucking matter? They’re tied aren't they?" You spat at him. "Why can't you be a normal human being, eh?" Who doesn’t wrap the string around the bow first? Who the hell makes two bows and then ties? You damn maniac!” He exclaims.

“Okay then, I’ll be that!—you fucking twat” you harshly mumbled the last few words under your breath with a scowl. Bakugo’s eyes widen for a moment, walking closer to you he dryly chuckles.

“Say that again princess, I didn’t hear you.”

Princess?

“Princess!” You yell in awe at his words, “who are you to call me Princess?” You say, poking at his chest.

“Guys! Can we stop torturing her now? It’s been weeks!” Denki yells tiredly. You and Bakugo turned at Denki's protest; it was clear that you were confused.

Your eyes snap over to Mina and Sero, as you see them burst out laughing, and Kirishima follows along with a small chuckle.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You growl. Your eyes look over to Bakugo and see his smug grin still hasn’t wiped off.

As if on cue, Bakugo’s hand harshly pats your shoulder. “Well L/n, you passed the test—you’re in.” Bakugo chuckled again before walking off. Astonished at his words, you didn't even realize he finally called you by your name.

“The test?” You mumbled in confusion.

Ah, the test.

On this glorious day, approximately two weeks ago. Bakugo Katsuki, Minda Ashido, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta, and Ejiro Kirishima all sat down and made a plan.

A test if you will.

The test is simple, they push you to your limit. If you stay and endure, you earn a spot in their group. If you leave, you’re not in the group and will stay acquainted with one another.

As harsh as that may sound, it was only the truth. They have all passed the test. it was without them knowing…but that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you’re in.

When you were finally “in,” you swore when you walked into school the next day everyone was a whole new person. Sero, Mina, and Denki didn’t talk to you that much—but when you saw them today, they basically jumped at you.

“L/n! What’s up newbie?”

“Sup L/n?”

“Ah! I’m so happy to see you, I have so much to tell you about!”

They were so boisterous when talking to you, it completely caught you off guard.

When you’d walk to class, you’d notice how you bump into everyone more often. Either sharing quick glances or stopping to have a chat.

When it was lunchtime, you walked out of class and saw Kirishima waiting for you at the door. When they dragged you to the lunchroom, you noticed that they made a spot for you at the table for lunch.

It also didn’t dawn on you then that you were sitting with some of the most popular if not the most popular kids in the school.

You were just some random girl from hero analytics, and you’re sitting with future pro-hero’s? Unbelievable.

Now, when you were a first year, you became friends with everyone. But it wasn’t until your junior year that you all became best friends.

Especially with Kirishima and Bakugo.

It was almost like two sub-groups within the six of you guys. Depending on the day, it would change. If there were a main three, it was usually you, Kirishima, and Bakugo.

This happened by pure chance, third year hero analytics classes were able to watch and study students in the hero course. Luckily, you scored high enough to be placed in class 1-A, as you were assigned to random students.

Those two students turned out to be your friends, so on and so forth.

When you spend time watching them, you guys would talk non-stop. Whether it be normal things or serious things, the three of you have a lot in common.

Growing that bond you have, you guys ultimately became best friends.

Sometimes it feels surreal to be able to be friends with them.

During break time, you’d walk over to class 1-A just to pop in and chat with everyone. You could see Bakugo's eyes lighten up, a grin forming on his lips as he sees you smile everyone’s way.

Everyone in the class knew who you were, even though you'd never talked to any of them like that.

“It’s because Kirishima talks about you non-stop” Denki told you one day. You chose not to read into that too much.

You noticed that you were closer with Kirishima and Bakugo one day when you saw that Kirishima made a whole other group chat with only you and Bakugo in it.

You guys would talk to each other for hours and hours on end, staying up late and night until early in the day. Laughing to yourselves about the inside jokes you all have.

Sometimes Bakugo would ask you and Kirishima to come to his dorm to hang out. You’d lay on his bed and do your homework. He and Kirishima would play video games together. Or sometimes Bakugo would play on his guitar while you and Kirishima just talked.

You notice when you come over that he doesn't talk that much. He told you he just liked having company over, which was adorable (you had to beat that information out of him).

Sometimes the three of you would go out to the arcade or out to eat. It didn’t matter what you guys did as long as you guys had each other.

That vow comes in handy at times.

Like that one day you were sitting at lunch with your friends and Mineta decided to ruin your day.

“I’ve never seen a girl like you before!” He creepily gawked at you. His short stature makes him too close to you for your liking.

“Um…I’m not in your course, actually,” you awkwardly chuckle “I’m in hero analytics.”

“Really? Didn’t know chicks were so damn hot in that course, thought they’d all be ugly.”

"Laughing," you hurriedly glanced around, and eventually saw Kirishima and Bakugo with lunch trays in hand with the scariest faces you've ever seen before.

Their hero faces, you’d call them.

Their eyes were dark, and their fists were clenched tightly around their trays. Walking over calmly they set their trays down and towered over the poor pervert.

“Hey dude, whatcha talkin' to L/n about?” Kirishima smiles at Mineta, hand slapping harshly on his shoulder. Looking down you see spikes ripple off his skin.

Looking over at Bakugo, who didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin. Hands out and fingers separated as short sparks of fire pop out.

You can say that Mineta never looked at you again after that.

Jumping up from your seat you give them a big hug and a loud “thank you,” you feel them take in your embrace.

“Anything for you L/n!”

“ s’no big deal.”

But it was a big deal for you.

You were thankful for your friends, every last one of them. You were upset that the time you all had was limited and that it wouldn’t be like this forever.

You were proud to say that Bakugo and Kirishima were your best friends.

well shit guys, almost 300 followers, I meant to have something planned for 100/200 followers but it seems like it keeps growing. I might do a 500 follower special event instead lol.

— lovelyiida&lt;3

[esta-elavaris]

Okay I made 2342984 incoherent posts about it yesterday but BASICALLY what is happening is that one of the biggest publishing houses in the UK is currently running a thing aimed at writers from underprivileged/marginalised backgrounds - and I meet their requirements in terms of class status, the fact that I come from a dirt poor background, the fact that I'm ace and therefore part of the LGBTQIA community, and the fact that I have anxiety/depression. They ask for a wee paragraph explaining how you meet the quota and I explained this and was like "I was also homeless for 8 months a couple of years ago lol but I worked on this manuscript a lot during that time and it really helped lift my spirits x" because I didn't want to sound like that one fish from spongebob

In addition, they ask for a synopsis of your manuscript, and the first thousand words of it. So I did that, and submitted it all.

I won't find out if I've been longlisted until early July, but like, the smallest thing you can get out of it (if you pass the first stage) is one meeting with one of their editors to get advice. If you're shortlisted, you'll get a series of meetings to help you work on your manuscript a little bit longer-term.

The best case, insane "it's not likely and you can't expect it, but it is possible" is that they have tucked away in the T&Cs that if they really, really like your manuscript, they'll give you a fckn publishing deal.

L I K E

Can you imagine.

So I'm trying not to get too excited, but the fact that everything they might want (1k words for the first submission - done, 5k for the next if longlisted, which would be the first chapter of my novel which is fckn ready to go, and then 40k if you're shortlisted, which I can also absolutely do) are things I already have means like? I lose nothing by just sending them it.

And I mean, even if the best unrealistic amazing case scenario doesn't happen, I could still get actual advice on my actual novel from an actual editor. Along with confirmation that what I'm working on is good enough that they'd even offer me that, which is the part of this project that I struggle with the most.

And the fact that? The very things that make me eligible are the really difficult things I've been through throughout my life? God, that would just be poetic justice.

So I mean, I'm not getting too excited just in case, but it is exciting!!!!

I'm cautiously optimistic. The things I sent them are actually chapters that my uni creative writing teachers fckn loved, and they were published authors, so I know it's good shit, it's just a matter of whether it's what they're looking for, and whether it holds up against whatever else they're being sent. But they do specifically want sci-fi and fantasy and it's fantasy so like !!!

You miss all the shots you don't take, what's for you won't go by you and all that, and if it doesn't work out that's not gonna stop me, but god. Imagine if it does work out!!!!