#sound the bugle now.. play it just for me…

[nostalgicbones]

[directdogman]

how would the dialtown cast feel abt their respective theme songs, especially with the context that its meant to represent them? do any of them feel like the song accurately represents them?? ive wondered abt this a lot

Off the top of my head, most would find their themes fitting, I think.

Oliver would consider his theme a jam. Karen would agree hers is fitting and like the mechanical bits. In one ending, Gingi DOES describe Randy's theme to him and his reaction is more or less like "...Huh." I think he'd be the most insecure about his theme of the datables, wondering why it sounds sorta comical ("Do people laugh at me and see me as a fuckup?! My fears ARE real!")

Bigfoot would listen to his theme and seem at peace, maybe give a thumbs up if you asked if he liked it.

Norm would 100% be happy about his theme since it's very western-sounding and sounds like it commands respect, but post chapter 3, probably worry it sounds too serious and worry his friends are intimidated by him.

I'm not sure what Mingus would think of her theme. Probably find the cat presence overwhelming, like "I'm the MAYOR of a city, I feel like all I hear in this is the cat. The bugle's nice, though." ironically preferring the Crown bit of the theme to the bit that's actually about herself, which is quite fitting now that I think of it.

God would hear his theme and think "heh... yep, that's me alright!"

Stabby + Shooty would find out they don't have a theme in the basegame and insist they write their own and play it and it would likely sound like ed edd n eddy background music. just chaotic avant garde jazz.

Roger would probably be like "...wait. this music sounds silly. don't people see me as an authority figure? are you sure this is my theme? it's okay if you played the wrong one, we all make mistakes. can you please check again?"

[diejager]

I’m finally working on it @cobwebs-in-autumn

Your Number’s Up Cw: stalking, Ghostface!reader, panic, tell me if I missed any.

The phone rang a third time now, Johnny ignored the first two calls, listening to it ring four five times before it cut to his voicemail, waiting for the caller to leave a message, but they never did. It started getting on his nerves, the fierceness in Johnny only fuelling the irritation boiling under his skin. Before the last beat rang, he picked up the phone, listening to the silence on the other side of the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Johnny.”

He jumped, eyes widening at the raspy tone of the caller —unknown and strange. The caller knew his name, something he might’ve shared with many, but the tone they used was similar to one he knew intimately, a teasing and rumbling edge. Perhaps it was a prank, someone he knew wanted to play a prank on him. Maybe Gaz was finally able to rope his LT into pulling his leg, but that didn’t explain the cold sweat that broke on his skin, the rapid raise of his hair and the chill he felt when he heard the voice answer him.

“Funny, LT, ” he forced a laugh out of him, his throat tightening so much that he felt like he was choking, “Did Gaz put yer up tae this?”

the line went quiet for a second, he couldn’t hear the caller’s breathing or any sight of life other than the creepy, raspy voice taunting him.

“Wrong.”

A single word had never sent his heart pummelling down his stomach like this one had, a sense of panic rose in his chest, replacing the tentative mischievous he was preparing to return once he assure who was on the other end of the line. Johnny hadn’t expected someone else to call him with such a menacing air, it played with every trained and beaten instinct into him.

“What’s wrong, Johnny?” The voice on the other side cackled, a cruel and sinister sound, vibrating through his body like an earthquake shattering the earth, “Aren’t you happy to finally meet your stalker?”

His eyes bugled out of its sockets, his nerves were set on fire, mind spiralling out in a frantic search of his memory. He couldn’t remember feeling watched or any indication of him being stalked —Simon hadn’t said a word and that worried him. He hung up without a second thought, his body acting on primal need, to survive and to feel safe, he hung up the phone and quickly sent Simon a message. Johnny needed Simon to call him and to reassure him that this was a mean prank and that he didn’t have a stalker.

When his phone rang, he tapped on the green button without looking for a name, thumb moving instinctively, fully believing he got a call from Simon.

“Why’d you hang up on me, Johnny?”

Johnny felt like his world was crumbling in on itself.

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysian @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[sensei-venus]

WaterPark Blow~ (GirlCock!Tory x Chubby!Reader)

Kinktober Day 6-Blowjob

(Unedited) (Public Sex, Blowjob, Slight Cum Play, Facial, GirlCock!Tory, Hinted at Bully!Tory, Secret Relationship.)

“You better fucking hurry this shit up. Everyone is fucking waiting for me outside, I didn't expect for you to jump me like this.” Tory hissed while grabbing a fist full of Reader’s hair. Reader moaned out around the large bugle inside the other girls swim bottoms. The orange fabric was damp with a layer ofcorian water and spit. The taste was a mix of sour and just plain wet fabric.

Reader did her very best to try and suck at the other girls cock. It twitched under the thick fabric at the chubby girls attention. Her hit set mouth suckling against it. It made Tory grunt out in annoyance and roll her eyes. They darted from Reader to the bathroom door. Just outside that very door, the whole group of cobra Kai students wait for her.

It was supposed to be just a simple outing to the water park. A day to chill without the thought of the up coming practice next week.

But then in the mist of the group showing you to swim, Reader showed you to crash the little party.

Well not really, it wasn't like she was trying to actually mess with the group of mean kids. She just happened to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time. When Tory first spotted her in the crowd of kids she was pissed. The two of them had been fucking for a few weeks now. They swear to keep it a secret from everyone.

Reader because she was scared of the cobras finding out and harassing her even more than they already did.

Tory because she didn't want her friends to know she was fucking the “fat bitch” at school. Deep down it wasn’t because of that, it was because she didn’t want to put the girl under their radar. She knew they would bully her more then they already did. Both of them would be put under a bad light if anyone found out about their little relationship.

“You can’t even go a day without trying to get at my dick can you?” She smirked. She looked back down to Reader who was still trying to mouth at her hard dick. Fat little tongue sticking out as she licked up the fabric. The way her chubby little cheeks and pretty eyes looked from under her bulging dick. It had her rolling her eyes and shoving her harder into her crotch.

With a free had Tory quickly slid the sides of her bikini bottoms down her hips. Wiggling out of them until they meet her mid thigh. Her hard cock sprung out right into the shocked girls face. The wet head slapping her right in the face.

A string of cum beaded across her nose, it snapped as Tory pulled away ever so slightly. She smirked as the chubby girl sat in awe at her feet. Moments later she was licking up the girls shaft.

The skin of her dick was covered in a mix of pre and spit. The longer she spent slobbering all over the fat dick in her face the more Tory grew both nervous and horny.

“Fuck can you just get on with it and suck my dick already! Stop mouthing at it and suck it bitch!” She growled while shoving the girl closer to her dick. Reader moaned around the flesh before moving to the head. She gave it a few hard licks before wrapping her plush lips around the head. She gave a few soft ducks to the fat head before moving down. Quickly gobbling up the aggressive girls meat. She shook her head a little while sucking.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she took more into her tiny mouth.

It started to hit the back of her throat making her gag a little which on speared Tory on. Smirking she tugged at the girls hair. Watching the way she struggles to take every inch of her cock. The nasty sound of gagging fills the tiny bathroom. The wet sound of gargling and slurping made her stomach tighten even more.

Her eyes rolled back as she started using the girls wet mouth. The feeling of hollowed out cheeks and her wet mouth around her. A moan bubbles up from her chest. Heading tilting back as Reader worked her cock. One of her hands started to play with her balls. Lightly scrapping over the sensitive skin. She jerked a bit and her balls drew up, Reader knew every single trick to make her cum. It was like there was some unwritten handbook. One that only she knew about and memorize completely.

The girls fingers traced over a vain under one of her balls just right. Tory felt like her belly was going to explode at any moment. Her head filled to the brim with pleasure.

“How are you this good?” She hissed at the chubby girl.

Reader moaned as loud as she could while bobbing her head up and down. Her pace soon quickened to the point spit started to fly. It splattered over Tory’s naked belly and thighs. It trailed down to her balls and collected at the very bottom. It soon dribbled to the floor below in a small poodle. It was almost as if she was smiling from her position on the floor.

Her big eyes stared up at Tory though her lashes. Eyes sparking as she took what she wanted from the girl, the shudders and silent moans.

Tory though her head back, using both hands she placed them on the back of the girls head.

“Shit get ready!” She whimpered out though gritted teeth. Moments later she let loose with a small howl. Her hips jackrabbit as the fire in her belly finally explodes. Brows knitting together as a rough orgasm shots though her.

Out of no where she rips Reader off her dick. Reader lets out a loud gasp as her mouth is ripped away from the wet cock. Tory let’s go of her hair and holds her dick as it sends out ripe after rope of cum. It’s thick and warm as it lands on Reader’s face. It splashes onto her cheeks, nose lips and forehead. She has to close her eyes as it spurts out across her face. It drips from her brows and over her lashes.

It’s a miracle that it some how doesn’t get into her hair.

She breaths a little bit heavy as she cracks her eyes open to watch the last round of cum leave her girlfriends dick. She gives a breathy sigh as she watches her finally tapper off. The nice dick twitching at the aftermath of it all, completely spent. Balls now completely drained for the time being.

Tory slaps her slowly softening cock across the girls puffy lips.

“Such a good girl for me ain’t yah.” She smirks.



[reidslovely]

Suggestion: Peter has feelings for a reader, but he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s so scared,,, Pure angst!

ahh!! finally got around to this cute little idea. it's not much but it's honest work.

please reblog/comment if you like this post!!

Being in love with someone for years is hard. Hiding it was harder. Especially with an individual who was as sensitive as Peter was. He remembers the exact day she moved into the neighborhood, it was only a handful of weeks after Uncle Ben died. He was still working on his own struggles, he was angry and bitter.

 But never around her. 

She was annoying and pestering in the best way possible, she got him out and did things with him. Even if it was just studying in the backyard, the sun did him somewhat well. Peter listened to her ramble about books she had read as they walked through the bookstore, him offering to carry the ones she picked out. He played the music she enjoyed in his earbuds when they’d share them on the walk or subway ride back. Every form of Peter was in love with her.

Seventeen year old Peter who was torn between two girls? In love with her. 

Bloodied Peter who was in pain and afraid to go home? He was in love with her. 

Peter who had convinced himself he was a killer and undeserving of love? With the way she held him, how could he not fall in love with her? 

It was astonishing to him how she hadn’t caught on. As a teen he thought his love and affection for her was perfectly clear, he was a bit annoyed how she wasn’t catching on. However, the older he got and the more he lost he decided it was for the best. To love her in secret, be her protector in the shadows. Watching her fall in love with everyone but him hurt less that way, if he acted like he didn’t care. 

“So..?” Her voice pulled his gaze off the robotic equipment in front of him and to her scantily clad figure. The dress was a deep purple and hung in the right places, he swallowed hard before nodding his head looking back at the project that awaited him. 

“Nice.” He nods, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She huffs and adjusts her dress in the hallway mirror, shifting between pulling the neck of the dress higher and lower. Peter’s gaze danced back over to her fully while she wasn’t paying attention. 

“Who's the lucky bachelor this weekend?” 

(Y/N) glanced at him in the mirror, and for the briefest of seconds he saw something flash across her face. She slid her jacket on and dropped their mirrored eye contact. “His name is Eddie. He goes to ESU and he’s a journalism major and works at the Bugle right now.” “Mhm he sounds nice, not douchey at all” 

“Well he’s more interested in me than any of the last few guys have been.”

 Breathy laughter through her nose shows her annoyance. He drops it. He wipes his hands on his pants and makes his way over to her, he stands behind her in the mirror and for the smallest part of a second they look like a couple. He thinks about what if he is missing out on, he thinks of what their future could be. 

Peter hugs her to his chest with one arm. Cheek pressed against the top of her head. “Be safe. Call me if you need me. I'll get there as fast as I can.” 

“I know, you always do.”

A knock on their front door pulled the two of them from their moment of what if. Peter opened the door and found himself standing up straighter coming face to face with a somewhat familiar face. 

Very douchey. 

“Is (Y/N) here?” Eddie asked looking around Peter who was quick to block his view. 

“She’s finishin’ up. What are your intentions tonight Brock?” 

“Nothing more than being a perfect gentleman, Parker. I’ll have your girlfriend back on time I promise.” Eddie laughs, (Y/N) rushed from the hall, her bag in hand smiling at Eddie. “Ready?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded excitedly, hugging Peter goodbye before shutting their door in his face. 

Similar to how he would as a child Peter threw a tantrum. He pushed the robotics project off the coffee table. Throwing himself down on the couch kicking the table moving it half across the room scuffing the wall. Again, similar to a child he must have fallen asleep after his tantrum because he woke up to his senses tingling, the hair on his body standing on end. He sat straight up looking around the room. This was bad. 

The door pushed open and Peter jumped up, (Y/N) stumbled through the door looking at Peter with tears in her eyes. No words had to be spoken, he engulfed her in his arms patting her hair down. 

“I know bugs, I know.” He sighs sitting her down on the couch. She clung to him, tears wetting his neck. “You’ll find the perfect person one day.” He assures. “I found him a long time ago..but you don't want me.” Peter knew what she meant, and he wishes he didn’t. He wishes he could trust himself to love her fully and the way she needed to be. Instead he wraps her legs around her holding her close, knowing it’s only hurting them more as he covers them up.

_________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @sincericida

making a new taglist go to my intro post to find out how to be included!!!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Tasty- Chapter 1

A new short series for y'all! Mostly smut with plot. #sorrynotsorry ;) Also can we talk about how fucking cute Tom Holland is?? As much as I do have love for Toby McGuire and Andrew Garfield, Tom is my fave. Enjoy!

Summary:  Peter just wanted to have one night of fun.  Then that night of fun almost killed him.  Now it won’t stop haunting him.  And he’s loving it.  *Curvy/plus size, female reader Warnings: mostly smut with plot, some physical pain

Next chapter

It was Peter’s 27th birthday.  His coworkers from his job at The Daily Bugle took him out to a local bar that had dancing bar girls.  It really wasn’t his kind of place, but he went along with it.  It was nice to go out for fun for a change rather than on patrol as Spiderman.  He drank the fifth drink shoved in his hand, the alcohol not doing a lot to his high metabolism thanks to the spider bite all those years ago.  He could drink anyone in the bar under the table.  As the night drew on and his coworkers became increasingly drunk he could feel a slight tipsy sensation edging his brain as they whooped and hollered at the bar girls dancing on the counter.  He had a feeling like someone was watching him and turned, looking around the bar until his eyes met a pair of black eyes staring back at him.

He felt a jolt of his spider sense run through him, making him blink and when he looked at the eyes again they were no longer black but Y/C/E.  Peter shook his head as he took in the rest of the figure.  A woman, shorter than him by just a few inches, curvaceous, and a hunger in her eyes as she stared at him that made him feel excitement mixed with a strange sense of fear.  She gave him a lopsided smile, a smirk that screamed danger, then licked her lips and bit her bottom lip as she gave him a long look up and down.  He wasn’t always one to initiate a flirtatious encounter but felt an urge to go to her.  Peter smirked back at her, shoving down the trepidation he felt and walked over to her.  Happy Birthday to me, he thought smugly.

Peter approached her and leaned up against the wall she was standing by.  “Hey,” he greeted her, hoping it sounded more ruggedly handsome than he thought.

“Hey,” she cooed back at him, her smirk deepening.  “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Peter.  What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled at his compliment.  “Y/N,” she said, offering her hand out to him.

He shook her hand but didn’t let go of it, instead twisting his fingers so that he loosely held onto her fingers as he gazed at her.  “You here alone, Y/N?”

“Yes,” she said, her fingers squeezing.  “Looks like you're here with some buddies.  Happy Birthday, by the way,” she turned her body to face him more.

“Oh, thanks,” Peter shrugged shyly.

“How old are you?” Y/N said as she took a small step toward him.

“27,” Peter’s eyes widened slightly as her face leaned towards him, the hand he was holding pulling his arm behind to her lower back and rested it at the top of her pants.  “How old are you?”

“A lady never reveals her age,” Y/N winked at him, her hand now running up his arm and lingering on his neck for a moment before playing with the hair at the nape of his neck softly.

“Sure, but a lady needs to be of drinking age,” Peter said a little more seriously, not wanting to get in any trouble.

Y/N laughed at that, her laugh dancing around in his head, making him feel giddy.  “Of course.  I’m 33,” she said.

“You like slightly younger guys?” Peter asked, his eyes narrowing at her teasingly.

“Sometimes,” Y/N said as she looked up at him through her lashes.  “You like slightly older women?”

“Love them,” Peter said as he leaned down, his nose gently bumping hers, making her smile widen.  She set her drink down on a nearby table and her other hand looped around his neck with the other one, her nails giving his head a good scratch.

“Hm,” she hummed, her eyes darting from his eyes to his lips and back.  “Can I give you a birthday present?”

“I love presents,” Peter said as he stared at her lips, his voice coming out as a husky grumble.

Y/N licked her lips again then pulled him down and kissed him.  Peter’s hand at her back fisted into her shirt, pulling her body closer to his as he deepened the kiss.  She blindly pushed him towards a dark part of the bar, turning so that he was pinning her against the corner of two walls.  His hands gripped her hips as she opened her mouth for her tongue to lick along his bottom lip.  He opened his mouth and tasted her back.  The kiss became increasingly frenzied, tongues licking frantically and nipping and sucking each other’s lips.  He moved to start kissing her neck but she stopped him and kissed his neck first, licking along his jugular roughly and sucking at it as her hands slid down his shoulders, one stopping at his upper back to keep him close and the other roaming down to his pants.

She slipped her fingers past his belt and under his underwear, her fingers grasping his cock and slowly pumping his shaft.  Peter almost buckled, his hands plastering against the walls to keep himself upright.  As she continued to stroke him she moved her lips back up to his mouth, lewdly kissing him then sucking on his tongue at the same speed she was stroking his cock.

Peter moaned loudly, his breathing erratic.  When she let go of his tongue he gritted his teeth and his hand dipped into his pants to stop her.  “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N giggled.  “That’s kinda the point.”

“Not here,” Peter said, his eyes sweeping around them to make sure no one was looking.

“Your place or mine?” she asked, her tongue licking along his neck again.

Peter quickly pulled her outside and hailed a cab.  He gave the driver his address then turned to Y/N who was already pawing at him to pull him close again.  They made out in the cab, the driver turning the radio up louder so he couldn’t hear their moans or panting breaths.  As soon as the cab pulled up at Peter’s apartment complex he threw some bills at the driver then nearly ripped Y/N out of the car and towards the door.  They made out again in the lobby, the elevator, through the hallway until he was finally able to get his door unlocked.  Once he had closed it behind them he pushed her towards his bedroom, her hands pulling his shirt off.  They reached the bed and she pushed him down onto it first.  “Sit against the headboard, handsome,” she instructed him.  He quickly obeyed and moved himself up against the pillows.  “Good boy,” she praised him, cocking an eyebrow at him.  She slowly removed her shirt, revealing a lacy, bright red push-up bra.  Peter groaned at the sight.  She then pulled her pants down to reveal the matching lacy bottoms, her thighs jiggling as she got on the bed and started to crawl towards him.

“You smell so good, you know that?” Y/N whispered as she pulled his pants and underwear off.  

“Holy shit,” Peter whimpered as she laid down in between his legs.  Her hand returned to his cock, slowly stroking him again.

“I just wanna taste,” she glanced up at him, then licked the tip of his cock slowly.  Peter’s head fell back against the headboard, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him.  She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and started slowly sucking him, her tongue licking around him as she bobbed her head up and down on him.  Peter had never been given such good head before.  His hips trembled as her fingers dug into his thighs, her head and mouth doing all the work.  She sunk her head down so far that he hit the back of her mouth and instead of gagging she just swallowed, the tip dipping down into her throat.  Peter shook, a deep moan falling past his lips.

“FUCK, how did you…ungh,” Peter whined as she pulled back up and gave him a hard suck before popping her lips off of him.

“Got your blood rushing,” Y/N sighed as she straddled his lap, her clothed pussy grinding down on his cock slowly.  “Feel good, handsome?”

“So good…so good Y/N, God,” Peter gripped her hips, helping her grind against him.

Her hands slid up his torso, giving his nipples playful flicks and tweaks that made him rut up against her.  She kissed him again, her tongue entangling with his again and giving it another suck as her hands then ran down his arms, pulling his wrists behind his back slowly.  “I can smell you…best thing I’ve smelled in a long time,” Y/N licked along the side of his mouth and down to his neck.  “Gonna taste you…you bloody tease,” she moaned as she sucked along his jugular again.

A part of Peter’s brain was screaming at him that something was wrong, the way she was talking about him smelling good was weird and abnormal, but his cock felt so good being rubbed by her underwear, her own wet arousal seeping through her panties onto him making his eyes roll back in his head.  One of her hands tightened around his wrists to keep his arms back, her other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck and pulling it further to the side.  “You gonna cum for me, handsome?”  She sniffed him as he nodded, his hips trying to thrust up into her harder.  “Cum for me,” her voice suddenly changed, a deep resonant command filling his head and making him feel more aroused than he had ever felt in his entire life.  It made him desperate as he felt his balls tighten and he tensed before his cum spurted onto her hips and his stomach.

Y/N suddenly hissed and bit him.  Peter’s mind short circuited.  The confusing mix of pleasure and pain made him jerk against her, his hands trying to pull out of her hold but her grip was unyielding.  His desperate moan as he came morphed into a yelp and grunt as he felt her teeth sink into his neck and she sucked at the vein.  His spider senses kicked into overdrive, making him panic as he tried to fight her off.  Y/N moaned deeply as she sucked from him, her hand at the back of his head almost ripping at his hair to keep him still as she drank from him.  Peter squirmed until he could feel himself start to get tired, his eyes fluttering as his strength depleted slowly.

“What the hell…?” he mumbled as the fight in him gave up.  His body slumped against the headboard.  His vision slowly blackened, the sound of her heavy breathing becoming distant until he was gone.

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 6 - Now You See Me

The group of vampires work together to learn a new trick and there's trouble with the Daily Bugle, how will you negotiate it?

Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 10,712

Contains - Confrontation with the boss. Smut - oral and penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Miguel observes you as you lay in his bed, a content smile spreads across his face as he admires how comfortable you look. You’re sleeping soundly after another passionate evening shared between the both of you. He loves how your hair splays around your head on his pillow, how his sheets cover your naked body, accentuating your curves.

You turn on your side, facing him while you sleep.

He should get up soon; he has to contact Peter and tell him what’s been happening. Parts of him consider having the family of three stay in the shelter too, just to make sure everyone he knows and cares about is safe.

He leans over you as gently as possible so as to not wake you and tenderly plant kisses down your arm before climbing off the bed.

Clothes are all over the floor, making him chuckle slightly as he remembers how the pair of you tried to subtly enter his room without the others noticing. The moment his door was shut, you both were all over each other, ripping clothes off and kissing passionately.

He finds some new clothing to wear and puts his worn clothes in his washing hamper. This evening, he chooses a red, long-sleeved shirt which hugs him in all the right places. Once fully dressed, he quietly opens the door and shuts it, leaving you to sleep on in peace.

As usual, the youngsters have taken root at the communal area, all except one. Miguel steps out of his room and watches in a bemused manner as Miles figures out he can scale the walls.

“Hey, check this out. I’m like a spider!” he chuckles as he manages to get a little higher. The others all lazily turn their heads up to observe Miles. 

“~Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can. 

Spins a web, any size. Catches thieves just like flies. 

Look out! Here comes Spider-Man,~”

Miles makes up a super hero theme tune on the spot as he keeps climbing while most of the other youngsters laugh. Hobie, on the other hand, lets out a friendly scoff. “Spider-Man? Sounds bonkers mate.”

Pavitr turns around fully on the couch, kneeling on the cushions to take a look at Miles. “Ohhh, imagine! Slinging webs, swinging between buildings; the sky’s the limit,” he speaks with wonder as he spreads his arms wide gesturing to the vastness of the city skyline.

A cushion goes soaring through the air and smacks the back of Pavitr’s head as Miles jumps back down to the floor.

“Hey! Who threw that?” he asks as he grabs the cushion and looks accusingly at Hobie, who then points at Peni idly playing on a handheld gaming device. “You could have messed up my amazing hair!” he tosses the cushion at Peni which flies directly into her face as she drops her game in her lap.

“ACK!” she yelps as she springs up onto the couch, ready to launch the cushion back at Pavitr. Unfortunately for her, Miguel intercepts by seizing it and raises it up in the air, making her dangle below, kicking wildly.

“Pav; it was Hobie. I saw him,” he says to intervene.

A light growl comes from Peni who wrenches the offending cushion out of Miguel’s grasp and takes a swing at Hobie.

“Tch; snitch!” he retorts as he takes cover from Peni’s onslaught of attacks. Miguel shrugs and heads into the kitchen, leaving them to it while all the others join in with the hilarity and chaos in the communal area.

Lyla turns around after loading the washing machine as she hears Miguel enter the kitchen. Then, she folds her arms and leans against the wall, observing Miguel as he grabs a blood pack out of the fridge. “So? Spill the beans,” she says as she raises an expectant eyebrow while a yelp followed by a crash is heard from outside in the communal area.

He looks at her quizzically as he tosses the pack on a glass plate and shuts it in the microwave. “What do you mean?” he asks as the drum in the washing machine starts to spin, joining in with the sound of the microwave heating his meal. A cushion flies past the kitchen door.

“What really happened at Y/N’s home? You sly dog,” she grins and wiggles her eyebrows.

Apart from the constant noise of the kitchen appliances and the hooliganism going on outside, silence falls between the pair. Miguel, too, folds his arms and sits on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies coolly, doing his damndest not to appear flustered by dragging his phone out of his pocket to type a message to Peter.

A small fist bumps into Miguel’s arm, giving him a friendly nudge. “I saw you and Y/N sneaking into your room earlier. What happened in her apartment?” she grins.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can work it out,” Miguel sighs in defeat - the secret wasn’t going to remain one for long…

A shrill squeak of excitement erupts from Lyla which fills the tiny room before the microwave beeps. “~Miggy’s got a girlfriend!~” she grins and claps her hands together with glee.

Yanking the microwave door open, he takes out the plate and places it on the countertop to cool. “We’re not official or anything. I just really like her,” he admits as he finishes up messaging Peter and putting his phone back in his pocket.

“You really really like her though,” she grins again as now what seems to be a flurry of cushion feathers start fluttering into the kitchen.

Miguel’s gaze lowers as he presses his fingers against the pack of blood to feel how hot it is. “Yes, I do. Happy now?” he asks as he picks up his meal. “Go on; go to bed while I try to drink in peace - ‘try’ being the operative word with that rowdy lot outside…” he continues as he nods his head towards the communal area.

Lyla eyes the feathers scattered around on the floor. “They’re getting restless; being cooped up in here all the time,” she comments, sounding sympathetic. A frown spreads across her lips.

The vampire lets out a tired sigh. “I know, but here’s the safest place for them at the moment. Morbius is trying everything he can to get to me,” he pauses for a moment as he also looks at the feathers that have wafted into the kitchen. “I’ve told Peter to come here tonight, and instructed MJ and Mayday to travel here tomorrow during the day. I want everyone here where I can keep tabs on you all.”

His business partner nods in response. “Probably the smartest move,” she says as she stands up and unfolds her arms. With a wave of her hand she wishes Miguel good night and leaves the kitchen. “Right, which one of you rascals is buying a new cushion?”

You wake to feeling something much warmer than a blanket covering you. Before you open your eyes, you can tell Miguel has re-entered the room and climbed onto the bed. He nuzzles you gently and holds you close. A soft moan leaves your lips as you slip back into consciousness and nuzzle him back.

His chest is already bare. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating against yours. It’s clear that he has had some blood to drink recently.

“Time to get up, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, making you grumble and snuggle him more tightly.

“No…” you nuzzle against his thick neck, “just five more minutes…”

A faint smile spreads across his face. He wants to enjoy his time with you, however there is the underlying stress of what the new day will be bringing. “Okay, but you should get up soon,” he replies before delivering a tender kiss to the top of your head.

Begrudgingly, after a few minutes, you finally leave the bed, but you make the mistake of looking back at the beautiful man you’re abandoning under the sheets. Your heart flutters when you two lock eyes, as you consider maybe you can squeeze in a quick intimate and passionate moment before starting work. His body is simply irresistible… However, you fear that once you start, you will not be able to stop.

After getting dressed, you send a message to your boss to notify him that you’ll be working out of the office again. Then you sit back down on the bed, to give your new vampire lover a kiss before finding a quiet spot to work.

“Sweet dreams,” you whisper to him as your lips brush against his. Long, tanned fingers thread through strands of your hair as you feel his mouth respond to your light kisses.

“Have a good day, Y/N,” he whispers back.

The blissful moment shared between you both is suddenly rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. Looking at the screen, it says your boss is calling you. Perhaps his patience is wearing thin and wants you in the office.

You pick up your phone and answer it, feeling a slight pounding in your heart. “Morning Mr. Jameson,” you say, doing your best not to stutter.

“Y/N; care to tell me why there is a video of you on the internet opening fire at what looks to be a vampire? What’s going on? Explain; now.”

Miguel can immediately see that something is wrong. Your hands tremble so much that you nearly drop the phone.

“W-what?” you manage to choke out in surprise.

Your boss scoffs. “I know it’s you. That much is clear in the video.”

There’s a video? You ask yourself. How the hell do you negotiate this situation? “Mr. Jameson, I don’t know what video you’re referring to,” you ask, doing your best to sound as ignorant and innocent as possible, but your concerned gaze lands on Miguel, who’s eyes widen. After standing up from the bed, you search for your laptop in your bag with one hand while holding your phone to your ear.

“Oh, please, Y/N-”

“Send it to me,” you reply, sounding a little more commanding than you intended. Your laptop clacks down on Miguel’s desk before you open it and turn it on. The sound of the bed creaking tells you that Miguel is coming to take a look too, gathering his sheets around his hips.

“Alright…” Mr. Jameson replies, humouring you as you hear him type your email address and click send.

After your laptop boots up, you log in and immediately open your emails. Your boss’ email is sitting tauntingly at the very top of your inbox in large, bold, black text. A warm hand rests on your shoulder as you take a seat at the desk and open the email. Miguel, too, is very eager to see what this is all about.

You click on the link in the email from Mr. Jameson and it takes you to a YouTube channel called V-Tube. At first glance, it looks like a place that displays supposed proof that the creatures of the night exist. Except, in this case, the video in front of you is in fact, definite proof.

Silence falls on the line as you play the video. Sure enough, there you are, clinging onto Miguel on the back of a bike shooting at a winged creature. Thankfully, the camera angle doesn’t reveal Miguel’s face, but this does land you slap bang in the middle of a whole lot of trouble with your boss and potentially your job. There must have been a car that wasn’t involved in the chase, but a passenger within it witnessed the entire event and recorded it.

“Shit…” you hear Miguel mutter quietly behind you, he steps away and paces the room as he tries to think. Then, he grabs his phone and opens up a news app to check what’s being said there.

“Something’s going on, Y/N, and what I want to know is why aren’t you writing about this?”

You gulp. A lump has formed in your throat and doesn’t seem to want to go away.

“You’re not denying it then? Your involvement in this?” Mr. Jameson probes. How can you deny it? Your face is right there, in that video…

“I- last night I was out with my boyfriend,” you begin conjuring a lie; hopefully a believable one. Miguel turns to face you as you continue, partially because you called him your boyfriend. “We were attacked. I acted in self defence and I know nothing more about what we saw last night than you do.”

“Why would they be attacking you?” he asks, making you pause and panic.

“I don’t know. As far as I could see it was unprovoked. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity?”

Mr. Jameson sighs as he considers your words. He guesses what you said could be the truth… The brief silence is broken once more as he speaks. “Well, at least you’ve got something to write about. A perfect opportunity and your first hand experience will make an interesting read to say the least.”

Your heart lurches, of course he’s going to make that suggestion. “But I-“

“Not buts; I want you to write about this,” he growls as you swear you hear him hit his desk in frustration. “You can do some digging into these beasts too for future articles. Civilians need to know who they are truly residing with,” you hear a series of beeps in your ear coming from your phone, telling you that your boss has hung up. Your hand holding your mobile lowers as your eyes remain fixed on your laptop screen. What are you going to do?

Miguel comes over to see you again, still clutching his bed sheet around his hips. “What did he say?” he asks, his expression full of concern, eyebrows knitted together.

You turn back to look at him, your expression almost mirroring his. “Mr. Jameson wants me to write about what happened last night. Claiming that Nueva York citizens need to know about who else lives in the city,” you reply as you watch Miguel shake his head and turn away to begin pacing again.

“No. You’re not going to - you can’t.”

Placing your cell phone down on his desk, you stand up to meet him across the room. “I could warn the Daily Bugle readers about Morbius?” you offer as a suggestion but he looks back at you, his expression now looking more serious than concerned.

“And cause mass panic? Because that’s what your article will do,” he pauses before adding: “Or make them think you’re mad.”

“So, I just sit and do nothing?” you ask before you point at your laptop. “If I don’t write, I’m out of a job. Jameson has told me I have to write about last night,” as you speak, your voice cracks with emotion, concern and stress, desperate to find a middle ground that everyone can be happy with.

Miguel just simply looks at you, obstinate and resolute.

“You’ve said it yourself: Morbius is getting reckless. He wants to stop you from getting in his way. How far will he go to do that? How many people might die as collateral damage? People need to know,” you argue with passion, although you notice standing your ground against Miguel is actually rather frightening.

He stands silently for a moment before he looks away. “You’ll find another job, I’m sure,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your jaw drops at his response and your heart pounds. “That’s it?” you ask incredulously. “I’ll be forced to find another job because you say so?”

Miguel advances on you suddenly. “What’s going on is so much bigger than the Daily fucking Bugle!” he yells as one hand clasps your shoulder while the other remains on the sheet around his hips. “If you write anything to do with the existence of vampires, I promise you there will be pitchforks and lit torches before the day is done,” he gestures to his bedroom door. “Those kids out there, are under my protection. They are my responsibility. Even MayDay would be at risk - an infant!”

His words echo uncomfortably in your mind. You remember how he was treated when a small village found out about him being a vampire. How would an entire city respond? Or even potentially the world? It’s clear Miguel still has trouble with trusting humanity, and you can understand that whole-heartedly.

“What if Morbius doesn’t like what you write about vampires? You could be a target for a different reason other than simply being delectable. What if he targets the employees of the Daily Bugle in response? You want to risk that?” as he speaks, his eyes are wide, desperate to get his point across and for you to understand.

There is a moment where you both stare into each other’s eyes, passion burning brightly between you. As your heart pounds, your breathing quickens and your mind processing what feels like thousands of thoughts a minute.

“You think I’d be the only one writing about this?” you eventually ask as you rest your hand on his which still grips your shoulder. “Others will be looking at that video and writing about this for other newspapers. Whereas I was actually there,” you pause as Miguel pulls his hand away from your shoulder and sits down on the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands.

“That video is out there for all to see. People know now, regardless of me writing or not-” Miguel looks up at you.

“Then why even bother?” he interjects.

You kneel down in front of him and grip his arms. “Because I can use my voice - or my words, in this case - for good!” you’re so desperate for him to see things from your side, you could shake him. “You should trust me not to write about the kids. I will only report on what is important and necessary.”

“People are going to believe whatever they want. If they want to believe that every vampire is dangerous that’s what they’re going to do,” his voice is low and resentful, but not towards you. You can guess he’s still hurting from the way he was treated all those years ago.

“Then I will feel glad that I have written about my first hand experience being with good vampires like you, who saved my life. I may not be able to convince everyone, but I have gained trust over the years of working for the Daily Bugle,” your hands squeeze his wrists slightly. “Let me use my influence to help sway people in your favour.”

For the first time in a few minutes, Miguel’s furrowed brows relax as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally leaves his parted lips. He can see the determination in your eyes and it’s getting harder to argue against. Tiredness from a long night is making him cranky and maybe more liable to be uncooperative.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into his embrace as he lays back on his bed. He kisses the top of your head before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he begins as he tightens his grip on you. “Do what you need to do. All I ask is, can I see what you write before you submit it?”

That is a fair request. You are going to be writing about him after all. Supporting your weight with your hands on either side of his head, you look down at him. “Of course. I will start working on it right away,” you answer, before bending down slightly to kiss him back. “But you get some sleep first and I’ll show it to you when you wake up later before I email it to Mr. Jameson.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep,” he replies before pulling you in for another kiss.

He finally relinquishes you and gets under his covers, hiding his beautiful body away.

It’s hard, but you tear your eyes away from him and return to your laptop.

Giving it further thought, you decide to write an open letter as you worry sensationalising the situation might make it be taken less seriously. As you type, the sounds of your keys softly clicking on the keyboard lulls Miguel off into a deep and restful sleep.

Occasionally, you hear his soft snoring, sounding so peaceful and about the furthest away from being a threat to Nueva York as he can possibly get. You have to do him and most other vampires justice, for his sake and for the kids.

It takes a little while to compose everything you wish to say. Every word is carefully considered with the vampire’s best interests in mind.

In the afternoon, you take a break and speak with Lyla, who has spent most of the morning running errands and preparing the shelter for the arrival of MJ and MayDay.

It’s becoming abundantly clear that last night’s events scared Miguel. The fact he is calling in anyone who is associated with him shows that he thinks Morbius is a much bigger threat now than he ever was. If anything happens to anyone he has hidden away in this shelter, he most likely would never forgive himself. You know he holds himself responsible for not finishing Morbius off when he had the chance, and you suspect it eats away at him every single day.

During your break, you help set up a room for the family of three to share before MJ and MayDay arrive. You look forward to seeing that sweet little girl again; you’re certain she’s going to make living in the shelter much more entertaining.

By the time you are done with writing your open letter, Miguel stirs in his sleep, a soft groan comes out from a pile of pillows.

“Evening,” you call out as the mound under the blankets pillows wriggles. “I think I’m nearly done if you want to come and check it out.”

The sleepy monster finally rises from the land of slumber, stretching and yawning with dishevelled hair poking out in all angles. “Alright, I’m coming…” he replies, his voice sounding croaky as he emerges completely from under the blankets.

After getting some boxers and dark jeans on, he stands behind you, eager to read what you have written. The warmth of his chest beats down on you as he leans over to take a look.

“From The Horse's Mouth,

In the last twenty-four hours, a video has surfaced on the internet displaying winged creatures attacking me - yes, that’s right, me and a friend. I’m writing this to confirm that this is in fact true and not some kind of doctored footage. I am writing this to provide my story of what actually happened.

The truth is, I have very recently discovered that vampires do indeed exist. Just the other night, I found myself in the jaws - quite literally, of a vampire. That was until the man shown on the bike with me came to my rescue.

I went from living in complete ignorant bliss about vampires to being surrounded by them. Let me be crystal clear, I do not feel unsafe in their midst. In fact, they are simply humans who have recently been turned and wish to live in peace.

Just like humans, there are indeed bad vampires too. And I want to take this opportunity to warn as many as I can that there are several roaming the city. Following the orders of the one I was rescued from. His sights are set squarely on my hero, but I must stress that everyone must remain vigilant.

Do not engage with anyone you do not know more than you need to; no matter how charming they appear to be. If you have to be out at night, or travelling via the subway, be sure to have a trusted companion with you, or if that is not possible, stay away from quiet and secluded areas.

Stay safe.

Y/N, Daily Bugle”

As Miguel reads your open letter, a small smile spreads across his face. Relaxing over the fact you have written the vampires he is protecting in a good light. You are right. The cat is out of the bag, as he feared last night, and people will believe if this is real, or a hoax, or if vampires are good or bad. What you have written won’t make matters worse, but maybe help relieve the situation. And in doing so, you are keeping your boss happy too.

He pats your shoulder and then gives it a firm squeeze. “That sounds fine, Y/N. Thank you, and I’m sorry for being so stubborn with you this morning.”

Looking up at him, you spur him on to lean down and give you a kiss on the forehead. “It’s alright, I understand why you were reluctant,” you reply before looking back down at your screen and preparing it to be sent to Mr. Jameson.

The communal area has never looked so full. Twelve people are now living in the shelter and are in danger of completely cramming the couches. To allow people to spread out, Lyla and Miguel have dragged over some spare mattresses to provide extra sitting places.

On one sofa, you, Lyla and MJ all sit together eating a meal that was pre-prepared by MJ. On another couch, Gwen and Pavitr chat to one another animatedly, while Margo and Miles attempt to backseat game as they watch Peni play her gaming device on the third couch.

One of the mattresses in the communal area is littered with children’s toys as Peter plays with a wide-eyed MayDay. She giggles infectiously as her tower of stackable blocks falls down for the umpteenth time that evening.

In the corner, next to several crates, Hobie sits as he inspects the blades he acquired from the vampire he shot the night before. MJ had banished him there as she knew MayDay would likely want to get involved.

As he half unsheathes one of the swords, he hums the annoyingly catchy tune Miles came up with earlier as he scaled the walls.

The metal of the blade is indeed silver, and he makes a note to get hold of some leather gloves so he can handle them properly. For now though, they should be hidden away and out of reach from certain inquisitive little dhampirs…

As Miguel clears his throat to address the rest of the shelter’s occupants, Hobie struts past to put the weapons away in his shared room.

“Alright, listen up,” he starts as he speaks to everyone, but mostly the other vampires. He begins again when he has almost everyone’s attention. “In my recent run-ins with Morbius, his vampire-mist ability is proving killing him practically impossible. If I’m to learn how to do it and play him at his own game. I think you lot should too-”

“Vampire-mist?” Pavitr repeats in surprise, “we can do that?” he asks with intrigue and wonder as MayDay starts to fly away from Peter’s grasping hands.

Miguel nods. “If Morbius can do it, we can too. Just need to work out how,” he says, ducking out of the child’s flight path as her little wings carry her up to the ceiling behind him.

“Uh, MayDay, honey, come back down…” Peter calls out, his eyes fixed on his daughter as he gets up and scales the wall to reach her.

“What is it exactly?” Margo speaks up with interest as she nudges Peni to make her put her gaming device down.

Before Miguel answers, Hobie comes back out of his room and returns to the communal area, observing and smirking at the shenanigans between Peter and MayDay on the ceiling.

“It’s a form of teleportation. It’s an annoying habit of Morbius’s to use as a method of getting himself out of trouble. He’s engulfed by black mist before vanishing entirely,” he explains, trying hard not to sound too sore about his missed opportunity to kill Morbius two nights ago.

 “Sounds neat. But why do you want us to learn it too?” Miles asks as Gwen and Margo nod in agreement to his question.

“It’ll be beneficial to us all, for self-defence…” Miguel’s voice drones on as he answers Miles’ question.

At the same time, Peter scrabbles about on the ceiling as MayDay slips between his arms, swooping left and right. MJ squeals as she peeps through the gaps of her fingers, no longer paying attention to Miguel.

Peter manages to catch MayDay and triumphantly holds her below his head as he stands upside down from the ceiling. “Gotcha!”

Simultaneously, Miguel turns around wondering what the fuss is all about. His eyes go wide as he walks right into Peter’s face and their lips connect in an unexpected kiss...

Time seems to have frozen in that moment of shock. Both you and MJ nearly choke on your food as Lyla bursts out laughing with the rest of the vampires.

Miguel tears his face away from Peter, spluttering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. His wide red eyes twitch as a chorus of laughter behind him fills the long hallway of the abandoned train station.

Peter chuckles as he finally gets himself back onto the floor. “What? I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?” he asks as he holds an excitedly babbling MayDay in his arms while MJ facepalms with embarrassment on the couch.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose as Peter returns to the mattress.

“MJ, you like my kisses, right?” he asks as he sits back down.

“I do, but not everybody does, I’d expect,” she answers wryly.

Once the hilarity has died down, you, Lyla and MJ head to bed. As you enter Miguel’s room, he follows you and wraps you up in his embrace. His lips brush against yours tenderly and sweetly before capturing them completely.

Your hands splayed across his chest as your fingertips traverse over his defined torso.

Reluctantly, Miguel pulls away, ending the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “I just wanted my last kiss of the day to be with you, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he nuzzles you, rubbing his nose against yours.

His words and his actions are so sweet and loving. It makes your heart flutter and you’re amazed that so much has changed between the both of you in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the drama you both have gone through together over the last forty-eight hours have brought you together and strengthened your bond so quickly.

You nuzzle him back before stealing another quick kiss but a bright smile shines across your face. A chuckle fills the room before you speak. “You haven’t kissed someone for two hundred years and now you’ve kissed two people in as many days.”

His hand taps you lightly on your rear as if it was aimed to be a little spank. Then, he holds you closer. “But you’re the only one who makes me hard.”

A sudden deep, hot pulse radiates from your core at his words. And sure enough, as he holds you close, you can feel him throbbing against you through his clothes. You bite your lip as you look up at him, making him smirk.

Miguel presses a tender kiss against your forehead as his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Hmm… food for thought before you fall asleep?” he chuckles as you pout slightly. “I’ve got to concentrate on learning Morbius’s little trick.”

You relent and relax the pleading puppy-dog expression and trembling pout, as you understand that Miguel has more important things to focus on. Anything he can learn to improve his abilities as a vampire could make a vast difference to the outcome of their next inevitable clash.

Before wishing you goodnight, he buries his face against the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath. A contented sigh leaves his lips as your scent gives him a buzz of determination.

“So, how are we going to try and learn this vampire-mist thing when nobody here knows how to do it?” Miles asks once all vampires congregate back in the communal area.

Gwen contemplates for a moment as she sits back on a couch. “Maybe it’s a mental thing? Turning into mist when calm?” she offers as a suggestion.

“Morbius can do it when he’s about to be killed, I don’t think he’s calm all the time when he does it,” Miguel replies as he rests his hands on his hips.

Pavitr sits up from lazing on another couch. “It’s an act of necessity,” he says as if a lightbulb has just been switched on in his mind. “The need for self-preservation or to avoid a situation Morbius doesn’t want to be in triggers the ability.”

Everyone falls silent, considering Pavitr’s thinking out loud. A faint rumble can be heard in a neighbouring tunnel as a train passes through.

Hobie shrugs with folded arms, leaning against a wall. “Makes sense,” he says as his lazy gaze wanders over to Miguel who is still thinking.

“Oh! Gwen; throw a cushion at me!” Pavitr exclaims with urgency.

Miguel looks up. “It’s not time to screw around, guys,” he retorts, but as he speaks, he watches Gwen expertly sling a cushion through the air, directly at Pavitr’s face. And to his absolute surprise, Pav vanishes in a cloud of black mist and the cushion flies cleanly through it, landing among some crates behind the couch.

Everyone but Miguel throws their arms up in the air in shock and disbelief that it worked for Pavitr first time round. A loud chorus of stunned laughter and cheers fill the room before the young vampire steps out of his room and rejoins the excited crowd.

“H-How did you…?” Miguel asks with a bewildered expression on his face, a very slight twitch evident in his eye.

“Easy!” Pavitr replies as Hobie gives him a celebratory pat on the back. “I didn’t want the cushion to mess up my hair,” he answers as he runs his fingers through his voluminous black locks.

“Look at you; being smart and fashionable while you do it.” It is now Peter’s turn to clap Pavitr on the back before he faces Miguel. “Looks like we have our answer,” he says as the other vampires start pairing up to try and make the other vanish.

Along the stretch of subway station that once had a constant flow of people all day every day stands pairings of vampires, teaming up to learn this interesting trick. Miles partners up with Gwen, Hobie, with Pavitr, Margo, with Peni and finally Miguel stands before Peter.

They try throwing punches or kicks at each other to see if they can trigger the vampire-mist response. For some, it isn’t quite so easy to do.

“Come on, Miles. You can throw a harder punch than that,” Gwen goads as she dodges a feeble attack.

“I don’t like the idea of hitting you,” he grunts as he takes another reluctant swing. “Besides, you’re not meant to be dodging them!” Frustration rises within him as Gwen steps aside once more.

“As Pav says, it’s an ability used out of necessity,” she says as she blocks Miles’ punch and raises her own fist. “I haven’t needed to use it.” Her clenched hand swings fast, aiming right towards Miles’ face giving him no time to duck. His eyes widen as he yelps before he disappears and reappears behind Gwen who’s now enveloped in mist.

“You nearly hit me!” Miles exclaims in shock before he realises what he’s just accomplished. He steps forward and shoves at Gwen, springing her forward and almost stumbling headlong into a wall. However, she never hits it as she, too, bursts into mist and reappears safely standing upright next to Miles. The pair of them stare at each other in silent surprise.

After already mastering the technique, Pav spends more time focusing on getting Hobie to work it out. He squints cheekily as he plans his next steps of action. Instead of trying to fight Hobie, he hounds him with questions and compliments about his appearance. “You have an impressive collection of badges my guy,” he says as he reaches out to touch a badge that’s pinned firmly in the leather of his sleeveless-jacket.

A hand swiftly swipes away Pavitr’s hand. “Nah-ah; hands off bruv,” Hobie warns as he corrects his badge, twisting it so it’s just how he likes it.

Pav grins widely. He’s spotted a weakness. In a flurry of fast movements, he reaches for the several shiny objects adorning Hobie’s clothing. “How many do you have? What does this one say? Where did you get this one from? Does that say, PM can suck my d-“ (PM = Prime Minister) Pavitr suddenly chokes on swirling black mist as Hobie vanishes before throwing his arms in the air with joy.

It isn’t long afterwards that Margo and Peni both learn how to do it too. Miguel growls with irritation as he sees the six youngsters work it out while he still struggles with Peter. It seems he has the chattiest partner, having almost a full-blown conversation with himself about how adorable MayDay is between throwing punches at Miguel.

Frustration builds gradually as he understands the concept of what’s needed but he realises he’s hardwired into acting with physical self defence, overriding any urge to vanish. “GAH! For fuck sake; what’s the use?” he lashes out and kicks a crate.

Peter’s shoulders slump with disappointment as it seems Miguel wasn’t exactly listening to his talk about his daughter. “Relax, Miguel. It’ll come to you. Just keep trying.”

“Forget it!” he huffs, turning his back on the rest of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As an awkward silence descends upon the room, Pavitr waves to Peter to get his attention and leans in to whisper in his ear. His instruction is met with a grin and a definite nod.

An arm rests on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders as a hand pats him. “Maybe just take a breather,” Peter says softly, as he leans in to kiss him.

Miguel’s eyes widen in panic at the sudden invasion of personal space and to his surprise, he finds himself in his own room in a blink of an eye. He has done it. A yell of elation nearly erupts from his lips, but he sees you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Instead, he hears the other vampires cheer outside.

“Well done,” Peter says as he pats Miguel’s shoulder after he re-emerges from his room. “Don’t worry. No more unsolicited kisses from me; I promise.”

Miguel huffs with a slight smile of disbelief over his achievement. “Thanks,” he says. “Probably for the best,” he looks down at Peter. “Your turn to learn, now.”

Peter pulls his hand away from Miguel. “Me?” he laughs suddenly. “I learned that trick ages ago. Back when MJ nearly caught me doing something I shouldn’t have been.”

Miguel’s smile drops. “What?” he asks as he tilts his head questioningly, almost like a confused dog. “Y-You’ve known how to do it all along?”

A wide grin forms on Peter’s face. “Yep. But making everyone learn it from scratch has got the younger ones busy and focused on something other than being bored hooligans.”

Looking around the shelter, Miguel observes everyone standing and talking; not lounging around lazily on the communal couches. They all look animated, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

A smile spreads across Miguel’s lips as he understands Peter’s logic. “Fair enough. Thanks.”

For peace and quiet, he enters the kitchen and pulls out his phone to take a look at the news. It has now been over twenty-four hours since the news broke out with the video showing you both fleeing and shooting at beastly creatures. His large thumb brushes up his phone’s screen, scrolling for any update until a headline catches his attention.

“Government Officials Claim the Video is Fake.”

Of course the government would say that, but he can’t deny feeling a little more at ease about it. He hopes it will quell any nervousness amongst the citizens of Nueva York.

A soft nuzzling feeling against your neck slowly awakens you. Miguel is back in the bed, being big-spoon and holding you close. The warmth of his bare chest pressing against your back makes you feel safe and relaxed. He sniffs you before leaning his head against yours, letting out a contented sigh.

You raise your hand to cup his face that is next to yours, your fingertips nestling in his silky hair. “Good morning,” you say huskily as your throat tries to wake up from a night of snoring and deep breathing.

Miguel’s body presses against yours again, completely flush as his arms snake around you. “Morning,” he almost coos back, his breath brushing hotly over your ear.

“I didn’t feel you climb into bed,” you reply, your voice sounding a little more clear.

The feeling of his body clinging onto you like a limpet stuck on a rock on a beach makes you smile, if not turning you on slightly. You find it hard to resist pushing your rear back against his naked pelvis to tease him.

“Because I didn’t, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he thrusts his hips forwards slightly like he can read your mind.

It takes you a minute to work it out - mostly because his hips distract you - but finally the penny drops. Suddenly you turn to face him, your eyes wide. “You worked it out?” Your question is met with a small smile, carrying a hint of pride.

“Yes. Helped by an unusual method by Pavitr, but it did the trick.”

You throw your arms around him and roll him onto his back - a position he rather gladly accepts, his large hands resting on your hips. “Well done! I’m so pleased for you,” you say as you smother him with kisses all over his face before his lips catch yours.

Silence descends upon the room, only being broken by the faint sounds of your intimate moment or sweet moans between the two of you. The way his hands move over your body as he gently pushes his hips up against yours, slowly grinding his growing erection along your unclothed entrance.

Your brows furrow as your need for him skyrockets, and you tilt your hips for him to have an easier angle to enter you.

Another moan leaves your lips when you feel the head of his shaft breaching your slicked folds, squeezing past the tight ring.

Just as you’re about to take the plunge and sink down on him completely, the heat of your passion instantly plummets to subzero temperatures when you hear your phone buzz with an incoming call. You hesitate for a moment, your hips stuttering over Miguel, making him groan needily.

“Ignore it,” he grunts as he grabs your hips.

Looking at the screen, you see it’s your boss, making you pull away. “It’s Jameson…” you mumble nervously as you crawl along the bed, leaving an exceedingly horny Miguel behind you. He rolls over to his front on the bed with a groan of indignant protest and proceeds to grind against the mattress to alleviate his building arousal.

“Mr. Jameson?” you answer the call with mounting curiosity as you sit on the side of the bed, the cool air of Miguel’s room embracing you now you’re out from the covers and away from his body.

“Uh, morning, Y/N,” your boss responds, his usual pushy and demanding demeanour now replaced with something similar to nervousness and uncertainty. With the way he sounds, you get a clear image in your mind of him looking rather pale, as if he has seen a ghost.

You’re not sure how you feel about this change. While you’re not fond of his normal behaviour, this new one doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence either.

“Listen; I’m going to have to ask you to step down from writing for the Daily Bugle - just for a little while,” Mr. Jameson begins to explain.

An uncomfortable pounding in your chest starts after he speaks. “What? Why?” The tone of your voice makes Miguel look up at you with concern, forgetting how you just unintentionally blue balled him.

“It’s not my decision exactly-“ he tries to continue but you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“The government has asked me to suspend you for writing your open letter yesterday,” Jameson blurts out at you in response.

Your blood runs cold. The government is involved now? However your blood doesn’t run cold for long as you remember who pushed you to write the now seemingly offensive piece. It now feels like fire burning within your veins as you try to gather the right words to speak. “This… This isn’t fair, you-“

“It’s out of my hands, Y/N.”

“You told me to write it! Did you fail to mention that nugget of information to the government?”

“No- I-“ Jameson splutters.

“Just as I thought,” you snap back.

Only listening to half of the conversation, Miguel can still tell something is wrong, and when you mention the government, he starts to worry. Quickly, he peels his body off of the mattress and shuffles his way over to you to put a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“I know you’re mad-“ Mr. Jameson tries to placate the situation, but you’re now feeling unstoppable.

“Damn right, I’m mad! You played a part in this open letter too, but you don’t face suspension? How convenient,” as you speak, you find yourself surprised that you’re able to do this. You’d never say boo to a goose, but at this moment, you’re ripping into your boss, letting him have a piece of your mind. Confrontation and you don’t usually mix, and it becomes rather apparent as your body starts to shudder. Miguel feels it under his arm, spurring him to wrap it around you tighter, keeping you warm and strengthening your resolve.

Mr. Jameson has always been a bully. You told yourself that he was under pressure from higher-ups to keep his division of the Daily Bugle running like a well-oiled machine to excuse his shitty attitude towards you. But now, you’ve finally had enough of how he makes you feel when you work for him. This is the last straw.

“Watch your tone, Y/N,” Jameson’s demeanour seems to be shifting back to how he usually is with you, only serving to fuel the roaring fire within.

“You know what, Jameson? Fuck you. Fuck you and the Daily Bugle,” with that, you rip your phone away from your ear and jab angrily at the end call button on the screen, making a loud tap.

A wave of cold seems to wash over you again for a moment as the fire dies down inside. But you feel relief as Miguel scoops you up and places you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

There is no need to ask what happened, he understood the gist of it, and hearing you say ‘fuck you’ to your boss and the company you work for pretty much sounds like you’ve just quit. “It’s okay,” he whispers to you as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“Is it?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly with the stress of the confrontation. “I’ve just thrown my job away because of my boss being a monumental d-”

“Oooookay, mi dulzura,” he interjects as he tightens his grip around you. “I know. But you’ll get back up on your feet. I’m sure you will. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you,” his voice is soft and calming as his fingers thread through your hair. Every gentle stroke he gives you soothes the furnace inside.

Eventually, he feels you relax into his embrace, producing a contented smile on his face. He thinks to himself that the cuddle he has you locked in will be so much better for the both of you if you’re ensconced under his covers with him. It’s not like you have work to do today.

Gently, he lifts you back into bed and lays next to you. The warmth of his body mixes in with the duvet that he pulls it over you both.

Miguel’s words echo in your mind as he hides you away from the world. He’s right. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you. You have no idea what you’ll do instead, but at least your sanity will no longer be tested on a daily basis working for a man like Jameson.

You feel so warm in the cocoon that is his arms and his duvet. It’s impossible to hide the smile on your face as you feel him nuzzling and kissing your cheek. And soon, your troubles are temporarily forgotten about as you feel his hand slither its way down your body, the warm pads of his middle and fourth fingers gently running tight circles on your clit.

A gasp escapes your parted lips as his tender stroking re-awakens your core. The heat of mounting arousal spreads throughout your body in pulses with every revolution of his fingers.

Eventually, he feels moisture at the trough of every circular stroke, lubricating his touch, letting his digits slide over your sensitive bud.

You mewl needily for more as your inner walls start to clamp on nothing. Your body, begging to be filled, craving him.

Miguel licks his lips as a thought crosses his mind. “I want to taste you, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, spurring you to obediently tilt your head to one side before you even really think about it properly.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Not there,” he mumbles with a smirk. “Here,” Miguel’s fingers slip down from your clit, making you moan louder as he halts that sweet stimulation and slides inside you. “Damn, you’re so wet. Please, let me have a taste.”

Just the thought of having his head down there between your legs makes your heart flutter. Then you add the feeling that your mind can conjure of his tongue lapping at your entrance and flicking around your clit. On top of that, you imagine his moans as he hopefully enjoys the taste of you. Of course you’re not going to deny him that experience. You nod to give him the go ahead and you’re met with a seductive grin.

“I can’t wait to see if your arousal tastes as sweet as your blood,” he coos as he begins his descent down your body. His plump lips plant tender kisses along the way.

Miguel’s hands grip you under your thighs and open your legs wide for him, revealing such an enticing sight.

In no time at all, his mouth is now lavishing attention to your tender inner-thigh. This sensation alone is enough to drive you wild.

“So soft…” he purrs with delight. “I’d like to try feeding from here sometime…” he murmurs against your supple flesh as his lips travel higher to the tendon between your thigh and your heat. Light and gentle nibbles are felt along it, making you moan and writhe. How can something feel so good but equally unbearable?

Fingers dig into your flesh as Miguel holds your legs apart before you feel the delicate teasing from his tongue flicking and circling around your sensitive bud. He instantly moans as soon as his taste buds register your essence. The vibrations of his appreciation only serve to heighten your arousal.

He pauses momentarily, making you think he’s about to compliment your taste, but he doesn’t waste his time. Diving in completely, his lips and tongue attack your drenched folds before letting out an incredible groan. No compliments necessary. There is fervour behind his actions, acting as though he is a man starved.

Your fingers clench the bed sheets as Miguel continues his onslaught between your legs, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit while moaning. Every time you wriggle and writhe, he fights you to keep you still. “M-Miguel~” you moan urgently as his time on your sensitive bud is starting to feel particularly exquisite.

Knowing that you can feel that tightening in your lower abdomen, he chases your climax down by latching onto your clit and teases it mercilessly. His tongue flicks and swirls around it as he starts to suck, making your back arch and cry out his name again.

To make sure there is no danger of him moving away, you release one of your hands off the bed sheet and grasp the locks of his slicked-back, dark-brown hair. “Yes…” you hiss with pleasure. “Like that, mhmmm…” you encourage him to keep going.

He nods between your legs, only adding to the stimulation, driving you even closer to your release. He can tell you’re approaching the edge, your body’s reaction is indication enough.

Miguel re-captures your swollen bundle of nerves with his lips after flicking it wildly with his tongue and groans deeply into your flesh for his one last bid to push you over the edge.

Your eyes roll to the top of your head, the moment your orgasm hits. A loud moan erupts from your parted lips as your body writhes uncontrollably under the strong influence of your pleasure.

He pushes on, continuing to lavish your throbbing clit with attention through your climax until your mewls turn into high-pitched squeals. And when he can sense that it’s too much for you, he releases you before eating you out once more, coating his tongue in your fresh wave of arousal, languidly lapping between your soaked folds.

“I could eat you out,” Miguel begins before licking at you hungrily again for a few seconds and pulls away once more, “all day, mi dulzura.”

He glances up at you while you pant and look a little dazed from the mind-blowing orgasm he has just put you through. A smirk spreads across his face. “But I need to feel you wrapped tightly around me too,” he crawls up the bed, over the top of you and nestles himself between your legs. “Is that what you want, too? To take me deep inside?”

Once again, the image his words paint in your mind makes you ripple beneath him. Your hips bucking upwards slightly, seeking penetration, searching for the warmth of his hardened length. “Yes, please…” you moan for him as your need to be stretched around his cock increases exponentially.

After two recent nights of intimacy between the both of you, Miguel has already grown accustomed to the sensation of making love with someone again - not like it was ever a problem for you in the first place.

His hand travels down between the both of you to get himself positioned at your entrance. The tip of his member glistens as his pre-cum mixes with your arousal while he teases it up and down between your folds.

Another uncontrollable buck of your hips briefly pushes him in further, making the both of you gasp and moan.

The helping hand now returns to the side of your head before he begins to bury himself inside while he watches you dissolve with pleasure again. His breath dances across your face as he sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

“You feel so damn good, mi dulzura…” Miguel grunts as he draws his hips back again before starting a steady rhythm of thrusts.

Miguel is by far the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel so full with him inside, taking up every inch and stretching your walls around him. Not only does he feel incredible, he also looks good on top of you. His perfectly defined form flexing with every movement, and his stunning face etched in pleasure is just the perfect picture to be looking up at while your head is swimming in a haze.

With every strong pump of his hips, he drags his pelvis against yours, generating lusty moans and groans between the both of you.

You feel the sheet either side of your head crumple as he screws his hands into fists.

While you pant heavily, your left hand rises up to the back of his head, tugging at his hair, while your right caresses from his red spider tattoo on his neck down his chest, abs and finally coming to a rest on the small of his back. You feel how his hips thrust that extra bit further forward at the peak of each pump, making your jaw drop as the sensation gets you closer to losing your mind.

“Mhmmm…” you mewl between heavy breaths. He’s so deep inside you that it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix, making you yelp slightly with a little bit of pain mixing in with your irresistible pleasure.

“You like that, mi dulzura? You like how deep I am inside?” Miguel huffs as he maintains his movements, his heavily-lidded red eyes gaze down upon you. He feels your hand pulling him in more with each thrust, and he adds more emphasis and grins widely when he watches you melt further into his mattress.

Every thrust is attentive and fluid in motion, his rhythm is steady and resolute while his movements drive you closer to a second climax.

“I want to feel you clench on me,” he growls into your ear as he lowers his body closer to yours, turning up the heat between you several notches. “Come undone for me again, mi dulzura.”

His words make you feel like they have control over you, or you just simply enjoy him talking dirty while balls deep inside you. Encouraging you to fall over the edge for him. Every word, every syllable sends tingles around your body and winds an invisible key that tightens your walls, building up your next orgasm.

A triumphant smile spreads across his face as he feels that sensation for himself inside you. He can tell you’re close. Your breathing has become quicker and more shallow. “That’s it,” he pants more heavily, his breath hot against your cheek. “Let go, mi dulzura.”

Your back arches tremendously as your body ignites with pleasure for a second time that morning. The combined noises of your moans and his groans fill the air as you release together. Your low spirits certainly feel lifted after Miguel’s skillful treatment.

The pair of you lay together, still intertwined as the remnants of your shared climaxes slowly ebb away and the afterglow begins.

He kisses you tenderly while keeping you trapped below him. His lips wander slowly around your face until they finally meet yours. After pulling away again, he begins to mumble to you. “You are a smart, intelligent woman. Any new workplace should consider themselves lucky having you. I’m sure you’ll find something soon to replace the Daily Bugle,” his voice is soft as his breath plays across your skin.

You pull him close, letting his head rest on your chest, allowing him that sweet treat of him listening to your heart. He settles against you a little more, but is mindful not to squash you.

Before he falls asleep, he lets you go. Allowing you to get up and enjoy your day. Being trapped underneath a weighty vampire is only fun for a little while. Although, he would love to have you around him all the time as his sweet smelling and tasting human. You nourish him in not only your blood sometimes, but with affection and indulge him with experiences he thought he’d never experience again. To say that he thinks of you as a keeper, is an understatement.

The following evening, the vampires have arisen once again while you, Lyla and MJ wind down before bed time.

In hushed tones, Miguel and Peter speak to one another in a quieter part of the shelter.

“I’m telling you Miguel, I want to be involved in bringing Morbius down-”

“No. It’s too dangerous. It’s my fault he’s still around,” Miguel interjects, desperately trying to close off the subject.

Now armed with the vampire-mist ability, he has a much better chance at catching Morbius off guard and destroying him. He wants it to be swift and as subtle as possible. But first he has to draw up a plan.

Miguel thought it was a good idea to involve Peter with gathering ideas, but now a minor argument is unfolding instead.

“You’re not alone this time, Miguel. Stop acting like you have to be the one to fix this mess. In fact, if I asked everyone here, I bet they’d want a piece of Morbius too-”

“No!” Miguel snaps while maintaining a relatively quiet voice. “Don’t you dare ask them,” he hisses while he fruitlessly reaches out to grab Peter as he steps away.

“Hey guys,” he calls out, gathering everyone’s attention in the communal part of the shelter. “Who’s up for taking Morbius down?” he continues as he receives a heavy nudge from Miguel.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls subtly to Peter.

Silence falls upon the old subway station as everyone looks at the two men. Finally, Hobie stands and straightens his leather jacket, his badges glinting under the light above. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After seeing Hobie go first, Gwen stands with him, her face full of determination. To Miguel’s surprise, he watches the entire collection of vampires stand until Peni makes a move.

“No, absolutely not. You’re just a child. In fact most of you are, technically. I can’t allow this,” Miguel shakes his head and starts to pace the room.

“All of us want a go at taking him down, Miguel,” Peter continues his argument, however he speaks in a more calm tone.

An exasperated huff leaves Miguel’s lips as his shoulders slump, his resolve is weakening. It seems arguing with the entire group is going to be an uphill battle. “Morbius is my responsibility-”

“Says who?” Peter retorts.

“He’s fucked all our lives up, man. We should get a say if we want to take part in makin’ sure he can’t destroy anyone else’s,” Hobie joins in, folding his arms, his expression stern. His response is met with nods of agreement from the other younger vampires.

Feeling the pressure mounting on him, Miguel finally folds. “Fine!” he throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, okay. You guys win.” A large hand runs through his hair as he continues to think. “But we need to find out some things. Firstly, where to find him and secondly, how to lure him out.”

Hobie’s hand goes straight for his jeans pocket to fish out his phone. “I can ask my connection with the cops to give us some access to the CCTV network? See if we can spot him movin’ about the city?”

Miguel rests his hands on his hips, deep in thought. “We could start there. Once we get his rough location, we can work out the rest.”

With a nod, Hobie looks down at his phone and starts tapping away, composing a message to his police contact.

“Lyla, Y/N; I’m going to need you both to investigate the CCTV system during the day. It’ll be safer that way,” Miguel’s command is met with Lyla’s salute and your nod. Now that you don’t have a job to go to anymore, you can dedicate more time to helping your new vampire friends.

A buzzing sound fills the air as Hobie receives a response from his friend. “Got a meeting set up with my contact tomorrow. 10am sound good?”

Both you and Lyla agree to the time of the meeting and you notice Miguel seems to relax a little more. A plan is starting to come together. There is a look of determination in his eyes. A drive to put an end to the beast once and for all.

Since Morbius’s return, Miguel has dreamed of releasing Nueva York from his clutches, and he cannot wait for the red of his foe’s eyes to dim before his body is turned into nothing but ash by his hand.

Thank you for reading part 6 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you are enjoying it so far.

Another 'thank you' this week to my brother who came up with the upside-down kiss suggestion which managed to fit perfectly with a scene I had in mind.

I will be starting part 7 in the coming days. Of course I will release it as soon as I am able.

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Letters to My Love // Part V

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: As always, if you’re interested in learning more about the historical context of any of the letters, or if you have any questions about anything that gets discussed, feel free to reach out! I will say that Bob’s mother’s remedy for influenza that gets mentioned in this chapter was a real “home cure” that people used to use back in the day!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from The Andrews Sisters song of the same name.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to @luminousnotmatter​. I could thank you endlessly for all the love and support!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, mentions of rationing, discussion of war casualties and death, references to church and prayer, a ton of fluff as always.

October 12, 1942

Dear Peach,

First of all, I want to start by saying that I’m so sorry for the troubles your family went through at the end of the summer. Little Frankie sounds like quite the trooper, but I’m sure it must have been hard on all of you to see him so sick like that. I’m real, real glad to hear that he’s on the mend. Dottie, too.

It’s funny—even though I’ve never met her, it’s not hard at all for me to believe that your sister was one of the few babies who survived the Spanish Flu back in 1918. From everything you’ve shared with me, it sounds like it would take a lot to break Dottie Sheridan. I’d bet my last dollar that she gives Paddy a run for his money on a regular basis. Maybe don’t tell her I said that though. I do want her to like me, should we ever get to meet in person one day.

You know, a couple summers back, my little brothers ended up coming down with a case of influenza. It seemed as though they picked it up from some of the kids they’d been playing with. It might sound crazy, but my mother would take a handkerchief, sprinkle it with whiskey, and make my brothers inhale the fumes every night before they went to bed. I don’t know where she learned that remedy, but would you believe that the two of them were right as rain after just four days? I’m confident that everyone in your household is the picture of health now, but you might want to give it a try should anyone else come down with the flu. I can’t explain it, but it did seem to do the trick!

I’ll selfishly admit that the weeks that went by without receiving a letter from you were desolate ones indeed. I received a couple letters from home, which were wonderful, but I found that my mind kept wandering back to sunny Charleston instead of the farmlands of Iowa. When I finally saw your handwriting on the envelope they handed me during Mail Call, it took everything in me not to jump up and down like a fool and make a scene. Just like you, I’ve been rereading your letters each night before lights out. I know we haven’t been exchanging messages for long, but each one lifts my spirits more than you could know. And around these parts, that’s a real special thing.

Despite being so far away from home and from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, when I close my eyes and imagine sharing a slice of your mama’s peach tart or getting to dance with you again and hear your pretty voice, I feel as though everything’s going to be alright. Even if the feeling only lasts for a minute or two, it gives me something to hold onto in the moments when it feels like maybe the world really is going to pieces. So thank you for that. Your kindness and your sweet words of encouragement are helping me get through this war, minute by minute and day by day.

I think, if you’re agreeable to it, that I’d really like to take you up on your offer to show you the world one day. Maybe even from up in the air. I may be Paul’s backseat gunner, but I know a thing or two about piloting an aircraft. You can trust me. Any places in particular you’d like to see, Peach? I’m all ears.

I promise you that I am most certainly NOT remembering you through rose-colored glasses. If you remember, my glasses are very much of the non-rose-tinted variety. But they do aid my vision, which helped me to see that night back in May just how absolutely swell you are. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you if I say that I still remember the way your smile put the stars to shame that night on King Street. And though I know no rehearsal is necessary, it does make me quite happy to think that you’ll be practicing a song with me in mind. I know any song you pick will be beautiful, but how about “Someone to Watch Over Me?” It was the first song we danced to, after all. And I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. If Gershwin was still alive, I know he’d be thrilled to hear someone doing such justice to his music.

I’ll have you know that it took me quite some time to get the peace and quiet I needed to write this letter because Tommy Boy and Benny simply would not stop chattering in my ear. At first, it was just more of their usual advice—most of which, for your sake, I don’t actually take—but then I realized they were trying to pass along messages of their own to you! I very clearly, and perhaps a bit selfishly, told them that you were my pen pal and that they’d just have to go find some of their own. Benny pouted a bit, but Tommy Boy just grinned, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me he’d never been prouder.

They both say hello, by the way. I did agree to pass that much along.

Paul’s sitting near me right now, writing his own letter home to Natasha and the kids. He wanted me to thank you for your prayers and for your kind words. He’s not one to get all mushy most of the time, but I can tell that your thoughts for him and his family really do mean a lot to him. And he said he’s definitely going to take you up on that jewelry offer when we get home. He may have made some comment about buttering Natasha up when we finally return home, after leaving her alone with two babies for so long. Although, now that I think about it, my little goddaughter, Clara always insists that she’s a big girl. So I’m sure she would take great offense at me referring to her as a baby. Promise you won’t tell on me?

Peach, I hope you know how truly extraordinary you are. I find it just about impossible to believe that people don’t take notice of you. To me, that feels like people taking a stroll outside and not taking notice of the sun. But it means more to me than words can say that you can relate to me in that way. Feeling like you see me, like you really understand me—that doesn’t happen to me often. Especially not with girls as lovely as you. I’m very much looking forward to us getting to know each other better and better.

As far as childhood stories go, I want to make it very clear that Paul and Natasha were solely responsible for any and all mischief that was had in our youth. I was very much just along for the ride. I promise you that it wasn’t my idea to put frogs in our mean teacher’s purse during the school picnic when we were in the third grade. And I certainly wasn’t the one who kidnapped our class hamster so that he could “live a life of freedom in the great outdoors.” Though I will admit I may have been present when the crime was committed. I was a very nerdy and awkward kid, which I’m sure isn’t hard at all for you to imagine, so I do have to credit Paul and Natasha with providing me with some of the most exciting and interesting moments of my life. There’s hardly a memory I have that doesn’t involve the two of them. I think you and Natasha would get on wonderfully. Maybe one day, the two of you will get to meet.

What about you, Miss Peach? Were you a rebel growing up in Georgia, or a goody two shoes like me?

I’m glad to hear that President Roosevelt is keeping you all informed back home, but I’m sorry to hear that the prices are still going up. I know you already mentioned that they started rationing sugar. I hope more rations aren’t coming your way, but, truth be told, I have a sinking feeling that they will be. We’ve been burning through supplies like crazy over here, and it always feels like a scramble to get more of what we need. But I’d still hate to think of you or anyone else having to go without. It just doesn’t seem right. But then, I suppose a lot in this world doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Thank you for sharing the president’s words with me, Peach. I passed them on to the rest of the fellas, and we’re all mighty appreciative of it. I have to say, even if it was Roosevelt’s words, they sounded a lot sweeter coming from you. My safety and comfort feel like a small price to pay if it means that you and my family and the rest of the good folks back home get to rest well each night.

I hate to end my letter to you on a sad note, but thinking of men who aren’t concerned about themselves makes me think of some of the boys that we just lost recently. Just last week, in fact. They weren’t part of my squadron, but I did know several of them. They were a couple years ahead of me at Annapolis, and they were bunking on the carrier with my squadron. Good men, every single one of them. They were shot down during what was supposed to be a fairly routine fly-over. They leave behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, fiancées, sweethearts, and friends. But I think a part of them will still be here, so long as those of us who remember them are still around. They were men, like President Roosevelt said, who put duty and country before themselves. And they deserve to be remembered.

We also recently lost some enlisted men—some sailors on a nearby carrier. We’d gotten to know them pretty well these past few months, and it was a tough blow. I was saddest to learn about the death of a boy named Timmy [REDACTED]. I say boy because that’s what he was. We got to talking one night, him and I, and he admitted to me that he was only sixteen. He’d lied about his age and somehow managed to squeak on by—my guess is that with the draft on, they’re willing to look the other way when boys jump up to volunteer. Sixteen years old. I tell you, I don’t think I could have stomached this at sixteen. I can barely stomach it now at twenty-two. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I feel a little guilty to be breaking that promise now that he’s gone, but I think someone else besides me should know how brave he was. He gave everything he had for the family and the country that he loved. I know I’ll never forget him. I know I keep piling more and more names on your list, but maybe you can remember him, too? That way, his legacy will live on. I think he’d be happy to know that.

If any of my letters ever feel like too much to you, Peach, please let me know. I don’t want to unburden my own heart at the cost of your peace of mind. I’m thankful for all the ways you listen and make me feel heard, even with the entire Atlantic in between us. Just getting these words down on paper, knowing that you’ll be reading them soon, fills me with a great sense of calm. Has anyone ever told you what a great pen pal you are?

My mother wouldn’t be happy if she heard me admitting this, but sometimes I’m so dead tired at the end of the night that I fall asleep without saying my prayers. On the nights that I do manage to stay awake, however, I pray for you right after my family, you and Paddy and Dottie and Frankie. I pray that you’re safe and happy and well. I’m always glad to hear that it’s so.

Goodbye for now, Peach. I look forward to your next letter, as I always do.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

November 3, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I was so thrilled to receive your last letter in the mail, but I admit that I was crying like a baby by the end of it. I’m so sorry for the friends that you lost, especially young Timmy. Sorry always seems like such a trite thing to say in the face of such a tragedy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like it encompasses even half of the pain and the grief and the sorrow that follow in the wake of such horror. But for lack of any other words that would suffice, I’m afraid that “I’m sorry” is all that I can say. Please know that I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.

I hope you don’t mind, but I showed the last part of your letter to Dottie. She walked into the kitchen and was very concerned about why I was such a bawling mess, so I thought it would be better if she heard it directly from you. My big sister is much less prone to tears than I am, but even she cried when she read your beautiful tribute to that young man. We went to church the next day and lit candles in honor of Timmy and all the young men who were lost. I’m so incredibly touched that you would want to share their memories with me, Bobby. I will most certainly treasure them in my heart and pass them along to anyone I can. I don’t want them to be forgotten either. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten. Everyone leaves their mark on this world, no matter how tiny it might seem to others. Even at just sixteen, Timmy clearly left his mark.

I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there, flying dangerous missions yourself and watching those around you, men who you’ve shared laughs and good times with, make that final sacrifice. Please don’t ever feel like you can’t share it with me, Bobby. If you have to live it every day, and face that reality, then the very least I can do is lend a listening ear. I’m always here for you, whatever you need to get off your chest.

To be honest, you’re the first real pen pal I’ve ever had. I’m glad to hear that I’m doing a good job, because I happen to think you’re a terrific pen pal, and I wouldn’t want to let you down in return. It’s kind of funny—when I’m sitting down to read your letters or write one of my own, I sometimes forget that there’s an entire ocean between us. Sometimes, when I read your words, it feels like you’re right here next to me. I can hear your voice, even if it was so long ago now that we were last together. And it just makes it all feel so real to me. You’re a rather wonderful writer, you know.

Hm, now let’s see. Which part of your wonderful letter should I respond to next? I have it laid out in front of me right now, so that I don’t miss or forget anything. Should we discuss your mother’s rather unorthodox cure for the flu? I’d never heard of whiskey in a handkerchief before! I thought Paddy was going to split his sides from laughing so hard when I told him and Dottie. He said that he’s not so sure he should be sticking booze in his baby’s face, but that he’d be more than happy to try that remedy himself! We’d only ever been aware of good, old-fashioned chicken noodle soup and lots of rest. I’m hoping we don’t have another influenza scare any time soon, but we’ll be sure to try the whiskey trick if we do.

Now as for seeing the world—I’ve never been flying before. On the one hand, it seems very exciting and exhilarating, but on the other hand, it seems like the most terrifying prospect in the world. Bless those Wright brothers for being the first ones to give it a go. I suppose if I ever wanted to expand my horizons, however, I’d have to get on an airplane. Ocean liners aren’t exactly the most efficient means of travel. And if I’d trust anyone to take me up in the air for the first time, it would be you, Bobby. Like I mentioned once before, my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon, so I’ve always wanted to see it. Did you know that they call it the city of love? I suppose it must be very romantic with a nickname like that. I’ve also always wanted to see Italy—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, all that amazing art. I imagine it must be so magical. Maybe not right this moment, but Rome has certainly survived its fair share of catastrophes, if I remember my history correctly. I’m sure it will survive this, too.

How about you, Bobby? What parts of the world would you like to see when all of this is over?

“Someone to Watch Over Me” is one of my favorite songs. And now every time I hear it, I think of you and that dance we shared at the USO. If that’s the song that you’d like to hear, then I’ll happily start practicing it right away. Mr. Gershwin certainly knew what he was doing when it came to composing, didn’t he?

Don’t tell them this—we wouldn’t want them getting big heads now—but I always find it to be a delight when you share stories of Tommy Boy and Benny. It makes me so happy to know that you have such good friends over there with you. And I always get a good laugh, imagining their antics. You must have the patience of a saint, Bobby, to put up with all of it. As I’ve said before, I know all too well what it’s like to have to hide away to carve out a little peace for letter writing—Dottie is constantly trying to throw her two cents in whenever she can. I actually have Frankie to thank for my solitude at the moment. He’s been a bit fussy, so Dottie hurried off to check on him. I adore my sister more than life itself, but even I can admit that it’s a bit easier to concentrate when she’s distracted.

I absolutely cross my heart that I will never let it slip past my lips that you called our young Clara a baby. It will be our little secret. I’m sure she and Natasha and Paul, Jr. will be thrilled to receive the letter Paul’s writing to them. Paul sounds like such a wonderful husband and father. He reminds me of Paddy in that way. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Tell Paul that I’m more than happy to lend any assistance I can to helping him pick out the perfect gift for buttering up his wife. Trust me, I’ve helped my dear brother-in-law do it on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Paul and Natasha, I’m shocked to learn they were such little hooligans when the three of you were growing up. Frogs in your teacher’s purse? Kidnapping the classroom hamster? What kind of trouble did you not get into, I should ask? I think that perhaps you were more of a little rebel than you’re willing to admit, Ensign Floyd. I myself was quite the prim and proper little lady growing up back home in Georgia. Believe me, I was much too shy to be getting into any sort of trouble with anyone. Truth be told, I really sort of kept to myself, even when I was a child. But I always had Dottie, thank goodness. She’s four years older, and she’s always looked out for me. She’s my best friend and my biggest champion. It would be lovely to get to meet Natasha one day, too. Any friend of yours must be a delightful person who I’m sure I would like very much.

Your words are sweet as honey, Bobby, and make me feel just as warm and cozy inside. Whenever I’m having a difficult day, or the weight of the world’s troubles feel like they’re pressing down on me, I read your letters and they never fail to make me smile. I always knew that there were good men out there in the world—my father and Paddy have always been prime examples of that to me—but I think I was starting to doubt that there were many men left who were truly kind and good-hearted. You put those fears in my heart to rest. You are such a good man. I know we haven’t known each other long, and that most of our conversations have been through letters, but your warmth and your kindness always shine through.

I may not be able to speak to how unhappy your mother would be to learn about you falling asleep before your prayers—I like to think she’d understand, given the circumstances—but I can say with total confidence, despite never having met her, that she would be very happy and proud to know just what kind of man her oldest son is. I’m sure she already knows and is already so proud.

I keep you in my prayers every night, too, Bobby. You and Paul and his family and Tommy Boy and Benny, and all the rest of your squadron. All I ask for is that you all come home safely. And soon.

You’re in my thoughts. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, whenever it may arrive.

Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost forgot to mention that it was Frankie’s first Halloween! Unfortunately, the annual parade in town was canceled, but everyone still decorated and the children in the neighborhood got to go trick-or-treating. Dottie made Frankie a little pumpkin costume—he was the cutest little pumpkin you ever did see! We still have some candy lying around the house, which I wish I could send to you. Did Clara, Paul, Jr., and your brothers dress up this year? I hope they had lots of fun!

[bitchyfoxymama]

Moonlight Sunrise - Wanda Maximoff x F!Reporter!Reader

warnings: None pure fluff

...

You were sitting at the bar, another one of Tony Stark's infamous parties. You got what you needed for your article and now you were simply having a wonderful time. It's not everyday you get to enjoy a party with free drinks and getting to party with all these different super powered heroes. 

Right now the DJ was playing a nsync song, causing a crowd of people to hit the dance floor to dance along. For the moment I was just sitting at the bar, sipping my appletini ever so often; no one was really catching your eye, that is until an infamous member from the Avengers decided to sit next to you.

“Y/n L/n, a reporter for the daily bugle, and you must be Wanda Maximoff I presume?” you say sticking my hand out.

“Your presumption is correct Ms. L/n, might I get you a refill?” she says while taking your hand in hers.

“Well, who am I to say no to such a beautiful woman?” You smile at the beautiful redhead. 

“Hm, how about I get you something stronger, perhaps someone more quiet and intimate?,” she says looking at me slyly.

“Are you asking me on a date Ms. Maximoff?” you smirk at her as a blush rises on her face “Well seeing as how this party is kind of not my scene and I’ve already got everything for my article how about you and I head to this great bar I know that has great food and live music. What do you say?” you ask while getting up from your seat and fixing your dress.

“That honestly sounds like a whole lot of fun, let’s go then,” she says while a small smile appears on her face.

…

When you arrived at the bar it was around 9ish and you found a small booth. 

"So what do you do when you aren't writing articles for your news company?" Wanda asks while eating a french fry. 

"Well, usually I hang out at home and catch up on some of my latest fixations, and snuggle with my Australian Shepherd. Her name is Belle and she's the cutest little thing ever. Here let me show you a photo of her" you explain while unlocking your phone and showing her your dog. 

"Aww she’s so precious, I wish I could raise a pet bear," she says smiling at you.

"Really? That would be so cool!" you say taking a bite of your burger. 

You both chatted till closing and you did buy her that drink, when the radio started playing ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran you couldn’t help but blush because Wanda pulled you up and started dancing with you in the empty bar. 

When you decided it was time to head back home, you walked out of the bar, hand, and hand. 

"I had a lot of fun tonight, with you. This was a lot more fun here than at the party" she said, swinging our arms slowly. 

"Yeah, I had fun too. I hope we can do this again." you smile at her

"Hey before you go I want to try something," she says, grabbing my face. Your face heats up as you look at her. 

"What is it-" You start but get cut off when her lips meet yours. You melt into the kiss as you pull her closer. You bring one hand up to hold the base of her skull and the other rests on her waist. You feel her run her tongue on your lower lip, as you part your lips to allow her tongue access to your mouth.  

After you pull away you smile at her and hand her your number. 

"That was nice," you say blushing, biting your lip at the smudged lipstick on her own lips.

"There will be more of that if you agree to go on a second date with me" she says smiling and hailing a cab. Once you  see her enter, you begin the short walk to your apartment around the corner.

[haveihitanerve]

now listen- i am fully aware how perfect the song Sound The Bugle is for Spirit. I do. But do I also think Bryan Adams took inspiration from Gregor to write it? Absolutely.

"As the seasons change, remember how I used to be" gregor trying to remember who he was before the Underland. 'he was in the band. he had played the sax. he liked running'

"I got nothing left, just an empty heart" lost ares. heartbroken

"I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight" willing to die. accepts it after ares death. broken

"Or leave me lying here" that scene where he waits holding ares claw and sees the light and wants to go into it

"Without a light, I fear that I will stumble in the dark" literally the underland. 'light. life. the words were interchangable down here'

There's a voice that calls, "Remember who you are" If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow" literally ripred. ripred calls to him. reminds him he has courage and that he doesnt believe in the prophecies. that he can beat the bane. that hes strong. and stubborn. and has courage.

[cryingpariah]

There's a New World festival held in the beginning of the year meant to honor a legendary warrior known for her wisdom and unmatched strategical skills. Nobody can seem to agree if she was a pirate, a marine, or a gladiator from a country like Dresrossa.

But regardless of her origin, the festival is a time of great fanfare. The hosting island, which differs every year, is crowded with tents of all colors of the rainbow. Traders set up shops and stalls carrying everything from rare gemstones to delicacies like sea king burgers to hunting bugles to open-toed sandals to weapons of every shape and size and sometimes even a Devil Fruit or two. Celebrities and musicians have been known to show up (Soul King played the last one on his world tour), and the sounds of pirate fights can be heard throughout the day. This is a rather chaotic day after all.

The centerpiece is the athletic tournament where representatives from whichever kingdoms choose to participate compete in a scramble for a solid gold owl egg in effigy of the legendary warrior's patron bird. Whoever remains standing with the egg at the end of each round then has to compete in an intellectual challenge to test their wits.

A celebration of both the body and the mind. That is the spirit of the Superb Owl Festival.

It's also a prime time to make off with some unguarded riches and rare loot, so you bet your ass Buggy's all over that. Family trip time!

Buggy's plan was simple: sneak into the festival, steal all their trinkets and doo-dads, maybe take a break for lunch/movie montage of trying on festival-exclusive merch, and slip away undetected! It was foolproof! Or it would be if the boys hadn’t flown off the second they touched port or if Mihawk hadn’t decided that now was the perfect time for his weekly zombie nap! At least Crocodile had his ass in gear, his eyes on the prize, his mind solely focused on their stealth mission-!

“I’m busy with fixing your latest business snafu Clown. If you wanna rob these people blind you’re on your own.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! His own family, his flesh and blood, don’t want to be a part of Buggy's 6! It was gonna be way better than those other ones too! Way more practical effects and less tropey movie magic! Well fine then, be that way! They’d all be flocking to him when he made off with millions!

The plan was going perfectly, just how it was inked! Sure there were some close calls almost getting caught by competitors and local law enforcement but nothing a star clown like him couldn’t handle! He was about to make off like the most jovial thief when he slipped and stumbled down a conveniently opened mystery hatch. He fell and bumped around until he found himself standing before a caged entrance and he felt the whispers of the crowd and a faint wind behind him.

“Oh Davey Damnit! I was so close! What kind of island just leaves giant hatches for the world to fall into? I tell ya…”

Buggy turned around and was quickly struck by the realization that the wind behind him was no crack in the wall but a giant ravenous boar and its giant body was blocking his exit. He quickly put on his best showman smile and gently patted the beast's snoot.

“Hehe. Here good boar, I’m not hear to hurt anybody, especially not you sweetums! How about you let me through and we both forget this ever happen! Good deal, right?”

Apparently not. Thankfully the heavens were taking mercy on him as the gate opened and allow him to begin the Buggy Pirates secret technique: getting the hell outta here!

“Down to our final two competitors and it’s time to turn up the heat with the Superb Owl's ultimate test of will: The Baron Boar! …and a clown? Haha, leave it to our lady to keep us on our toes!”

The rest of this particularly harrowing tale was locked tightly away in the emperor's memory vault but he does remember running and screaming. Later the boys excitedly that they had seen him on the Mushi Monitor and how cool he looked dodging the boar while Crocodile chuckled while silently mourning this new hit to the Cross Guild's reputation! Hilariously, the media (and therefore the world) say Buggy's actions as defiance to the heavens which only tacked on more money to his ever growing bounty.

He did say he was gonna make millions, right?

[verdemoun]

How are the gang when watching emotional Pixar movies? (Specifically Up because I was just thinking about it and then Hosea and Bessie immediately after and it made me sad but Pixar movies are awesome as a whole)

out of touch plays menacingly in the background as i try to remember a single pixar movie

THE OPENING OF UP WILL MOVE ANYONE IN THE GANG TO TEARS they just want the simple pleasure of finding love being in love getting to spend their lives together with someone they are crying so hard they miss the first 30 minutes of the movie like drying their eyes why is there a giant bird now

i'm actually a dreamworks slut can you imagine the gang watching rise of the guardians?? dying for someone you love and wondering what your purpose is? battling with identity, trying to figure out where you belong in a world that seems so neatly divided into good and evil? losing hope? the tears shed

kieran watches spirit stallion of the cimmaron constantly because he's a horse girl but also arthur and charles both bawling over the story. sound the bugle always gets arthur but charles will be sniffling as little creek and spirit jump the ravine like that movie is just peak hurt/comfort for the gang

the gang not being able to fully connect with toy story because they didn't have toys growing up like their childhoods were too warped by era/fighting for survival

finding nemo. sorry but all of them having daddy issues. post blessed are the peacemakers arthur watching a film about a dad that went after his son when he had to ask dutch if they were actually looking for him? all of them feel absolute grief watching that movie but arthur is personally attacked. arthur is personally attacked by most animated movies

kieran gets into bluey as a comfort show and no one is ready. sean trying to warn arthur it isn't a kids show like do not sit down and watch bluey with kieran it will fuck with your mind and arthur brushing it off but it's bluey man. 'you don't need to keep coming back to this place'. Turtleboy? Onesies? Sleepytime? Army? Mini Bluey? Squash? The Dump? Space? Baby Race? Man is wrecked.

also studio ghibli films. toy story might not do it but totoro absolutely makes them mourn for the whimsy of childhoods they didn't get to experience. ponyo, kiki's delivery service, whispers of the heart, howl's moving castle (howl's moving castle man hosea feels the whole loving a man who sold his heart to a demon to become powerful and becoming a monster instead). even when marnie was there gets them a little too close with the playing with time travel

[me-myself-and-my-oboe]

Chapter 3: Lingering Notes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x original female character

Masterlist

The rehearsal was winding down, the last chord reverberating through the music room. The sound lingered, a satisfying hum that made even Bucky feel like he was part of something bigger. Fury was already standing at the front of the room, his commanding presence silencing the quiet rustle of music stands and shuffling papers.

“Well done tonight,” Fury said, his voice calm but firm. “Most of you followed the tempo this time. Looking at you, Clint.”

“Hey, I’m artistic!” Clint protested, earning a few chuckles.

“Artistic doesn’t mean ahead of the beat,” Fury deadpanned. “Fix it. And for the love of all things holy, percussion, stop trying to outdo each other on volume. You’re not at a rock concert.”

Peter and Steve shared a guilty glance, prompting a low murmur of laughter from the group.

“That’s it for tonight,” Fury continued, waving them off. “Concert’s in three weeks, so don’t screw it up. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into movement, the energy buzzing as cases clicked open and instruments were packed away.

Bucky exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest still lingering even though the rehearsal was over. He carefully removed the mouthpiece from his trumpet, his hands steady but deliberate. It had been years since he’d held the instrument seriously, and while the basics came back quickly, his prosthetic arm added a layer of difficulty he wasn’t used to.

Across the room, Natasha and Wanda were already chatting, Natasha’s flute and Wanda’s clarinet packed away neatly. Sam leaned on his bugle case, teasing Clint, who was balancing his bassoon precariously against his chair.

Bucky’s gaze wandered to Steve, who was stacking sheet music. “Not bad for your first time back,” Steve said when he caught Bucky looking. “How’s it feel?”

“Rusty,” Bucky admitted.

Steve gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ll get there. Remember how awful I sounded on the bass drum the first few weeks in the army band?”

Bucky let out a rare chuckle. “You’re still awful.”

“Hey, I made it work,” Steve replied with mock indignation. “And look at us now. Back in the music game. Who’d have thought?”

Bucky didn’t reply, but the memory brought a small smile to his lips.

Sam ambled over, holding his bugle loosely in one hand. “You heading out, Barnes, or are you sticking around for the after-party?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “After-party?”

“We hit the diner after every rehearsal,” Clint chimed in, slinging his bassoon case over his shoulder. “Best fries you’ll ever have.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said hesitantly, his fingers fidgeting with the latch on his trumpet case.

“Come on, it’s tradition,” Sam said, his tone light. “Gotta properly welcome you to the gang.”

“Think of it as hazing, but with cholesterol,” Clint added with a grin.

Bucky glanced at Steve, who gave him a small nod. “It’s not bad,” Steve said. “And you might actually have fun.”

Before Bucky could respond, Tara approached the group, her oboe case slung casually over her shoulder. She smiled at the cluster of musicians, her energy bright and welcoming.

“Are we doing fries tonight?” she asked, her gaze flitting between Clint and Natasha.

“Of course,” Natasha said, tucking her flute under her arm. “You’re coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tara said. Her eyes landed on Bucky, and she hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.

“Hey,” she said warmly, “nice playing tonight. First rehearsal back, right?”

Bucky straightened slightly, nodding. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

“You’re a fast learner,” Tara said, smiling. “Or just naturally good. Either way, it’s impressive.”

Sam, sensing the awkwardness creeping in, jumped in to ease the tension. “Tara’s been playing with us for a while now. She’s part of the reason the woodwinds actually stay in sync.”

Tara laughed lightly. “Steve’s overselling me, as usual. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Well, thanks. I’m still getting the hang of things again.”

Steve, who had been silently observing the exchange, cleared his throat and leaned in a little, his tone light but teasing. “Hey, Tara, don’t let Bucky fool you. He’s actually a natural. Just a little out of practice, but he’ll be showing us all up soon enough.”

Tara raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Bucky chuckled, his posture relaxing. “We’ll see.”

The group started gathering their things, and Tara joined the others as they made their way out.

“Fries?” Clint said as he held the door open for the group, a playful glint in his eye.

“Definitely fries,” Natasha agreed.

As they all filed out, Bucky felt the familiar weight of his trumpet case in his hand, but this time, the weight didn’t feel as heavy. There was a sense of ease now, the spark of camaraderie lighting something he hadn’t realized had been dimmed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[s1nfu7h0r53f7y]

This is a scenario that’s been an “as the mood hits me to work on it” project. I have the idea, just need to finish drawing it out. In the meantime though, I wanted to write it out like a script. Planning to do similar things with other projects, or to at least make somewhat artistic summaries of them. Let me know if any of this is to your liking! Also, I hope I did well keeping everyone at least somewhat in character.

*the scene is in the Hotel courtyard. Alastor is in full demon form, lying down in front of an unamused Lucifer*

Lucifer: Really, now? You’re actually trying to intimidate me?

Alastor: Oh, come now, your highness. I simply wanted to make clear which one of us is the bigger man.

Lucifer: Firstly, toooxic mindset. Second, for all your self aggrandizing, you come across as a brute with a thesaurus.

Alastor: *anger tangible in the tone he carried while he threatened Husk* a brute?

Lucifer: *the whole time he says this, Alastor gets increasingly enraged* You’re well spoken, but very quick and eager to engage in brute force. Even now, you’re basically pulling the tactic of puffing up like a cornered animal.

Alastor: *all sense of cool gone, applying demon voice* FUCK YOU!!! *he attempts to swipe at Lucifer, but misses as the latter dodges the attack with little effort*

Lucifer: *sigh* Clearly, civility has gone out the window. If that’s the case, I suppose I’ll need to stoop to your level for any hope of getting through that thick skull of yours.

Alastor: Aiming for my level? Would you like me to find you a ladder? *starts cackling with a laugh track. Lucifer poofs into a cloud of the red, shimmering smoke he uses for conjuration and transformation. The cloud is surprisingly large, and obscures nearly everything in the surrounding area. Alastor hacks and coughs as he breathes some of it in. As the cloud starts to fade, the coughing gradually stops. He begins looking around, annoyed* Grrrrrr….. Where did that royal buffoon go? *as he angrily mutters to himself, he’s suddenly confined between 2 speeding black forms. They’re arranged in a way so that from the front they resemble thick jail bars arranged horizontally* What… what kind of game is he playing?….

*He’s quickly and violently lifted upon the structure. Once it stops, it gradually opens. In front of him is the face of an absolutely massive Lucifer, the makeshift prison being revealed to have simply been his hands, each one large enough to hold Al independently. He gets roughly shifted to the left hand*

Lucifer: *grinning smugly, chuckling a bit, making sure to hold Al below his chin line to loom over him, voice booming* Still plan on belittling me?

Alastor: *completely freaked out, panic visible in his eyes, radio filter gone* What the fuck?! What the fuck?!? WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!

Lucifer: *expression turning serious, he shifts to full demon form and voice, his size remaining the same* The next time you plan on causing trouble for me, *with more intensity*or my daughter, I’d advise you to remember this *gestures all over himself, attempting to convey his scale*. Like so many of my powers, this is as natural and effortless to me as breathing. *he shifts back to his usual form, though the size remains unchanged* To reinforce my point. *He slowly crushes Alastor in his fist, dragging it out as much as possible*

Alastor: *screams in agony, the sounds of static and deer bugling mixing in*

Lucifer: *throws Alastor to the ground with enough force to break the stones lining the courtyard* Alastor lays in a crumpled, bloody heap, whimpering in pain* cool off and reflect while you heal.

*Lucifer poofs and shrinks down, turns his back on Alastor, and casually walks toward the hotel. Alastor can do nothing but lay there, letting out pained breaths and whimpers*

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Sound the Bugle (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron)

sound the bugle now, play it just for me / as the seasons change remember how i used to be / now i can't go on, i can't even start / i've got nothing left, just an empty heart / i'm a soldier, wounded so i must give up the fight / there's nothing more for me

"I was like seven the first time I heard this song and it was DEVASTATING and it is STILL agonising even to this day. The poor fucking horse is so depressed"

Lifeboat (Heathers)

Everyone's pushing Everyone's fighting Storms are approaching There's nowhere to hide If I say the wrong thing Or I wear the wrong outfit They'll throw me right over the side

Everyone's looking, and the captain is pointing, well who made her captain?

"Welcome to social anxiety town. This is how I felt about EVERY INTERACTION I had from about second grade to maybe last year. It's great for when your character is either in a toxic situation and fear being abandoned, or if they're about to do something stupid and self-sacrificing and is using this song's logic to justify it to themself."

Poll Runner here! I was ELATED when I saw this song had been submitted - it fucks you up so bad. The character singing has staked her entire life on the popularity of her friends, doing everything she can, staying subserviant, just so she can stay at the top. But now all those friends are dead or hate her, and her life is crumbling around her, and there's this utter panic as she slowly accepts that she's doomed and has nothing left. Just utterly brutal

[dtupdates-archive]

♡—DREAM was active on Dream__Fanart! He liked:

EVEREST

💚If you're in Dreams situation what will you do??🤔

it's tuff out here 💔

It's all just Dream in the drultiverse

1️⃣

butterflies 🦋

he can't see anything 😞

day 3: meetup!

Dreamnap cowboy dtiys!!

to whoever wants to hear: an album poster

dream is being overprotective as always🤭

Please keep the hair long🛐

rivals into the spidervers

Dream at droncert with drom ready to change his driaper

type « 123 »

Day three: among us dream! <3

Sound the bugle now... play it just for me...

I love how we all agree c!dreams voice is hot and so is him...

that mullet was lowkey iconic

Butterflies definitely like sweet things :3

Omg a butterfly

knows nothing not even abcs

DAY 1 MANHUNT DREAM

This is my self care

i need him to buy that suit💳💥💳💥

I dont have any art rn i have only this pls spare me

dreamie!

Speaking of farmer/cowboys

doodled him in the mayday beanie thing 😋

I never know what to write but here is another quick sketch of dream?

Living life like limitless

Dear universe pls give him a break, love smiletwt

sorry guys the mistakes were going to haunt me 💕

our little star.

shining star doodle before i sleep

day 2: Beanies! i need that beanie back 😭😭

more doodles i forgot to post instead of working on Dream bday fanart

What who drew that ahem anyways

Yehaaww! Got Dream as a cowboy!

Droodle

blobs in their natural habitat and their house

to whoever wants to hear,

doodle of the pookie

dream wrapped in bubble wrap