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smallpwbbles · 2 months ago

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Deserts and delirium

Ay back at it again with another Biolizard Shadow au fic, this one’s a bit more fun (it’s not fun for anyone in the fic tho I’ll tell you that)

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The desert sun was absolutely blazing as Rouge sat on an aged and broken pillar. She rubbed at her face, not even trying to avoid smearing her make up as the sweat she was currently producing was doing a fine job of that already. Her mouth was absolutely parched, she was edging towards cursing out the burning sun as the rays of golden sunshine invited themselves to burn at her skin.

The sands underneath her were practically boiling with heat so she sat on the uncomfortable pillar while she restored enough energy to being flying once again, her wings ached as she turned to watch the source of her present misery. Her large lizard hedgehog companion was currently rolling around the sands, bumping into some pillars and structures as he did. He looked quite enthralled, no doubt enjoying the warmth due to his cold-blooded body. It was extremely out of character for Shadow to be looking and doing as he did but Rouge knew the reason for this.

It hadn’t been too long ago, after the unsuccessful completion of a mission where GUN sent Rouge and her team to check out an old base of Eggman’s in the abandoned metropolis city for possible intel on his current whereabouts. She was about to complain about the lack of anything with good Information when her giant companion suddenly fell to the ground with an earth shaking thud. Shadow had unfortunately fallen on Omega in the process, luckily he was unharmed, he was quite the durable robot.

Shadow however was quite flush, the monstrous hedgehog was usually warm with the chaos energy pulsing in his veins but the heat she felt on his forehead as he lay quivering on the ground put a spike of worry in her heart. Rouge could have reported this to GUN but their treatment of Shadow was questionable at best and downright unpleasant at worst. With that fact she made some calls to Sonic, it was the best way to get in contact with Tails as he was the only person she could think of to help at that moment.

It hadn’t taken long for Sonic to come with Tails in tow, in that time she had managed to pull Omega out from underneath Shadows back, she reconfirmed the Robot was undamaged except for some scratches caused by Shadows bristled quills. The robot didn’t seem bothered by it though and claimed he would “honour the battle scars” Shadow just gave him.

It took even less time for Tails to deduce it was just a fever, however that didn’t sit right with any of them there. Rouge knew for a fact Shadow possessed absurdly strong healing, it didn’t seem right for him to have a fever. She had wanted to ask the gigantic hedgehog about it but he was out of commission and couldn’t answer her back. The group brainstormed for what action they should take and Rouge concluded she would obtain some of Shadows files for Information, she knew they had been taken by GUN in their effort to control him.

There would be no problem to get the files, she knew every sector and section of GUN headquarters, sometimes she broke in there for the thrill of it. Rouge was just a bit worried as it meant leaving Shadow but Sonic and Tails had assured her they would keep watch of the sickly hedgehog, Omega announced he would stay in case Shadow got “difficult”, whatever that meant.

As she had thought when she had retrieved the files with absolute ease, she was crawling through some dusty and slightly claustrophobic vents when her wrist watch began to ping, a handy device given to her by GUN for communication between them and her teammates, Omega was already installed with a device that allowed him to accept the call frequency however Shadow needed to be fitted with a tiny earpiece that allowed him to hear his teammates voices when they called.

“Rouge?, Rouge?!” Tails' voice cut through clearly using the frequency she recognised as Omegas. She didn’t like being called during her solo missions but the panic in Tails' voice had her immediate attention.

“Tails? I’ve got the file, why are you calling me?” she whispered harshly into the watch. There weren't any cameras in the current vent she was squeezing herself through, but you could never be too careful.

There was a roar that interrupted the response Tails was about to give, it sounded like Shadow and she could swear she could hear Sonic's nervous voice yelling something like “chillax Shads!”

“What’s going on?” Rouge questioned, she left them alone for an hour or two, were they seriously fighting or something?

Tails answered her thought “it’s Shadow! He woke up and I think he’s reached a worse state of delirium or something, he doesn’t recognise us at all and-“ he was cut off as it sounded like something huge slammed into the ground. She heard Sonic again but much clearer “woah you almost got squished there buddy! Rouge could you tell Shads to stop trying to kill us cuz he isn’t listening to Omega”.

She hated being leader sometimes, as much as she loved them, there was always something to deal with concerning her two teammates. “Can you survive for like 20 more minutes? I’ve got the files and I'm on my way hun” she assured.

She got there fast to the sight of Shadow confined in some rubble, he looked lethargic and the three who were left to deal with him didn’t look better. Omega proudly announced his victory in containing Shadow “non lethally” which Rouge had to be fair to him, the robot wasn’t known for being nice during battle.

Tails had studied the files and found exactly what they were looking for, it seemed what Shadow was suffering was in effect due to his rings readjusting to his chaos energy levels. The rings themselves were what put a stagnation to Shadows powers as the files revealed without them his chaos energy would overflow and destroy him and others. In addition they put a stop to his growth rate when he sporadically began enlarging during his time on the ARK. Rouge had no idea, she had assumed the monstrous hedgehog was made that size on purpose.

Similar to how the human body treats an illness as it invades the body, something similar was happening to Shadow, which caused his feverish state. The solution,Tails had found, was a suppressant of sorts. They had been administered to Shadow to keep him calm as his rings did their job. Tails stated recreating the suppressant wouldn’t take long. Rouge thanked the chaos gods in the sky for the young foxes' intelligent brain as she was in dire need of good news instead of any more that could add to the onslaught of problems that day had.

The problems struck right back however when right after Tails administered the syringe of suppressant to a vein in Shadows neck. Rouge assumed the intrusion may have spooked Shadow as he unexpectedly sat up from the rubble that held him. Tails was brought up with the motion but quickly booted himself and twirled his large twin tails to fly and move away from the feverish Shadow.

Shadow grabbed at his neck and began to look around panickedly. Before Rouge can say or do anything she watched him light up with a twist of uncontrolled chaos energy. Omega braced in front of her as the gigantic hedgehog disappeared with a crack of chaos control, the wind made by the teleportation jostled the robot but he stood his ground to protect the bat, Sonic and Tails were unlucky as the energy sent them flying a few feet away.

There was panic for the next hour as they had no idea where Shadow had ended up, in said panic Rouge had forgotten he was actually fitted with a tracker by GUN she had access to. Shadow didn’t actually know about it and she couldn’t deny how intrusive it was to the lizard hedgehog's privacy but it came in real handy when she finally remembered it was there.

Tails wasted no time applying Shadows coordinates to the miles electric, it had located the monstrous hedgehog in the Arid sands. It was a desert Rouge found Shadow in a lot, he’d sun bathe and soak up the sun, no doubt due to his lizard qualities. She’d hope he was there in that moment doing the same as he always did and not anything troubling.

That led to now, where she was currently watching the hedgehog, it seemed the suppressant was in full swing but had come with a side effect as the hedgehog was currently extremely loopy. Rouge kept her distance when she initially found him as she didn’t want to ignite a reaction like the one he had back at Metroplis. Rouge was also on her own as she tasked Omega with grabbing some water, she had no idea how long the large hedgehog would be loopy for but if she went a second longer without water she was gonna scream.

Honestly, as she watched Shadow roll around in the baking sand, she was bewildered by the genuine ease on his face. The hedgehog was clearly still sickly however his apparent joy betrayed any notion he was ill. It was also just weird to see Shadow with such a huge smile on his face, his fangs poking out his mouth as he continued his rolls into the sand.

Occasionally he turned over lazily to look at Rouge before returning to rolling in the sand. It unnerved rouge the first time he did so and she braced herself in case he went to attack like he had with Sonic, Tails and Omega. Instead he stared at Rouge for a moment, squinted his huge red eyes and returned back to his rolling.

Rouge was confused about it but she didn’t want to try and theorise what his loopy actions meant, she recalled dealing with a delirious Knuckles a couple weeks back when she picked him up from a dentist appointment, the incoherent red echidna was hilarious to watch as he’d forgotten who she was but told her “she was the prettiest angel he’d ever seen”. Rouge could have teased him about it for days on end but she held that one to herself.

This situation felt similar but she was much more wary as she didn’t want an incoherent Shadow to accidentally hurt her. The large hedgehog was usually very gentle but right now he paid no attention to his surroundings as he rolled onto some pillars. She had no idea how that wasn’t hurting his back but she didn’t want that to be her under there. Rouge had sent Sonic and Tails off as Shadow did quite a number on them earlier , she assured them she’d be fine but with Omega on his task she was on her own and needed to be careful.

Shadow rolled onto his front, he was practically caked in sand, she watched as he rose on all fours. He began to aggressively shake the sand out of his quills and scales akin to how a dog would shake off any uninvited messes on its body. Rouge had no way to escape the rain shower Shadow provided, she felt sand land on every strand of fur and skin. The bat took in deep breaths as the Hedgehog finished, she knew he wasn’t himself, it didn’t stop her from wanting to throttle him at that moment.

Suddenly Rouge heard the familiar sound of jet boosters, she held her hand over her eyes to block the sunlight as she turned up towards the sound praying for it to be who she thought it was. Omega dropped slowly into her vision, she spied a couple bottles of water in his mechanical claws and felt she could jump for joy.

He landed nonchalantly in front of the broken pillar she was sitting on, his beady red optics glazed her over “you are covered in sand” he distinguished. It made her eyes fall flat.

“Yeah the sand covered look is totally in season” the bat sarcastically teased “thanks for grabbing that water, I thought it was about to be cooked for a minute”.

“Being cooked in desert heat is a pathetic way to go out, I would not have allowed for such a pitiful death for you” Omega attested. The robot had a weird way of being thoughtful, or maybe Rouge was just getting used to how Omega presented his affection.

The water held in the robot's hand was looking more appealing by the second as Rouge jumped down to join Omega in the sands below, she was over the presence of the sand as it had made itself known to every part of her body, she even felt it in her body suit somehow. Hurriedly grabbing a bottle from the claw possessing them, Rouge rushed to open the plastic cap and brought the bottle to her dry lips. It was only after a few gulps she’d taken notice of Shadows snout directly behind Omega.

The bat had no idea how Shadow snuck up on them without making a sound, the guy was 35 feet tall and even when loopy he could somehow make himself as quiet as a mouse when he wanted, Rouge jumped back at the realisation of his scarily close presence, Omega however stood where he was, he mechanically rotated his head to face behind him without turning his actual body. Shadow eyes searched the robot about, Rouge was sure his incoherent mind couldn’t remember Omega either. She had no idea what could happen next as she began to sweat anew in anxiety. The humongous hog and the robot were at a stalemate

Shadow fixed that anxiety by roughly dropping himself back into the sand where Omega lay, Rouge was forced to endure another storm of sand that got kicked up right into her direction, when it was over and Rouge wiped the tricky sand from her vision she saw Shadow laying on his forearms. Between his arms and his head stood Omega, he was trapped in the Hedgehog's embrace as Shadow began laying his head on top of the robot.

Rouge was bemused by the sight, though she took a second to use whatever liquid was left in the bottle she held to wash out some sand that had gotten on her head, she began to grow irksome of the tiny beads being everywhere on her person. The other bottles Omega had previously lay flung around her so she wasn’t worried about keeping hydrated.

The click of her heels was muffled by the sand as she walked towards the giant black hedgehog with Omega trapped in his grasp, the robot didn’t look worried with the situation but quite a bit confused, he turned to Rouge who could only shrug at her companion, Shadow was currently nuzzling his muzzle all over Omega and she had no idea why.

“I hypothesise he is currently using me like one of your heat packs” Omega guessed. It was a good theory, the fact Shadow in all his delirium teleported to a hot place and had been soaking up all the heat the desert had to offer, and now he currently had Omega trapped between his claws like an action figure. The robot retained heat pretty well so Rouge agreed with his theory.

“Well I guess that’s your job now hun, that’s a shame, I was gonna have you fetch me some sunscreen” she joked. But honestly she was kicking herself for the sun burn she was definitely gonna have later.

“This is a fine task, my metallic body burns with heat and rage for the enemies I have not yet slayed, I am happy to lend some of this heat if it calms Shadow” Omega declared. Again, he was thoughtful, but Rouge really had to get him a hobby to curb his murderous tendencies.

It was at some point when Shadow began nodding off that Rouge pulled out her phone to listen to a podcast she was putting off, while she was sure the hedgehog didn’t need supervision as he slept, the bat didn’t want to leave in case he awoke and was still out of it. She was legally responsible for the large hedgehog meaning if he were to cause any problems, GUN would absolutely have her head.

Omega surrendered to Shadows earth moving snores as he found Shadows grip on him was too tight to escape. He simply offlined himself as the prospect of not being able to do much for several hours didn’t make him too happy, but Rouge had promised to wake him the moment he could walk free.

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Shadow woke up groggily, he felt invisible weights on his head as he slowly lifted it, his arms felt quite the opposite as he moved them around with ease, they were swift to his command, except his left claw that had an offline Omega in it, how’d he get there? He gently placed the black and red robot onto the ground, however he had placed Omega upside down and didn’t know how to get him right side up.

His eyes blinked out of sync as he spied Rouge a couple feet, he wanted to call to get her attention but the words fumbled in his mouth when he tried. The bat hadn’t noticed the blundered attempt at her name as she was quite engrossed on her phone with earphones plugged in her large ears. He moved a claw over to gently prod her, except he misjudged how far she was and how fast he moved his hand as his forefinger practically bowled into her.

Rouge had thought her issues with sand would be over but hadn’t anticipated being sent crashing right back into the troublesome particles. Some even got in her mouth and she wanted to scream, she furiously whipped her head to the offender as Shadow looked like he hadn’t just hurled her into sand. He actually still looked out of it but she could tell a significant amount of the suppressant had worn off as he seemed to recognise her.

“Hi” Shadow slurred happily, it was kind of cute how happy he looked to see her but Rouge was a little too busy trying to get sand out of her eyes again to appreciate it. When she got the little troublesome beads out of her lashes she observed Omega placed on the ground, upside down.

“Hey hun, it’s good to see you doing a bit better but try to be careful would you, I’m a lot squisher than Omega over there” Rouge lightly scolded. She had no idea how much of that got through to the less loopy Shadow but then he looked over to the inactive Omega.

He then put an oversized thumb and finger to one of the robot's legs that stuck out and raised him up and out of the sand, Rouge watched as the claw with Omega was brought over to her and laid the robot down. He was on his back which was much better than his previous position, however Rouge cringed at the robot's leg that had been pinched by the Hedgehog, there was an obvious dent due to Shadow accidentally using more pressure than needed.

“Thanks Shadow” Rouge deadpanned, she was glad there was still a tiny sense in Shadow that knew in his current state Omega was safer by Rouges side than his. The titanic hedgehog only nodded in response, which Rouge could tell he regretted as the nod was more enthusiastic then he needed and he rubbed at this temple for a moment.

It was then Shadow attempted to stand, before Rouge could warn him to not do so the overgrown hedgehog got to a near standing position but as soon he did a wave of dizziness hit Shadow as the speed of which he got up did not agree with his already aching head. Rouge grabbed Omega's lifeless metallic body as Shadow fell ungracefully back into the sand, somehow the gods graced Rouge with not getting a wave of sand sent in her direction this time. When the earth stopped shaking she rose from Omega's chest and looked at Shadow who was in quite an unflattering position.

Usually such a stunt would have left Shadow quite embarrassed but the towering lizard hedgehog looked confused that he had even fallen in the first place, his eyes met with Rouge’s as a dopey look fell on his face. “That was dumb” he concluded

Rouge snickered at that, “extremely dumb, how bout you lay in the sand until you more like yourself hun?” The bat advised. Shadow untangled the mess his limbs were in as he got into a more comfortable position, his body felt like a loop of noodles and the bat’s idea didn’t seem like a bad one.

“That’s a good idea, you’ve got good ideas, you're a good idea Rouge” his voice rumbled, his delirium was beginning to get funny. She knew when he was coherent he’d probably not remember today's events so she’d keep it between Omega and her unless asked. Shadow got himself back into his front and turned to Omega “he’s a good idea too”.

She suddenly remembered the offline robot and struggled as she walked over to him with hot sand fighting her as she did, he’d be mad if the bat didn’t wake him back up, Shadow watched as Rouge fumbled to send a frequency through her watch that was equivalent to getting an alarm from a phone.

“Where’s Sonic?” Shadow questioned, that surprised Rouge, did he recall his encounter with the blue hedgehog?

“I’m sure he’s home with Tails right now hun” she assured, why was he even asking?

“Okay…I’m gonna tell Sonic what a good idea he is”

Rouge whipped her head at that, she heard Shadow teleporting before she saw him leaving the spot he was previously laying at. She grabbed at her massive ears in awe that he had teleported away.

Omega awoke smoothly, his optics brightened and his body began to mechanically rise. He was none the wiser to Rouges distress as he noticed Shadow was not where he was when the robot had offlined

“What did I miss?” The robot innocently asked. Rouge turned to him, mouth agape as the silence was the only thing returned to his question

#sonic the Hedgehog #sonic #biolizard shadow au #shadow the Hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #tails the fox #miles tails prower #my art #my writing

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silverzoomies · 1 year ago

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Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

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Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma.

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood.

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But��nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?”

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame.

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

“Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #txt #smut

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its-avalon-08 · 6 months ago

Note

I liked those song based fics!!! Can you do one about Nico Rosberg based on Love Again — Dua Lipa?

opened my heart again (nr6)

monaco, 2013. the air crackled with the electric anticipation of the grand prix. nico rosberg, steely-eyed in his mercedes cockpit, tried to ignore the familiar pang of loneliness. a year ago, a high-profile relationship with a model had ended in a blaze of betrayal. since then, nico had thrown himself into work, building a wall around his heart.

across the pit lane, amidst the flurry of activity in the red bull garage, stood a young woman, her sunshine-colored hair bouncing with uncontainable enthusiasm. this was y/n, a brilliant f1 engineer with a smile that could outshine the riviera sun. unlike most engineers, y/n wasn't afraid to chat with the drivers, her outgoing personality a stark contrast to the team's usual stoicism.

three months later, singapore grand prix

nico and y/n's paths kept crossing. they'd bump into each other at press conferences, share a laugh in the paddock, or find themselves seated next to each other during driver briefings. y/n, ever the extrovert, would pepper nico with questions about his car, his training, anything that piqued her curiosity. nico, initially guarded, found himself drawn to her genuine interest and infectious laughter.

i never thought i'd hear my heartbeat so loud

singapore, 2014. the post-race atmosphere crackled with champagne-fueled revelry and post-race dejection. nico, having finished a frustrating third, retreated to the mercedes hospitality area, a scowl etched on his face.

suddenly, a burst of sunshine entered the room in the form of y/n, a tray of cold drinks balanced precariously in her hands.

"hey, nico! congrats on the podium, even if it wasn't the top step," she said brightly, dodging a stray ice cube as a teammate reached for a drink.

nico grunted a response, not looking up from his phone. y/n, ever the optimist, persisted.

"seriously, though," she continued, setting the tray down, "your overtake on lewis around turn 11 was phenomenal. pure guts and precision."

nico finally looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. he eyed y/n warily.

"what do you want?" he said brusquely, "do you need something?"

y/n's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "just complimenting you," she said, her voice losing some of its usual cheer.

"for publicity or what?" nico shot back, his voice laced with suspicion.

y/n's brow furrowed. "stop doubting things that happen to you, nico," she said, her voice firm but kind. "not everyone is trying to take advantage of you or something. sometimes, people just appreciate good driving or a good person."

nico stared at her, the harshness momentarily draining from his face. he hadn't expected such genuine warmth, especially from someone on the rival team. maybe, just maybe, y/n was right.

as the night wore on, the technical talk faded into comfortable silences and shared stories. nico found himself confiding in y/n about his past relationship, surprised at the ease with which the words flowed.

i can't believe there's something left in my chest anymore

"you deserve someone who appreciates you, nico," y/n said, her voice soft. "someone who sees beyond the trophies."

nico looked into her eyes, a flicker of something new igniting within him.

a few months later

abu dhabi, 2014. the desert sun beat down mercilessly on the yas marina circuit. nico and y/n found themselves side-by-side in the shade of a catering tent, seeking refuge between practice sessions.

"ugh," y/n sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "this heat is brutal. makes me crave something sweet."

nico, still untrusting of easy compliments, raised an eyebrow. "cupcake, perhaps?"

y/n's eyes widened. "oh my god, yes! especially red velvet with that perfect cream cheese frosting. the kind my grandma used to make."

nico, who wasn't one for sugary treats, simply smirked. "sounds like pure sugar overload."

y/n nudged him playfully. "hey, don't knock it till you try it!"

the next morning, the pre-race tension crackled in the air. nico, focused on securing pole position, barely registered the commotion near the red bull garage. then, a delivery boy emerged, a giant box precariously balanced in his arms.

"uh, miss engineer?" he said, approaching y/n. "delivery for vivienne?"

y/n, who went by her middle name at work for professional reasons, looked surprised. "actually, it's y/n, but thanks!"

she peered into the box, her jaw dropping open. inside, nestled in a bed of shredded paper, were a dozen perfect red velvet cupcakes, each topped with a swirl of decadent cream cheese frosting. a small, hand-written note rested on top.

y/n unfolded it, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she read the single sentence: "hope these satisfy your sweet tooth. -nr"

i used to think that i was made out of stone

sebastian vettel, leaning against the red bull car, let out a low whistle. "someone's got a secret admirer, vivienne," he teased, a sly grin spreading across his face.

y/n shot him a playful glare, her heart fluttering. this wasn't just a cupcake delivery. it was a sign, a sweet, delicious sign, that maybe, just maybe, nico was letting his guard down a little.

five month later, italian grand prix

their friendship had blossomed. they'd celebrate victories together, commiserate defeats, and steal moments for stolen conversations whenever their schedules allowed.

one balmy italian evening, after a thrilling race that saw nico finish second, y/n found him sitting on the pit wall, head buried in his hands.

"hey," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "tough luck out there, but you were amazing."

nico looked up, a flicker of despair in his eyes. "i'll never be good enough," he confessed. "not for the team, not for anyone."

y/n's heart ached for him. "nico," she said, her voice firm, "you're incredible. don't let anyone tell you differently." she sat beside him, their shoulders brushing. "and maybe..." she hesitated, then met his gaze, a blush creeping up her cheeks, "maybe you deserve to be happy again."

but goddamn, you got me in love again

the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. nico stared at her, his heart pounding against his ribs. in that moment, under the starlit italian sky, nico knew. he was falling for y/n, and the fear was a flimsy shield against the tide of his emotions.

budapest grand prix, 2016

budapest, 2016. the champagne had flowed freely on the podium, celebrating nico's dominant victory. now, the after-race party was in full swing, a blur of flashing lights and thumping music. nico, however, found himself drawn to a quieter corner where y/n stood, talking animatedly with a group of engineers.

he approached her, feeling a familiar knot of nerves twist in his stomach. "hey," he said, his voice barely audible over the music.

y/n turned, her smile lighting up her face like a beacon. "nico! congratulations again, you were incredible out there."

nico rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "thanks, but... well, the real accomplishment is you guys keeping this beast of a car running." he gestured vaguely at a passing red bull mechanic.

y/n chuckled. "we try our best, even with you drivers pushing them to the limit."

a comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the pulsing music. nico cleared his throat, trying to formulate his next words.

"y/n," he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "i, uh... you're, like, really..." he trailed off, frustration bubbling up. how could he put into words the kaleidoscope of emotions she evoked in him? her intelligence, her humor, the way she lit up a room with her smile – it was all too much.

show me that heaven's right here, baby

before he could spiral further, y/n's hand gently touched his arm. her touch sent a jolt through him.

"nico," she said softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "you're rambling."

he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "this is hopeless, isn't it?"

y/n's laugh rang out, a sweet melody that cut through the noise of the party. she reached out again, this time taking his hand in hers. it was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the calloused grip of a steering wheel.

"where were you going with that, nico?" she asked, her voice laced with a playful challenge.

nico met her gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. "i was trying to say... well, i think you're amazing. kind, funny, brilliant..." he trailed off again, a helpless smile spreading across his face.

y/n squeezed his hand, her eyes twinkling. "and?"

nico closed the distance between them in one swift movement, his heart hammering against his ribs. before he could overthink it, he pressed his lips against hers. the kiss was soft and tentative at first, then deepened as y/n melted into him. the taste of champagne and something faintly sweet lingered between them.

when they finally pulled apart, breathless and slightly dazed, y/n's smile was wider than he'd ever seen. "maybe," she said, her voice husky, "you could have just started with that."

used to be afraid of love and what it might do but goddamn, you got me in love again

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#nico rosberg #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x you #nico rosberg x y/n #nico rosberg x oc #nico rosberg x female #brocedes #sir lewis hamilton #red bull racing #female f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #y/n #f1 female driver #request #anon #nr6 #nr6 x female reader

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bluebblurry · 2 years ago

Text

The Bad Boys and their soulmates

(Someone already made something like this but i wanna write my own lmao.)

“Etho.” Joel nearly spat out the name like it was poisonous. It no longer came with a soft gaze, but rather his own reflection in pitch black sunglasses. Joel’s bangs covered his eyebrows, and his mouth was set in an indifferent line. How was Etho supposed to read him like this..?

“Hi Joel!” Etho greeted anyway, his voice chipper and smiley. “I’m likin’ the leather vest. It really works for you.”

Joel huffed, his sword disappearing from his hand. He didn’t blush, like he used to when Etho would compliment him, only kept the same guarded expression.

How dare he keep playing with my emotions like this! Joel quietly seethed. Etho was being cruel– pitying him. Joel clenched his fists. He knew he never meant anything to Etho, they had been stuck together. So why, oh why, did Etho have to keep hurting him like this?

“Etho,” Joel tried again, his voice darker this time, “once I hit red, you are done for.” It was both a threat and a promise.

Etho smirked, nothing innocent in his eyes. “Hmm.. you gonna ravish me with charged Red passion..?” He teased. He knew Joel didn’t mean it like that, but he was desperately hoping it would break whatever wall Joel was trying to build between them.

Joel didn’t even react. At least, that’s how it seemed to Etho. Joel’s insides were burning, with excitement or anger he wasn’t sure. He scoffed. “Just watch your back.” He nearly growled.

The air was charged with buzzing static, and Etho hated it.

*****

“Jimmy!” Jimmy heard his name being whisper-shouted. He glanced at his two teammates asleep in the triple bed. If it wasn’t them, then who would be calling for him in the middle of the night??

“Jim!!” The voice spoke again, a little louder. Jimmy’s sleep-deprived mind raced through the list of server members, trying to think of who could possibly need him. He huffed quietly, figuring it was someone looking for an easy prank target. Until..

“My rancher, are you up there..?”

It was Tango.

IT WAS TANGO!!

Jimmy bolted out of bed and nearly sprinted to the edge of the roof. He peered over the edge, and sure enough, there was his rancher, looking cute and very dapper in a red button down, black waistcoat, and matching black bowtie.

Jimmy smiled brightly and jumped down, water bucket in hand. He landed (not-so-gracefully) in front of Tango, instantly running up and tackling him in a giant bear hug.

Jimmy couldn’t fly here, but his wings wrapped around Tango, encasing him in a golden yellow double hug. He buried his face in the blaze’s neck, melting when he felt Tango start to purr. His tail curled around Jimmy’s ankles, just as gentle and soft as it’s always been.

Timmy and Tango had agreed not to team this season, but that didn’t stop them from missing each other.

*****

They made peace with their desert a long time ago, but they both knew they’d never have that same connection again. Especially after Grian’s.. choices in Double Life.

Scar stared up at the stupid woodland mansion, flint and steel in hand. He was still bitter. Maybe he should be going after Big B too, but Grian.. how could he just do that to him..? Sure, things weren’t the same as in Third Life, but did he really mean that little to Grian?

“Scar..?” He heard a whisper from the tree line. He whipped around, seeing the very avian he’d just been thinking of. Though, Grian didn’t look the same here. The white button down he’d taken to wearing under his sweater was gone, taking away the nice little nod to Mumbo that Scar liked to think of it as. He had a leather jacket, too big and too edgy for him. The dark glasses on top of his head were odd to see against his normally fluffy blond hair.

Grian didn’t look right like this.. without a red and white poncho and sand goggles.

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salty-autistic-writer · 6 months ago

Text

Summary: Tommy's helicopter crashes. He survives but is too injured to move. It takes a while until Tommy is found and while he's waiting, some ghosts come to visit. (Tw for injuries, blood, homophobic language)

The birds are singing. Their unsuspecting chirrup turns into an orchestra of countless echo voices. A soft breeze makes the leaves rustle and Tommy feels it wander over his face, pleasantly fresh on his heated skin. Under his hands, the grass is warm and soft. Feels nice. He could lay here forever, peacefully listening to nature and thinking about nothing at all.

But a voice floating in the background of his confused mind disturbs his peace. Tommy can’t make out the words at first, but suddenly, they push forward, push through the darkness, sharp and rough like breaking glass: Get up!

Tommy frowns. He knows that voice …

Come on. Get up. Get up and stop crying like a girl! I didn’t raise a fucking princess, did I?

Dad? That can’t be. His Dad is dead. Still … It’s hard to ignore the words. Their phantom ache makes him shudder and he tries to open his eyes. They are heavy. So heavy. Not the only thing that feels like a weight pulling him down. His body … What’s wrong with it? Every muscle aches and there’s a numb pulsing feeling in his side. And his head … There’s a steady shattering pounding. Feels like someone is swinging a hammer against his brain.

Tommy groans and tries to reach for his head, but he’s too weak to even raise his hand. When he grimaces, he feels something hot and sticky clinging to his skin. Blood?

What happened?

With a groan of pain, Tommy raises his head a fraction that feels like a whole damn mile. All he can see are tree tops, towering around him in a perfect circle.

And … the sun. He sees the sun. It’s right above him. White, hot and blazing. Tommy wishes he could move away from it. A bit of shade would be nice. But he still can’t get his body to function.

He swallows and coughs. His throat feels raw and when he licks his lips, they are completely dry. Confusion pulls him into a maelstrom in which time has no meaning at all. Is he in the desert? Was he shot down? What about his team? God. Markus was shot in the chest, wasn’t he? He bled out in the helicopter, begging for some water …

Tommy blinks. No. No, that was years ago. He isn’t in the army anymore.

God. His brain is really messed up right now. He tries so hard to reach a single coherent thought. He was flying, wasn’t he? He was flying and … There was a problem, Tommy vaguely remembers. A technical problem with the main rotor control. Might have hit a tree after … after putting out the wildfire? There was a big fire. Orange flames growing and consuming the forest.

There’s more … Memories start to trickle through the fog in Tommy’s brain. Black smoke. Ear piercing beeping. The nausea-inducing sensation of losing control.

Did he crash? Obviously. Tommy understands now. He’s injured but somehow he must have made it out of the helicopter. But only to bleed out on some clearing apparently. Alone. Great.

Tommy feels resignation settling in. A crushing weight pressing down on his weakly beating heart. He can’t move. He can’t scream. He can only lay there, underneath the merciless sun, and feel life trickling out of him steadily.

“There you are.”

Tommy flinches. That voice. He knows that one too.

Sal’s grinning face appears in his field of vision. Sal … Tommy hasn’t seen the man in years, hasn’t even thought about him. But there he stands, his hands shoved into the pockets of his turnouts. “What? Were you expecting your boyfriend?” He asks, raising a brow.

Tommy can only stare at Sal. He doesn’t understand … Where is he coming from? Why is he here? How …

It doesn’t matter. His eyes start to fall again. He’s so damn tired …

“Hey!” Sal says sharply and suddenly, he’s crouching beside Tommy, shaking him by his shoulder. Can ghosts shake you? “You need to stay awake. Don’t want your pretty boy to find your lifeless corpse, do you? You know, I always had a feeling you were into guys. You were in Team Jacob after all, huh?"

Tommy wants to tell him he’s an asshole. But he’s too exhausted. His vision flickers and when he manages to focus again, Sal is gone. He was never really there. A few birds circle on the piece of blue sky above Tommy and the sun is still there, radiating unbearable heat.

He has no idea how much time passed until steps approach him. Phantom-Sal is gone. Someone else's face hovers above him. It’s Gerrard this time, with his cold piercing eyes that always seem to judge what they see.

“Look at you,” Gerrard says, his mouth pulling down into a disdainful scowl. “You’re pathetic. I was there for you, Tommy. I gave you what you were so desperately seeking. A team. A family. A purpose. And after everything I did for you, you filed a complaint behind my back? For what, huh?”

We weren’t a family, Tommy thinks weakly, closing his eyes. And you were never a real Captain. I was too blind, too stupid, to see it. But Hen opened my eyes …

“You might think they care about you,” Gerrard bites, “But I don’t think they do. Not really. They just want you as long as you can be useful. And that boyfriend of yours … I don’t think he really loves you. Why would he? You’re just this exciting new thing he discovered and he is going to ditch you, as soon as he comes across something - someone - better. You could have had it all, Tommy. With my support, you could have been someone important. Instead, you chose to live in fairytale land. Well, good luck with that, son.”

Silence comes back.

When Tommy opens his eyes again, Gerrard is gone. Fortunately. Tommy sighs and stares at the treetops, which are gently swaying in the wind. They are blurry. Not long anymore, maybe. Not much longer, he imagines, until he can finally sleep in peace …

“Tommy.”

Evan. Evan?! Tommy forces his eyes to focus and he gasps when he sees Evan kneeling by his side, looking down at him with open worry in his eyes. “Oh, Tommy. What happened?”

Too much. “Evan,” Tommy breathes, finding his voice again. “Evan. It hurts.”

“I know.” Evan takes his hand. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”

I don’t know if I can, Tommy thinks, already feeling darkness reaching for him again. I’m so tired, Evan.

Evan squeezes his hand gently. “Hold on,” he repeats. And then he lets go. No … Tommy feels a sob dying on his chapped lips. Please stay. Please. Don’t you leave me too …

But Evan is already gone. He wasn’t real. Of course, he wasn’t. Tommy is alone. He’s going to die here alone. He was always supposed to be alone.

Tommy closes his eyes and this time, he doesn’t even try to stay awake. He just wants to not feel anything anymore.

“Tommy!”

Evan’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

Tommy groans. Not again …

“Tommy!”

“You’re not here,” Tommy whispers. “You’re not here …”

And I’m not here anymore either.

A wave of relief rushes through Buck, followed by immediate, heart-aching horror.

“God. Oh God,” he mutters, sliding down a slope, not caring about the branches and thorns that scratch him. His eyes are on Tommy, who’s lying down there, stretched out in the grass, exposed to the blazing sun. “I found him,” he pants into his mic. “I found Tommy. Hurry.”

Tommy is not moving and Buck doesn’t even see if he’s breathing. He fights back the tears, stumbling towards his boyfriend, sinking to his knees beside him and reaching out to check for a pulse. His trembling fingers find it and he exhales in relief, but … there’s so much blood. It’s on Tommy’s face and soaks his clothes and turns into a puddle in the grass.

“Tommy!” Buck frantically reaches for one of Tommy’s hands, squeezing it. “Tommy, wake up! Please …”

Tommy’s eyes flutter, but barely open. He whispers something inaudible. Buck bends over and strains to hear Tommy’s words. When he does, he feels like a fist curls around his heart and crushes it slowly.

“I wish you’d be real,” Tommy is muttering, his voice fading fast. “Don’t want to … to be alone. Wish you were here … with me …”

Tears run over Buck’s face. “I am here, Tommy. I am. You’re not alone. See?” He cups Tommy’s face with his free hand, ignoring the blood. “I’m here! Open your eyes! Look at me!”

But Tommy’s eyes remain closed and instead of words, a last groan comes over his lips, before he falls completely silent and Buck freezes, wails in horror and he doesn’t know what to do, this can’t be the end, this can’t be -

“Buck!” Hen appears, grabs him by his shoulders and shakes him a little. “Snap out of it and move, let us take care of him!”

Buck blinks, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Sure … I …” He lets go of Tommy’s lifeless hand, scrambles to his feet and stumbles backwards, staring at the blood on his hands. He feels numb. Feels like he’s being pulled down into a freezing ocean. Deeper and deeper, until the light of the surface disappears …

Tears blur his vision and he barely sees what’s happening. Barely sees them working on Tommy. His Tommy. Buck finally sits on a stone and hides his face in his hands, until Hen approaches him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Buck. We’re taking him to the hospital now. You’re going to go with him, okay?” Buck swallows. “Okay.” He looks up, seeing Tommy on a stretcher, his shallow breaths fogging the oxygen mask on his bloody, scratched-up, sunburnt face. “He thought I’m not real …,” he breathes. “He thought he was alone.”

Hen looks at him, her eyes softening. Her hand stays on Buck’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles there. “He’s dehydrated, lost a lot of blood, was exposed to the heat and clearly has a concussion. He really was not able to think clearly at that moment, Buck.”

Buck takes a deep, shaking breath. “Okay. Alright. But … But he’s gonna be fine right? Right?!”

“Everyone’s doing what they can, Buck,” Hen says gently. “You know that.” But in the end, she doesn’t say, nothing is certain.

That’s just life.

+++

Buck gets it now. He really does. All the times he was in a hospital bed, with everyone worrying about him. He has no idea how they survived this. It hurts so damn much.

Time passes barely noticeable around him. Feels like honey, slowly and thickly dripping out of a bottle.

Buck sits on his plastic chair, holds Tommy’s hand and stares at his boyfriend’s face, waiting. For something. For a sign. All he gets are random twitches of a muscle. Tommy looks too small in that bed. He looks too vulnerable. Buck feels the urge to cover him from the world.

Come on, he thinks desperately. Wake up. Please wake up. I need you to wake up.

At the same time, he knows Tommy’s body needs the rest. It’s been through a lot. Severe dehydration, concussion, broken ribs, blood loss from an open gash in his side, sunburn, signs of sunstroke, several scratches and bruises … Buck felt a bit lightheaded when he heard the doctor rambling down that overwhelming list.

But Tommy will live. He’s stable and recovering. He’ll live. Buck wasn’t always sure about that. Especially not in the first few moments of his nightmare, when they had confirmation that it was indeed Tommy’s helicopter that crashed.

For a long horrible moment, Buck thought he would never talk to Tommy again. Would never get to touch or kiss him again. Would never smile and laugh and cry with him. And the abyss inside his chest seemed to have no bottom. He was falling. Helplessly tumbling down into the darkness - until he found Tommy. Alive.

Buck sighs and yawns. Maddie told him to get some rest. Everyone told him so. But he can’t.

In the end, he falls asleep on that chair, still holding onto Tommy’s hand and listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

+++

When Tommy opens his eyes, he sees white. But this time, it’s not the sun. It’s ceiling and walls and the blanket of a hospital bed. Hospital. Ah. So he survived. He doesn’t even know how to feel about that. He was so sure that he would die on that clearing … But then, there was more than one moment in his life, when he was ready to accept death. Tommy carefully sits up and groans at the shoot of pain in his side. He raises a hand to rub at the bandage wrapped around his head, sighs and then realizes he's not alone.

Evan is sleeping on a chair beside the bed, his head tilted backwards at a clearly painful angle and his mouth slightly open. He looks … stressed. Tommy takes him in and his heart aches. Evan is here. Evan was in the clearing. He was real. He came.

Tommy can’t help himself, so he reaches out to touch Evan’s hand, which is lying on the bed, as if he’s even reaching out to Tommy in his sleep. Evan winces and wakes up, his eyes a bit hazy, until they fall on Tommy and widen. “You’re awake!” Evan rubs the sleep out of his eyes and face, then smiles at Tommy lopsidedly. “How are you feeling?”

Loved. Saved. Not alone, Tommy thinks. “Like I crashed my helicopter and almost turned into a roasted chicken nugget again,” he says.

Evan chuckles. He takes Tommy’s hand in his, mindful of the IV line, and squeezes gently. “I’m so glad to see your eyes,” he says seriously. And Tommy feels like his throat is suddenly too tight for his breaths. “I’m glad to see you too, Evan. I … I’m sorry you had to worry about me.”

Evan shakes his head. “I’m just so glad, you’re okay, Tommy. We’re all glad. Uh, the flowers are from Hen and Karen. And everyone brought a card.” He points at the night table and Tommy’s throat feels even tighter when he discovers a bunch of flowers cards and … a teddy bear. A huge teddy bear, hugging a little plush tiger. “Wow,” Tommy breathes, tears burning in his eyes. “That’s … Wow.”

“Yeah. That teddy is from Christopher. And the tiger is from Denny and Mara. Mara said you’re just as brave as her tiger,” Evan says, smiling.

Tommy really can’t breathe. He swallows heavily. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”

I’m glad to be alive. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I have a family now.

Family. Tommy remembers ghost-Gerrard and shudders. “You’re okay?” Evan asks worriedly, as always picking up fast.

“Uh, yeah. I … When I was laying there, dying, I … I saw a bunch of people. Hallucinations. It was scary,” Tommy admits.

“You can tell me all about it,” Evan says. “Ghosts get less scary when you let them go. That’s what I learned in therapy at least.”

Tommy nods. Letting ghosts go. He likes that image. But right now, he feels really tired. He thinks he wants to go back to sleep. And with Evan here, he feels safe enough, to do just that. “I’m tired.”

“Alright,” Evan says, giving Tommy’s hand a gentle squeeze again before letting go and standing up. “You’re taking a nap, and I’m going to get your doctor, okay? Just so she can take a look at you.”

“Kay,” Tommy mutters, already half-asleep. He smiles when he feels Evan give him a gentle kiss on his bandaged head. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Evan says, his voice breaking a bit. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

And Tommy believes him. Now, he believes him.

It’s all real.

Find it on AO3

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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beybladefanboy · 2 months ago

Text

Updated MFB Characters Tier List!

Check below the cut for extended thoughts on every character. Just a fair warning it's REALLY LONG. Like 12 pages of a Google doc long.

I know this tier list doesn't have Shogun Steel like the old one (which I couldn't find this time sorry) did but honestly, it's been so long I don't have much of an opinion on Shogun Steel or its characters anymore. I'd have to rewatch it to know how I feel about them now.

Hate: Ryo

Four years and multiple rewatches later, this remains unchanged. Ryo's a bad father, a bad plot twist, the worst part of Metal Fusion and a big detriment of Metal Masters. I hate his story and how much the narrative straight up justifies child abuse and when he's not problematic, he's annoying.

Painfully Boring: Pluto, Rago

I discussed the latter two in a recent post but Pluto and Rago are the most boring villains in the series. Hardly anything stands out about them and they could've easily been consolidated into one character. I don't hate them but the characters in the dislike tier are at least memorable to me, hence why I dislike them more than the ones in that tier.

Dislike: Motti, Sora, Busujima, Chi-Yun, the Garcias

Motti makes me uncomfortable. it's not the character's fault, it's the writers' but still. I don't like watching her or her interactions with Johannes. Sora I honestly just find annoying. I like the idea behind him, of a kid for Kenta to mentor but his personality and voice are annoying to me. Busujima is just a one note douche, not interesting in any way. Chi-Yun again I just find really annoying. He's such a snide unsportsmanlike jackass to literally everyone in Masters and Fury and I don't feel like he gets any comeuppance for it. The Garcias meanwhile are just such painful missed potential. I dislike them all equally for this same reason. There was an interesting idea in Fury of them falling out and they just. Did nothing with it and made it a fakeout. They're very static in a frustrating way. But Argo's bey is kinda cool so at least there's has that.

Conflicted: Masamune, Chao Xin, Doji

All three of these can pretty much be boiled down to "I like them in one season and dislike them in another." Masamune is extremely irritating to me for most of Masters, with his development going in circles until the American arc, where I do actually find his conflict with Zeo to be engaging. And then in Fury I mostly like him. He has his annoying moments but I like his friendship with King and his arc of accepting that he's not a legendary blader. Good stuff.

Chao Xin is similar. I hated him at first but he becomes much more tolerable when they scale back his womanizer attitude and mostly have him play off of Mei Mei as sort of an exasperated older brother figure. Seriously, those moments gave me some of the biggest laughs on my recent Masters rewatch. I have way underrated that dynamic in the past but I love it now.

And then there's Doji... I think throughout all of Fusion he is a "love to hate" sort of character for me. He's a manipulative sociopath who moves the plot along and affects other characters well. And then Fury brought him back... knowing that Doji was even more recurring in the manga does make this make more sense but it it still feels pointless, though not obnoxious. It's his inclusion in Shogun Steel that I feel really diluted his character and made me sick of him.

No Feelings: Nowaguma, Anton, Jigsaw, the Kumade brothers, team Desert Blaze, team Chandora, Faust, movie villain (forgot his name), Rago's boring henchmen

This is self explanatory I think. None of these characters appear enough or are enough for me to care about them one way or another. The two teams from Masters especially feel like throwaway characters just there to fill space. Prolly could've been more but it doesn't anger me that they're not.

Kinda Like: Damian, Ziggurat, Mei-Mei, Aleksei, Dan & Reiki, Bao, Hokuto

Yeahhhh I kinda like Masters. Damian still feels like a less interesting version of Reiji to me but he's different enough that I wouldn't consider him a rip off and he's still engaging. I mean come on, he drags bladers into Hell. That's just cool. Ziggurat also kinda just feels like Doji again but again different enough and was never diluted at any point so ya know. He's a "love to hate" kind of character. Mei-Mei I mostly like for her silly dynamic with Chao Xin. Still wish she was treated better though jeez. Aleksei I honestly just remember as Madoka's silly crush but ya know. That's funny. And his story is mildly engaging. Not the most interesting part of Masters but oh well. Dan and Reiki are cool conceptually and good opponents for Kenta in that one episode but don't do much outside of that. Bao gets nothing compared to Aguma but again, still mildly engaging. And Hokuto is just funny. Not terrible interesting but funny enough for me to like.

Like: Aguma, Tobio, Nile, Sophie, Wales, Klaus, Hyoma, Helios, Gingka, Ryuto, Demure, Toby, Lera

Going roughly in ascending order from this point on. I enjoy Lera's spunky confident attitude and wish we'd gotten more of her. Her using her special move in Fury was the coolest thing anyone on the Russian team ever did, don't @ me. Toby is... more a plot point than a character in Masters but I still like said story and his attitude, especially in Fury. Ryuto and Demure I don't have much to say about: I just think they're cool. Ryuto for more laidback scoundrel attitude and Demure being skilled for something other than brute strength, both of which are nice changes of pace.

Gingka has problems a lot of anime protagonists have but I think they let him lose just enough to keep him balanced and make the story interesting. Plus he's just such a dorky little creature I can't bring myself to dislike him pretty much at all. I also like how he starts as someone Kenta idolizes only for Kenta to later realize that Gingka is just a kid like him. That's a nice arc.

Helios is pretty much the reason I ever rewatch the MFB movie. I like fire boys and redemption arcs what can I say? Hyoma DESERVED BETTER. He's weird and funny and I like his dynamics with Gingka, Kenta, and Kyoya. Klaus is just kinda neat and I enjoy his battles. Not much to say. Sophie and Wales I wish we spent more time individually but they're still neat. They're like a perfected version of what Dan and Reiki were going for. Nile I appreciate for telling Masamune to shut the fuck up. And playing off Kyoya well. He's a more level-headed guy for him to bond with and that's fun. Tobio is really cool conceptually but gets overshadowed by other DN members for me.

And finally Aguma. I like his story more than his personality if I'm being honest. Yeah, I find the two schools plot interesting, dammit! Also Aguma plays off characters like King and Tithi and even Dynamis well and I wish we saw more of it.

Really Like: Tithi, Zeo, Madoka, Daxiang, Benkei, Dynamis, Yu

Tithi is another silly little guy that I simply enjoy, especially in his battle against Aguma. Maybe could've done with more screentime (especially for the dynamic between him and Dynamis that should have been) but what we get is still good. Zeo is reason number 1 Masamune became a good character. I love their conflict in Masters and while Zeo is way out of line and definitely in the wrong, it's easy to still feel bad for him and get where he's coming from.

Madoka is the backbone of this entire show. She's fantastic and deserves more respect. Daxiang has one of the best glow ups in the entire show. I love his arc of getting back up to lead his group and the way it ties in with Julian's arc and goddammit he's just damn cool. I did not expect him to defeat Julian when I saw that battle as a kid but I'm so glad he did. It's a great battle, and honestly underrated from what I can tell.

Benkei is a silly guy and I love him. I love his early redemption arc and his friendship with Kenta and Kyoya and yet again, his battle with Kyoya in Battle Bladers is peak and WAYYYY underrated. That said, Benkei does peak in Fusion. That's where he got all his compelling development and afterwards... he's just kinda there. Still being fun but not interesting admittedly. It disappoints but doesn't surprise me that he fell from relevance a bit.

Dynamis is... maybe a ridiculous character to put so high but I just think he's cool. His bey might be one of my favourites in the show and he's the chad that said destiny is a choice. Based as hell. And finally Yu. Yet another just silly lil guy who is also one of the biggest menaces known to the series. Like Benkei, he's at his peak in Fusion but unlike Benkei, I found Yu's involvement in Masters and Fury more substantial, even if he's in way less of Fury than Benkei. He just plays off the characters, especially Tsubasa and Tithi, so well it doesn't matter much to me. He's a fun addition to any episode he's in dangit.

Love: Julian, Tetsuya, Johannes, Yuki, Ryutaro, Hikaru, Teru, Chris, Tsubasa

Top 15 let's go! Julian is a character whose story I relate to immensely, as a former gifted kid who still struggles to cope with failure, and as previously discussed, his battle with Daxiang is peak. The only thing keeping him so low is the fact that I kinda hate what his bey did to the lore of this series. It's a neat bey with cool symbolism but dammit the left rotation makes me angry.

Tetsuya and Johannes are both just hilarious to me, no notes. Johannes being surprisingly competent as a henchman (carrying way too much Fury's villainous edge on his back) and being associated with cats is the only thing boosting him up a little higher.

Yuki is relatable to me as someone with anxiety issues. It's mostly just shown in one episode but it's one great episode. I also love how, similar to Demure, Yuki is strong, a legendary blader in fact, but not for brute strength. It's his precision and strategy and ability to bring people together that gives him strength and dangit I just love that and can't stand when people call him the weakest legendary blader just because he doesn't have as much physical strength. That's not the only thing that matters in a bey battle or otherwise, dangit.

Ryutaro I'll admit I mostly love because of The Deck is Stacked, aka: the most underrated episode in the entire series. His story, of having no hope but having to fight anyways to live just a little longer, is primarily just in this one episode but it's damn engaging. Also his whole fortunetelling gimmick and causing illusions in battle by manipulating the air flow and density is damn cool.

Hikaru I'll admit is tricky. In a bubble, I like her arc a ton. I like how throughout Fusion, she was only beyblading for her dead mother's dream and struggled to really have fun with it when she wasn't winning. I like how after Battle Bladers, she decided to take a step away from beyblade for the sake of her mental health. That's really mature and different for a story like this and should be encouraged more in just. General society. And her reaction to the trauma Ryuga inflicted on her is so painfully realistic it gets to me every time. I will concede though that this arc, while really good, being given to the only female blader who battled in Fusion is... not great. On its own though, I still like Hikaru's story and character. She serves as a reminder to myself that sometimes, perseverance isn't the only option and it's okay to step away from something that's hurting me if I need to. Yeah... we're getting to the point where I might start to sound cheesy or preachy because a lot of these characters mean a lot to me personally. In fact, I think I just talked myself into ranking Hikaru higher. In the middle of writing this. DAMMIT.

Teru is definitely the character with the least screentime that I put this high, having only one episode where he has a major battle as opposed to Ryutaro's two (three if you count Ryuga). However, that episode is undeniably one of my favourites in the entire series. Like Hikaru, Teru's story is one that is so powerful and stuck out to me so much throughout my life that it serves as a reminder to myself: that even if I fail or am unable to continue something I love, I can get back up and even when I least expect it, find that spark again. It's cheesy but genuinely inspiring to me. Not to mention him being a male ballerina. Absolutely fabulous and yet another reminder to myself as a trans man that I don't have to fit into society's boxes of what defines a man to still be a man. Absolutely incredible character.

I think it’s safe to say that I am quite possibly the biggest fan of Chris on this Earth. I just don't see anyone else talk about this guy or again, how relatable his story is. Or at least, when I watch Fury, I see myself in Chris. I see this guy burnt out by his obligations that he struggles to have fun with anything or make connections. This guy that puts on a mask of "completely fine with doing anything asked of him" for the people around him and just wants to get by, passionless, direction-less, unwilling to let himself feel truly passionate lest he be let down again. It's an arc that I didn't get until I got older and now that I do, it hits me hard and I think they devote just enough time to it. I do wish we'd seen more of him after his battle with Gingka because his simultaneously snarky and socially awkward personality is one I honestly find really appealing and had a blast writing back in the day. That's really my only complaint with Chris: I wish we got more of him, which isn't really a bad thing.

And finally Tsubasa. I've ranked him higher in the past and while I do still love him, he absolutely peaks in one particular season and while still engaging in the other two, is a tad vanilla. The mystery of his allegiances in Fusion is a fun one and I love his battle with Ryuga (and what it sets up) and while he's far less prominent or deep in Fury, his unique cool-headed personality is still intact and engaging. Buuuuut yeah. It's Masters where Tsubasa really shines. The Dark Tsubasa arc is the best take on this sort of “dark possession” story I've ever seen and one of the greatest character arcs in the entire series, if not the best. It's tense, it's interesting, it tugs at all my emotions in just the right way and it is resolved perfectly. The darkness remains a part of Tsubasa, because everyone has darkness in them but everyone has light as well and I just find that to be way more thematically rich and engaging than him simply driving the dark self out of himself like say Marik in Yugioh Duel Monsters did. Tsubasa’s arc is the most engaging part of Masters and a story and character that stick with me for all the right reasons.

Favourites: Jack, King, Reiji, Kyoya, Kenta, Ryuga

Top six time woohoo! I didn't intend this, but the top three are in every season and the three below that are mostly prominent in one of each season, starting with the Masters one: Jack. Silly artsy peacock boy really should not be this high but goddammit he's so entertaining. His bey is beautiful, his battling style is unhinged in the most memorable, hilarious way possible, the fact that like Teru, he's another male character with “feminine” traits that I, a trans man, can find comfort in. He's just so funny and fabulous and also kind of pathetic and I am obsessed with that. Also I appreciate the small but meaningful return he has in Fury where he finally got off the drugs- I mean, stop taking arrangements. Great character.

And the best character exclusive to my favourite season Fury is none other than KING. Yeah, that's not a shock if you know me. I wouldn't ship Ryuga with just anyone but even prior to that, I've just always loved King's positive attitude. He's very confident in himself but shows his opponents as much respect as they give him and is just so happy and grateful to be battling and that ties in so well with his little backstory. King is, personality-wise, what I want to be. Confident in myself, grateful for what I have, easily able to make friends… And also on my most recent viewing I realised it is incredibly easy to read him as trans masc coded and that's fun. 10/10. Love a guy with blue hair and pronouns.

And finally the best character who only appeared in Fusion: Reiji Mizuchi. My opinions have… shifted on him over the years to say the least. Now that I’m over all the past grief I have with this character, goddamn do I fully appreciate how hard they went on this antagonist. He is, I guess, a one note psycho but it’s the extent of his sadism that makes him so memorable and intimidating. It’s something no other character in the show does as effectively as him in my opinion. Characters like Tetsuya, Selen, or Johannes who don’t play fair, more so use trickery to distract their opponent or trick them into battle conditions that put them at a disadvantage. Reiji though is a whole other beast. He’s flat out torturing his opponents, forcing them to watch helplessly as he cuts their beys to pieces, because he knows no one outside the battle can stop him. He’s scarily perceptive of Kenta in particular, being able to use the kid’s insecurities against him to torment him and get the upper hand in battle. Reiji is a character who is meant to be hated and it’s that hatred of his actions that makes his battles so engaging to watch. He’s someone whose actions are so horrible it makes you hate the Dark Nebula and want to see them defeated even more. I cannot imagine Battle Bladers without Reiji. And this isn’t even getting into how fascinating it is for me to analyse the deeper implications with his character: the fact that Reiji seems to believe that his viewpoint of “beyblade is for destruction” extends to himself as well. He never once states himself as an exception. So if his opponent isn’t the one being destroyed, he is, an implication that I feel is made very clear by his breakdowns when Kenta and later Gingka gain the upper hand on him. Reij is a brainwashed pawn of the Dark Nebula, it’s something that’s backed up well enough for me to consider it true in universe and not just a headcanon. And what Reiji’s presence as this brainwashed pawn who behaves as a destructive one-note sadist (in his mind to protect himself from being destroyed) says about the Dark Nebula and Doji give this show an extra layer of darkness and intrigue that I wish they’d gone even further with but what we get is fascinatingly twisted. Reiji will now always be a tragic character to me. And one I’m probably more invested in than the writers of the show. The only thing keeping Reiji out of the top three is a lack of screentime, which is more of a missed opportunity than a detriment but still a disappointment to me personally.

And now for the top three. Kyoya is a tricky one for me. I really REALLY love him in Fusion and Masters. I think screentime-wise, he did peak in Fusion but Masters still continues his character development really well. You can see how he's matured from the events of Fusion but still retains that core “Kyoya”-ness I love so much. He’s still incredibly arrogant and willing to do batshit insane things in the name of defeating Gingka but he’s much more gracious in accepting loss and has become a better leader for his new team, Team Wild Fang, which all play off him in fun ways. Kyoya is less funny in Masters, sure, which I think does make me prefer him in Fusion by a slight margin but he’s still great in Masters, keeping his core personality while still balancing that with subtle but engaging character development. And then Fury happened… listen, I'm not gonna go into this here since I have so many times in the past and since he's in my top three and Fury is my favorite season, it's obviously not a deal breaker for me but Kyoya feels so off for a little but still just enough of his screentime in Fury to bother me. Still, the moments where he is still a really good character in Fury are there. His overinflated ego during his battle with Ryuga on the volcano feels like a mistake Kyoya would make and seeing him grow from it in the following episodes was a nice character arc. I also still enjoy the other major battles he got, most notably Johannes, Aguma, and Dynamis, Kyoya’s battles are something that are consistently kept fun and more insane across all three seasons which I love (except the Tithi battle). And finally, Kyoya's speech to Gingka during the final battle is genuinely touching and a nice way to wrap up his character for the season. The speech for me does ultimately forgive his selfish actions earlier in the season and so, while I have my problems with Kyoya in Fury and he still doesn't feel entirely congruent with how he was written in Fusion and Masters, I would still consider Kyoya in Fury a good character for the most part. So while he's clearly at his weakest in Fury, I still love Kyoya overall and within Fusion and Masters, he has some of my favourite episodes across all three seasons. He's a great character. His arrogance is often funny as hell, his character arc over the course of the series is engaging, I love how he never gives up no matter how impossible the odds, I love that he can be easily read as trans masc, he's just wonderful.

Second place! Kenta! Yeah, probably not all that surprising that I still love my Beyblade son. He’s just such a consistent source of positivity in the show. He’s the first character we meet, he has the cutest friendships with just everyone he meets. Ryuga instantly comes to mind as someone who’s made a better person just thanks to Kenta’s presence in his life but there’s also Gingka, Benkei, and Yu, whose character arcs all involved Kenta in some way. Not to mention that Kenta is debatably the character that grows the most as a blader throughout the series. He starts off as a novice but by the end, being respected by the strongest blader of all time, Ryuga and evolving into a Legendary Blader and one of the heroes that saved the world. It’s just satisfying to see that journey, even if Masters hardly contributed to said journey at all. Still, he’s a great character, and the odds are against him more than just about anyone, which for me, just makes him more engaging to watch.

Do I even need to explain my number 1 pick? Not only has Ryuga been my favourite character for four years straight now but he’s nearly everyone’s favourite character. Everyone agrees that he’s a total badass, the best villain in the show, hilariously over the top in Fusion, still amazing as an anti-hero in Masters and… actually I’ve seen some mixed thoughts on his character in Fury but unlike Kyoya, I actually think Ryuga still felt consistent in Fury. Yeah, I think Ryuga was being a hypocrite in Masters. A fascinating badass hilarious hypocrite but still a hypocrite who was still just as susceptible to being blinded by a thirst for power as Team Starbreaker, who he hated so much in Masters predominantly due to the association with Doji. To be honest, I think Ryuga peaks in Fury. Unlike some other characters who peak in one season or have one season where they get less screen time or feel off somehow, Ryuga starts off amazing in Fusion and only gets better throughout every season. His speech about how he overcame the dark power in Masters, how he concluded that because it was a problem created by humans it could be overcome by a human, was the moment where it really clicked for me that Ryuga is something special. He’s not just physically strong: he has the “never give up” mindset that many of these bladers have cranked up to 11, as well as the ability to admit to his mistakes and work to overcome them. And that’s genuinely admirable, the most admirable to me out of all the characters in this show. I wish I had even a bit of Ryuga's confidence. And I think the fact that Fury shows he’s not infallible and is capable of making similar mistakes is a good way of showing that progress is not linear and gives him more depth. And. God. Everything with him and Kenta still gives me the feels. The way their friendship develops is subtle but it's honestly sweet and the payoff is legendary. I CANNOT get through those episodes of Ryuga dying then giving the last of his power to Kenta without crying my eyes out. I wasn't exaggerating about my most recent viewing of those episodes making me cry so hard I got dehydrated. If that ain't the mark of an amazing character I don't know what is. Ryuga's still alive in my heart, dammit. And also the fanfic series I wrote a few years ago now. Those aren't factored into this ranking obviously, I just bring them up to make a point of how much I love Ryuga.