#that this happened to us and me and now its all tangled up inside everything we / i do

[companionwolf]

trying to hype myself up to write the nsfw thing. im both feeling very anxious abt sharing it. and generally uh. ig like i'm doing something wrong. by entertaining the idea i have. and for wanting to write it. it feels gross in a bad way. a scary '''dirty''' way. and like. i know logically those feelings are all just. trauma. it's literally fine to want to write this and like the idea. and none of it is bad or gross. and i am not bad or gross or whatever either. this is so unfair. i know it's fine and i want to write this. doing so would probably help me even. but i'm. paralyzed by the fear. ugh.

[xoluvx]

cause i wonder; b.eilish ❥₊ ⊹

as the decade would play us for fools and you saw my bones out with somebody new

stay with me ya'll cause i'm feeling a bit emo. just imagine billie seeing you after you've broken up. the first time she's seen you since it all went down. you quit each other; no contact only painful blistering ache. it harbored in your hearts. you carried it like an anchor sinking to the pit of your stomach. it was debilitating and all consuming and now you were at her show. standing with your friends like you weren't hanging on by a thread threatening to snap any second. like you weren't completely shattered on the inside.

she'd spotted you almost instantly. when your eyes met, all the noise drowned out. all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating rapidly, wanting to jump out of your chest and run right up to her on stage. she looked away and tried composing herself, but you could tell she was off. she was confused. you were confused and you couldn't outwardly feel any of it. not in this crowd. not with your friends. not even with yourself because you'd both chosen this.

it could've been so easy to fight for it, but you didn't. instead you lived with the pain and regret and the tears forming in your eyes and the quiet sniffles and excuses to go to the bathroom because you couldn't bare to carry the pain and you couldn't bare pretending it was all okay when you were both walking with open wounds.

so if i sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet, will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon like it never happened?

could it be enough to just float in your orbit?

wounds too large to heal. you almost prayed they didn't heal because you could still feel her in every fiber of your being. in every step you took and every song you listened to. twirled in your thoughts and your memories. intimate memories of arms brushing, fingers lacing, legs tangling. soft whispering and gentle caresses. longing moans and tender sighs. hands touching while lips kissed. tongues tussling while nails clawed. whimpers and shivers down spines. they all replayed in your head like a cruel fucking joke.

all you could do was wish you could go back to your bubble and hide from the world like you didn't exist. longing to go back to your safe space instead of standing in an arena of people chanting her name. you reverted to spacing out just like you did every day. going about in a daze. everything losing its color and taste. coffee bland. eyes blank. heart bruised. bubble bursting suddenly leaving you raw and shivering. so you watched her from afar doing what she loved. smiling faintly when your friends tugged on your arm forcing you to dance. clapping when she bowed.

she was your sun and you just existed to orbit around her. you would've done it for decades if she'd asked you to.

and if you want to tear my world apart say you'll always wonder. cause i wonder.

but neither of you could admit to the love still festering in your hearts and neither of you could admit to the pain you both caused. neither of you would pick up the phone and admit defeat to the cruel game with no winners. you were two losers yearning for each other. clapping at your seat. wondering who was waiting for her backstage. who she was going to wrap her arms around. who she was longing for. so stupid and oblivious to the fact that her heart still belong to you. searching for you in the sea of people while you still wondered.

[logansbelt]

౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧ This is based off of a nightmare within a dream I’ve had, about him in conclusion I’m ill!!

Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Pairing: Logan x Gn!Reader

Warnings:

Mentions of vomiting, anxiety ,panic attack

Terms of Endearment/Petnames ౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧

. . .

The soft hum of the apartment was the only sound, the kind of quiet that settled around you after a long, full day. Logan had already fallen into a deep sleep beside you, his breaths slow and steady. But you weren’t sleeping. A nightmare had shaken you to your core, ripping you from sleep with a sharp, breathless gasp. The remnants of fear lingered in your chest, suffocating you as you tried to shake off the lingering dread. Your heartbeat was erratic, an anxious pulse that wouldn’t stop thumping in your ears, and your mind raced with images you couldn’t quite escape. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the side of the bed, but before you knew it, you were stumbling out of the sheets, desperate to escape the suffocating darkness of your own mind.

Panic overwhelmed you instantly. Jagged feeling of worries clawed its way up your throat, and before you knew it, you were rushing to the bathroom cold, smooth tile of floor felt like ice against your bare feet as you kneeled by the sink, pressing your palms against the cool porcelain. The room spun around you as nausea bubbled up in your stomach. Then, it hit. You threw up violently, your body convulsing in waves of sickness and sobs, tears blurring your vision.

Logan’s sleep was broken only by the sound of your breathing, now erratic and strained. He’d always been able to sense when something wasn’t right, and tonight was no different. The absence of your warmth beside him had him stirring, his instincts waking before his mind did. His eyes snapped open in the darkness, the sound of your muffled sobs piercing the silence.

His heart clenched as he shot out of bed, his movements swift despite the grogginess that still clung to him. His senses immediately picked up on the faint sound of your weeping—barely a whisper in the vast quiet of the apartment, but enough to send him into action. Logan’s feet thudded softly against the hardwood floor as he rushed to the bathroom, He was used to protecting you, and something inside him snapped when he found you on the floor, disoriented and shaking, tears streaming down your face. —Kneeling on the floor, trembling with your hands pressed against the sink.

Your sobs racked your body, and when you saw him, it only seemed to make it worse. You were shaking uncontrollably, eyes wide and unfocused, still trapped in the aftermath of the nightmare. Logan’s chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading through him. He kneeled in front of you without a second thought, his large hands hovering for a moment, unsure of what you needed but knowing he had to act.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay, sweetie’,” his voice was rough but soothing, a deep, gravelly sound that seemed to wrap around you like a blanket. He cupped your face gently, his rough thumb brushing away the tears that had fallen freely. “Look at me, baby ,” he coaxed, his eyes softening as he searched your face, his gaze filled with concern. “Talk to me. What happened?”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. The tears didn’t stop, and you could barely get the words out—your voice breaking under the weight of it all. “I—I couldn’t… Logan, I couldn’t—” The words tumbled from your lips in a tangled mess, your chest heaving with sobs.

Logan’s hands moved to pull you toward him, and without hesitation, you fell into him, burying your face against his chest. He was warm, solid, and so unbelievably present—everything you needed in that moment. His arms wrapped around you, holding you so close you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. He didn’t ask any more questions, didn’t push. He just let you cling to him, his large hand smoothing over your back in slow, even strokes. The rhythm of his touch was steady, unyielding, like the man himself. You were small, vulnerable, something so precious and fragile.

He spoke low, his voice soft as he rested his chin against your head. “I’m here, darlin’… I’m right here. You’re safe, okay?”

You nodded against him, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him to remind you that everything would be okay, that the nightmare wasn’t real, that you weren’t alone.

“I’ve got ya, sweetheart,” he murmured, his arms tightening around you, not to restrain, but to offer comfort, as if to say that nothing—nothing—would hurt you while he was around. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm but searching. “You’re safe here with me. Always.”

He brushed your hair back, fingers gentle as they ghosted over your skin. Logan’s voice softened as he spoke again, his tone a quiet reassurance. “What you saw… it ain’t real, I promise. But you’re here now. And you’re okay.” His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb running along the curve of your jaw as he looked at you, his eyes searching for any hint of comfort you might need.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Logan murmured, his hand stroking through your hair,. “Just breathe, darlin’.”

His big hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your lips, before he pulled you in close. His kiss was slow and tender, a soft press against your lips that lingered, grounding you in the moment, making sure you knew he was here, and nothing else mattered. You let yourself melt into him, your body finally starting to relax as you felt the weight of his care wrap around you.

When he finally pulled away, his lips brushed your forehead. “C’mon, baby,” he said, his voice low, rough. “Let’s get you some water, alright?

With one arm wrapped securely around you, Logan guided you to your feet, holding you steady as you stumbled toward the bed. He was gentle, never rushing, always there to catch you when you needed him. He handed you the glass of water, his eyes never leaving you, watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you weren’t healing.

When you finished, he took the glass and set it aside before he crawled into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. He didn’t let you go. His arms were around you again, warm and strong, the kind of embrace that made you feel like nothing could touch you. His lips found yours again, this time a brief, loving kiss. “I’ve got you, darlin’,” he whispered against your lips, the words full of the quiet intensity that only he could convey. “I won’t let anything hurt you. Not now, not ever.”

“Better?” Logan asked quietly, his hand moving to cradle your face again, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

You nodded, “Thank you Lo” your eyes meeting his for the first time since the nightmare. There was something in his gaze—something soft and full of care—that made your heart ache in the most tender way. Without thinking, you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you let him hold you. His lips brushed your forehead in a kiss that was so gentle, so full of love, it left your skin tingling.

. . .

“I got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple next, his hands securing you against him as he laid you down in bed, his body following you. He moved with ease, tucking you against his chest, enveloping you in warmth and safety. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not now, not ever.

“You’re safe now,” Logan murmured softly, his voice rumbling against you, sending a wave of comfort through your body. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Not with me here.”

As his lips pressed gently to the top of your head, you felt the last of the fear slip away, Your breathing slowed as you settled into him, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and you allowed yourself to relax in his arms. Logan’s steady, rhythmic heartbeat was the lullaby that carried you back to sleep, the terror of the nightmare slowly fading into nothingness.

Lying there, nestled in his arms, you turned your head up to look at him, your voice thick with emotion as you whispered, “I love you so much, Logan.” Your words were soft but full of everything you felt in your heart. You never needed to say it, but tonight, in his arms, it felt like the most important thing you could say.

His gaze softened as he looked down at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I love you, too, baby,” he murmured, pressing one last gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you, pulling you even closer.

[jolalibrary]

17. tangerine dreams

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seventeen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. too idiots who clearly want to have a future together. a little anxious rainy. an: i love them i love them.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You didn't mean to, but your finger presses the screen again.

It illuminates, unveiling the time and how another three minutes have ticked on by. A sigh quickly escapes, nostrils flaring from your exhale as you shake your head at how time passes slowly, as though shuffling its feet to become a bit later.

It shouldn’t bother you, should be able to quiet the irrational from spreading into faux reality.

Because things happen, days get away—

His work could be insane, Luca could be ill; he could have written the message out and not clicked send. All things which are plausible, possible. All good enough reasons to not have woken to a good morning text or have heard from him by lunch.

Yet, you stare at the unread message.

Unread messages.

It’s irrational. Baseless. Yet the worries mount like they’re pressing down on your bones and making your head swim in a sea of doubt as they remain unanswered, unread, unnoticed.

Your eyes blur around the way your messages are sitting there, unable to be retracted. All plural in nature. The words ‘sent’ sitting under them, as memories swirl from the conversation the two of you shared after you’d slipped into bed.

It had been warm, usual, no sign of anything changing—but he had been quiet. Less talkative. You had needed to prod him a few times by name for him to hum, and come back to you.

And now, you’ve woken and it's hard not to believe everything feels different. From your home feeling unfamiliar to the quietness you’ve been plunged in.

Maybe, it had been too much too soon. Maybe you'd overstayed your welcome and he was attempting to retract his three words and his promises and his—

Shaking your head, you rub your eyes with the base of your palms. A scream burning on your tongue. Because he isn't them, he's Frankie.

Good, kind.

And you wish he were here. A thing you can’t say. Not again. It had already slipped out last night, through the cracks of comfort; murmuring itself past your lips before he wished you goodnight. It had slipped out, escaping—

Home is you, Frankie.

You can’t remember his reply. Can’t remember if he thought it was cute or sweet, or if he was horrified and filled with dread.

A thing which tangles up inside of you, becomes matted, and clogged. Not able to be broken apart when you step under the water from your shower. Finding yourself shattering instead, breaking, soap lathering and washing away, repeating, as you conjure all the things you could have said that may have upset him. The jokes, the quietness last night; the flirting and the fact you spoke to his ex. It builds, morphing, twisting, doing so until your skin prunes and no more tears are blurring with droplets.

It forces an opening, one where unruly thoughts can break through, prizing itself open as your finger presses the screen again.

Because it’s always this way. Interested, until they’re not. In love, until they aren’t. Staring as the black screen goes dull again. Memories of past relationships where messages went unanswered for days, leading only to painful goodbyes, flashed through your mind.

Fingers pinching the backs of your forearm, almost bruising, doing so until your eyes stop springing fresh pain and the towel becomes another heavy thing constricting you.

Fool. You think it—digging it into flesh. Again. And again as you dress, as you hang your towel. Burying your nails so deep you could rationalise it as the reason tears drop down your cheek as you wander into your almost finished office, crouching in the centre, readying for a sob to escape, to leave—

“Rainy?”

The slam of your front door ripples through the house, hearing it a clatter of keys, wallet, hat—more thuds than placed—as your fingers brush away your sobs, wipe them as though they never existed, standing up from your crouched position to face him. To stand two strides from him.

Frankie's usually warm eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but you spot them softening as they meet yours, tinged with concern, love.

And he’s holding his phone up, a crack right down the screen—little lines running from it, fractured so similarly to how you must appear right on the inside.

“I broke my phone, well Luca broke my phone, but—”

You exhale—both in relief, in thankfulness, and also because it allows you to fill your lungs. To calm yourself. To banish the shadows away to find the strength for yourself to walk across to him.

Because a past version of you would have shrunk more in yourself. Taking the warning, the fear, and used it to build walls that would keep him out. But you're not that person, not now.

Not just because of him, but because of you. The choices, the decisions, the little things that led you down a path to not needing, but finding him all the same.

“—we was having a morning. Slept through my alarm, and then drop off, and then Harold—”

His words halt with an oof as your head presses itself into his chest, and you inhale. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, which lets your heart rate calm before his fingers tease the back of your neck. Rooting you, helping you unknot the last ropes of worry and panic.

“I love you,” you whisper, right against his heart, feeling his fingers slide around the side of your neck, hooking under your chin.

And you repeat it. Softer, swathed in a sigh—relief.

Feeling his face burying itself in the top of your head, a kiss given, one pressing to your forehead when you lift, to your nose, and then your lips.

Biting your lip, fingers sliding over his chin, his jaw—tentatively brushing the wiry hair and the soft dimple that begins to appear—as he asks, you okay?

Nodding, swallowing. Burning the panic that had been bubbling in you all morning.

“Just worried you’d had enough of me.”

He whispers your name—each letter, each syllable—before following it with never, I've missed you so much.

And you believe him. You believe him.

How’s my lover?

Still getting used to this new phone. But, outside of that, my son told me that I look old because my hair has grey bits in it, and then I got to work and gave myself a splinter.

I meant Harry, but that’s a lot baby, I’m sorry.

You’re awful to me.

Would me offering to suck your splinter out help?

You fancy using your key tonight?

Starting to think you hate being by yourself.

I appreciate you giving me time with Luca, but I miss you. A lot.

Is there pizza and uno?

I can promise you one of those things.

Tssst. Only one?

Was thinking Chinese and uno?

Sold.

Unlike days ago, alone, wishing for his voice, this morning you’re woken by fingers on your ankles, lips on your lower spine. All soft strokes, interchanging with drags.

“Need you to get up so I can show you something.”

Groaning, lashes fluttering on your cheek, turning your head on the pillow, you find his skin glossed in sweat, wearing the tell-tale signs that he’s been up for a while.

“Frankie…”

“Shh. Surprise time,” he whispers.

Body crawling up the bed as you turn in his sheets, both hands taking either side of his cheek, bringing his mouth to yours. It’s intimate, intense—right. You taste coffee on his tongue, hoping your own breath doesn’t taste half as bad as you can imagine the morning could be.

Whispering, urging you to come on, to get up, even as he lowers his body on top of yours. As he tries to move the duvet and slots your knee over his jean-covered hip.

“Making it really hard to get up.”

“You’re not making it hard for me to get up.”

Laughing, head tipping back as his grinning mouth trails kisses up your neck. Feeling his other palm slide up your stomach, right under the t-shirt you’d stolen from him.

“You know I’ve seen your cock before, if that’s the impressive thing you’re showing me.”

Snorting, he hovers his face over yours, finger tapping the tip of your nose.

Twenty minutes later, your fingers are knotting through his as he leads you through his house. The morning air is crisp, the sun filtering through the trees as he leads you out of the back door. Half-dragged, and still a little sleepy, Frankie’s hand is warm and steady around yours, leading you outside.

“C’mon, just a bit further,” he coaxes gently, voice a soothing balm against the early morning chill.

You squint against the light, noticing the faint scent of paint lingering in the air. Frankie finally stops, his hand releasing yours as he rubs the back of his neck, and you see it.

The table. The one from a yard sale a few weeks ago—as your eyes flick to his, fingers teasing through his curls, a habit you’ve come to adore.

“I um… tried to strip it back, see what shade it was first,” he began, his voice tinged with nerves. “But I know you love this colour, so I thought—”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight. The garden table, the one you’d both made an entire fake scenario around weeks ago, joked that you’d serve him lemonade and bake him cookies. And now, it’s here, a beautiful, vibrant shade of butterscotch, all freshly painted and gleaming in the morning light.

Emotion wells up, your chest tightening as you realise the effort and thought he’d put into it.

“I—I love it, Frankie,” you manage to say, voice choking up. “I… you went and got it?”

Glancing at the ground, arms folding across his chest as he nods. “Right after I dropped you to meet your friend.”

His hand scratches at his arm, pausing mid-scratch, eyes widening into a joyful smile as though all your words dawn on him. “You like it?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “You… god, I don’t deserve you.”

His grin widens, before he pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms, kissing your cheek, the gesture tender, reassuring.

“You did this.” Your fingers slide up his cheek, not forcing the tears back like you’d usually, kissing him. “You bought us furniture?”

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s nothing, finger-swiping your tear away as his breath warm against your skin. “Told you, it’s you and I”

You nod, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. “You and me, technically.”

He kisses a laugh to your lips.

Me and Benny have decided that yoga would kill you and Will.

You enjoy your class?

I did. I think Benny is still working out what he feels. At one point he asked me to put him out of his misery.

Did you?

Yes, I’ve committed murder.

Well, wouldn’t be the first time. You in that lace set the other week—still think I died there and you brought me back.

Mouth-to-mouth really is something special, isn't it? Oh, Benny’s decided that in your next training session, you’re doing yoga.

Baby, I’ve seen you, I don’t think I can do that.

Oh, you can't.

Did you tell him that?

Yeah. He's still laughing.

The music, which has been blasting from your phone for the last ten minutes in the background, suddenly dies on your phone. Glancing over, suds sliding down your arm, you see his face and name light up the screen, bringing an automatic smile to your face.

“Hey, handsome—” you greet, your voice filled with warmth.

“I’d like it on the record,” he says, the rumble of his engine coming through the call, accompanied by the click of a turn signal, “yoga isn’t for me.”

A grin spreads across your face as you drop the plate back into the water, splashing yourself in the process. “He made you do it, didn’t he?”

“He fucking made us do it,” he replies, the exasperation in his voice tinged with humour.

You dry your hands on your jeans and pick up your phone, sliding into one of the chairs in the kitchen. “I owe him ten dollars now,” you say, your tone playful.

“He said.”

Laughing softly, you bite the nail on your thumb, a habit he has begun teasing you about. You listen as he starts recounting the names he was subjected to in the yoga class, his deep voice filling the silence of the room. Names such as Goddess Squat, Cat and Cow, Table and others fall like a list, listening, occasionally helping when he struggles with the name.

“—Baby, I don’t know how you do it,” he says, a mix of admiration and incredulity in his voice.

You pull a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on it as you smile, the affection in your eyes carrying through your voice. “Practice.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’ll be doing it again,” he admits, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“I told him you’d struggle with it.”

“Struggle? Baby, struggle is a nice word for what Will and I looked like.” Sniggering, all attempts at burying it in your hand fail as you pretend to clear your throat. “I heard that.”

“Not sure what you mean, Butterscotch.” He grumbles something as your elbows come to rest on either side of your phone. “You want me to massage you, baby?”

“Fuck… don’t do this to me, Rainy. I’m driving.”

Smirking, biting the nail on your index. “I’d warm lotion in my hands, press my palms to your back—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby.”

“I’d have to be naked, obviously.”

You press your thighs together when you hear him groan through the phone.

I need you to be free Saturday.

You need me?

Always. But I specifically need you to be free on Saturday.

Leave it with me. Can I know what I’m required for?

No.

Ominous.

It’s a surprise. A birthday surprise. Do you trust me?

I wondered when that would come back around.

I take that as a yes?

Of course. Just checked, I’m all yours.

Harry be okay?

He said he can ask his nephew to help out.

Is he doing okay?

He’s currently making puns about a new product, so I’m going to assume yes.

The car hums softly as you drive.

The late morning sun casts a golden glow across the dashboard. Frankie is sitting beside you, a puzzled smile playing on his lips as he glances periodically at you, trying to decipher your secret—whatever it is up your sleeve.

He interchanges between resting his hand on your thigh, fingers tapping a light rhythm that matches the song playing on the radio or re-picking a new station.

“Alright, Rainy,” he says, a heavy curiosity in his voice. “Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?”

You glance at him, heart fluttering at the sight of his easy grin and the way the sunlight highlights the flecks of gold in his eyes and the little flecks of silver coming through in his curls.

“Not yet,” you reply, a playful lilt in your tone. “You'll just have to be patient a little longer.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “You know I'm not good at that.”

“Oh, I know. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

The landscape outside the car window begins to change, the city giving way to rolling hills and lush greenery. As the song changes, you steal another look at him, watching him mouthing the lyrics to the song playing before his expression shifts from curiosity to realisation as you near your destination.

Finally, you turned onto a narrow road that winds through a grove of trees, the sunlight dappling the ground in patterns of light and shadow.

And, Frankie’s eyes widen. A spark of recognition ignited in them.

“Is this—?”

You smirk, unable to contain your excitement—stomach doing flips as you slowly begin to nod. “I thought maybe it was about time you introduced me, even in passing, to your first love.”

He’s leaning forward, seatbelt tense against his chest, hand on your dusty dash as the sun streams in and highlights the way his fingers go white from the pressure.

Picking a spot in the gravel, you put it into a park, killing the engine, staring off at the open field—where two helicopters are parked. Nervousness rolls, balling up as you give him a moment, staring ahead, resisting the urge to glance over and see his reaction. See if you've gone too far. Remembering the way Benny's brows had lifted when you'd asked when you'd told him your plan.

Maybe it hadn't been surprise at the kindness, but surprise at the audacity, at the balls—

It's then you feel his hand on your leg, squeezing. Dragging your eyes to him to find his smile so far into his cheeks, making you wonder if you could get lost in his dimples. His eyes are nothing but softness, so full of affection and nostalgia, you think your chest inflates with love.

“Rainy...

It leaves his lips all thick with emotion, as you squeeze his hand on top of your thigh. “Come on, handsome.”

Exiting, walking to the front of the car, you extend your hand, able to breathe a little easier when he slides his fingers within yours.

“Meet Robert—Robbie,” you say quickly, watching Frankie shake his hand—brows knitted together in confusion he tries to hide over the rest of his face. “He’s a friend of Benny’s—and he has a helicopter.”

Frankie’s head turns to you, eyes still a little wide.

“Now, it’s up to you. It’s your birthday gift. But, if you want to go up in it, you can, Robbie can be your co-pilot—I showed him a photo of your old license and Benny helped fill in some things for you. But, if you want to stay on the ground, show me around the cockpit,” you smirk, leaning into him. “I’ve packed us a picnic. It’s in the back of my car.”

He whispers your name.

Not your nickname, your real name. It's all soft, flowy—so gentle as it passes his lips and kisses the air as he stares at the helicopter ready.

Moving closer, hand sliding along his lower back, you stare at his eyes as they move to yours, dropping your voice, “I know you haven’t flown since… then. I don’t think it’s a waste if you want to stay on the ground. But, if you do, I’ll suspend my belief that I’m not going to feel some kind of way about being so high up.”

“You scared of heights?”

“I’m not the biggest fan of being in the air in a small metal contraption?”

Snorting, rolling his jaw, he frowns, before his face smooths out and he cups your face, his eyes searching yours. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Warmth spreads over your cheeks, feeling the heat of his gaze. “I just wanted to do something special for you.”

He kisses you then, slow and sweet—the kind of kiss which makes time stand still. Almost forgetting everything, the wind, the sound of it dancing through the leaves as your arm slides around his neck, hips moving closer to his when his hand finds a home there.

It’s only when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel his breath mingling with yours, do you think about poor Robbie who has thankfully walked back to a hanger.

Frankie looks past you, something unreadable stretching out across his face. Assessing, almost calculating—a face you’re coming to know well. Spotting the slight narrowing of one eye, the way his teeth bite the inside of his lower lip and his nostrils flare.

“Can I show you around?”

Offering your hand, he takes it, sliding his fingers slowly between yours, knitting your palms together. With a playful grin, he guides you around the helicopter. At first quietly, before he points, clears his throat and begins explaining something.

From then on, it’s hard for him to be quiet. Each part is shown, the door opening and shifting you in front so you can clear, as his voice rings with the passion and precision of someone who has spent countless hours in a cockpit like this one. His fingers trace the curves of the fuselage, his eyes sparkling as he describes the functions of the rotor blades, the tail boom, and then back to the cockpit instruments.

You listen, captivated. Not only by his knowledge but by the joy that radiates from him as he speaks—even if you struggle to follow. Even if your nod feels hollow and you’re lost in watching him talk so enthusiastically about something that you’re so new to.

Then, your stomach grumbles. Eyes widen, his voice trailing off as he stares at you, before slowly grinning.

“Shit.”

“You hungry?”

Face scrunching, wearing a face nothing short of apologetic, you bury your head into his chest. “I was so nervous I didn’t want to eat before the drive.”

He kisses your head, burying an, “Oh, Rainy” against your hair before he moves an arm around you.

“You say you packed a picnic?” You nod. “Alright, well I could eat.”

“Are you just saying that? Because I feel like we’ve barely touched the cockpit.”

Smirking, kissing your forehead again. “Let’s eat.”

Taking charge of spreading out the blanket, choosing a spot right near the helicopter—Frankie quickly catches up with Robert. Doing a little half-run back to you as you set out the plates, the glasses.

“You tell on me that I touched his leaver?”

“Yeah. I said, my girlfriend—who you told not to touch anything—touched everything. Practically licked your leaver.”

Heat flushes your cheeks at the word girlfriend. Even if you've been it for so long, it still makes joy bloom across your face, your skin and makes your ears warm as blood rushes to them. So much so, that you dip your chin, digging into the basket for the sandwiches from the place he likes, and the snacks you’d managed to make.

“You should be careful saying that sentence to anyone not on this airfield.”

There’s a pause, and then he laughs.

Joining you, sinking to his knees first before sitting more comfortably when you hand him a foil-wrapped sandwich.

It isn’t until you take a bite of your own, do you feel your muscles relax. Your body sag, falling into its natural place as the conversation, as it always does, flows easily. Your mind calming, relaxing from all the worries last night of possible annoyance, maybe even anger—hurt and all others.

Instead, it’s all punctuated by laughter, by smiles, and the occasional brush of his hand against yours.

“Happy birthday,” you say, pressing it to his lips.

His thick fingers, glide over your neck, around the side, remaining at the back as he swallows. Before there’s a thank you against your lips, against your cheek, before your fingers find a grape, and pop it against his mouth.

Chewing, he smirks, you slide to sit beside him as you grab another chip from the open bag.

It's quiet, but comfortable as the two of you eat the food, the sun cresting in the sky, as Frankie slowly leans back on his elbows, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. “Would you like to see the sky?”

Your heart skips a beat, excitement and nerves mingling in your chest. “Really? You’d take me up?”

He sat up, his expression earnest. “If… If you trust me. I know it’s been a while so, can understand if you’d rather not.”

“Frankie,” you whisper, kneeling, sliding across the blanket to him as you clutch his face, “There’s no one I trust more than you—well, other than Luca. The kid really cannot lie.”

Grinning, feeling it against your hand, your palm. Finger stroking at the dimple that appears as you stare at him.

“I know it’s safe—I know I’m safe with you. But, I know this is a big deal. I know you had to walk away from things, so if you’re sure, then I am. I just don’t want to put you off.”

Frankie’s face lit up with a smile that made your heart soar higher than any helicopter ever could. “If anything, I think you being there is just what I need.”

You’re both quick to begin putting away the picnic, him taking it back to the car before you find yourself seated behind him. Headset on, belt done and checked by Robbie—watching Frankie sitting in the cockpit, finger switching controls and dials flicked.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice coming through your ear, your hands gripping your thighs as you smile.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m ready, baby. You and me.”

His laugh, crackly through the microphone, ripples out. “You sure? Not you and I?”

And you roll your eyes, just as the blades go quicker overhead, and you brace a little more for leaving the ground.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[rosekeu]

[ Moonlight on the River ]

Sypnosis: The final battle came way earlier than you expected, and amidst all the chaos, your lover got wrapped up in its twisted fate. How were you supposed to react when you couldn't do anything to save the boy you had loved since childhood?

A/N: manga spoilers, implied death, hurt no comfort, angst. 1.7k words. listen to moonlight on the river by mac demarco or space song by beach house.

[ ao3 link ]

”Gojo, please you need to listen to me. Please, you don’t get it.” You violently sobbed, gripping your mentor’s wrist, pleading with him to listen. His eyes swept over you making sure you weren’t hurt.

Blood began to drip from the gash on your neck as you paused to take a couple shaky breaths trying to calm your nerves. “Please, you can’t kill him. I need him. He’s still Megumi.”

“You can’t do this to me…please Gojo.”

“I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM PLEASE!” He stayed silent. You waited for him to say something, anything.

You stared back at him, clenching your fist as your eyes darkened, “I don’t care what happens to me, I need him back no matter what.”

You glanced at the figure looking past Gojo, it was wearing Megumi's face and body but the rest belonged to the evil man, the curse, who destroyed the place you used to call home. The same man who stole your friend's humanity away. Even more tears began to fall down your face as you turned to Gojo with a defeated expression, sadly still containing a miniscule glimmer of hope. A tiny part of you hoped that your lover could return safely. A tiny part of you naively believed.

“Is she alright?” Gojo asked Yuuji, who wasn’t standing too far away, still avoiding your piercing gaze. “Except for the gash on her neck, there’s only a few bruises on her so she should be okay…for now.”

As Gojo started to free himself from your grip, he threw Yuuji a knowing look. And suddenly, you were trapped in Gojo's arms. “No, no, no. GOJO! PLEASE NO!” You struggled in his hold, but he only tightened it in response

"Everything will be okay.” Your mouth fell open as your eyes widened. You could feel your chest tighten as the panic rose within you as Gojo’s hold on you tightened. “Just leave it to me.”

You begged him to change his mind, desperate to get away, but his expression was unwavering.

“LET GO OF ME! PLEASE!”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” You pleaded, tears streaming down your face, hoping that your desperation would somehow break through to him.

As Gojo walked towards Yuuji he handed you over to him. The boy with pink hair had a strong hold on you while wearing a solemn expression.

“NO! PLEASE GOJO ITS MEGUMI!“ You started screaming out to your teacher once more, your voice breaking. Despite your agony, Yuuji knew this was for the best. It was the right decision for you to suffer.

"PLEASE, I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM!” Your words were ignored as the King of Curses fought with your teacher, while using the body of your lover as a puppet. You could feel the desperation rising inside of you as the fight progressed. You felt utterly helpless when you realized that your pleas had been ignored.

“Yuuji. Let me go, I need to stop him.” You seem to be in dire need of anything to occur. Something that is going to alter Megumi's destiny. since you were aware that one of them would die if they got into a duel. There was a sense of impending disaster hanging in the air, pressing you to do something.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You attempted to escape his hold, thrashing in his arms but it was in vain as his grip on you only tightened. Yuuji led you to the sidelines where the rest of your comrades were watching the battle take place. You cried out in pain, anger, and most of all sadness.

The raven haired boy you grew up with was going to be killed.

You never got to say goodbye.

There were so many unspoken words between the two of you.

You needed more time.

You needed a chance to unravel the tangled emotions and express what you truly felt.

The weight of those desires lingered, leaving a deeply rooted seed of regret. But alas, moments slipped through your fingers like sand, and now all that remains in the haunting presence of what could've been.

You needed to hug him one last time.

You needed to kiss him one last time.

As if pleading with the universe

You needed to see him smile again

You needed to hear him laugh again.

You needed to touch him again.

Would the universe make you forget his face after all this was over? Would the universe grant you the mental peace of fading memories and erase the pain which would linger in your heart? Or would it be a cruel and unforgiving reminder, tattooing his face deeper into your mind, tormenting you with what might've been?

Unfair. Unfair. Unfair

Why did it have to be him?

Why did fate choose to intertwine your paths, only to keep you both apart? So many questions and no answers, only leaving you to wonder about what a cruel twist of destiny the world had granted you. In the midst of the chaos all around you, thoughts of you and him kept flooding into your mind.

“The stars... they look really nice tonight–” You spun around to face Megumi. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He but he was too busy focusing on you, instead of those stupid stars. To him you were much prettier.

He acknowledged the beauty of the stars. But compared to you, they were a dull contrast. You shined brighter than any star imaginable.

He cast a long glance at your lips before the two of you locked eyes. Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. He cupped your face with one hand and wrapped the other around yours. You couldn’t help but smile as you melted into his touch.

Another memory rang through your mind.

Fushiguro sat with his back against the wall, statue-still and cold. You reached out to hold his hand but he quickly withdrew.

You tried again but he said. “Don’t.”

His voice was laced with contempt. After today's mission, you were injured severely. And even though all of you came back alive, he couldn't spare himself from the guilt of not being by your side.

“Don’t what?” you asked, flatly.

His jaw locked, and he stared at you with empty eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He glances at your bruised arms and fist. “I don’t–” He started and then he looked at the bandage that wrapped around your head and the limp you seemed to have on your right leg. “I don’t know what to–”

So that's what it was about. Your injuries…He wasn't mad at you.

He was mad at himself.

You place your hands on either side of his face with a firm hold. “Stop it.”

His eyes still avoid my gaze like the plague. “It’s not your fault. Everyone got a bit roughed up–”

He cut you off. “You were injured the most out of everyone else. And we were just facing a grade 1 curse, imagine if it was a special grade.”

You paused and pondered, what would've happened if the curse was special grade? Well, it didn’t matter now. The important thing is that you were alive and breathing. “There’s no point in thinking about that now. Stop torturing yourself.”

Megumi’s expression didn’t waver.

“I wasn’t there.”

“You were there when I needed you to be.” You said, hands sliding off his face to hold his hands. “I can take care of myself.”

“I swore I would be there for you and I wasn't. I swore to keep you safe and you weren't.” His words pierced your heart like a dagger. You wanted to reassure him that you were okay. That a few injuries meant nothing to you. And that it shouldn't be to him.

“I’m–”

“You were terrified.” His voice was filled with turmoil as he interrupted you. “When you called out to me, I’ll never forget your voice.”

Before he could keep going, you gently placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "I understand why you’re upset," you whispered softly, "But please trust me when I say that I am stronger than you think. Plus after a few days I’ll be as good as new!” You smiled, and you leaned in to kiss him.

As your lips met, you could feel the mixture of relief and longing in the kiss. It was a bittersweet moment for Fushiguro, as he realized that while he was relieved to have finally expressed his concerns, there was still a lingering sadness knowing that he could have done something to change the outcome.

That was the first time you had seen him so worried about something or someone. “I love you.”

Punches were thrown at the concrete, causing the ground to tremble, and you were pulled back into reality. Yuuji was still holding you in his lap and Yuuta was healing you in the meantime applying his reversed cursed technique.

You grabbed him unexpectedly, mumbling softly, “Yuuta... I need him back...” He smiled sadly at you.

“I need to tell him that I love him one last time...” Your voice breaks at the idea and your eyes well up with tears. Yuuta’s hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing it gently.

“He knows.” Okkotsu reassures you, healing all your wounds successfully,“I promise.”

With a trembling voice, you whisper, "I don't know how I'll go on without him." The weight of your emotions hangs heavy in the air, as if silently begging for a miracle to bring him back.

Your face loses all emotion as you wrap your arms around Yuuji’s neck. To help you feel a little better, he holds you close and gently rocks you back and forth. You experience defeat. You can’t help but let your sorrow and regret consume you. As you bury your face in Yuuji's shoulder, you feel a mix of comfort and despair. The weight of your emotions becomes unbearable, leaving you feeling completely helpless. It's as if the world around you has come crashing down, and all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming grief. Your will to live escaping your bloody grasp.

"I’m home, there's moonlight on the river. Everybody dies."

[blankwashed]

shattered.

tw: (one swear word)

you didn't believe it to be true. it wasn't possible. the both of you had two children together, megumi and tsumiki. they were both bright students, always polite and wonderful children. never you had thought that their father would hide such truths from you.

toji fushiguro, the man you had given everything to. your body, your time and your heart. he became the center of your universe and yet...he chose to betray you. the pain in your gut made you want to throw up.

maybe it wasn't who you thought it was?

maybe it was his sister?

the sound of the door opening shut brought you back to where you were standing. toji, exuding his usual confidence walked in. his eyes met yours, biting his lower lip, confusion was plastered on his face.

"what happened, doll?" he asked.

you didn't respond immediately, you couldn't. you were afraid to spew out allegations that might not be true. your mind was tangled in a web of uncertainty and betrayal. instead all you did was to grab the phone and showed him the messages, all from a single person, a person who he named as "❤️".

his eyes bulged, his jaw tightened and the gears in his brain were processing the situation. "it's not what it looks like doll," he began, but as his words flew out of his mouth, you could feel that he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

"then what is it, toji?" you demanded, your voice breaking. "tell me what it is, because from what i've read, it looks like you've lied to me. cheated on me, all this fucking time..." you said as you scrolled through his messages with her.

his silence was deafening. the anger and betrayal simmered inside you, boiling over the words you had never imagine saying. "how could you do this to us?! to me?! the children we have! after all we've been through, have you ever thought, just one second that you'd be throwing all of this away?!"

toji took a step closer to you, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear, "doll..".

"don't doll me. don't come any closer. i don't even know who you are anymore."

"please, just let me explain." he pleaded. "it was a one time thing, i don't know why she kept texting me. and trust me doll, i was thinking about you the entire time. i just had to get it out my system.."

shaking your head, with ugly horrendous tears running down your cheeks, "i trusted you, toji. i gave you a chance, a chance to prove to me that you're different. and you threw it all away for what?! just one night with someone else?!"

he looked down, unable to meet your gaze, and the sight broke something inside you. this was the man you had thought you'd spend your life with, drinking tea at the porch when both of your kids would be working. laughing with each other while staring at the sky.

"i never meant to hurt you doll, i told you, its just a one time thing. satoru. satoru was the one who talked me into it!" he tried to defend himself once more and even trying to push the blame onto his co-worker.

"actually," you started "if you'd truly love me, you'd tell your useless friend to bug off. now, you hurt me more than i ever thought was possible."

the silence stretched between you, a hole dug too deep to be repaired. you wiped at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but the pain was too raw like a knife cutting through your heart.

"i think you should leave," you finally said, your voice trembling. "let me think over what should be done now, where the kids should stay."

as the door closed behind him, another flow of tears came down your cheek. you sank to the floor, your body wracked with grief.

hours passed, you were still sprawled on the floor, lips chapped, stomach empty and heart shattered.

finding his jacket draped over the back of a chair, you went against your mind, clinging on to the fabric. memories came flooding back to you - nights where you spend wrapped in his arms, the cute little smooches you'd give his scar and promises of forever. all of that now thrown in the trash.

why? the question screamed in your mind. were you not enough? were you getting ugly? after giving him 2 kids, were you considered ugly?

you fell on your bed, the sanctuary for both of you where many memories were made. many firsts but now it all look like lasts to you. curling into a ball, clutching his jacket as if it were a soft toy, you wished it could somehow bring the old him back.

sleep took over your body after you were out of tears. the betrayal cut deeper with each passing minute, a wound that seemed impossible to heal

weeks later, you've found yourself healing. from the help of trust worthy friends, lots of binge-eating of ice cream and time for your hobbies. you were beginning to find a sense of peace, a fragile hope that perhaps one day, you'd be whole again.

megumi and tsumiki were still staying with you as you couldn't be so heartless to let them live with their father. after what he'd done to you, he looked as if he was the largest criminal wanted on earth to you.

"it's okay mama, you have us. we would never look for another mama," tsumiki said, while having her breakfast cereal.

a tear dropped from your eye. innocence. oh how you wished toji were as innocent as the both of your children.

suddenly, the doorbell rang, pulling you away from your thoughts. slowly, you made your way to the door, the weight of your heart on your shoulders. when you opened it, toji stood there, looking more broken than you'd ever seen him.

"please," he said through the grills of your door. "can we talk? just you and me."

you swallowed hard, the sight of both your children and their dirtbag dad. "i don't know if i can do this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

a hand came through the grill of the door, wiping your tears away. "i understand but i need you to know that i love you. i always have, and i always will.."

the words hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what he used to always remind you. you took a deep breath, the ache in your chest nearly unbearable. "i loved you too, toji. but after what you've done..not anymore."

he cupped your face gently with his hand, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to remember the warmth of his touch, the safety of his embrace. the cloud 9 that you always are on whenever he's with you. but then you stepped back, the distance between the both of you a reminder to yourself to treat yourself with more dignity.

"goodbye toji," you said softly. "i'll tell the kids you said hi and......take care of yourself. and her." you said as you closed the door on him.

you could only imagine what was happening behind the door. was he sobbing? was he feeling guilt? was he happy that he can finally leave you? your broken heart was heavy, mind too full of negative thoughts at that moment.

all, when the door closed.

[inthedarkshadows000]

Can you write a Suguru x fem reader where she has hair just as long as Suguru’s or heck EVEN LONGER? (Mine is past my knees 😅) would they do hair routines together? Brush eachothers hair ? Braid it? Anything and everything that you can think of 👏

No. No No no not this again! not right now!!!! This CANNOT be happening to me when I have the most beautiful of all humans waiting for me outside.

"Kitten?! All good? I heard things fall... multiple things..." Suguru knocked at the washroom door.

"Just peachy... don't worry, I'll be out soon." I glanced nervously at the door before tugging at my hair brush. Again. Nope! Still stuck.

"Alright, but lemme know if you need anything." He said, before I heard him walk away.

"Definitely!!..... gimme functioning motor skills if you can, that's the only way I'll be saved." I muttered looking at my reflection with an eyeroll.

I obviously couldn't tell the suguru geto, the man with the most perfect hair, that I couldn't perform a simple task of brushing my hair without having it tangled up in my brush.

So, with a shrug, I decided I wouldn't. I am an adult, adult enought get a hair brush out of my hair. Totally ignoring the fact that it was me who let get stuck in the first place.

I took a deep breath and tried again. Trying to reach the brush by flipping my hair to the front, with no luck. It awkwardly remained half and half on my shoulder in such a way that it was impossible to reach it properly.

"Kitten, what's happening? You have been gone ages. I am worried. Let me in, please. I need to see if you alright for myself. "

"Ru, no. I.. I.. magic!!! "

"Magic? Are you trying to tell me that you are practicing sorcery in there?" I could hear him chuckle even from inside.

Wtf? Magic? Seriously girl!!!?

"Yes. That's exactly what I am doing." I stick to my lies, ok!!! no matter how stupid.

"Then I believe as your boyfriend I have the right to see this... extracurricular of your, don't I? Open up kitten. Now." By his tone I knew he was done playing around.

"Boo... you are no fun" I grumbled as I flicked the lock of the door and moved back infront the mirror to continue my failed attempts. Totally not because of embarrassment.

"Well, now that the jig's up, I don't have magic tricks, well other than my beautiful smile and my talent to tangle my hair up. To ridiculous levels." When I didn't get any reply I looked up to see him leaning against the wall, lower half of his face covered by his long fingers.

"You can laugh, it's chill." He just hummed but I could see his eyes watering with the effort to control his amusement.

"Seriously, let it out. I don't want you to die of suffocation because I will not be attending your funeral with hair-brush hair." I couldn't help but roll my eyes as he burst out. Like stomach holding, Bending over and knee slapping laugh. It made me giggle too.

I tried to hit him with my toothpaste tube, as I whined about how rude he was being, but he just continued wiping his eyes and gasping at my expense.

"So glad my misery is entertaining for you. Now if you could please be useful and help."

"Right, of course. Come on out and sit on the bed. I just gotta pee because of all that laughing." That earned him an elbow in the belly.

.

.

.

"And that girls how your generous and smart Dada helped out your clumsy mama." Suguru told our girls as he finished braiding their hair. His lips in his signature bad boy smirk that made me fall for him.

"That's not how it happened and you know it!!! I actually was doing magic and it was just a part of the performance." I huffed.

"Its OK mama, we know you are clumsy but we still love you." Nanako giggled.

"Oh! you little monsters, you better scram before I show you clumsy." And they rushed out throwing a good night as they rushed, still in fits of giggles.

"Part of the performance, huh?" Ru was leaning back on the bed, his legs in a manspread and looked at me with those lazy bed room eyes.

"Yep!! How else would have I gotten you to take care of my hair without playing damsel In distress? How else would I have convinced you to have dinner with me every night so you could also brush my hair?" I grinned cheekily, taking my place on the floor so he could brush and tie my hair too.

Just like he had been for the past 4 years without fail.

It was true though, apparently my lack of coordination made his protective side dominant. He was especially fond of my hair and refused to see them take the brunt of my quirky personality.

Hence, it was quickly decided that hair care was his department since. I obviously had no issues. We had easily fallen into the nightly routine of hair massages, oiling and brushing. Me, ofcourse only sat and looked pretty while he did the work.

Easing of knots in my hair with so much care, learning different hairstyles so he could do it for me and not importantly sharing his hair secrets, that he protected with his life. It even applied washing my hair because according to him WE DONT KNOW WHEN MY TALENT COMES FORTH, SO CANT RISK IT.

Of course, I had gotten better over the years, I like to tell myself that, but he refused to let go. Loving the routine we exchanged, even I didn't fight to hard. Why would I, when it was our love language.

Eventually the girls were born and obviously they were included in this.

I couldn't help but thank myself for my.... magic that he so willingly accepted and fit into. Maybe, it wasn't my magic rather his, to mold and fit into any crevice of my life like molten gold in cracks, to turn it from broken to beautiful.

.

I would like to apologise if there are any mistakes because I got hair as short as pixie. Never had hair longer that my neck. So I really hope I did justice to your request.

[quartz-crow]

The Ranger (Reader x Halsin)

Modern AU! Reader x Halsin (BG3) Stranded in the middle of a dark, icy forest with nothing but a broken-down car and a dwindling phone battery, you find yourself fighting off panic and the biting cold. Just when you begin to lose hope, a giant, rugged stranger offers unexpected help. Updates to come soon! Added notes: Sorry I've been absent for way too long... Life stuff - but hey, I'm back into writing and I've got so much planned 🌿

Chapter 1

“Fuck.”. You grit your teeth as you feel your car slowly come to a trudging stop. The wind howls around you, battering the already loose car windows, creating a dreadful noise beside your head. Thankfully, your headlights remain on, but you know all too well they won’t last long with your car’s faulty battery. "Fucking piece of shit." You grumble as you reach for your coat in the passenger seat and wrap it tightly around your body. Of course—of course, this happens to me.

The stress of the day lingers, refusing to let you find peace. You had spent the last few hours walking around the forest—your chosen escape after a stressful day at work. The smell of pine and the sight of the sunset had certainly helped ease your worries… for a while. But now, as the forest's tranquillity turned into an icy, dark nightmare, you feel the blood rising to your ears once more.

As you opened the car door, the howling wind slapped you across the face. You could feel the temperature dropping rapidly. “This is dangerous” you murmured as you looked up at the last bit of light as it disappeared behind the skyline. The tall pine trees surrounding you seemed to scream as the wind whisked through their sharp branches. The darkness was almost palpable, and gods - you could feel its oppressive weight pressing down on you. After fighting against your frozen fingers, you fumbled with your phone for a few seconds, before finally managing to turn on the flashlight. To your annoyance, the weak beam of light did little to cut through the darkness…. but it was all you had. You trudged towards your car’s bonnet, every step a struggle against the biting wind.

Mechanics were never your strong suit. Hell, they weren't even your weak suit - whatever that meant… you swear the cold was making you go delirious. Racking your brain, you tried to remember a single piece of useful information from your last MOT. The frustration builds, each second feeling like an eternity as it dawns on you… Almost choking back tears, you realised just how ill-prepared you were for this situation.

Your breath shot out in quick, visible puffs, mingling with the cold air. Popping the hood open, you peered inside - but it was hard to make out anything with the flashlight's beam wavering with your shaking hand. Everything looked like a tangled mess of metal and wires to you. They may as well have been organs, or wet spaghetti for that matter. Despite trying to remain hopeful, you truly had no idea what you were looking at, let alone how to fix it. The sense of helplessness grows, feeding your frustration. The cold seeps quickly into your bones now, and you couldn’t help but curse under your breath. Your phone’s battery was draining alarmingly fast, the flashlight dimming slightly. Panic started to rise in your throat. There’s no one around, no help in sight, just you and your broken car in the middle of nowhere.

In a moment of blind range - you kicked the tyre, but it only caused pain to shoot up your leg… which only added to your aggravation of course. “Fuck!” you yell into the night, the wind swallowing your voice. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. You knew that you needed to think clearly if you had any chance of getting help - but the cold and the dark grew relentless, gnawing at your resolve. You closed the bonnet, resigning yourself to the fact that there’s no way that you’re going to fix the car here and now. Where you stood with your broken car, deep in the forest, you quickly decided that your only option was to get back in your car… and just hope you didn’t freeze to death.

Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself, you quickly climbed back in your car. Although the car itself wasn’t warm at all, the break from the relentless winds made you sigh in relief. You checked your phone again and what you saw on the screen made your heart drop - your phone only had 2% left. With a slight whelp, you threw your phone into the glove box and slammed it shut. You promised yourself then that, even though you had no signal, your phone was strictly for emergency use only.

The darkness outside was thick, oppressive, and the usual comfort you found in the wild was replaced by an uneasy feeling that crawled up your spine. The forest that night felt different, sinister almost, and the thought of stepping back out into the cold, black void was terrifying. You tried to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself that you loved nature, that you had come here to relax… But the rational part of your mind was losing the battle against the primal fear of the dark. You shakily reclined the seat, hoping to get some rest until morning. The wind howled around you, making the car creak and groan as if it were alive. You wrapped your coat tighter and closed your eyes, trying to block out the eerie sounds of the night. Sleep, however, escaped you. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, made your heart jump.

Minutes felt like hours as you lay there, eyes shut tight, trying to will yourself into a state of calm. The cold seeped through your coat, making you shiver uncontrollably. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts, and you could feel the beginnings of a panic attack creeping in. The darkness seemed to press down on you, making it hard to breathe… and to think. Then, in the distance, you saw it. Headlights, faint at first but growing steadily brighter, cutting through the blackness like a knife. Your heart skipped a beat and then began to race. Someone was coming. Someone or something. The forest, which had felt deserted and empty, now seemed to close in on you, each shadow hiding unknown threats.

You sat up quickly, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The headlights grew closer, the beam illuminating the trees and casting long, sinister shadows. Panic surged through you. What if it wasn’t someone here to help? What if it was someone dangerous? Your mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You fumbled in the glove box for your phone, hands shaking - but you stopped yourself. If this wasn’t an emergency, you didn’t know what was, but you couldn’t waste the battery now. Not yet. You needed to see who it was first, you needed to be sure.

You could barely breathe. You felt trapped, the dark, cold forest on one side and an unknown threat on the other. The panic clawed at your chest, your vision narrowing as you struggled to stay calm. The car slowed as it neared yours, its headlights glaring, blinding you momentarily. You shielded your eyes, heart hammering in your chest. This was it. The moment of truth. You watched as a large, no, huge figure climbed out of the 4x4’s driver door. The man walked slowly towards you… And then you realised - he had an axe, or at least something axe-like, in his hand.

You screamed as your whole body shook violently. Despite the howling wind, you heard his heavy footsteps come closer and closer. Your vision began to close in on you - and before you knew it, everything went quiet.

[rebelpapermaker]

I'd like to throw my hat into the ring of modern FNAF theories:

Michael is the rogue indie developer.

Hear me out:

There is a clear divide right now in the FNAF games: games sanctioned by Fazbear Inc (Help Wanted, the racing game) and the games that came before. Help Wanted is supposed to be a VR recreation of those early games, right? But where are the details? They'll reference little things, inside jokes, but they won't go over the actual plots of these games, the biggest example being Sister Location and Pizza Sim. They have to change those plots completely, turning Sister Location into a more standard FNAF experience and Pizza Sim into a minigame.

Maybe we've been looking at "Michael is the protagonist of FNAF" the wrong way, although I do think he is a character we play as in each of the first six games; maybe the story of FNAF is initially told to us by Michael through these unsanctioned games, including all the gory details that only he could possibly know. Who else could possibly be around who knows not only the details of the multiple bite incidents, but what happens to Michael in Sister Location, as well as pizza sim- and for that matter, FNAF 4 with its intricate nightmare scenario.

"how could Michael have made the games if he got scooped?"

Canonically, remnant heals the body. I agree with everyone that purple zombie Mike is way more fun, but the cutscenes with ennard wearing Mike around actively tell us this: when ennard leaves, it forces its way out his mouth- why not leave through the gaping hole it entered in? Unless that hole was closed up now. Mike turning purple could be from the constant bruising being puppeted around by a robot would give you, faster than the remnant could possibly repair it.

Also, zombie learning to code to share a company's dirty secrets is pretty fucking funny.

"Michael died at the end of pizza sim"

I think that's a convenient thing for Michael to imply, with several reasons why he chose to. Number one, if Fazbear Inc is actively trying to find the person exposing the company for its past, telling them one of their major suspects is dead could be helpful. Number two, why were we told in the game that a way out was planned for us? We are explicitly told a way out exists, and then once we get to security breach, we see that the tangle is running around- something that shouldn't be possible. There is the possibility that the tangle found the way out, but consider the more compelling option: Michael took the way out, and the consequence of that was monsters escaping. And once again, it's Michael's fault, though not on purpose, that the horrors continue. Michael should have stayed, and that regret is reflected in the game. Everything would have come to an end if he had.

The wall code in the sister location room in security breach is also a big hint to me. Clearly we're supposed to associate that room with Michael. I've heard many theories on who could have written the wall code; none of them make much sense combined with Michael's room. They make sense on their own, but we have to take where the code is placed into account too!

I do think that if this theory is true, robot Gregory is also true, but that's a very long other post lol. And ultimately I have no fucking idea if this is right!! This is FNAF, we may never know, but might as well toss another idea out there.

(it's also been pointed out that glamrock Freddy's manner of speaking, if we're going to compare it to characters we've heard talk, is much closer to Henry, both character and speech pattern-wise. We don't hear much from Michael, granted, but combined with the comments we see him make in the logbook, he doesn't match Freddy's demeanor very well. There's also AI in there of course, but I think it's worth noting)

[bianotbia]

— 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐚𝐬𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐥𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐫]

˗ˏˋ upon seeing once again a lonely path before him, asra decides to go to unthinkable lenghts to bring his lover back ˎˊ˗

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𝐈. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥

⤷ innocence, new beginnings, free spirit, recklessness, taken advantage of, inconsideration

⤷ a/n: this is the same fic I posted a long time ago but now quite improved, anyway I revised this right after revising my thesis so excuse me while I try to recover from it :')

⤷ contains: asra pov, *spoiler warning*, angst + fluff (wc: 1.7k)

⤷ now playing : don't wanna cry by seventeen

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Because I love you, because saying “I love you”

Isn’t enough, no matter what words I say

Leaving me, who cherished only you, where’d you go?

Did you go far away because you didn’t like me anymore?

Like a bad omen the red scarlet sky loomed above Vesuvia on that dreary afternoon, the usual buzz and agitation among the streets weren't there to welcome me like the other times I returned from a trip. With hesitant feet and a bad feeling settling in the bottom of my heart I unconsciously made my way to Julian's lab. Piles and piles of books and loose notes were scattered around every empty surface of the room, “Julian?” hidden behind countless vials of suspicious appearance his lowered head quickly rose up, haunted and exhausted bloodshot eyes looked deep into mine and even though drama ran deep inside him that tortured expression couldn’t be a great sign. “Julian…what happened?” with furrowed brows he opened his mouth but nothing came out of it. Lost on all that mess was a necklace I gifted you a few birthdays ago, the very one you swore to never take off. In that eerily silent night Julian finally let out a faint whisper “I'm sorry, Asra… I'm so sorry”, without any more words being said I desperately headed to the shop unable to believe what my heart already knew.

Don’t play around, I know you’re there

It feels like you’ll appear, so I wait aimlessly

I need to go find you, go find you

Because if I cry right now, I might not be able to see you, so

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

Even after a tiring journey, with feet full of blisters and pain radiating through all of my sore body, still I ran tirelessly across every deserted street of the city wishing to be greeted by you when I arrived. But unlike its usual appearance everything was now dark, cold and silent, and most worrying, no trace of any kind of magic left behind. With only a few pained moans coming from outside, the cards seemed eerily silent now, apparently too scared to even reach out to me. Everything seemed to be the exact same if it wasn't for little heart wrenching details, like our teacups that would usually sit together on top of the counter and now laid broken on the floor, unreadable notes all over the table we used for readings, tangled white sheets and blood stains spread on the pillow cover. The world crumbled all around and my legs finally failed me, I gripped the soft fabric of the bed hoping that any sort of familiar scent other than death could still have been left behind, “No, no, no…please…this can't be real” were the only words echoing over and over in my thoughts as uncountable hours drifted by through the night. Exhaustion washed over me as the pitch black sky finally brightened outside and the first morning rays made their way across the room to my bloodshot eyes, the dawning of another day while the light of my life is no longer by my side felt like a sick joke played by destiny, and if that night I could have been able to be asleep even if for a single minute I would have hoped to never wake up again if that meant to live even a day without you.

This path that used to be familiar, now feels unfamiliar

Asking me once again if this is the path I know of

Could that person be looking for me?

I’m looking for you right now

The following days dreaded over me like a curse, working on the palace alongside Julian’s never ending laments, Nadia's countless complaints over her headaches and Lucio's profanities screamed over my ears about his worsening condition made the clock’s arms drag through the day. If you were here perhaps none of this would matter, maybe I wouldn't notice any of their remarks. As days pass by the cards still remain silent and I can't seem to connect with them anymore for a piece of me has been lost forever just like many other parts of myself, a piece I never thought would take so much of me. Now desperate to find a solution for this endless nightmare, once again just like a fool I find myself longing for the unknown and hoping for the uncertain.

Don’t play around, I know you’re there

It feels like you’ll appear, so I wait aimlessly

I need to go find you, go find you

Tears are building up and starting to blur my vision

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

In an unusual quiet morning at the palace the only sound around is Julian’s incoherent mutters as he scribbles on his notes like a mad man, after tapping his fingers on the edge of the table and running them through his disheveled hair he finally let out an exasperated sigh “Why did you like them so much?” with widened eyes the words took a while to process inside my head, he turned to me with his usual tired gaze only this time with a deepened sense of guilt “Sorry… this didn't really come out the way I wanted… I mean you’ve met so many people in this life, but you can't deny that you practically worshiped… them” for a brief moment my entire mind went black and suddenly for once in so long I finally felt a hint of your magic in the air “Why were they so special, Asra?” Julian asked. A forgotten memory took over my head and started playing right before my eyes, a faded afternoon after we were closing the shop, with already two cups of steaming hot tea on the table “Did you know I can do palm reading?” you said with a grin growing over your lips “Oh, you do?” concentrated while organizing the cards still I let out a chuckle, you took my hand into yours slowly tracing unknown patterns into it, following each line and bend, a faint magic started coursing through my veins coming from your addictive touch, your gaze finally met mine after bursting out in laughter. “You don't even know what you're doing, do you?” the clear sound of your laugh played over my ears like a heaven’s calling “You did fall for it, silly—”. Echoes of happier times slowly fade away as the scent of the cold tea in my hands makes its way to my nostrils, back to Julian's question that he expectantly waits for an answer, the only thing I can think of is “They made a really good tea”.

I’m alright (I’m not alright)

I don’t want to see you (I really want to see you)

I need to say it

These lies that don't even come from my heart

Unbearable days, endless hours and uncountable minutes have passed since you've been gone, yet our memories still repeat over inside my mind like a never ending dream, or perhaps a nightmare that lasts for an eternity. For weeks I’ve been looking into every book trying to find a way to bring you back. Lucio has been more restless than usual, muttering things under his shaky breath and whispering curses along the halls, matters of life and death. Days after, just like every other year, on the night of his birthday the count threw a magnanimous party for all the kingdom with feverish lights dancing upon the crowded streets of Vesuvia making the veil from dream and reality as thin as the finest linen from the eastern lands. That night he called all of us over for a feast with the finest meats and drinks of the kingdom, but in the blink of an eye the air started to get heavier while the other guest voices also got more distant by every minute, a familiar voice finally spoke to me “Well, well, well… I wasn’t expecting you to actually carry out with this mad plan Asra” the Magician’s voice finally echoed through my ears “I’m afraid it’s the only way for them to be saved” each breath burning over my lungs “Who do you want to save, them or yourself, Asra?” the smoke stings my eyes while a single teardrop traveled down my face reflecting the blazing flames before me “Please, just bring them back to me”.

But my heart won’t listen to these words as I thought

Come back, come back, come back

When half of me is gone, how can I live as one?

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

The memories of what happened that night now lay hidden among the many other secrets that support our lives. The morning after dawned upon me as if I drank every drop of wine on Vesuvia, with a light buzz on my head I still can feel the suffocating atmosphere lingering on my lungs, a dizzying sensation that takes over my sore body along with ancient voices that I’m far too familiar with, I believe the cards want to to you and upon a split second of enlightenment my feet lead me to the very woods that once held safe both of our laughter echoing through it. Blinded by hope and desperation I stand before the whimsical cave while hearing faint whispers calling me up to the depths of it, just like a string pulling my heart, I let myself be guided through its shadows grazing my hand on its damp colorful walls. Just like waking up from a fever dream I find myself standing in the middle of the water, luscious lights dance around my body when I finally grasp something that sends a slight sparkle of magic through my whole body. Among desperation and adoration our eyes at last meet again, tears go down my face and as much as I want to say a million things, I restrain myself to just hold you again in my arms and never let go of you.

I don’t wanna cry

When we see each other again

I don’t wanna cry

the images aren't mine! all rights reserved to © bianotbia 2024. please do not claim, translate, copy or modify any of my works as your own. reblogs are appreciated! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[flamboyant-king]

I'm trying to write out passing conversations/mundane moments that would fill in the days of Cammy and Harvey, because it's the little things that make up life. So here's what one day would be like, maybe it's nothing, but to them, it's everything.

(Harvey wakes up from a nightmare early morning and Cammy senses it from outside. Cammy flies into Harveys room to comfort him, transforming into their human form for maximum hug-ability)

Harv: It's happening...Camellia...

Cammy: (holds his hand)

Harv: Help me...come back...

Cammy: Do you remember what we did yesterday?

Harv: We were on a walk...you talked to a bird...

Cammy: Do you remember the kind of bird?

Harv: A blue one...which is different...I usually only see sparrows or...robins around here...haven't seen a crow in a while...

Cammy: What did the blue bird say?

Harv: Tweet?

Cammy: Oh, right. (Giggles)

Harv: Hehe...

Cammy: (caresses Harv's hand) The bird said an old man was giving her nice oats in the morning because she looked beautiful. But she looked beautiful all the time, so the man gave her oats every morning.

Harv: That's nice...do birds have teeth?

Cammy: I don't think they do.

Harv: We'll have to look that up later...

Cammy: In the bird's mouth?

Harv: (chuckle) No, like on the Internet.

Cammy: Oh, right. (giggles)

Harv: Thank you, Camellia. I think I'm getting there.

Cammy: Does that mean I can hug you now?

Harv: Not yet. Let's talk more.

Cammy: Are there any birds you used to see in the Philippines?

Harv: Ah...My family used to raise a couple chickens...they used to wake us up in the morning...I don't remember what happened to them. They either got stolen or we ate them.

Cammy: Huh!?

Harv: From what I remember...there used to be deadly cock fights where...they'd put the chickens against each other...stick blades to their feet and let them--

Cammy: Harveeeeyyy...

Harvey: Sorry...

(Harvey hugs Cammy in apology, but he needed that hug too. After holding the moment, Harvey assures Cammy he's alright and Cammy leaves through the bedroom door. Harvey does his morning routine and makes his way downstairs)

Cammy: The sky is clear and it looks very hot out, Harvey, perfect for lemonade and macarons! (Opens the sliding door)

Harv: We can take a few lemons...from the next neighborhood...

Cammy: Harveeeey, we can't just steal lemons, you told me not to do that!

Harv: They won't miss a couple lemo--

Cammy: EEP!

Harv: What?

Cammy: Someone fell on my head.

Harv: (takes a peek) Ah, it's a lizard...

Cammy: Oh dear, I hope they don't get stuck in there.

Harv: I got you. (Tries to pull out the lizard. The lizard crawls deeper into cammy's floof)

Cammy: That tickles, teehee~

Harv: Your hair is a forest of tangles...

Cammy: Its not tangles! It's curly! Ow!

Harv: My hand got stuck...(The lizard crawls out of Cammy's hair and onto Harv's arm) but the lizard is unstuck.

Cammy: That's good!

Harv: Camellia, would you like me to... comb your hair?

Cammy: Huh? Really? That's so nice of you~ Will you tell me any stories you have about lizards.

Harv: Here's one thing... (frees his hand from Cammy's hair) In the Philippines, we call them butiki. They would be all over...the inside of our house. (The lizard crawls off Harv's arm and onto the ground) I remember I would catch them...and put them outside.

Cammy: That's so nice of you~

Harvey: One time, I saw one fall into...our air conditioner...I heard many thumps and a whine...I think it died in there...

Cammy: Um-

Harvey: In the living room...we had a ceiling fan...and I remember sitting there and a few lizards crawled...onto the fan...so I turned on the fan...and watched them go flying.

Cammy: Harveeeeeyyyy...

Harvey: Sorry...I'll go grab a brush...sit right here.

Cammy: Grab some macarons too. (Lizard climbs onto cammy's arm)

Cammy: For me and the lizard. (A second lizard falls on cammy's head.)

Cammy: EEP!

(Harvey and cambly sitting on the back "porch", Harvey combing Cammy's hair with his fingers because the brush was hurting cammy's head.)

Harv: Your hair must be really long... if we straightened it.

Cammy: I don't know how you'd straighten it. It's naturally curly.

Harv: There's this heating device that...people use to flatten out hair so it's not...curly.

Cammy: I like my curly hair.

Harv: Your tangled hair?

Cammy: No, it's noooot.

Harv: Heh. Your hair is really soft... I don't really see you shower.

Cammy: Huh?

Harv: I mean, I'm not watching, but...do you use soap?

Cammy: Are you saying I'm smelly?

Harv: No, no. I'm just wondering cause...I thought soap is a human thing.

Cammy: I use oils and I bathe in my fairy form since it would take up less water and oil!

Harv: Makes sense. Oil really helps get rid of tangles...so I don't see why you have so many tangles.

Cammy: Harveeeeyyy!

Harv: Sorry, sorry.

Cammy: I like you messing with my hair, though. It's nice and calming on a beautiful day like this~

Harv: That's good. You can...mess with my hair later...if you want.

(a peaceful hour passes by)

Harv: The tangles are mostly gone...your hair is still curly.

Cammy: (bounces) Thank you Harvey, now it's my turn!

Harv: Okay...

Cammy: (stands up and kneels behind Harvey) Teehee, your hair is so soft.

Harv: Try not to get crumbs in there.

Cammy: I'm cleeean~ Your hair is as fluffy as mine~

Harv: That's surprising...I did shower this morning.

Cammy: Smells nice too~

Harv: Thanks...I was thinking I need to cut my hair soon...but not so short like when I was...

Cammy: Maybe a trim, so it's not so messy, but maybe just combing it back would make it more neat! (Pushes his hair back and looks at his face) See! Handsome~

Harv: Heh...I think I grew out my bangs to try and cover my scar...it's not like...a big deal now but I think unconsciously...that's what I did, but also just got lazy to take care of myself.

Cammy: If you ever find it hard to care for yourself, I'll take care of you. (Looks into Harvey's eyes and smiles)

Harv: ... (Harvey gazes back)

Harv: And I'll do the same for you.

(A lizard falls on Harvey's head)

Cammy: EEP!

(time passes, they tend to the garden, and come back home after a quick walk in the park)

Cammy: A beautiful day followed by a beautiful night!

Harv: It's late night barbeque weather.

Cammy: This sounds like it has a story attached~ Oh! (A firefly hovers by Cammy) A lightning bug!

Harv: I call them fireflies. Those little guys are a sign...of a true summer's eve.

Cammy: Hm~

(Enjoying the silence and the occasional firefly glimmer)

Harv: I believe it was high school...we would have parties at Tito and Tita's house...the backyard was big...enough for Eli to run around and stuff. The campfire and grill smoke kept the bugs away...from the food. But the front yard...that's where all the fireflies were. They were the only thing that lit up the yard...other than the stars. It felt like I was in the sky with the stars. (A firefly lands on Harvey's sleeve) It was magical.

Cammy: There is magic everywhere, Harvey. (Smiles)

Harv: Yeah...We tried catching the fireflies in plastic cups...just to see them up close. (The firefly leaves Harvey's sleeve.) But like always, the magic never lasts. (The firefly lands in cammy's hand.)

Cammy: Hello. (Cammy whispers to the firefly before it flies off.)

Harv: What did it say?

Cammy: It said "just one moment."

(More fireflies enter their backyard. Landing on the leaves of various plants, some land on cammy's hair and Harvey's shirt.)

Harv: I see now...

Cammy: I hope you don't try catching these ones, they were nice enough to show off.

Harv: Nah...some magic can't be contained.

Cammy: They can be if you have a really good jar. I should know, I've been in a few of them, teehee~

~~~

I wanted to draw this but ya know how it is with me, so it shall stay as words for now. I would love to see the firefly scene drawn out, but maybe one day~

[tgrailwar-zero]

Kukul… if you don’t mind me getting a little sober here, I’m going to be honest, I’m scared…

I’m scared of falling into the same pitfall that took ahold of us back when we were the Interloper…

From what we remember about our lives before everything went wrong, we were cold, bitter, we blamed all of our problems on others, we never wanted to admit we were wrong, and we ended up as what we were now because the Void Cell took advantage of all that to make us.

I don’t want to fall into that same pitfall again, I want to stop the titan, save what’s left of the Earth, and end the conflict of the Sun without sacrificing the innocents who live here like we used to do, but…

What happened with Charlemagne, the Assassins… I’m just scared of retracing the steps the Interlopers took and turning into them again…

I want to change, I’m sure lots of us do, I want to follow what Duryodhana said and have more confidence in ourselves… but if the beastmaster’s right and we end up relapsing then… how can we prove that we can be better?

I want to be better, we want to be better, we want to show all of you guys that we can be better, that we don’t have to be the Interlopers to make a change in this world, but I’m starting to worry that we’re only proving we’re just a weapon, and what good can we do then?

(What good comes from a weapon who clings onto its humanity?/What good comes from a weapon not wanting to be a weapon?)

"Fight me."

She gave an incredibly unreasonable demand with a completely serious face, without hesitation.

"If you act in the moment, then you don't doubt. If you don't doubt, then you can act in the moment."

She cracked her knuckles.

"Life shares information via contact. The roots of the plants, the feelings of the breeze, the warmth shared between the touch of bodies. Living beings are learning machines, and my particular type learns the best from physical contact."

She shot up higher in the air, her body beginning to shimmer.

"You'll see me, and I'll see you! We'll tangle, hot and heavy! You were formidable in the past- but power is nothing to be afraid of… and even if your minds don't remember, your body will! In other words, I'm giving you permission to be as rough as you want with me, okaaay~? I won't be holding back either~!"

You could tell she was serious, because you felt her pulling at your magical energy. A heat pulsed through your body, accompanied by the glow set off by her body. She shot up into the air, before gathering more and more magical energy. Like a beacon, shining above the towering hotel, she illuminated the dark night in shades of emerald and jade.

"I'll give you one picosec-- no, let's be nice! One nanosecond to decide! ¡Vamos a luchar! Let's go, Masters!"

Alright. Not the most time to make a decision, but...

[mangofresca]

zephyr | 18+

ii.

“We could leave, y’know.”

Romano startles, head turning over his shoulder as if he were searching for a spy, a conspirator. Sometimes, that’s not unlike how Portugal feels here, always a little too relegated to the outside for comfort, too close to the inside for tranquility or freedom.

He shakes the thought away, eyebrow raised in question at the only other person here who hasn’t exhausted him yet.

Romano’s eyes flick from his face to the windows, to the rain pelting the windowpanes, and he scoffs. “And do what? Get soaked?” His fingers tap the glass in his hand, and Portugal watches with muted disinterest as the wine rocks back and forth, back and forth, an ocean all its own, confined and confined and confined.

“Better than staying here.” Staying here and playing pretend with a government who can only just tell him and Spain apart, and Portugal doesn’t have the stomach anymore for the accent or the language or the face of it all.

Romano tsks, and, for some reason, this infuriates him, as if Romano is content to sit here and be lessened, nothing more than a jewel on a crown on a head who so blatantly picks favorites. Like they’re above it all, the two of them.

He turns, and he leaves, and he doesn’t care enough to see if anyone watches him go.

vi.

“That was–”

Portugal is already pushing up off the bed, flicking hair from his eyes. “Want a drink?”

“Obviously,” Romano snorts, but he sounds like he’s amused, and when Portugal turns around to look at him, all he can see is the way Romano’s lips curl around his teeth, how his cheeks look when he smiles.

ix.

Romano snores when he sleeps, raspy and rough, and when his hair falls in front of his eyes, his nose crinkles with the tickle of it, too deep in dreams to bother moving it away.

We shouldn’t be doing this, Portugal thinks, because things are messy, only getting worse, and he doesn’t understand how Romano doesn’t grow restless beneath a thumb that demands obedience, that is all too comfortable pressing down on the pulse of their throats, hard enough to feel it beating, not hard enough to choke.

“I wish this was easy,” he says instead, and his skin goes cold when he realizes he means it, green eyes already looking down at tanned legs tangled with his, errant curl brushing his collarbone.

He’s gotten used to that, too.

iv.

Portugal can see him on the docks again, hair just as windswept as that first time, waves falling over each other to brush against dark eyelashes, to curl into knots at his hairline.

Spain’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, smile tipping into something that more resembles a bridler than a brother. “You look like you’re thinking hard,” he says, and Portugal hears the warning in it like a bell tolling within his head. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” Portugal replies. The weight on his shoulder feels suffocating.

vii.

“We should have sex here,” Portugal says, out of the blue and apropos of nothing, voice hushed into a conspiratorial whisper when he leans himself into Romano’s ear.

Romano coughs, splutters, eyes narrowing when Portugal only grins at him.

“Not now, obviously,” he continues, because his brother is here, and his—their, because God forbid any of it is really his—government, too, and he isn’t stupid enough to try anything here, now.

Romano wipes the coughed wine from his lips, arm crossed over his chest as he settles back into the wall behind him. “Please,” he says, and he already sounds scandalized and petulant, “as if I’d settle for anything less than a bed. You think I’d let you fuck me on a settee? Not a chance.”

“I think,” Portugal replies, smiling, “you’d let me fuck you anywhere I want you to.”

Romano scoffs again, furious and blustering, but his shoulder brushes Portugal’s arm, and he doesn’t move it away.

v.

Lively doesn’t adequately describe it when it finally happens.

Romano has him pinned up against the library wall, holding Portugal’s wrists against hand-bound books and shelves which haven’t been dusted in God only knows how long, but all Portugal can think is how difficult it is, when kissing Romano, to push him away, to have him be the one pressed between linen and literature.

He manages, only just, and the heady, groaned gasp of surprise he receives pleasantly makes it worth his while.

x.

Portugal can see him on the docks again, hair wind-knotted and wild, exactly like it was that first time, exactly like the second, like every other time, every other time.

He can’t discern the expression on Romano’s face, too far away for detail, sunlight blinding on wave-crested waters, but he can see him turn around, see him walk away, back to that house and that voice and that hand and that crown.

He almost regrets leaving without a goodbye, but he knows, is certain in the knowledge, that expectation for their kind is the heartbeat of disillusionment, and he doesn’t have it in himself to be disappointed by someone so supine as to find comfort here.

Nothing ever gets resolved with avoidance and shame, but their arrangement never really did have room for much else, anyway.

iii.

He has a dream, then, that lingers worse than a bad hangover or a bloody wound. Maybe it’s years after their last conversation, or maybe it’s days, or maybe it’s hours; he can’t be bothered to keep track, not that their kind usually does when it comes to time.

(Hard. He wakes up hard, and that’s not how his dreams usually go—or, not the ones with Romano, at least.)

Romano was over him, or under him, maybe—not that it matters, because it doesn’t matter, not really. What matters is that Romano was close, breathing against his neck, sighing his name, and it’s—

It was slow, the way they moved. Tender, close.

Odd.

viii.

He’s gotten used to it—the way Romano’s voice hitches, goes taut, tight as his white-knuckled grip on pearl-hued sheets. He’s gotten used to it.

He’s gotten used to it.

i.

They meet officially, formally—and notably without supervision—on the docks of Almería, both windswept and water-worn, and it makes Portugal wonder how long Romano had been standing there for him to look like that, like he himself had blown in with the breeze of the ocean, side-swept bangs tangling into soft knots at his temples.

He is sure he himself is no better, likely worse—a ribbon can only do so much with the whipping winds that dance themselves through his sails—but he doesn’t bother brushing his hair from his face before approaching, grin ticking at the corners of his lips.

Romano blinks at him, hazel eyes owlish before settling into something calmer, almost bored. “Oh,” he says, “it’s you.”

Portugal smiles and tips his head. “Hello,” he replies. Always best to start with hello.

[kidrauhlschik]

4. Tangled Memories - Lee Know AU

Post Traumatic Amnesia (PTA) is a transient state of confusion, disorientation and memory loss that occurs immediately following a traumatic brain injury. PTA is sometimes also referred to as post traumatic confusional state and can occur from the moment of injury until the return of continuous memory.

The accident was a tragedy.

But it was the best tragedy to ever happen to you.

-

-

Final Part - See pt 1, 2, & 3 on the Masterlist linked above

Warnings: angst, f!reader, enemies to lovers, drunk driving, gaslighting, Fighting, yelling, cursing, angst, heartbreak, lies, angst, accidents, not proofread, minho is mean, lmk if I missed anything!!

Words: 2.2k

-

You find the note the next morning and immediately crumple it up and throw it in the trash. Since when has Minho been so sentimental and needy?

You can understand that he's over whatever rivalry he two of you used to have, but you're not. Up until the day before, you thought Minho was good, perfect even, but opening your eyes and remembering all of the awful things he's made you deal with made things so much different.

For starters, you can't believe that you trusted him. He's just as manipulative and sneaky as he's always been. He took advantage of your vulnerable state and made you depend on him. He would have been okay with you dying that day and all of the sudden he's not.

Yet, he also coaxed you down from your panic attacks, he made sure to always available for when you needed him, he stayed with you around the clock when you were injured. Thing is, you wouldn't have gotten injured if it wasn't for him.

The back and forth is overwhelming so instead of pondering on the fact you go to check your phone, which probably made things even worse.

Chris: He told me. Im so sorry. Its all my fault.

Innie: Wanna talk? I heard what happened.

Seungmin: I can't believe you didn't tell us you were remembering stuff.

Hyunjin: I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark. We need to talk.

Lix: Hey wanna come over? I can make us brownies and we can talk things out.

Changbin: Are you okay?

Jisung: Minho is really sorry. I am too. We all are. Can we talk it out?

Chris: Please?

Not wanting to deal with everything right now, you shut your phone off and begin your day. It's time to clean up and enroll in classes again. You should probably catch up with your other friends as well, you'd been very distant because you were always hanging out with Minho. It's best to keep busy and avoid thinking about that snake.

Tragically, as snakes would have it, Minho manages to slither his way inside your thoughts on a regular basis for the next month. As much as you hate it, you couldn't help seeing him in everything. He was in your sheets, in your kitchen, next to you on the couch, in the park, in the flowers, and in the sunset. Everything reminded you of him, every version of him, the bad and the good, and you're not sure which one you prefer.

Classes were to start in a week, through your circumstances, the school was able to let you enroll late to your classes, but you were now a year behind. There's so much to catch up on, yet your brain allows something to distract you from your studies, and that something is always Minho. He hasn't made an effort to make contact with you, which reassures you that whatever he had going on was all made up in his head. Maybe it was all a moment of hysteria.

The hysteria felt awfully real to you though. You can't help but doubt yourself and ask if the sleezy, ignorant, cold Lee Minho actually felt something for you, or if you felt something for him. That's why it's better to keep busy rather than to sit and ponder.

Chris: Wanna come over? It'll just be me and Jisung :)

You had forgiven the guys awfully quickly for your predicament. You could see why they'd put Minho in that situation in a moment of anger, they didn't even know that you were remembering your past, and although you wished they would have stepped up more to impede the shit show that happened with Minho, you can tell that they're sorry. They're your best friends after all, but you were still keeping them at an arms distance for the time being. Except for Hyunjin. He always encouraged you to chase after Minho and you couldn't help but too feel betrayed at that. No one else pushed you into his arms but Hyunjin did, and who knows? Maybe if he hadn't, you could've remained civil with Minho instead of playing house.

When you walk inside of Chan's dorm, the smell of warm pizza welcomes you like a warm hug.

"Hey! How are you?" Jisung asks from the couch beside Chan.

"I'm good, thank you." You offer a small smile in return as you take off your coat to lay it on the nearest clean, flat surface.

The place is a mess, there a cups everywhere, the trash is overflowing, and the entire floor had become a laundry basket. "I don't keep you guys in check for a year and all of the sudden your place becomes a pigs den?" You laugh while sprawling yourself on Chris' couch, throwing your legs over Jisung.

"Hey! It wasn't us, it was -" Jisung gets cut off by Chan discretely pinching his leg under the blanket. The younger winces but remains silent.

"Yeah, Jisung's been a mess lately." Chris smiles apologetically.

"Haha. Yeah, sorry." Jisung adds.

You couldn't help but feel as if they were hiding something, but before you could question them, the front door swings open.

"Jisung. What the hell do you want? I was in the middle of practice." The second Minho spots you, he freezes like he did before. Loss for words, he just stares at you as if he'd seen a ghost. He wants to walk out and get as far away from you as he can, but he also wants to run up to you and hold you in his arms. He wants to apologize over and over again, he wants to beg for your love, but he knows better than to think that you'd accept him.

You immediately hop off the couch, quickly on guard, wishing that he wasn't standing in front of you. Seeing him in your memories was very different than seeing him in real life. He looked thinner, tired, and restless. The Minho you had been seeing for the past year looked happy and healthy. Now he was drowning in his hoodie, his hair was messy, and his expression read exhaustion. You couldn't help the worry that seeped its way into your brain.

"What are you doing here?" You ask.

"I live here." Still staring at you in shock, unfortunately, it seemed that he'd gotten even better at hiding his emotions.

"What about your place?"

"I got kicked out for not maintaining the place while I lived with you."

Was he implying that this was your fault?

"You never had to live with me in the first place." An argument. Something you were both so used to, now caused an ache in both of your chests. Your words catch at the base of your throat, and Minho doesn't even have the energy to argue.

Minho finally takes his eyes off of you, scanning the area, looking at the mess he'd made at his friends dorm. The past month had been hell for him. He kept on beating himself up anytime he had a second alone with his thoughts. The only good thing he had done since he left your place was joining the school's dance team, hoping that doing something he enjoyed could take his mind off of you. He was wrong. Every time he showed up to practice, he remembered that you were the only reason he was doing this, not giving up on his dream. He was undereating and overworking himself to the bone, which was not the healthiest coping mechanism but the other option was to rot away in the couch.

He nods and makes a move to turn away, leaving the dorm again.

"Don't walk away Lee Minho!" He pauses his steps but doesn't turn around.

"You wanted me to leave."

"It's not that easy! I don't know what I want okay? I'm in shambles. I want you to leave, but I want you to come back right after. I want you to cry but it hurts to see you in pain. I trust you but I hate you. Worst of all I love you, but I don't even know what's real anymore." You throw your arms up in desperation, not even realizing that Jisung and Chris had left the area long ago. "I just want to know what's real."

Minho finally turns to look at you with an expression that can best be read as indignation. Or was it desperation?

"You want to know what's real? The real thing is that I want to know every part of you, every scar, every bruise, I want to trace the map of you! All of you and every thing about you. My fingers a compass, and your freckles the constellations that I will chart in my heart. That way, when I close my eyes I'll have you in my stars forever, because guess what? You're already in everything else! You're in the sun, in the air, and in my reflection. I'm drowning in the memory of you and the worst part is that I can't even see you!" Minho walks towards you but you stay frozen in place.

"It's never been the way you looked, it was always the way you were. You were like me, both broken and angry. It wasn't until I saw you behind the walls and I was able to see you bare. I would have fallen in love with you with my eyes closed, but I never could because we never allowed each other the chance. You told me that you didn't want to be the shell of who you are, so why can't you let yourself be happy?" He's face to face with you know, a mere couple of feet apart. He was no longer loud, but more so calm. His plea turning into a confession.

"From the moment I saw you making a fool of yourself in that park, I knew that you were worth the broken heart. Finish breaking my heart, and you'll find yourself inside. I'm sorry, but I'll never find the right words for you. You are my everything, always, and even that is not enough."

"Minho stop." Somewhere in the middle of his speech, your eyes decided to betray you and tears were now freely streaming down your face.

"I'm glad I found you, the real you, because before you, I never knew what to wish for. Want me to be honest?" He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm terrified of letting you in. I'm scared to see myself more clearly through your eyes, wondering if I'm good enough. I already lost you, but the truth is that not having you scares me more than all the other truths of love. So please, look at me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not being real right now."

He's mere inches away from you, searching for an answer on your face.

So many thoughts but no clear answer runs through your mind, you're just overwhelmed by his confession, the situation, his mere presence, is not letting you think clearly whatsoever. So you break eye contact and make a bee line for the door. While holding the door knob, you stop and say your last words.

"Sorry Minnie."

Minnie.

The one term of endearment that Minho allows to give him hope.

-

Of course on the first day of class you'd be running late. You hated being late and the stress of studying is weighing heavy on your shoulders. How could the morning be any worse?

Luck is a funny thing though. Just when you think things couldn't get worse, they always do.

You bump into someone that simply continues walking, making you drop all of your notecards and papers on the floor. You immediately bend down to begin collecting everything, but there is so much going on around you. People playing around, others trying to find a seat, and more reuniting with their friends after the summer. So much people, so many noises, this is why you're never late to anything. The stress begins to build even more, to the point where your hands begin to shake, needing to move faster in order for you to find your own seat.

His hand comes out of nowhere. Body shoving away the people that were stepping on your stuff, rushing to pick everything up to help you. He hands everything he collected in a neat pile and you cautiously take it. He then turns to the nearest desk on his left, grabbing two coffees and handing you one.

"Hey, I'm Lee Minho. Looks like we're in the same class. Wanna sit together?"

Starting from where you left off was messy, but maybe starting from the beginning wouldn't be so bad. It will take time, but it might be worth it. If everything was real, it will definitely be worth it and more.

"I'm Y/N. I'm down, but I have to warn you, I can be a bit mean at times."

He laughs and hovers a hand on your lower back to guide you to the two empty seats next to each other.

"I wouldn't change that for the world." He gives you a small smile that could also be a smirk. He had the audacity to be cocky?

Despite that, you can't help the little ray of sunshine that warms you from the inside.

“I hope you mean that Lee Minho.”

“I always mean what I say.”

-

A/N: okay, i am not in love with the ending but honestly if it was up to me, i would've ended it on the last chapter. I'm trying something new w happy endings. Thank you so much for reading!!

TAGLIST: @stanstraykidsskz @weareapackofstrays @linos-kitten @cassidymb121

[pansy-picnics]

How would the tangled kids react to Varian and Cassandra’s villain arc? Also I love your art 😊

AJDJDJDGG OKAY SO. this is SO fucking good but ive been putting it off for so long bc i wanted to draw something to go with it but i’ve just. never figured out what so inevitably i’m just gonna answer it on its own

this subject in particular is SO FUNNY for me to think about bc i think the kids’ reactions depend a lot on how their parents talk abt it and both of them handle it in COMPLETELY different ways. like uknighted dream is pretty open abt it (obviously they give the incredibly watered down kid-safe version) and they kinda use it as a learning experience? like in very vague terms.

its kinda just like

alina: oh why are you and mama cass fighting in your drawing :(

rapunzel: <:) well yknow how if you shake a bottle of soda, when you open it it explodes everywhere?? well sometimes when we bottle up our feelings and don’t do anything with them or talk to someone we trust, they end up getting all shaken up in there, and eventually theyll explode! mama cass and i used to have a lot of trouble talking about our feelings, and because of all those emotions that got bottled up and shaken around in there, we found it hard to properly communicate with each other at all. but then we realized how much we really cared about each other and how we really wanted to make things work, so we learned to be more honest about how we felt and how to communicate with one another without everything just ‘exploding’, so to speak. and thats why we always teach you how to manage your big emotions, does that make sense? :)

on the other hand VARIAN? literally could not care less. at least not with the ud kids. he still has one of his wanted posters that hugo grabbed as a “souvenir” on their trip, and the automaton he used to fight rapunzel? its still in the corner of his lab and he pulls it apart regularly for scrap metal.

ryder will be wandering around his lab when hes like 7 and hes like “uncle vari whats that”

varian: that’s an automaton buddy

ryder: did you make it?

varian: yeah

ryder: what’s it for

varian: well nothing now it’s just spare parts. but i actually made it a long time ago to fight your mom

ryder: which one

varian: both actually. and technically your dad. but mostly rapunzel

ryder: oh

ryder: did you win?

varian: no it wasnt really that kind of fight. nobody won

ryder: oh that’s boring

ryder: can i try it

varian: absolutely not

when emery comes along though varian is like “okay we are Never addressing this again” bc em thinks varian is SO cool and varian actually cares So much about his newfound image. (very stupid of him for that to be his main priority obviously bc emery is like 4 and if she knew what he did she would probably just be like “okay. can i have apple juice”)

anyways yeah ilmari and the twins don’t really tell her anything either because they don’t really see it as anything worth telling her about, especially in comparison to way more important things like the fact that lance will sometimes sneak you dessert before dinner if you can convince eugene he has a gray hair without him catching on. so obviously emery grows up fairly unaware of anything varian has done but the defining factor is that shes constantly hearing about it out of context and is just left to struggle with that enigma.

like you know the experience of being like 14 years old at the family thanksgiving and you get to sit at the grown ups table for the first time and hear about all their weird beef and inside jokes and also hear your aunt mention out of context that hey your dad went to prison once bc that’s LITERALLY what the tangled kids experience in relation to their parents’ pasts. like the twins forgot about most of what varian told them by the time they grew up, they knew the watered down version of what happened with cass but they never knew the little details right. so they’ll just be hanging out playing checkers together while the adults are sitting across the room chatting over drinks and varian jokes “oh man its just like that one time cass kidnapped me” and all the kids immediately whip their heads around like “WHAT?”

this is ESPECIALLY true with emery who’s parents are notorious for having more insults for each other than pet names. em could just be reading by the fireplace late one night and var and hugo come out for a midnight snack and just start talking like

hugo: sometimes i think maybe objectively we should be evil again. like just for fun

varian: honestly. i took over the kingdom once i could do it again no problem

hugo: you’re probably actually strong enough to do it yourself now 🥺

varian: you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

emery: ….right so are we just gonna brush over the “again” part or did you guys forget i was here

varian also eventually realizes that by doing this he is replicating EXACTLY how quirin used to be secretive of his own past and how like one day varian just suddenly had to grapple with the knowledge that his dad who baked pies and fed the apple peels to his raccoon probably had a kill count. and obviously varian is absolutely distraught over this revelation

“HUGO HELP ME. I think im becoming my dad” “oh. well hey it happens to all of us it could be worse. besides your dad is hot so like i see it as a win win” “What” “what?”

i should probably also mention that ilmari knew about cass’s villain arc long before they even MET and ilmari actively tries to use this against her when they’re like 13. like “yeah well you cant tell ME what to do i’m gonna tell alina and ryder you tried to stab mom when you were in your 20s” (it doesn’t work btw)

[whumpasaurus101]

Sidekick Whumpee x Hero Whumper pt 10

okay lets ignore the fact that i havent updated this story for...LIKE A YEAR??? oh my days- ANYWHO GYUHJHKDJHD I'm back with my mojo LETS DO THIS WOOO

Cw: Blaming self / Guilt / past character death reference / its more ouchy hurt than pain HUIJDGHKDHJ

Previous / Masterlist

---

Once Medic had convinced Villain to lie down for a few minutes, they made their way back into the room before freezing. Sidekick was curled into a ball, hugging their knees close to their chest as they rocked back and forward. Medic cursed under their breath, rushing to kneel by Sidekick’s side, “Heyhey Sidekick, look at me.” 

Sidekick sobbed out, shaking their head quickly, “‘s a-all my fault! Why the hell did you come after me!?!?!!?” They roared, “I was fine, I was able to put up with the pain-” They couldn't help the sobs that ripped from their throat, “And now someone died because of me!!!”

Medic looked at them, their eyebrows furrowed as they let out a sigh, “Oh Sidekick…” They gently pulled Sidekick close to them, “It's alright kid, I’ve got you, alright? Nothing is going to happen to you or us.” 

Sidekick sobbed, their fingers tangled in Medic’s shirt- their knuckles white. 

Medic softly shushed them, their hand running through the other’s hair, “Let’s get you to bed, just so your stitches don't get ruined or anything from being down here, okay? I’ll make us some food soon.” They gently brushed back a curl that was covering Sidekick’s eye, “You look exhausted.”

Sidekick gulped and nodded, sniffling as they wiped their face with their arm. 

Medic brought Sidekick to the guest room, they gave them a soft oversized hoodie -which Sidekick was very grateful for- before Sidekick relaxed into the bed. Just as Medic went to leave, they felt a gentle tug at their wrist. When they turned around, they saw Sidekick, looking up through their long eyelashes;

“Can.. can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Medic’s face softened and they nodded, “Of course, hun. They gently sat over the duvet, right beside Sidekick who’s eyes fluttered closed. Medic’s fingers carded through Sidekick’s hair, gently scratching their scalp. They felt the other relax under their touch, a smile on their face before they took out their phone. They texted Teammate, telling them the situation and asking for them to sort out the body. 

Once the message was sent, they let out a shaky breath before searching up to see if there were any nice hotels nearby.

Villain lay on their bed, heart aching. Their eyes were more or less glazed over, staring at the ceiling. They closed their eyes shut tight before opening them again. This is not what Henchman would like, Henchman told them to take care of Sidekick and that's what they had to do.

Just as they sat up, Meic entered the room; they both chuckled. “Hey,” Medic smiled. 

Villain shakily smiled back, “Hey.”

“So uhm, I figured it might be a nice change of scenery if we stayed a night or two at a hotel. Just the three of us.”

Villain’s eyes widened, “I-you- I mean, s-sure! But only if you let me pay.”

“Oh you're hilarious, cmonnnnn, let me treat you!!!” 

Villain chuckled, “Damn you, you know I can’t resist your puppy dog eyes.”

Medic giggled, smiling proudly, “Cmon, pack your stuff!!! I’ll get mine and Sidekick’s things in a bag.”

Villain nodded and Medic turned to leave.

“H-hey, Medic?”

Medic hummed, turning around to meet eyes with Villain who smiled, chewing on the inside of their own cheek before speaking, “Thank you, for…for everything.”

Medic smiled, walking over and hugging the villain, “Of course, it's the least I could do.” 

Villain shook their head, “It- it's not…it’s… well, it's more than anyone except for Henchman has done for me.”

Medic smiled a teary smile, cupping Villain’s cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead, “You deserve to be looked after, Villain. You get no credit for looking after this city, someone needs to look after you…”

---

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