#this is what really happened change my mind

[a-drawship]

Hello!!! I just wanted to say that Teresa is absolutely adorable and has an INSANE amount of patience to be in that line of work, especially with Bill! For that I tip my metaphorical hat to her. I normally don’t like bugs or creatures like that (mandibles…) but Teresa makes me change my mind!!! Would def hang out with her if I could. Coffee break for the girlieeee!

Love your art, can’t wait to see what happens next!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! THIS IS SO SWEET, I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!! ✨️💞💞💞✨️💞

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 3)

Agatha and you have a talk about the future

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 69, oral, smut, angst (hopefully not as much), why would you ever talk about feelings/problems when you could just fuck instead

“What? What part?” you ask, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “If it’s the City, it’s fine, that’s not far away, you could even stay here.” 

Agatha purses her lips. “It’s in Albany.” 

Your stomach drops. Two hours away by car on a good day, about four by train. Agatha has a pitiful look on her face and you want to scoff. 

Of course she’s feeling sorry for you. 

“Honey,” she starts, cool and calm as ever and it makes you fucking enraged. She reaches out to touch you again — why does she keep trying to do that? why doesn’t she realize that she isn’t going to fix anything? — but you shove her aside and scramble off the couch, beginning to pace with your head in your hands. 

Is this better than the affair? She still lied to you. She still didn’t tell you about it, she’s still looking to get out. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, pausing to look at her. 

Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t — I didn’t want to before it got real. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go, but my friend reached out and it’s a really good opportunity. The company took me out to dinner last night as an informal interview and I ended up staying the night. I didn’t think you’d come here, I thought you were mad at me or something. Baby, I was really worried about you.” 

In any other situation, you’d feel touched by her concern, but it really just pisses you off even more. This isn’t about you. “I thought you were having an affair,” you say again and her face falls. 

“I would never—”

You don’t even want to hear it. “Look, don’t change the subject, okay? The point is, you did this huge thing without even telling me and now — what? You’re moving to New York?” 

Now she seems unable to meet your eyes, an uncharacteristic shyness radiating off her. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

Your mind starts to whirl with the possibilities. “If you get it, are you going to take it?” 

There’s a thick silence that hangs over you two for a moment and you can see the vein in her forehead pulse as she thinks about it. But her hesitation is all the answer you need. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You don’t even know where your head is at — you’re so fucking mad, but you’re also so relieved that she isn’t cheating, but then now there’s this wrench that could possibly mean the end of things. You’re not going to let that happen. Dropping to your knees in front of her and finally touching her of your own accord with your palms flat on her legs, you earnestly look at her. “We can…we can figure it out, we will figure it out. I can come down on the weekends or you can come here or — I can transfer! I’ll transfer to somewhere in New York and we can get an apartment, just the two of us, and obviously I won’t be much help with the rent because it’s expensive as shit there—”

Agatha pulls you up by your cheeks and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose yourself in the feeling of her lips against yours and you moan softly, everything slipping away for just a moment. In these five seconds, it’s just the two of you and nothing else can come between you. 

But then she breaks away and sighs heavily, resting her forehead against yours. “You just started school here,” she says gently. “I can’t make you give that up. Don’t you like it?”

You shrug lazily. “It’s the first week. I’m not too attached. I’m sure somewhere there will be just as good.” 

“What about your parents? What would you tell them?” 

Why does it feel like she doesn’t want you there? You can’t help the frown tugging on your lips. “I’ll just say that I don’t like it at Westview. I’m sure I can come up with something. They’ll just want me to be happy.” Agatha makes you happy, but there’s a flicker of doubt growing in your stomach.

She cups your cheek and leans back so you’re able to see her eyes. They’re blue as the ocean, full of emotion, and glassy. “Why don’t you give it a few months, hm? I don’t want you to throw away your school and your family just for me. If you really don’t like it, then we can talk.”

“What if I just drop out of school and become your trophy wife? I’ll be such a good one, I’d wear nothing but an apron all day and make your favorite foods and then I can sit on your strap while you eat dinner.” You play it off like a joke, but deep down, you would be more than willing. You hope she says yes. 

Agatha huffs out a laugh and sniffs, tracing a finger down the skin of your face like she’s trying to memorize it. “Wear a short little maid outfit that just happens to ride up and show off your bare cunt when you’re on your knees cleaning the floor?” 

You hum and close your eyes in pure bliss at the thought. “See, now you get it. It would be so perfect, right? 

“So perfect,” she agrees, but her smile lingers until it’s wistful. There’s a longing pang inside you, one that threatens to tear you open, but you push it down. “I know I haven’t gotten it yet, but I won’t take it,” she says quietly after a moment and your brows furrow in confusion. “If you don’t want me to take it, I won’t.” 

Every single morsel of your body is screaming for you to ask her to stay. It would be so easy, and then you could just pretend that none of this — the suspicion, the lies, the sneaking around — never happened. Everything could go back to the way it was before. 

But the slightest fear that she would start to resent you for it creeps into the back of your mind. Sure, she might not mind at first, but over time when her job here gets old and she’s unhappy, she’s going to blame you. She’s going to start to hate you for holding her back, and what if you’re not worth it? 

The last thought hits you like a punch to the gut. Are you enough to keep her content if she stays? Are you enough to keep her happy? 

You’re paralyzed and she’s looking at you expectantly, like it’s an easy fucking decision. You want to complain that it’s not fair for her to put this on you, that she should want to be with you so badly that she willingly gives up the new position for you, but maybe she’s having the same doubts.

The only thing you know is that you don’t want to end up like your parents, with a loveless marriage and a cold, empty house despite the family living in it and the bitter silence of words left unsaid haunting every moment. You don’t want this to become an open wound that festers until Agatha hates you for it. 

“If it’s a better job and if you want it, you should take it,” you say, almost surprised by how eerily calm your voice sounds. 

Agatha looks taken aback for just the slightest moment but nods. “You’re sure?” 

No! Stay with me! I fucking love you! 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she bends down to kiss you again, so sweetly that it hurts. She murmurs something against your lips but you don’t even think to ask what she says because you can’t stop the nausea climbing up your throat. 

You jump back and run to the bathroom before vomiting in the toilet. You sink to the floor, shaking and sweating and trembling, and you’re vaguely aware of Agatha’s hands in your hair, holding it back, and telling you that everything is going to be alright. Is it?

She gets a wet washcloth and holds it against your head while you don’t move from your position, waiting to see if you have to puke again. 

“Had too much to drink last night,” you mutter, feeling like you’re drunk all over again, when she asks if you’re feeling okay. “Thought you were cheating.”  

You hear a heavy sigh behind you and tears prick your eyes. Is she disappointed? Does she think you’re being just a stupid kid? “I wouldn’t, honey. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I—” She stops and strokes your hair instead.

It feels like there’s something she’s not saying, but maybe you’re just reading into it. 

And then there’s your I love you while she was fucking you, still fresh in your mind. Do you say it again? Do you ask if she heard it? Or just wait until she says it first?

If she does. You can’t get these stupid insecurities and doubts out of your mind and it’s killing you. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” she asks gently and you shake your head. “Come on, why don’t we get you into the shower and then into bed?”

You want to protest just to be petulant, but you’re just so fucking tired. “Okay, mommy,” you say and she sharply inhales, but pretends to be unaffected. Good to know that you can still get to her after you look like you’ve just been through hell. 

She turns the water on and you numbly wait until she guides you up and helps you undress before you step into the shower. You almost buckle to the ground but Agatha holds you up, the sleeves of her blazer getting soaked, but she doesn’t even notice it. 

It’s an awkward position, her on the outside of the tub and you barely standing up inside it, but she rubs your skin and you slowly feel warmth returning to your body. 

You’re about to ask if she’ll get in with you — you see the way she can’t stop looking at your tits and you’re suddenly longing to feel her on you, a reminder that she is yours — when a phone rings. 

Definitely not yours; your phone is always on silent. 

Agatha curses and tells you she’ll be right back before disappearing from the bathroom. The cold feeling starts to grow back in your stomach, creeping up to your throat and gripping tightly. 

“Yes — this is she!” you hear her say from the other room, her voice getting louder as she comes back into the bathroom. You look at her with wide eyes and she gives you a tight smile. “Oh, I did? Well, thank you very much, that is wonderful news.”

The person on the other line starts talking and you can only catch quick muffles of it, but from Agatha’s face, you already know. 

“Of course, yes, hang on just one second,” she says and presses her phone against her shoulder to give you her full attention. Eye contact with her feels like a stab to the gut. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this? You can say no.” 

Can you? 

It’s on the tip of your tongue — it would be so easy to ask her to turn it down, so easy to ask her to choose you. She’s waiting for an answer but each drop of water on your skin feels like a chant: no. no. no. You know Agatha’s trying to remain neutral, but you can tell she wants the job, by the way she’s twitching her fingers and the barely concealed pleading look on her face and the way she’s holding her phone so tightly it’s making her veins pop out all bluish and purplish. 

It’s clear that you cannot say no. 

You’re not sure she would ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you would ever forgive yourself. You can’t ask her to throw away this opportunity, not for you. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say hoarsely, feeling a lot like you just signed a death warrant. 

But plenty of people do long distance, and two hours really isn’t that bad. Plus it just means that with all the waiting, the sex will be even hotter. Her moving away doesn’t mean anything. 

And you can transfer at the end of the semester, so really you just have to make it a few months. 

Agatha’s beam is one of pure gratitude and you know you made the right choice, but she’s back to talking on the phone and your little moment is interrupted. “Oh…two weeks? Of course, I can totally do that.” 

A flash of panic bolts through you and you mouth two weeks? at her. She purses her lips and shrugs apologetically, like that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

The rest of her phone call is blurred out by your sudden inability to hear anything but the rush of the water that has suddenly become so loud it’s taken over all your thoughts and you don’t even realize that she’s hung up and cleaned you off and gotten you out of the shower until you’re shivering and naked and Agatha’s wrapping a towel around you. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs because you’re now uncontrollably shaking and you think you might be crying a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks and nose, muttering the same sort of sentients, while the towel around you slips to the floor when you throw your arms around her and cling to her like she’s your lifeline, like she’s everything you’ll ever need, and she holds you back so tightly you think you might fuse into one being. 

The two of you stand there like that until your skin gets clammy and pruney and your eyes are raw. When you finally pull back, your muscles ache and the front of Agatha’s clothes are absolutely soaked, so you tug on them until she gets the message and begins to strip. 

Her blazer comes off, and then she untucks her blouse from her pants and slowly begins to unbutton it, each time revealing more of her perfect pale skin. You can see the faint outlines of her ribs and then her stomach, the red bites from two days ago still there, albeit faded. 

There’s no mistaking the “M” though. A hot thrill runs through you despite the solemn air between you and a fire starts to flicker to life in your stomach. You reach out to trace your mark as if in a trance and Agatha’s breath hitches. 

Swallowing roughly, your eyes dart up to meet her already-dark ones. “We should talk about the job, right? Figure out what it means for us?” you ask, but even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the atmosphere shift into something else. 

“Right,” Agatha nods, but she can’t stop looking down at your pebbled nipples — from the cold or from her? 

When she surges forward, clasps your cheeks, and pulls your mouth to hers, you know that it’s both. The kiss is messy, teeth knocking against each other and her tongue invading your mouth and breathing each other’s air, and you wrap your arms around her neck to bring her even closer. She didn’t get to take her pants off yet, but it feels absolutely delicious when she slides a thigh between yours and you grind down onto it. Your nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and you can’t help but moan into her open mouth. 

Fire roars beneath your skin, spreading to all over your body, and you suddenly just need more. You need her to overwhelm all your senses until you can’t fucking think about anything else, not the job, not her moving, not the fact that you could’ve stopped this but didn’t — you just want her. 

She grabs onto your hip to guide you against her leg and you whine as she sucks on your tongue. Her other hand comes up to cup your right breast and roll your nipple and you mewl and jerk against her. She tugs and it feels directly connected to your cunt because you pulse and it only gets worse when she flexes her thigh underneath you. 

“Bed — bedroom, please,” you choke out and her mouth doesn’t leave yours, walking you backwards into the bedroom and not stopping until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

Agatha pushes you down onto it, the duvet beneath you instantly getting wet from your dripping pussy, and she shimmies off her pants and underwear and sinks to her knees in front of you. It’s a sight to behold, her looking up at you from the floor like she wants to devour you, like she would hang the stars and the sun in the sky for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. The power running through you from the heat in her eyes and the ragged heaving of her red chest and the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder is enough to drive you mad. 

“You’re so perfect,” she breathes and it only makes you wetter. You buck your hips against the bed, trying to get some stimulation to your now-aching clit, but it’s not even close to enough. 

But it’s not even five seconds later when she leans in, inhales the scent of you deeply, and then drags her flattened tongue through your folds, making you keen and arch your back. She is so good with her mouth and she never fails to remind you. 

“Fuck, Agatha,” you gasp, and you usually don’t call her by her name during sex, normally opting for mommy, but you need the intimacy right now. You need to feel like this is real. 

She groans into you and teases her tongue around your clit, never quite touching it, and you bury your fingers in her hair and gently pull on it. Her eyes flick up to yours as a warning and you loosen your grip. Agatha gives you an almost imperceptible nod and rewards you with one long lick to your clit and your head falls back. 

You can no longer hold yourself up when she thrusts her tongue inside you, and you fall back onto the bed, instantly clenching around you. She feels so fucking good, her tongue curling inside your cunt and her nose brushing against your clit, and you angle a leg up on the bed so she can reach deeper inside you. “God, yes,” you sigh, and your orgasm is slowly starting to build up with each roll of your hips and each time your stomach tightens. 

But something is missing — you can’t help your thoughts from straying and you just need more. 

So you stop her and she looks up at you, the entire bottom half of her face and nose absolutely covered with you. Your clit throbs and you sit up.

“I need — I want — wanna taste you too, Aggie,” you whine and you’ve never used that nickname before, but you think she likes it because she lunges up, capturing your lips with hers again, and knocking you straight back onto the bed. 

She nods while still kissing you, whispering, “Fuck, honey, how are you so hot? How are you so perfect for me?” 

You clench around nothing and you claw at her shoulder blades frantically, knowing what you need but not how to ask for it. 

But Agatha knows — she always knows what you want, except for when it really counts apparently. She gets off of you and scooches on her knees until she’s situated behind your head, facing your body. And then she moves to frame your face with her thighs, her glistening cunt hovering right above your face, and she bends over to pry your legs open before leaning down and sucking on your clit roughly. 

You squirm and palm her ass to pull her down to your mouth, and at your first lick through her folds, she moans right into you, the vibrations making you jump. Eating her out while also being eaten out is an experience like no other you’ve ever had. Every single thing you do to her affects her, which in turn, affects you. 

The positive feedback loop has both of you sloppily mouthing at each other’s cunts, mimicking motions while also losing all sense of rhythm, and when she digs her fingernails into your thighs and scrapes her teeth against your clit, you let out a high-pitched sound that has her riding your face furiously. 

Agatha is getting louder too — you can feel it more than hear it, and you are completely drunk on her smell and her taste and how good she’s making you feel. You dip your tongue into her entrance, stroking against her convulsing walls before swirling around her clit and she pauses what she’s doing for a moment to just breathe heavily against your pussy before diving back in. 

All thoughts of anything else are completely out of your foggy mind and you feel like you’re floating, not able to focus on anything else besides Agatha. 

If you would’ve known that your dad having an affair would have led to you having the hottest sex with the hottest woman ever, you definitely wouldn’t have been so mad about it. 

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so good,” she says into your cunt and it only makes you grind up harder. She matches your intensity, riding your face fast, her clit dragging against your tongue. You groan in agreement and her stomach glides against your nipples while hers do the same and you know that it won’t be long before either of you cum. 

She nips at your inner thigh before plunging her tongue inside you and it has your hips bucking. “Fuck — Agatha,” you cry, barely able to keep eating her out because of how stimulated you are. Pleasure is racing through every ridge of your body and your head is spinning. 

“That’s right, honey,” she pants, lathering her tongue all over your clit. “Cum for me.” 

The tension inside you snaps and you cum, riding out the immense wave as she continues lapping at you and you suck on her clit, triggering her own orgasm. There’s a gush of wetness all over your face and she keeps rolling her hips, chasing the last tendrils. 

That was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, you think, and when Agatha flops down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, you think she might agree. 

“Fuck,” you say, completely wiped out, and Agatha chuckles weakly in response, reaching a hand out to rest her fingers against yours, not quite interlocking them. The two of you lay like that for what feels like forever, just soaking in the silence and the comfort of being right next to each other. 

You’re not sure who moves first — maybe it’s a mutual decision, but eventually you slide up to the pillows and Agatha turns around and moves next to you. Rotating onto your side, you hear the sheets rustle behind you and right on cue, Agatha’s arm snakes around you, holding you close enough to her that you can feel her heartbeat against your back and her breath on your neck. 

She kisses the top of your ear and you snuggle back against her. You know that you should put on clothes and clean up your mess, but for right now, you just need to feel her against you. 

“We’re going to be okay?” you ask timidly. It seems like it was so long ago that you were spiraling out of control because you thought she was cheating. 

Agatha’s arm tightens around yours. “We’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

And you think you might actually believe her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna Part 2

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the last uncle sukuna post! i apologize if this is short.

-------------------------

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't return to your doorstep until around 11 am. This time when you open the door, you are in actual clothes, awake and aware. He sees the curiosity in your eyes as soon as he meets your gaze.

Uncle!Sukuna who, you notice, is wearing the exact same clothes you had seen him in as he dropped off Yuji. You could see the tiredness in the mans eyes, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad he had to handle a work emergency so late. You couldn't help but wonder what it is that he did.

Uncle!Sukuna who still doesn't introduce himself as he asks where his nephew is. You had learned from Yuji, before he had passed out on you couch, that he called him "Uncle Kuna", but as far as you knew, that could've been a nickname.

Uncle!Sukuna who follows you into your house when you tell him that Yuji is playing with your son in the back yard.

You lead him through your home, with him silently taking in the space. It was so...different to his own. Your home looked like it was a space for a parent and a kid, while his looked bland and almost empty. When he had moved into the house for Yuji, he hadn't taken the time to really decorate. The only kid stuff in the house was in Yuji's room, and most of his own things were in his room or boxed up in the garage. So he couldn't help but compare your house to his own, pinpointing all the differences that really make your place a home.

Uncle!Sukuna who raises his brow when he sees Yuji playing around with a kid only a few years older. They were play-fighting, doing some kind of martial arts moves. He was still surprised by Yuji's never fading energy, seeing how he could barely stay still for longer than a minute. He seemed to amuse the older kid though, and you.

Uncle!Sukuna who clears his throat when he realizes you two were just standing there watching the two boys. He looks at you, his usual blank expression in place.

"Thanks." Is all he says. Something about his voice gives you goosebumps, but you ignore that feeling and give him a friendly smile. He would think someone who was woken up so rudely at 2 am would be a little angry, especially when a kid is pushed onto them. But he was glad you weren't complaining. And he really liked your smile.

"Of course. Yuji is sweet, I'm happy I could help. I have to admit, though, this is certainly an interesting way to be introduced to my new neighbors." You tried to joked. You felt a little awkward when his expression didn't change nor did he respond. So, looking back to the two boys, you tried to think of something to say.

Uncle!Sukuna who stares at you for a moment. Something about you makes his chest feel tight, and his mind a little fuzzy. Sure, you're beautiful, but this wasn't simple physical attraction. He couldn't understand what was happening to him and that made him frustrated, annoyed. So he just breaths a breath out of his nose, looking at his young nephew.

Uncle!Sukuna who watches as Yuji's head snaps to look at him as soon as Sukuna calls his name. A grin of excitement, at a level that still surprised Sukuna, took over the boys face. He quickly leaves his new friend, running to stand at his uncles leg and look up at the giant man.

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't let his newborn affection for his nephew show on his face, simply telling Yuji to say goodbye to you and your son. He pretends to not care when a slight look of disappointment takes over Yuji's face, due to having to leave his new friends.

You notice the look, and crouch to give Yuji a warm smile.

"We live right across the street, Yuji, so you and your Uncle Kuna can stop by anytime." You say, grinning and standing when his excitement returns.

Uncle!Sukuna who realizes then that he never actually introduced himself, and neither did you. He grunts, looking to you again.

"Sukuna." he introduces finally. Apparently he's not much of a talker.

"Hi, Sukuna. I'm y/n." You continued your attempts to be nice, friendly. Clearly he wasn't a conversationalist, and you couldn't read him at all, but that didn't mean you had to mirror his brooding, reserved demeanor.

Uncle!Sukuna who simply nods, grabbing Yuji by the back of his shirt to tug him away, his silent way of saying they were leaving.

Before they can get away though, you turn to look at your son still standing in the yard, observing as usual.

"Oh, wait. Choso, come say goodbye to Yuji and his uncle."

-------

not proofread

I hope you guys enjoy how i incorporated Choso! For my ideas with this lil story, I think this dynamic will be fun to write and work with :) In my au, Yuji is 6 and Choso is about 8.

[barrenclan]

i feel a bit bad for cormorant :( im sure this isnt your intent but it almost feels as though hes settled for a life he didnt want

I'm curious what this is in response to - there's two major things I can think of, so let me explore them for a second!

So, if this is in response to the idea that Cormorantleaf wants kittens and Pinewing doesn't; lemme talk about that for a second. I tried to go into it in the last epilogue, but with their late-stage relationship I wanted to address a trope in fiction that really bothers me, especially as someone who doesn't want to have children. Stop me if you've heard it before:

Characters A and B are in a romantic relationship. Character A wants to have kids, but B doesn't, for whatever reason. They struggle, and talk about it, and eventually A says "it's okay, even if we don't have kids, I'll still love you!" It's really nice, and confirms that they love each other even if they don't want. Except, then, B turns around and says "it's so good to know that! It made me change my mind; I got over my 'fears', and now I do want kids!"

That bugs me. It's always the assumption, even if it's established that a relationship would be okay without kids, it's always on the onus of the person who doesn't want children to change their mind. It's never enough to stop at "it's okay if we don't have kids together" - and then they don't. So that's what I wanted to do with Cormorantleaf and Pinewing's relationship, and it's why I had Pinewing talk about his discomfort surrounding children so often and Cormorantleaf's potential to be a father. If Corm wanted kids more than he wanted to be with Pine - he could leave! No stopping him. But Pinewing matters more to him than having kids does. I find it more distasteful that someone would force themselves to raise children if they didn't want to (it's almost like that's a theme of the story... and kind of exactly what happened with Nightberry). Admittedly, I would've liked to rather do that idea with Daffodilcloud and Duncan instead of the main gay couple, but eh, I already had an end-of-arc theme with Daff to wrap up that would've clashed. These are the decisions you make when writing a story.

On the other hand, if this is in response to the idea that they're traveling around instead of settling down in one place, or that Pinewing is forcing him into the relationship; maybe I was a bit too subtle with what I was trying to get across. Cormorantleaf was actually the first one to suggest that they travel around together, way back in Issue 26:

Corm needs an emotional anchor more than a physical anchor. And this was especially clear in his early development, and how his relationship to Pinepaw was a bit unhealthy (and vice versa, too); he had such intense abandonment issues that he was holding Pinepaw up as a total pillar of support, and believed he wouldn't be able to survive without him.

That's why I wanted Cormorantleaf to have a chance to be on his own during the breakup, and solidfy that he could exist without a relationship, that he didn't need another person to survive. But instead that he could willingly choose a relationship with Pinewing, because it was something he wanted and something he thought would enrich his life rather than an obligation.

All that to say that Comorantleaf's hesitation in the last epilogue is not meant to be presented as "he's being forced into something he doesn't want by Pinewing", but rather "he's scared that them traveling around will cause Pinewing to abandon him, and that makes him panic and lash out".

And Pinewing would have absolutely stayed with him even after Cormorantleaf yelled at him, except that Corm happened to hit on Pinewing's own insecurities that come from his childhood of neglect and feelings that nobody actually wants him around:

You don't have to be un-anonymous to respond to this, and anyways if it's just personal feelings that's perfectly valid and not something I want to try and change. But I never meant to make it seem like Cormorantleaf wasn't happy with where he ended up, or that he 'settled' for something he didn't want.

[stevestevesstuff]

Drunken Confessions | Theodore Nott x reader

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Feelings are confessed after seeing you flirt with another man.

Warnings: Characters are 18+!, Alcohol and drinking

Word Count: 3k

Please just imagine that the Weasley twins are still in school xD

The party in the Slytherin common room has been planned for months now and there was always something that got in the way of executing it. One time it was a big upcoming test; the other was the detention of a student who took part in planning this event. But today was finally the day. You could feel everyone’s excitement radiating from them, the way they walked and talked was an obvious sign of how happy they were that this party finally took place. It all started in the morning during breakfast where the only topic the other students were talking about was said party. Conversations on what to wear or with who to go filled the Great Hall. As the day carried on, the people walking through the ancient halls of Hogwarts only got more hyped for the upcoming event. We’ve obviously waited long enough for it to happen.

I was no exception. The moment I got up in the morning, all I could think about was that party. With a big smile blasted on my face, I started my morning, and I was convinced that nothing could ruin my good mood. School has been pretty stressful lately so being able to unwind and let loose for an evening was strongly needed. For everyone.

While walking towards our dorm after class, me and my friend Lorelai were talking about what to wear. She was insisting on wearing her tight black mini dress with high heels, though I tried to talk her out of it. The party will take place in the Slytherin common room. In the dungeons. It would be too cold.

But I was unsuccessful with trying to change her mind. In the end she even convinced me to wear my sparkly dark green mini dress to match her “aesthetic”. Fortunately, this dress had sleeves so I wouldn’t totally freeze to death. Plus, there would be plenty of alcohol so after thinking about it I doubted that the cold could even be a problem.

The moment we arrived at our dorm, Lori stormed through the door and headed towards her closet to set out her outfit. I just chuckled and started doing my make-up.

“Soooo….” I looked up from my mirror when I heard Lori talking and gave her a questioning look.

“Mr. Nott did not ask you to go to the party with him, did he?”

Lorelei’s question made me freeze for a moment. She knew about the crush I had on my best friend Theodore Nott. How could she not? This poor girl had to listen to at least one hundred rants from my side on how perfect and nice and gentle and handsome he is.

I shook my head. “No. In fact, he didn’t even talk about the party until I mentioned it once while studying. At first, he didn’t seem really interested in going.”

“Okay, weird. Theodore Nott and not being hyped about a party? Is he okay? Does he need to go to Madam Pomfrey?” Lorelei’s joke made me giggle a bit.

She was right. Theo and his other friends were one of the few people you would always see whenever there was alcohol. So not mentioning such a big event was not like Theo at all.

“I don’t know. I guess he was just stressed out from all the tests and homework we had over the past couple weeks. But anyways, I convinced him to go with us. Or more specifically pick us up today and escort us to the party.”

Lori just looked at me. There must have been a quite obvious look of disappointment on my face as I explained the situation, because all I got as a response was her signature “I pity you” look. I rolled my eyes at her and continued to concentrate on my make up.

But she was right. I was disappointed. Very much that is.

Since I can remember I had a crush on Theo. The moment I first saw him in the Great Hall during the Sorting Ceremony I knew that I would like him. More than just as friends. And the more we did together, the closer we got, my feeling for him just grew. As he became my best friend, I tried to hide my feelings. Or more like lock them away and keep them suppressed as best as possible. Most of the time it worked, but in some unfortunate moments of weakness, my love for him just seemed to burst out of me.

Like that one evening we spent together on the astronomy tour. We were talking about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other’s company. Theo somehow noticed that I was cold and without hesitating, he gave me his sweater. In this moment, I couldn’t hide the blush that was creeping up my face and unfortunately, I also started to stutter. I couldn’t form any coherent sentences anymore and the worst part about this was that Theo noticed immediately and started teasing me, asking if I had a crush on him.

Just thinking about this evening was making me blush again. This stupid crush. I wish I could just get over it.

Time seemed to fly by and neither of us took notice, the only thing reminding us of how late it actually was, was a sudden knock on our door. Lorelei jumped up from the floor, on which she was doing her hair, to open.

“Babes! It’s your boyfriend!”

I rolled my eyes at her comment but smiled slightly. Oh, how I’d love to be able to call him that.

“I hope I do not intrude but it’s getting late ladies. The party is starting in 15 minutes” A small smirk crept on his lips as his eyes found mine.

Merlin, this smirk. It made me weak in the knees. Fortunately for me, I was still seated on the floor.

I took a moment to look at Theo properly. His hair was still slightly wet from an apparent shower he took before getting ready. Damp curls falling on his forehead, the rest of it looking kind of messy. But in a good way. He also chose to wear his black button-up with his sleeves rolled up. (Which made me go crazy but for obvious reasons can’t tell him) and black dress pants. Everything about this man was perfect and the fact that he somehow managed to look even more handsome this evening made my mind wander to places it definitely shouldn’t.

Before my brain got out of control, I nodded and got up from the floor to walk towards him.

“You know? Beauty takes time but I think we’re done here, right Lori?” I said as I gave Theo a small wink and Lorelei a confirming look. She just nodded, but then started running frantically through our dorm, searching for something.

Me and Theo just watched as she literally turned her whole closet upside down until she had found what she was looking for. Her matching black purse.

“Ready! Let’s go!”

A small chuckle escaped my lips as Lori pushed past me and Theo, running out into the hallway. I gave Theo a quick nudge to his side and off we were.

While walking towards the Slytherin common room, Lorelei walking in front of us, Theo leaned in towards me.

“You look breathtaking, Bella.”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, his cologne seeping through my senses and I turned away, trying to hide the immense blush that started spreading on my face. The effect this man had on me was unbelievable.

Theo just chuckled lightly, seemingly proud about what he had achieved and continued to lead me and my friend towards the location of the party.

Even before arriving, loud music and laughter could be heard. The excitement was rushing through my body, and I couldn’t wait to dance, drink and just let loose.

The moment the three of us entered the Slytherin common room, Lori was pulled away by a group of Ravenclaws standing by the entrance, so me and Theo continued to head towards the main area.

The music got louder, and the air got thicker and hotter. Even though the party only started around 10 minutes ago, it was in full swing. Some people were standing near two tables which acted as a makeshift bar, others were dancing to the music and some students were just socializing with others from different houses. I took a deep breath in, smelling the alcohol and sweat lingering in the air. The fear of being too cold in my mini dress immediately left my mind as I felt the heat of at least 50 people ingulfing me.

I turned around to look at Theo, but he wasn’t there anymore. Somehow, this man always managed to disappear without a trace. A small frown spread across my face at the absence of my best friend. Was he serious right now? He just left me standing there? Alone? I shook my head, trying to get any negative thoughts out of my brain and made my way over to the bar, intending to get either some shots of fire whiskey or gin.

As I served myself one or two glasses of alcohol, I felt a presence behind me. Before I could turn around to acknowledge said person, I felt a hand on my shoulder. My hopes of it being Theo were immediately crushed as I turned around and was met with a big smile belonging to Fred Weasley.

“Hello gorgeous.” He gave me a smooth wink.

“All by yourself? While you look like that? I consider this a crime.” I chuckled at his playful and faked offended tone.

I chuckled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. But then I thought to myself, why not? I’m allowed to have a little bit of fun. Fred is nice, he wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t want, so I decided to join in on the flirting.

“Well, hello to you too Weasley. You don’t look too bad yourself.” I jokingly flirted back, obviously checking him out while downing my first glass of fire whiskey.

“Are you ready for the best night of your life, darling?”

“Of course, who do you think I am?” Fred smirked at my answer, motioning me to drink my second glass of alcohol I held in my hand. I followed his command, grimacing while I felt the cool liquid burn down my throat, earning a laugh from the guy in front of me.

The night continued and I wandered through the common room, catching up with people I haven’t talked to in a while, though I always found myself back at Freds side as his company and lightheaded personality drew me in.

I wasn’t really interested in him, though I really enjoyed the playful flirting and the compliments we threw at each other throughout the night. It made me forget how Theo had just abandoned me without saying anything. The thought alone made my heart ache.

As I downed my eighth or ninth drink (I couldn’t really think straight anymore, let alone count), I found myself surrounded by a group of Gryffindors, including Harry, Hermoine, Ron, Neville and the Weasley twins. We laughed, told jokes and gossiped. I had the time of my life.

Suddenly, Fred took my hand and pulled me towards the dance floor.

“I love this song! Come. Dance with me gorgeous!”

I felt his hands holding my waist, swaying me to the sound of the music. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the melody and beat of the song, hoping I was looking at least a bit presentable while dancing. Fred leaned in closer, seemingly trying to get more physical contact with me.

But before I could reciprocate his actions, someone pulled me away from my dance partner. The alcohol in my system was numbing my senses so before I even realized that I was no longer dancing with Fred, I was being pulled away from the party. My head was spinning and for the first few seconds, I couldn’t even tell who was walking in front of me with my wrist in their hand. I just awkwardly stumbled after the guy who frantically shook his head and swore under his breath.

“Cazzo! What were you thinking?”

I’d recognize this voice anywhere and anytime. Theo.

I opened my mouth to say something, though no words came out. Finally, we stopped, and Theo turned around to look at me, his grip still firm on my wrist.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Weasley? Of all people? You decided to flirt and dance with a Weasley?” The words rolled off Theo’s tongue like venom. He was mad. No. Infuriated.

“I….”

“No! I don’t want any excuses. Of all the people present at this party you chose to not only flirt and dance with another boy, but also, this boy was a Weasley.”

I have never seen Theo this mad, and my mind couldn’t comprehend why.

“What’s the matter with you? Am I not allowed to have some fun? Plus, I’m very capable of deciding with whom I flirt with. That’s my decision to make. Not yours.”

Theo swallowed hard, probably trying to contain himself from shouting. I could feel the tension radiating off him.

He leaned in, coming dangerously close to my face, still holding my wrist.

“Bella don’t fight me on this. You know very well why I have a problem with this situation.”

He was so close; I could feel his breath on my face and smell his cologne. A blush crept onto my face at the closeness of his body. God. Why was he so hot?

I looked at him, trying to stand my ground.

“Unfortunately, no. I do not know why you have such a big problem with me flirting with Fred. Plus, what else was I supposed to do? Lori was having fun with her friends, and you were nowhere to be found. You left me standing there. Alone. So, I found myself someone to spend the evening with.”

Theo suddenly let go of my hand, putting some distance between us. He raised his hands, brushing them through his already messy hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“By Merlin….” The clear frustration in his voice made it obvious that he had enough of this conversation.

“Do you like him?” Theo suddenly asked.

“What?”

“Do you like him?” This time, his voice was firmer, demanding an answer.

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his and for a moment, I could see something behind his eyes that I had never seen before. Desperation, mixed with a little bit of hope.

“I…no. I don’t like him like that.”

“Then why would you spend the whole evening flirting with him?”

“Because I wanted to, okay? You are not my boyfriend, you can’t dec- “

Before I could even finish my sentence, Theo closed the distance between us, reaching up with his hands to cup my cheeks. This action lets a small yelp escape my lips.

“Wha- “

My head was spinning, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Theo’s closeness. I was sure that if his body wasn’t pressed so tightly to mine, I would have sunk to the ground with how weak my knees were at that moment. His hands gently caressed my cheeks, his right thumb slowly stroking it. The way he looked at me with desperation, hope and…longing was too much for me. I even stopped breathing for a second. I noticed Theo’s eyes wandering down towards my lips where they lingered for a second before they found my eyes again.

“What…what if I want to be just that?” Theo asked quietly while seemingly staring into my soul.

“What do you mean?”

“What if I want to be your boyfriend?”

The moment these words left Theos lips, my breath hitched, and my mind went blank. What did he just say? My head started spinning even more and I felt a blush rise on my face.

“I like you, cara mia. I’ve always liked you, but I was too much of a fool to tell you. I was scared of ruining our friendship but seeing you today, flirting with another man, that was too much for me. I couldn’t handle you being in the arms of anyone but me.” These words left his lips in a tone so gentle, I would have never believed they came from Theo if I wasn’t experiencing it first handed.

“I….”

“You don’t have to say anything. You probably won’t even remember what I’m telling you right now in the morning. I guess I won’t either. But I needed to get this out of me. I needed you to know how I felt about you.”

Suddenly, I felt a rush of confidence wandering through my body. I raised my hands to mirror Theos previous actions, cupped his cheeks and pulled his face towards mine. Our lips met and I felt like I could explode. The feeling of his lips was better than I could have ever imagined. They were soft and the slight taste of alcohol and cigarettes on them made this kiss so much more intoxicating.

His hands left my cheeks, wandering down my body until they settled on my waist, pulling me even closer into him. The kiss got more and more messy, teeth were clashing, and lips were bitten.

After what felt like an eternity, I had to catch my breath. As I pulled away, my hands still caressing his cheeks and his hands on my waist, a small smile spread across my lips as I tried to breath properly. As I looked up at Theo, the biggest smile I had ever seen on him was painted on his face.

“I love you, amore.” He said, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you too, darling.”

His hands left my waist, removing mine from his cheeks and gently intertwining our fingers. He gently pulled me behind me, walking in the direction of his dorm.

“So, I guess it’s official now, Bella. No more flirting with Weasley. Or any other man for that matter.” His joke only earned a small laugh from me, already imagining what might happen in his dorm.

[fear-is-truth]

Hi Jackie:), in your husband+fiancé namgyu head cannons (thank you again for accepting my request) you said if he had kids he would never fully step into the father role, and I’m curious if you have any other father namgyu head cannons. Like how he would act with his kids and stuff🩵

PARENTING HEADCANONS ──

CONTENT. what it’s like raising kids with nam-gyu (player 124). headcanons

he’s all for being the ‘fun dad’, but only on his terms. he’ll toss the kid in the air, let them ride on his shoulders, play peekaboo, the whole shebang. but the second they start crying or fussing, he’s out. literally just disappears from the situation and acts like he was never there.

falls asleep with the baby on his chest. it happens all the time, but it’s never intentional. one minute he’s lying down with them, next he’s knocked out. baby’s just curled up on him like a tiny heater. cute.

gets jealous of the attention you give them. if he walks in and sees you rocking the baby, whispering to them, he just kind of stands there for a second like huh. then suddenly he’s sitting closer, making it weirdly obvious that he’s there. might put a hand on your thigh or your shoulder, casual but possessive. worst case, he straight up just goes, “how much longer you gonna be doing that?”

actively avoids any situation where the baby is crying. the moment there’s screaming, he’s suddenly busy doing anything else. if you call for him, he just pretends he didn’t hear.

traditional views, but mostly out of convenience. he expects you to do the heavy lifting with the baby—feeding, changing, night shifts—because in his mind, that’s just how it should be. he’s the provider (even if you’re also working, he just… ignores that part).

ideally prefers a son, but wouldn’t really mind having a daughter.

when the kid gets older, he becomes a bit more involved. toddlers are more manageable. they don’t need diapers, they can talk, they can walk away when he’s done with them. he likes that. teaches them dumb tricks, probably lets them stay up too late watching cartoons.

definitely the type to bribe them. if they’re whining or throwing a tantrum, he just straight-up offers them money, snacks, whatever gets them to stop. “okay, okay, here, just—shh. don’t tell mom.”

often gangs up with the kids against you. if you tell them no to something, suddenly he’s on their side. “c’mon, it’s not that big of a deal.” if they want ice cream before dinner, guess what? they’re getting ice cream.

absolutely encourages bad habits. swearing? “just don’t say it around your mom.” playing video games all night? “as long as you don’t lose.” talking back? if it’s funny, he’s laughing. you’re the only one actually trying to teach them manners.

doesn’t really do discipline. if the kid messes up, he brushes it off. “they’re just a kid, it’s not a big deal.” but if they really piss him off, he gets snappy.

discipline is mostly your job. he refuses to be the bad guy. if the kid messes up, his go-to response is “go ask your mom” or “what did your mom say?” he lets you handle all the serious stuff so he gets to be the favourite parent.

if they come up to him and ask for something, he just nods while scrolling his phone. doesn’t even think about it. you have to be the one to shut it down later.

plays rough but knows how to hold back. he’ll wrestle, let them throw punches, even pretend to lose, but the second they get close to actually hurting themselves, he switches. catches them mid-fall, stops them before they knock something over.

he’s lazy with parenting but still gets all the love. doesn’t do any of the hard work, doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night, doesn’t deal with tantrums. but somehow, he’s still their favourite. drives you insane.

[villainousauthor]

"This might be a new low for you." Hero's voice is firm, unwavering. Villain looks up from their delicate work, crossing of wires and fuses. They were hoping to get this explosive planted quickly and efficiently, though Hero's presence may delay their goal.

"I didn't know you previously held such a high opinion of me. I'm flattered." Villain's speaks in a deadpan tone.

Hero crosses the room, standing before Villain, arms folded in irritation. "A government building? Really? I thought my opinion of you couldn't get lower, but you dropped the bar into hell." Villain looks up, meeting their stern glower. Their fingers drum across the wooden desk the explosives sit on, holding Hero's gaze.

"Is this supposed to have any effect on me? I'm used to your scorn." They stand up, rising to Hero's height. "Either try to stop me or get lost. If you try to fight me, though, know I won't go easy on you this time."

This was too important. They didn't have time to play their usual games with Hero, or worry about their disappointment.

"I can tell." Hero speaks, sitting down on the desk, as if uncaring about the literal ticking bomb inches away. "You have that look on your face. Like you're thinking hard about something." They sigh as if exhausted. "Trying to fight you when you get like this never goes well."

"So leave-"

"Nope." Hero crosses their legs, uncrosses them, and leans back, meeting Villain's stare again. They're forcing a show of relaxation, but Villain doesn’t miss the way their limbs shake, or the way fingers won't stay still. "I have a better idea." They continue.

"Do go on."

"You go ahead and finished setting up these explosives and high tail it out of here like a coward, and I'll stay here." Hero's tone is like that of someone discussing the weather, or the latest sports game.

Villain blinks, opens their mouth, and closes their mouth before finally finding their words.

"What? You do know what a bomb is, right? I know your skull is a bit thick, but you do realize what would happen in that case?"

Hero makes a show of a fake explosion with their hand, complete with an auditory Woosh.

"I'd be turned into paste. Probably. If your weapons skills are even that good." They try to keep their voice in that same casual tone, but yet again, Villain doesn't miss the slight tremble. They're frightened. None of this makes sense.

Villain pauses for a moment. "Are you suicidal? Is this a cry for help because I'm sure this Hero gig of yours pays well enough for some therapy-"

"Nothing like that." Hero interrupts with a shake of their head and a laugh devoid of humor. "I appreciate the concern, but no, that's not what's going on here."

Staying quiet for a moment, Villain waits for them to elaborate.

"I'm calling your bluff." They say simply. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's easier than trying to fight you and getting my ass kicked."

Frowning, Villain speaks a bit firmer, still confused though. "You're what?"

"I am calling your bluff. You can go ahead and blow up this building, but I'll be right here when it detonates." Hero smirks, like they've figured villain out.

Standing up taller, they lean over the wooden table and grab one of Hero's shoulders harshly. Their face becomes something wild.

"Are you really so self-centered, so arrogant, that you somehow- somehow in that stupid mind of yours think-" They exhale harshly through their nose and let go. "You think that your stupid threat of self destruction is enough to make me change my mind? You think your life matters to me, at all?" Their voice gets harsher as they speak, volume raising slightly. Why would Hero even try this?

"Okay then. So prove how worthless my life is to you." Hero shrugs. "You go ahead and set the bomb off, and I'll stay here." Hero tries to hide their smug smile. Despite their fear, they know they've caught Villain off guard.

Pinching their own face so hard they worry their nails may cut skin, Villain breathes loudly.

"You realize I could turn this back around on you, right? I could call your bluff. You wish to risk your life like this?"

"Call my bluff then." They challenge. "Unless you defuse this bomb, I'm not leaving." Hero raises their chin defiantly, eyes dagger sharp.

Villain rounds the table, grabbing Hero roughly, jostling them with a grip hard enough to ache. Hero's face doesn't change. "You think I can't drag you out of here? That I couldn't possibly knock you out and take you with me?" And then give them lecture filled with ire boarding on something violent later.

"You can certainly try," They keep that rebellious smile on their face, "but I'd fight you tooth and nail the whole way, and is that how you want to spend your precious escape time?"

Sneering, Villain can't decide if they want to shove them away or grip them tighter. "I hate you. I hate you so much." They all but snarl at them. If the imminent threat of explosion didn't kill Hero, they're sure the look on their enemy's face would.

Still, Hero pushes. "No, you don't. If you did, you'd already be out the door. You'd be killing two birds with one stone." Hero's hand reaches for the beeping package of wires, hand trembling, but they grab it nonetheless. They shove it to Villain roughly.

"Prove you hate me. Or defuse the bomb." They keep on the act of confidence, but that underlying dread is still in their eyes, the deep seated fear of what will happen.

Idiotic as always, Villain decides. Like there was any chance Villain would do anything else but spare them. Their stupid, infuriating Hero.

"I can't stand you." They growl, ripping one wire from the fuse.

[loulou-land]

Let's Go Home

Day 8 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | surprise | 2,950 words | fluff and humor | ao3

Its finally done. Yay! Promising myself the next one won't be a long one 🙃

The scent of garlic and basil filled the kitchen as Buck stirred the simmering pasta sauce and glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. He was starting to worry. 

Tommy was supposed to have been home 40 mins ago. He knows LA traffic was terrible but usually, he’d at least get a text if he was running late. But his phone had been suspiciously silent this whole time.

Buck huffed, flipping the burner off and stepping back. Okay, no. He needed to check on Tommy. 

Just as he reached for his phone, the screen lit up. Tommy’s name and smiling photo filled the display. Relief flooded him, but it was quickly followed by worry as he picked up immediately. 

“Babe, where are you?” Buck asked, his frown deepening. 

A beat of silence. Then: “What do you mean, where am I? Where are you?”

Buck blinked. “Uh…at the house. Where you live?”

Another pause. And then a heavy sigh. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck?” Buck echoed, his concern shifting to confusion. 

“I—I forgot we were staying at the house tonight,” Tommy admitted, voice tinged with guilt. “I went to the loft.” 

Buck stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You forgot?” 

“It’s been a long shift,” Tommy said, clearly frustrated with himself. “My brain is in a fog, and I just—automatically came here.” 

Buck exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Tommy. That’s what the calendar’s for.” 

“I didn’t look at it,” Tommy muttered. “I swore we were staying at the loft tonight. Thought we talked about it.” 

Buck sighed, but softened. “Baby, that was like two shifts ago. But it’s fine, I’ll just pack up dinner and head there.” 

“What? No . Sweetheart, I’m already in my truck. I’m coming home” 

Buck clenched his jaw, pressing his lips together before finally sighing. “Alright. Just…be careful.” 

“I will,” Tommy said, his voice quieter now. “And—I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault,” Buck reassured him, gentle now that he knew Tommy was safe. “It happens. Just get here in one piece, okay?” 

“Okay. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Buck murmured before hanging up. 

He exhaled hard, shaking his head. He wasn't mad. Just amused. A little exasperated. But still, something about this whole mix-up made his chest feel tight. 

It was a reminder.

Of something they hadn't talked about in a while. 

Buck had promised to go at Tommy’s pace, and he meant it. He did. But sometimes, like tonight—he just… wanted . 

But the last time they’d had this conversation, it hadn’t ended well. 

Buck inhaled deeply, shoving the thought into a far-off, dusty corner of his mind. Right now, he had dinner to finish. And a man to welcome home.

—————————————————————

Tommy exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. His mind was still stuck on the mix-up. 

He felt bad, even though he knew he hadn’t forgotten on purpose. Still, in a way, it meant they'd lost time together. Time he didn't want to waste. 

And, there was something about this entire situation that kept biting at the edges of Tommy’s thoughts. 

Evan had been waiting for him. 

Cooking for him. 

Evan had been waiting at home. 

Tommy tightened his grip on the wheel. 

That was it, wasn't it? 

For months now, the thought had lingered in the back of his mind. How much he wanted to come home to Evan—not just on the nights they decided to stay at the house. Not just in moments they planned in advance. He wanted it every day. Every night. He wanted the certainty of knowing that at the end of their shifts, of every long and exhausting day, they'd be coming home to each other. 

His chest tightened. Because for so long, that word— home —had never really belonged to him. Not in a way that mattered. But Evan? Evan had changed that. 

Tommy swallowed hard. So why was he dragging his feet?

It wasn’t fear. Not anymore. Not like before. 

He’d already lost Evan once because he hadn’t been ready. Because he let doubt and fear hold him back. But he was ready now.

Except…Evan didn’t know that. 

And if there was one thing Tommy knew for sure, it was that words weren’t enough. He needed to show him. 

His grip on the steering wheel loosened as the idea started forming, small and tentative at first, then quickly sparking into something bigger. 

Evan was usually the one who went for grand gestures. But this time? This time, Tommy wanted to be the one. 

Evan deserved to be wooed and wowed, to have something big and meaningful done for him. Tommy wanted to give him that. To give them that. 

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he pulled into the driveway. He reached for his phone, already composing a quick text. 

Time to get to work.

—————————————————————

It had been a couple of days since the mix-up, and Tommy was acting weird. 

Buck noticed it immediately. 

At first, it was little things—Tommy being unusually glued to his phone, giving vague answers when Buck casually asked what he was up to, staying in his garage for long periods of time. It wasn't enough to raise alarms, but enough to nag at him. 

And then the schedule thing happened. 

They were having breakfast, Buck still finishing up while Tommy took his empty plate to the sink. 

“So, since we’re both off this weekend, I was thinking we could go watch this new exhibit that just opened—” 

Tommy hesitated. 

“I might have to handle some stuff,” Tommy replied, a little too casually. 

Buck froze, fork pausing mid-air. Okay…

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just…stuff.” Tommy leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Buck’s head before heading to the bedroom to get dressed. 

Okay . Suspicious . 

Under normal circumstances, Buck might have let it go. ( Not Really ). But Tommy had already been acting differently—distracted, distant in a way Buck couldn't quite put his finger on. And now, he was being all shifty about the weekend. 

Yeah. Nope. Buck’s brain didn’t like that. 

His thoughts spiraled fast, latching onto the worst-case scenario before he could stop them.  

What if he realized he’s not ready for this— for us —anymore?

The thought hit him too fast to contain it. Too hard. And from there it just got worse. 

Shit, have I been too much lately? Maybe he wants space. 

Maybe he’s trying to figure out how to tell me. 

And suddenly, everything made sense. The distraction. The vague responses. The distance. The hesitation. 

Buck pushed his plate back, appetite gone. 

He wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop. If something was happening, he needed to know . 

He wasn’t getting blindsided again.

—————————————————————

Buck was not snooping.

Snooping was invasive. Wrong . He was just… investigating. Like a concerned boyfriend, who was definitely not snooping in Tommy’s garage, after he'd left for his shift. 

Buck had a couple of minutes before he had to leave for his own shift so he was determined to check things out quickly, hopefully get some peace of mind and figure out what was going on with Tommy.

He looked around the garage wondering what Tommy had been up to the past couple of days. There wasn't a car on the lift, so he hadn't been working on one. His eyes scanned the space before coming to rest on a stack of papers. 

"If he’s planning something, there’ll be clues there."

Buck shuffled through them, scanning receipts, random notes, and—wait. What was this ?

His eyes landed on a handwritten list:

Confirm rental: Starlight’s Cinema Double-check timing for Saturday night Send final slideshow edits, practice speech about memories

Slideshow? Memories ?

Buck’s stomach dropped . It wasn't their anniversary or anywhere close to a holiday. 

And a slideshow…with memories ? Reflection ? Was Tommy trying to soften the blow?

"Oh my God."

His chest clenched .

"He’s breaking up with me."

He didn’t even realize he had moved until he was already out the door, and rushing to the station.

—————————————————————

Buck paced the station's kitchen, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the oven as the smell of warm chocolate wafted through the air. The chocolate chip cookies (Tommy’s favorite) were almost done, but he was too restless to wait. 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Chimney said, voice flat. “You snooped in Tommy’s garage—”

“I investigated !”

“—and then found one list and decided that meant he was definitely breaking up with you?” Chimney finished, disbelief dripping from every word. 

“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy,” Buck winced, biting his lips as he turned to look at the cookies through the oven's tiny window. 

“That’s because it is crazy." Eddie called lazily from the couch, not even looking up from his phone. 

Buck turned, gesturing wildly. “Eddie, he’s acting weird. He forgot we were staying at the house that one night, and now he’s being all secretive, and—”

“Or,” Eddie cut in, finally glancing up, “maybe he’s planning something good and you just went straight to disaster mode?”

Buck faltered. “But—did he say something to you?" He asked, hopeful. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Buck slumped, disappointed. 

“Whoa. What if it’s a proposal?" Chim interjected suddenly, eyes lighting up. 

Buck choked. “What—no.”

Chimney snorted. “You sound horrified.”

“I just—that’s not what this is!” Buck spluttered. 

“Well, neither is it a breakup, probably ,” Eddie countered, tone maddeningly calm. “Did you ask him what’s going on?”

“…No…I mean not like directly.” 

Eddie and Chim exchanged a look. 

“Right,” Eddie deadpanned. “Because why communicate when you can snoop through his stuff instead?”

Buck groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“…After I see where he goes tomorrow.”

“BUCK!” 

The entire station yelled at him.

—————————————————————

 Tommy had been nervous for the past few days, but mostly, he was excited. Excited for the future, for Evan’s reaction to the surprise, for the moment he finally got to show him what he'd been working on, for the hopeful response. 

Still, a small part of him was nervous—apprehensive. Not about the decision, he was sure of that. But about this —showing Evan this side of himself. 

The romantic, over the top, cheesy side. 

They had promised to be honest though. To be themselves, fully. 

And he was sure Evan would never laugh at him, not over this. 

Okay, Tommy was definitely ready to show Evan his surprise. He’d hated being evasive and vague all week. He knew Evan had been worried about his behavior, could see it in the little ways Evan had been watching him more closely, the overly casual questions. But once he saw it, once he understood , it would hopefully have been worth it. 

…Of course, he really should've kept in mind who his boyfriend was.  

“Hey, uh…you know that guy?” John, his friend and the theatre manager, asked casually, nodding toward the street. 

Tommy turned, eyebrows furrowing—only to catch the figure of his boyfriend quickly dashing into an alley to avoid being seen. 

Tommy sighed, long-suffering and deeply exasperated. 

“That would be my Evan,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

John snorted. “Well, looks like the surprise isn't gonna be much of a surprise.”

Tommy shook his head. “I should have figured something like this would happen.” 

“Your boyfriend not good with surprises or something?”

“Something like that,” Tommy said dryly. 

John checked his watch. “Well, I can give you about twenty minutes before the next showing starts. Think that's enough time?” 

Tommy exhaled slowly, passing over the usb drive. “I'll make it work. Thanks.” 

“Screen 2,” John confirmed as he walked inside. 

Tommy took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself 

Then, with an air of long suffering resignation (and maybe just a little bit of fondness), he made his way toward the alley. 

Time to retrieve his ridiculous boyfriend. 

—————————————————————

“Shit, Shit, Shit.”

Buck whirled around, searching for an escape route, but the alley was a dead end. His heart pounded. 

Maybe he didn't see me , he thought, clinging to hope. 

Then—footsteps. 

He straightened up, wiping his palms on his jeans and trying to think. Think of something, anything to say before—

“Evan?”

Buck flinched. 

Slowly, he turned to find Tommy standing at the alley entrance, arms crossed, wearing the kind of expression that said r eally?  

“T—Tommy, hey.” Bucs voice cracked. He forced a smile. “What a coincidence.” 

Tommy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Then hummed. “Mmm. Is it?”

Buck deflated. “Okay, fine. Sorry, I just—” He hesitated, biting his lip. Then, before he could stop himself—

“Are you breaking up with me?”  

Tommy’s expression instantly morphed into one of pure, baffled horror. “What?”

Buck swallowed hard, his voice smaller this time. “Are you…breaking up with me?” 

Tommys face softened in an instant. “Sweetheart, no .” 

He closed the distance between them, pulling Buck into a firm hug. Buck exhaled shakily, melting into him.

“Is that what you've been thinking?” Tommy asked, voice low and gentle. 

Buck nodded against his shoulder, gripping the back of Tommy’s jacket. 

Tommy sighed, pulling back just enough to cradle Buck’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Evan, baby , no. That’s not it at all. I had a surprise for you. A good one. Or well…I hope it’s good.” 

Buck blinked, surprised to find Tommy looking nervous now. 

Buck instinctively covered Tommy’s hands with his own, squeezing gently. 

Tommy stopped talking and looked at him. 

“...Come with me? He asked softly. 

Buck briefly hesitated, the weight of his earlier fears still lingering in his chest. But curiosity was quickly overtaking it. 

Tommy smiled, lacing their fingers together.

—————————————————————

Buck followed Tommy inside, taking in the space. 

The small cinema was charming, with warm lighting and a cozy feel. It smelled faintly of buttered popcorn. 

They entered one of the screening rooms. It was completely empty—the massive screen already lit up with a paused presentation. 

It had pictures of them on the slide. 

Tommy? Buck asked, confused. 

Tommy exhaled, stepping forward. “So…the other night, with the house mix-up, I keep thinking. And I realized something.” He gulped. 

He sent a quick signal to the projector booth. 

The slideshow started. 

Buck’s breath cough as their life together so far, unfolded before him. 

Photos of them laughing. Cooking. Tangled together in bed on lazy Sunday mornings. Little candid moments—Evan’s concentrated frown when he worked on crossword puzzles, Tommy’s soft smile when he thought no one was looking. 

Interspersed were quotes—some dryly teasing, some sentimental. 

“Evan, I could watch you drool into my pillow for the rest of my life.” 

Then:  

“Turns out, home isn't a place at all.” 

Buck’s heart clenched. His throat tightened. 

His hand blindly reached for Tommy’s. 

Tommy squeezed back, firm and steady. 

Then the final slide appeared. 

A picture Buck knew instantly. 

The sun was setting, golden light spilling over everything, the house looking warm and inviting and the two of them, standing right in front of it. 

Buck, Chim and Eddie had been helping Tommy fix something on the roof that day. Buck had scrambled a quick dinner for them and he had just called them in for it.

And, Tommy had run straight to him, kissing him like he hadn't seen Buck in days. 

Eddie had snapped the picture at that exact moment.  

Buck remembered laughing into the kiss, the warmth of Tommy’s hands framing his face, the distant sound of Chim yelling, “Get a room!” 

The slide faded into darkness. 

Buck turned to Tommy, eyes shining, tears slipping down his face. 

Tommy inhaled sharply. “Oh, love .” He reached out, cupping Buck’s face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. 

“I’m okay,” Buck promised, voice wobbly. “I just—no one’s ever done something like this for me.” His breath hitched. “No one’s ever shown me…”

He trailed off, trying to hold himself together, to breathe through the overwhelming emotion in his chest. 

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Evan. Baby . You don't have to thank me. You deserve this. And so much more.” 

Tommy took a deep breath, hand slipping to Buck’s neck. 

“...Move in with me.” 

Buck’s breath caught. 

His heart stopped. 

“...Wh—what?” he whispered. 

Tommy smiled, warm and so sure. “You said it once—why be apart when we could be together? I wasn't ready then. But I am now.” His fingers traced lightly over Buck’s jaw, grounding him. “That slideshow? Every single one of those pictures, those memories—that's me telling you how happy I am. Every second I’m with you. And when I'm not?” His voice dropped, quiet but so certain. “I'm still thinking of you.” 

Buck broke. 

A small, broken noise escaped him, and he was nodding before he could even find the words.  

“Yes,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Then stronger—Brighter. “Yes.” 

Tommy’s lips parted, like he hadn't fully expected the answer, like it still surprised him. 

Buck laughed at the thought. God, what a pair we make.

And then, before Tommy could respond, Buck surged forward, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was all yes . 

Tommy made a surprised noise but melted into it instantly, strong arms wrapping tight around Buck’s waist, holding him there, 

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, they just stared at each other. 

Grinning. 

Giddy. 

In Love. 

Then Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “We definitely have to talk about the stalking thing, though.” 

Buck laughed, light and free. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough.” 

He leaned into Tommy’s warmth. 

“But first…”

He reached for Tommy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home”

[blueteller]

The "Scent of Arm", according to Ron

There was that bit early on in the TCF series that I didn't get for a really long time.

Ron, on sight, recognized a certain scent "lingering" on Choi Han, which made him and his son Beacrox believe that he was a member of Arm. He recognized it from many years ago when the Molan residence was attacked by the members of the secret organization.

The thing is, the scent disappeared after Choi Han washed up at the Henituse mansion, thanks to Cale's hospitality, causing a major divergence. In TBOAH, Choi Han would not get the chance to "freshen up", and the Molans would follow him out of the city, abandoning their jobs as servants of the Henituse family solely because they suspected him of being from Arm. Later on, that suspicion would get cleared up and they would stay because they got actual trace of the organization.

However, in TCF, after Choi Han got cleaned up a bit, Ron instantly changed his mind and decided "no, it couldn't have been Arm after all, there is no way those guys could have come here all the way from the Eastern Continent".

So, that begs the question... what was the "scent of Arm", exactly?

My first thought, on my first time reading, was "of course, it was the scent of blood and murder, because Choi Han just came from a massacre". But that.... doesn't make much sense, does it? Ron is an assassin. He used to deal with murder and blood on a regular basis, it was literally his job. Why would such a generic scent would immediately make him think "it has to be Arm"? Even if we think of it as trauma because Arm destroyed his home, that still doesn't really add up. Especially when after Choi Han cleaned up, he instantly changed his mind. Just because the guy washed up that didn't make him any less dangerous or strong. So blood and murder as the scent of Arm, that's out.

My thoughts on the second re-read went into a slightly different direciton. Maybe it had something to do with the scent of the Forest of Darkness? Specifically, the dead mana from that forest? We know it's special, since dead Dragon mana is basically non-existent in the natural world, due to the fact that Dragons who died a natural death would turn into dust, not decay and create dead mana. The swamp with the Dominating Aura also acted as a container and let it thicken up over time in the poisoned water. That kind of rare, specific smell would make more sense as something that Ron could recognize on sight, right?

However, after thinking it over, I realized that also did not make that much sense either. Even if we accept the fact that ordinary mooks from Arm could have dead mana smell just because they traded some of it to the mermaids to help them fight against the Whales... all of that happened MUCH later than the fall of the Molan family. Why would Arm lackeys in the Eastern Continent smell like the forbidden region of the Western Continent? We can't even assume it was the extremely general dead mana smell that Ron confused as the scent of the organization, because Ron isn't an idiot; even if he doesn't know any dark creatures personally at this point, he KNOWS what dead mana is. And that's still too common thing to see Choi Han smell of it and instantly decide: yes, this guy must be related to Arm! Like, come on. That's such a farfetched conclusion. Ron wouldn't be that dumb.

My third take, was Black Despair, which is something that is EXTREMELY specific and directly related to Arm. Think about it: it does not occur naturally, Arm mass-produces it for demonic purposes, and the lackeys can all smell of it on both continents regardless of the timeline, since the White Star has been doing this stuff for a 1000 years. Also, Ron would not realize what it is, being a regular human and all, just know the smell of it and have a very averse reaction to it due to the traumatic memory it was tied to, as well as the nature of Black Despair itself. Now, I finally felt like I was getting somewhere!

There was still that lingering doubt in my mind, however. Would regular Arm assassins really smell of Black Despair? Like, all of them? Really? There's no way the Red Stars let their disposable foot soldiers anywhere near the stuff. Of course, there was the possibility that they were using it for some brainwashing black magic ritual, that let them "create" those type of suicidal pawns. But, still. I was a bit uncertain. Would Choi Han really smell of the same stuff simply because he killed a bunch of people who smelled of it??

That's when it hit me.

The smell wasn't Black Despair specifically... it was simply despair!!!

Think about it! All Arm forces SHOULD smell of despair. Either because they cause it, they feel it themselves, they spread it, and the black magic they use is fueled by it!! With despair being a literal force one can sense, of course it would have a powerful, lingering stench.

And most importantly? Choi Han's attribute is also despair!

It you think about it this way, it all becomes clear now! Choi Han was soaked both in despair from the Arm assassins he killed, the despair of the Harris Villagers that were murdered, AND his own lingering despair that radiated from him because of his trauma and the attribute he developed!!! So when he came to the Henituse mansion, of course he was a huge red flag for the Molans! They recognized the exact same despair and instantly decided to get rid of the threat!

HOWEVER. What happens the next day in TCF? Choi Han washes up. Choi Han's clothes are new, clean, his attribute is safely tucked away due to lack of danger, and most importantly? His despair starts to disappear because of CALE! Choi Han has hope, a new objective – paying Cale back – a goal in his mind, and he shows a softer, vulnerable side when he tells Cale "but you don't even know who I am". Choi Han's despair isn't all gone of course, not even close. But he isn't soaked in it anymore.

And Ron SEES all of this, sees this guy who was just REEKING of despair the day prior but has a whole new vibe today, and begins to doubt. Because of course he does!! If Choi Han was really a member of Arm, there's no way all that scent of despair could have disappeared after a single bath. So he comes to the very reasonable conclusion that he was wrong, and stops worrying about Arm's return.

Of course, later on he catches onto the scent again as he travels with Cale, so he follows the trail, separates from the group as early on as the Plaza Terror Incident, and after getting the very public confirmation that Arm is, indeed, on the Western Continent, he goes off to track Redika down all the way to Hais Island 5.

And that's why, my friends, I believe that the "scent of Arm" that Ron was talking about was Despair. Not Black Despair specifically, just the scent of Despair that Arm causes all around the world. A bit different from Choi Han's own despair, but similar enough to be confused with it.

[loves0phelia]

Red And Blue

Summery: His canon event.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: kinda gore at one point nothing too crazy, grammar mistakes.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the amount of mistakes this probably has but i cant be bothered to care more i just want to get this fic out. Listen to my tears ricochet as you read

Rafe had always been good at hiding things. He kept his head down, stayed out of the spotlight, and made sure no one looked too closely. But ever since the bite, since the powers, since the responsibility that came with it, lying had become second nature.

Especially to you.

It killed him, really. Every time he bailed on a movie night, ignored your texts, or showed up bruised and breathless with a half-baked excuse, he saw the confused and hurt look in your eyes. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? That he was ditching every time to swing across rooftops, and fight criminals? No. That wasn’t an option.

Tonight was no different.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” You leaned your head down, phone pressed against your ear, voice sharp with frustration. “You're leaving me again. You promised this time. I know you don't like school events but just once please”

“I'm sorry” he muttered, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Something came up.”

“Something always comes up. What is it this time? And don’t tell me it's homework or family stuff, because I know when you’re lying.” 

“I just…” He exhaled, as if a weight was pressing on his chest. “I can’t tell you, okay?” He swallowed hard.

Silence. At first he thought you hung up but he could still hear a faint shuffling from the other end of the phone call.

The silence was somehow worse than you cursing him out for bailing.

“Why not? I thought we told each other everything.” your voice was softer this time, more fragile

God, how badly he wanted to. He wanted to tell you about the fights, the injuries he had to patch up alone, the weight of trying to be a hero when all he wanted was to be a normal guy. But if he told you he'd put you into too much risk.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he did what he always did.

He lied.

“I just need you to trust me,” he said even if his chest ached. “Please.”

You thought for a long moment, then shook your head with a sad smile even if he couldn't see you. “You say that like I don’t already.”

And that hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken.

Because he knew he was running out of chances. The more he lied the more it felt like you were walking away.

“Welp” you said, popping the P, as if trying to lighten up the mood, before taking a small pause. “I'm already half ready and Gwen really wants us to go to the party so if you change your mind just call me?”

"Okay," he whispered into the phone.

"Bye, Rafe." The call ended with a soft beep, leaving him alone with the silence. 

“i suck” He let out a heavy sigh, groaning as he flopped onto his bed. The mask, half-folded over his face, slipped down, unfolding on its own. It rested against his nose—a quiet, relentless reminder of the responsibilities he has over the city.

"Heyyyy!" Gwen called out, sprinting toward you from the front steps of the school, where she had been waiting. Her face lit up the moment she spotted you approaching.

You hesitated, glancing at the building behind her, you could hear music thumping from inside. 

“Rafe is not with you?” she asked, looking around you thinking she might have missed him.

“No, you know how he is. He bailed again” you sighed.

“What is his problem?” She didn't wait for an answer and continued, “you know what? let's forget about him and just have fun” she looped her arm with yours and instantly began dragging you.

The homecoming party was in full swing, music pounding against the walls, and laughter echoed through the gym where it took place. It reeked of sweat, and the floor was already sticky as if someone had dropped bottles of juice on the floor and honestly if Rafe was here you would have begged him to leave with you already.

You tried to enjoy the moment, despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You clutched a red Solo cup filled with non alcoholic fruit punch, swirling the liquid mindlessly. You knew you’d only take a few sips—just enough to look like you were part of the fun.

Beside you, Gwen nudged your arm with a playful grin. “Come on, loosen up a little! It's homecoming, not a funeral.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? This just isn’t really my scene.”

 “You mean you don’t love being crammed in a gym full of sweaty high schoolers who haven't  learned what deodorant is yet, with music so loud it could cause permanent hearing damage?” Gwen dramatically gasped.

“Shocking, right?” You smirked.

“Alright, no excuses. One dance. Then I’ll let you go back to brooding in the corner with your untouched fruit punch.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the dance floor

You sighed but let her drag you along anyway , attempting to let go of the tension in your chest just for a few minutes.

But it didn't last long. 

A single phone rang loudly, cutting through the music—then another, and another, until the entire gym was filled with the sound of alerts. Conversations stopped, and a wave of confusion swept through the crowd as people scrambled to check their phones. Those who had left theirs at home leaned over shoulders, desperate to see what was happening.

It was an emergency alert.

A link attached to the notification led to a live report from a hovering news helicopter. The shaky footage showed Spider-Man in a brutal fight with something massive—a creature that towered over him. Gasps and murmurs spread through the party as people recognized what they were seeing.

Another lizard.

New York had seen its fair share of Dr. Curt Connors copycats, but this one was different. It was bigger—almost dinosaur-sized; its scaly skin was reflecting the city lights as it tore through the streets. The ground seemed to shake even through the screen.

“This… this one’s huge,” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the growing panic.

The realization hit all at once. This wasn’t just another mad scientist playing with forbidden experiments and  chemicals. This was something worse. And it was heading straight for the school.

The battle outside was relentless. The massive Lizard roared, its tail whipping through the air, sending cars flying like toys that weighed nothing. Rafe gritted his teeth, webbing up debris and yanking himself through the air to keep up with the monster’s destructive path.

Every web he shot was torn apart and all his strength did nothing against the creature. Rafe's body ached, exhaustion creeping in faster than he wanted to admit. The Lizard was too strong, too fast, and it was pushing forward, heading straight toward the school. Toward you.

He forced himself to move, barely dodging a swipe of the creature’s paws. His vision blurred for a moment, his limbs trembling. His suit was torn. He was too weak. He wasn’t going to make it.  

Then he saw it. In that small moment of hesitation, that single breath he allowed himself to take, the monster had surged forward. Its massive feet slammed into the school celling, reducing the entrance to ashes. Dust and debris shot into the air as the walls groaned under its weight. His chest tightened—he had wasted precious seconds

A deafening explosion sent shockwaves through the school, knocking people off their feet. walls shattered, dust lifted in the air, screams filled the gym, all the lights were shut off putting the school in full black out and the once-lively party descended into chaos.

Everyone was running frantically, The entire building shook as you all felt the creature getting closer seeking destruction. All you could hear was the scream of people desperately trying to find an exit. 

“We have to go!” Gwen took your hand and began running but there was nowhere to run, the school was falling piece by piece.

The next thing you knew, the Lizard’s massive paw tore through the ceiling, debris raining down. Screams got louder and louder. It wasn’t just destroying the building—it was tearing apart anything in its path.

Even students.

You barely had time to process the horror unfolding before your eyes. The sickening sound of ripping metal, the desperate cries for help—it was too much. You wanted to run, to do something, but your body felt frozen in place, paralyzed by terror.

And then you saw it.

A lifeless hand, limp beneath the rubble. A shoe that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Blood smeared across the floor where moments earlier, there had been laughter.

Your breath hitched, your chest was tightening with a grief so sharp it felt like it might crush you. This wasn’t just destruction. It was a massacre..

You barely had time to process  it before a chunk of debris came crashing down—right toward you and a figure dressed in red and blue dropped from the ceiling and came at you as fast as light could travel.

In a blur of motion, you were flying through the air, held tightly against a strong chest. 

“You need to go!”  Spiderman yelled as soon as he dropped you back on your feet. But you couldn't hear him over the roars and the screams.

Before you could respond, a violent force knocked you both apart. You tumbled across the floor, the wind knocked from your lungs and the monster hovered over you. 

Spider-Man lunged, webbing the creature’s face and yanking it backward. “Run!” he shouted at you, desperation in his tone. He fought with everything he had, flipping, dodging, striking with all the strength he could collect. But the Lizard was relentless.

Then, in the chaos, you tried to run—but the Lizard’s tail lashed out, striking you hard. The sound of impact was harsh. You hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“No!” Rafe’s voice cracked, Something inside him snapped. Rage flooded his veins, and every ache, every ounce of exhaustion vanished.

With a furious roar, he attacked. His punches came harder, his movements faster. He webbed the Lizard’s limbs, yanking it into the ground with a force that shattered concrete. He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. Not after what had just happened.

Finally, with one last web the monster was tied to the floor unmoving and unconscious, the host of the lizard and succumbed.

But none of it mattered.

Rafe stumbled toward you, collapsing beside you before pulling his mask up to truly see you.

 “No, no, no—come on” he pleaded, his hands lifted your head up and he felt the liquid pouring out of the large gash behind your head. His blood stained hands trembled as he brushed the hair from your face, his vision blurred with tears. “Please, Y/n—”

Your eyes fluttered open slightly, breathing shallow. A weak, bittersweet smile ghosted your lips. “I always knew,” you whispered. “I always knew it was you.”

Rafe froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I just… wished you told me,” You murmured, fingers barely gripping his suit. “I still would’ve… loved you.”

Tears streamed down his face. “No, don’t—don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. I promise, I—”

But you exhaled one last breath, your hand slipping from his suit. Your body went still.

“Please, no. i love you” he lifted your body further into his as if his warmth could bring you back but it didn't.

And after that moment the canon remained intact.

[hirayalore]

you and sirius never discussed it out loud, but you both knew that you didn’t want to have kids after everything that happened in the last 13 years.

it wasn’t always like that, though (contrary to popular belief). he could faintly remember back then when both of you were still studying in hogwarts that you’d open the prospect of having children with him and having a family someday—and sirius, although scared to death at the thought of ever raising kids his own when he didn’t even grow up with good parents himself, was amicable with the idea if it meant that he’d see little versions of you running around in your future home.

but then he was imprisoned for 12 years, and that was 12 years of not spending every single day with you, of not waking up in bed beside you, of not being able to share meals, of not being able to do the most normal things that young couples did in their twenties… of not being able to propose, of getting married, of having a family together…

so, when he came back and got his name cleared by the ministry, all he wanted was to make up for that lost time. you and him were already 37 years old after all, and although it wasn’t relatively old, he still felt like both of your years ahead would never be enough to compensate for what has been taken—making the prospect of having kids and having to think of someone else other than yourselves unappealing.

until one night, he decided to make a bold step in knowing whether you two were truly on the same page like he was assuming. you never told him about your opinion regarding it, but in the way you were with him after his return, he could feel it in his bones that you didn’t want to focus on anything else other than your rekindled relationship with each other.

but he just had to make sure.

“darling,” he murmured, as you two were trying to fall asleep, his arms around you while your nose was nuzzling his throat, “do you… still ever think about having children?”

you raised your head up almost immediately, meeting his gaze. “what’s with the question?”

“nothing. it’s just that—it’s something we used to talk about. ages ago, really.”

“yeah, it was.” your eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if you were trying to recall the times you did talk about it. “we used to plan that we’d buy a flat in london and live in a muggle city, just to piss your parents off further.”

he chuckled. “we did.”

“and we’d have two kids. one girl and one boy.” you smiled, faintly remembering now.

sirius nodded. “they’d both should have my eyes—”

“and then have the rest of my features, with the nose being a requirement.” you finished for him, saying the exact line he used to tell you back then. 

the two of you laughed at the memory, fascinated at how the teenage mind works when you’re in love. at that age, you always felt invincible, like nothing could ruin the plans that you and your lover have made for yourselves. you would always believe that everything would go smoothly and that happily-ever-after was right next door, never ever thinking that adulthood could potentially drive you crazy or in this case, a dark wizard was going to try to seize control over your people.

when the laughter died down, you gazed deeply at each other, understanding that just as the times have changed—so have the circumstances and ultimately, your decision.

you ran your fingers on the side of his head, combing parts of his hair, admiring the manner in which his face showed nothing but quiet contentment.

“maybe in another life,” you began, voice coming out as a whisper, “we’d have those things. we’d have kids, and have a big home, but right now…” you leaned closer and pressed your forehead against his, savoring the proximity you once longed for in thousands of nights. “i’m happy with just the two of us. with you, sweetheart.”

sirius smiled and nodded, a hand gently rubbing along the expanse of your back, tugging you closer. “me too, love.” he sighed. “me too.”

with no other words needed to be spoken, you pressed a brief yet firm kiss on his lips before sinking back in your previous position, embracing him and nestling in his arms, knowing that even an eternity of making up for what fate had stolen would never feel enough.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[jee-bus]

Migraines - Aizawa X Reader blurb

Hello again! You all voted in the poll for this, so I deliver. Just domestic life fluff, the slightest most barely mention of sex and even then it's like nothing even if you squint, GN!reader.

I hope you enjoy! If you liked this, consider buying me a Coffee =] - Ko-fi.com/marley_offline_23

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Work was rough, training was rough, the entire day has been rough. 

The dark haired man had woken up with a minor headache that had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. It didn't help that seemingly everyone in his life was loud and reckless and had a penchant for annoying him with whatever easily solvable issues they currently had! 

Well… except one person… but they were currently at work and not wrapped up in bed with him while he did his best to ignore any and all sounds.

Aizawa let out a low groan and wrapped his blanket around himself tighter, as if that would help with the banging and pulsing that was happening inside of his head. The aspirin he had taken earlier was doing nothing to help.

The man didn't know how much time had passed from him getting home to now, all he was really aware of was the blistering, thundering pain in his head. But when he vaguely heard the front door open and a light voice saying hello to the cat, he was sure it had been at least an hour.

"Sho?" Your sweet voice called out, "I'm home! I also picked up some dinner, you didn't respond to my text so I assumed we weren't going to cook anything tonight." Had you texted him? He hadn't looked at his phone, the bright screen made his head worse. 

The smell of dumplings and miso soup wafted through the air as you made your way through the apartment, his stomach curled at the smell. 

"Shota..?" You slowly opened the bedroom door, then quickly shut it when you saw your husband, "What's wrong, love? Are you okay?" Aizawa was grateful that you spoke in hushed whispers.

Instead of responding, the man just groaned and vaguely gestured to his head. His partner seemed to get the hint, though. 

Smiling, they walked over and sat the food on the bedside table before seating themselves at the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on the man's forehead. "Have you taken anything?"

Aizawa nodded, leaning into their cool touch, "S'not doing much." He muttered out, grabbing your arm and tugging you into bed with him. 

"Sho!" You yelped out, before quickly throwing a hand over your mouth and giving the man an apologetic look, "Shota. I have to put the food away, change out of my day clothes, clean up a bit—"

The man cut you off by placing a thumb over your lips, his hand enveloping the right side of your face, before pulling you in for a kiss. Slow, full of want. Aizawa was more than ready to give in, wanting anything to take his mind off of his migraine, craving you as the perfect medicine. 

One hand slid from your face to the back of your neck as the other traced your hip, stopping only to squeeze the plush spots. Though the motion slightly hurt his head, he rolled you two over so that his form was braced on top of yours. 

Lost in the moment, your hands trailed up his chest and then into his hair. Silky waves curled between your fingers, and when Aizawa moved from your mouth to your neck, you gasped and gave a slight tug. 

Which made the man groan in pain. 

Which made you stop and realize just how you ended up beneath him in the first place. 

"Sho, you need rest." You put your hands on the side of his face and made him look at you. 

Again, he just let out something between a groan and a sigh and all but collapsed on top of you, his muscular frame encasing yours, once again burying his face in your neck as you rubbed his back.

Before you could interrupt his attempt at falling asleep with the reminder of your dinner that was currently on the bedside table, he spoke.

"Don't worry about it. I can practically hear you thinking." You chuckled and kissed his forehead.

"Fine. Just try to sleep." 

"Way ahead of you." He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his head already feeling better than before.

[its-luna-noel]

your obstinate charge | astarion ancunin

Astarion has never been allowed to say 'no' before. When he does, he realizes who he wants to say 'yes' to. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land. You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands. You trust him completely.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, afab reader but any pronouns, durge reader, act 2 spoilers, previous abuse, smut, oral (f! & m! receiving), blood drinking

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! i wrote this last year and posted on ao3, and i wasn't going to cross post since my blog is mostly jjk, but i reread it and was really proud of it, so here it is on tumblr! ty for reading & hope you enjoy!

Everyone at camp can see that Astarion is in a foul mood.

You arrived back at Last Light after your first journey to Moonrise Towers, finally having arrived at your end goal to destroy these tadpoles, and before you could all share your discoveries with the rest of the party, Astarion strode off towards the waterline, ducking into darkness before you could grab him.

You stare after him for a moment and shake your head. Then you turn towards the fire, folding your legs under you as you ready yourself for dinner.

Gale passes you a wooden bowl of the same stew you'd been eating since arriving in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. "How did it go?" he asks.

You shake your head again, shoving food in your mouth, and lift your shoulder in a shrug. "We found Ketheric," you explain, offering the memory of your meeting to Gale through your tadpoles. He grimaces as you share the images of Ketheric pulling the axe from his chest. You withdraw your mind from his and continue to eat. "We've convinced them that we're True Souls, for now. We'll see where it takes us."

Gale begins to speak over his own meal, airing his many ideas to the party as the others gathered around the fire. But your thoughts drift, and you aren’t even lucid enough to feel guilty for ignoring him; all you can think of was how you know Ketheric was somehow involved in your previous life, that life you can't remember. Determination begins to burn deep in your chest; you must find out what this all means.

Before you can try to sort out your disordered thoughts, Karlach plops down beside you, the heat of her warming you on all sides as she digs into her stew.

"Hey," she says through a mouth full of food, "what's wrong with Fangs?"

You shrug, pulling apart your warm roll of bread. "How am I supposed to know?"

"'Cause you're all cozy with him, or whatever." She looks at you, her bright eyes keen and knowing. "Whatever happened today, you know what must be bothering him. Maybe you should go check on him."

You almost laugh. "He doesn't want to see me," you tell her.

She gives you a stern look before returning to her meal. "Just think about it, soldier," is all she says.

You all finish your meal and talk about your plan for the next day before retiring to your own tents for the night. You change out of your armor and clean it, rubbing off stubborn stains of goblin blood. You try to lose yourself to sleep, but it does not take you, with your many worries for the next day. And, even though you don't want to, you can't help but think about what Karlach said.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

So, unable to sleep, and unable to think of anything else to do, you leave your tent and make your way towards Astarion's.

You walk over, the chill of the night making you shiver. You almost hope to find the tent closed up for the night, to find him already trancing for the night, but the entrance is still tied open. You peek inside, expecting to find your companion reclined and reading a book by candle light; you try to prepare yourself for whatever sly flirtation he has for you.

Instead, you find the tent empty.

You frown; you know that Astarion hasn't been able to find suitable prey since you'd arrived in the cursed lands, so you can't imagine that he's out prowling. You stand there for a moment, at a loss and trying to decide whether or not to just go to bed. But you sigh, as whatever blackened heart inside you pushes you forward.

You, thanking your lucky stars that he wasn't trying to hide when he skulked away, follow Astarion's tracks down towards the river.

—

You find him propped up on his elbows across the river, staring out across the water. You don't bother to try and hide your footsteps; you simply cross the river, taking care not to lose your footing on the loose stones along the way.

"Come to collect your obstinate charge?" Astarion sneers without looking at you as you approach.

You sit beside him, tucking your knees against your chest. You try to keep your dirty shoes off his cloak that he spread out on the ground beneath him.

Those words are familiar enough; that dreadful Drow called him that to your face when she asked for him to bite her. "She really got to you, huh?" you ask, resting your cheek on one knee as you turn to look at him.

He's still in his armor from the day, and he'd found a bottle of wine somewhere in the crates surrounding Last Light on his journey over. It's something cheap, something you're sure he finds repulsive, even as he drinks. He stares across the river towards the inn, and he's silent for so long you resign yourself to the fact that he's ignoring you. Then, as you're deciding if you should just leave him to his thoughts, he shakes his head and says, "I can't get it out of my head. The way she leered at me."

You watch him, waiting for him to speak. He swirls the bottle of wine and takes a drink, then grimaces at the taste and lets the bottle hang loosely from his fingers. He doesn't look at you as he thinks.

Eventually, he sighs, the sound light and airy. "I was being too precious, wasn't I?" You can tell he's trying to convince himself, to talk himself back into some dark line of thinking he'd grown accustomed since being turned. "We could have used her potion. A moment of unpleasantry doesn't matter if there's a fine reward. I should have just gritted my teeth as always and let her have me for a bit."

You feel your heart sink at his words. "Astarion," you whisper, unsure of what to say next.

He barks out a laugh, a short, derisive sound. "Oh, darling, I don't need your pity." He throws the bottle of wine towards the water, and the glass shatters against the river bank. Wine starts to spill into the river, spreading like blood.

You shake your head, confused by how quickly his mood shifts. You struggle to keep up. "Astarion, I don't pity you," you tell him. You turn to face him properly, to take this conversation seriously. He still doesn't look at you. "But you have the right to say 'no.' You don't belong to anyone anymore."

At those words, he shifts his gaze from the waterline to finally examine you. His eyes are narrow, the expression behind them inscrutable. "You really believe that, don't you?" He laughs again, but he's not amused. His voice is bitter as he continues, "Yes, well, I must admit, a part of me feels sick when I think about getting on my back for breadcrumbs again." He tilts his head, suddenly curious. "But you, you could have convinced me to take the deal. To just push through and get the potion, and we would've all just moved along with our lives. Why didn't you?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Your voice is slightly incredulous. "You said 'no,' and that's your right. I'm not here to force you to do anything." You, now, laugh without mirth. You know enough about not having a say in what you do, with your strange visitors haunting your every move.

Astarion is still watching you. He has to admit to himself, he doesn't understand you one bit. No one in this life or his last ever showed him any ounce of kindness; even the gods couldn't be bothered to look his way. But here you are, some insignificant wanderer with gore for brains and a strong propensity towards gruesome violence, sitting beside him and telling him he had a choice. "But you could've," he pushes, and he suddenly reaches forward, dragging aside your neckline to reveal bruised teeth marks from where he'd last fed. You stiffen slightly, caught off guard by his quick movements. "What have I done to deserve any of your grace? I deceived you, tried to hunt you in the night, have taken everything I could from you with no promises to give any of it back."

"Astarion," you whisper, and for the first time, you think you are finally seeing him. "What makes you think you have to earn it?"

And that, finally, is what breaks him.

He rises up on his knees and takes your face in his hands, and there's a frenzy there, a desperation that makes you tense. You think he might shake you so hard your ruined brain will rattle around in your skull, and you watch the thought form behind his eyes. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land.

You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands.

You trust him completely.

The look in his eyes is suddenly wild, confused, exasperated. Of all the prey he's ever hunted before, why did you have to be the one he showed the monster to? Anyone else would've run; you should've, too. Yet here you sit, on this riverbank beside him, looking into his blood-red eyes because he's led you right where he wanted you. Surely you aren't too stupid to see that.

Yet here you are, staring at him with those big, trusting eyes as he holds your life in his hands.

There must be something wrong with you, he decides then. Beyond the parasite in your head, and beyond the spells of very bloody memory loss; there is something fundamentally, elementally, seriously wrong with you. It's the only way he can explain to himself why you're still sitting here, prey in its predator's sight, unwavering & unafraid.

At that look in your eyes, that brave, corruptible expression, he leans closer. He says your name, and it's like the last prayer he'll ever speak. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, and he's almost begging.

You lean in, too, until the tip of your nose brushes the slope of his, and you breathe, "You."

And then he's kissing you, and you let out a small gasp, because you can't believe this beautiful elf has chosen you. He breathes you in, his hands still cupping your cheeks, and you thread your fingers into his silvery curls, beckoning him closer. One of his hands traces down your side, wrapping around your waist and holding you closer so you can feel the lines of him through your camp clothes. You gasp again, surprised by his unyielding grip, and his tongue slips between your parted lips, searching, exploring, tasting. You groan quietly, low in your throat, and his other hand traces from your cheek to your neck, fingers searching for the source of the sound. They find it, and they squeeze…

With his hand on your throat, feeling your pulse through the delicate skin, Astarion is nearly hypnotized.

He wishes that hunger deep in his belly would fade, would disappear and leave him to enjoy this, to lose himself in the moment like he hasn't in two hundred years. But it burns hot, and he can hear your heart beating strong in your chest, quickening as he moves against you, presses into you. It gnaws at him, spurned and getting harder to ignore, and you feel him bracing, beginning to pull away because he shouldn't do this to you— he can't—

You pull back from him, and he wonders how you could have possibly known his thoughts and braces for the impact of a stake in his heart—

Instead you tilt your chin and arch your back, and your hands in his hair lead him right to where he needs to be. His mouth brushes the pulse at your throat.

His vision flashes red; he can feel your blood thrumming against his lips, feel the seductive brush of each pulse against his mouth. He groans, and he wants to fight it, because gods he wishes things were different, but his lips part and his jaw opens, and he's biting into your throat.

A breath hisses from between your teeth at the sensation, at the ice traveling down your spine and chilling you to the bone. His mouth on you is unyielding as he cradles you in his hands, drinking you in in every way possible. Your eyes fall closed, and you begin to float, your thoughts becoming lighter than the clouds. You smile, because you can still feel him grasping at you, wanting you, needing you.

You trust him completely.

That hunger inside him pushes him to drink you dry, to tear your life from your hands until it burns in his chest instead. But he pries himself away from your throat, mouth dripping with scarlet and breath stuttering from between his lips. You can feel his chest heaving against you, can feel air fanning against your neck. You're still smiling.

"You," he gasps, easing you back down against the ground beneath you as he licks his teeth clean, "you ruin me." And then he kisses that smile on your mouth, and he's hovering over you, holding himself above you. It feels like a question.

When he pulls away, you open your eyes to see the stars painted over his shoulders. He looks predatory, like he's standing over the tattered remains of his latest hunt, but you see the softness in his expression, the vulnerability. He doesn't want to hurt you; he doesn't want this to be like all the other times, and he surely doesn't want this to be the first of its own terrible kind. He wants you, you realize. Not your blood, not your power, not your protection or your loyalty or your allegiance; he wants you.

You're ready to let him have you, if he'll take you.

"Astarion." You whisper his name, and he leans closer, his curls brushing your cheek. It tickles, and you giggle under your breath.

He tries not to stiffen at the sound. He forgets how soft you are sometimes, how gentle. It creates an air of innocence, though he watched you tear through goblins and cursed undead only hours before, and he knows without a doubt you can handle yourself. For a moment, he feels like the monster under the bed again.

But you touch his face, so very gently, and kiss him. Softly, sweetly, you call him back to you.

"I'm yours," you breathe, "if you'll have me."

And oh, it’s not even a question.

He’ll have you, he decides, pressing you back against the ground until rocks dig into your shoulders. He’ll take whatever you will give him, and when you’ve had enough, he will probably still be on his knees before you, begging for more.

Before that thought can scare him away, he trails his touch over your thin, casual clothes, grasping at the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. He pulls back to look at you, to admire you, but you — suddenly cold and bashful — wrap your arms over your chest.

You hide from him, and he’s suddenly confused.

He examines the nervous look in your eyes, the way you're flushed in embarrassment and trying to hide beneath him, and all the little puzzle pieces suddenly click into place. This is new to you, he realizes. Maybe not truly and entirely; maybe you were taken to bed in whatever life you had before, but you don't remember that now. For you, with your absent memories and shattered persona, this was your first time.

It's suddenly all too much for him, and he shrinks away from you, leaning back into his heels. He holds his face in his hands, and he shakes his head ever so slightly, because it's too familiar a sight, to pin down bright innocence beneath his hips and drag it into the darkness. He wants to run away, to curse you for ever asking him to come to your camp and join your little band of misfits.

For a moment, he wishes he never met you; at least he wouldn't have to question every action he takes.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he recedes from you, and very slowly and gently take one of his hands in yours. He's shaking, just barely, but your throat seems to close with a flood of emotion.

"Astarion," you whisper, and you gently pry his hand away from his face. His eyes are shut tightly, his lips twisted in a grimace. You bring his hand towards your lips, and you leave a kiss on his palm, feather light. "Astarion," you say again, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Of course, you have to be the first person to say those words. The first person to encourage him to say no, when all he wants — for the first time in two hundred years — is to say yes.

For a moment, he’s bitter, and you can see the flash of frustration in his eyes when he finally opens them. But it’s gone in a moment, and he grins, flashing his teeth as he leans back in. “My dear,” he says, his silver tongue and honeyed words his only protection against the overwhelming confusion that’s threatening to settle over him, “I want this, trust me.”

He moves to catch your mouth with his, but you put your hand on his chest and stop him before he can. Your brows are creased, pulled together in concern.

The message is clear; you won’t let him use you to destroy himself.

His eyes flutter closed once more, and he breathes deeply, reminding himself where he is, who he is with. When he opens his eyes, they are gentle, softer than you’ve ever seen. You think, for a moment, maybe he has grown to trust you, too.

Slowly, without that same underlying malice, he leans in, close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I want this,” he repeats, his voice so quiet you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it. But then his mouth is on yours again, and he returns to his work removing your clothes.

His movements are slow, now, methodical. Like he’s trying to shake off decades of ghosts as he slides your pants down your thighs; maybe he is, you think. The fabric reaches your ankles, and you help him wriggle you free, and he tosses the clothing aside. Your underwear soon follow. Then, for one long, languorous moment, he looks at you, naked under the moonlight. Your mouth is red and sinful from kissing him, and the chilly breeze of the ever-present darkness raises goosebumps along your skin. Your nipples grow hard and pink, and you shiver. His gaze continues lower, to where you nervously squeeze your legs together in one last attempt at preserving your decency.

He wants to ruin you.

He brushes your thighs apart with one commanding swipe of his hand, and you shiver at the look in his eyes. Pupils blown wide with desire, he stares up at you through his lashes as he dips down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the valley between your breasts. He settles his body between your legs, and he veers to one side and licks a line towards one nipple, catching it between his lips. The wind cools his saliva until you’re shivering, and you’re not sure if it’s the cold or the pleasure as your head tilts back, your body arching against the ground.

Astarion suddenly sucks, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls at your nipple. You gasp, and he relishes in the sound, watching you bare your throat to him. He gazes up at you, admiring the sight, as his hand slips between your thighs.

Suddenly, you gasp when fingertips stroke against your core, revealing your glistening slick. Astarion groans, the mound of your breast still in his mouth. “All this talk,” he teases, reaching up and grabbing your jaw in one hand. With the other, he rocks his touch back just slightly, barely brushing against your clit. “You should be the one telling me how much you want it, desperate little thing.”

Your face burns at his words and his casual tone, but you can’t even argue with him before he sweeps his tongue into your mouth. He licks your teeth, and at the same time he presses two fingers inside you, and you let out a broken moan against his lips. You can feel his wolfish smile as he pulls back before pumping back inside you.

You can feel how wet you are, can feel it dripping down the inside of your thighs. He moves slowly, though, allowing the gentle stretch of his fingers as he kisses you. His thumb draws lazy little circles over your clit, and he catches each of your moans with his mouth, learning exactly what you like with a few strokes of his expert hands.

Then, just as your breathing starts to hitch and break, he pulls away, taking his hand from the wet heat between your legs.

The sound you make almost comes out as a whine, and Astarion laughs, watching you flush deep crimson. “Someone needs to mind their manners,” he chastises playfully, and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Your flush impossibly deepens, and you almost look away in embarrassment. But you can’t tear your eyes from the shameful scene, and you can tell that he knows how much it turns you on to see him like this. He grins again, and then he dips his head, disappearing between your thighs.

Before you can process his quick movements, you feel him lick molten heat up your core, and you throw your arms out to the sides, scrambling for purchase. You gasp his name, and you feel him chuckle more than you hear it.

”Yes, my dear?” he asks before running the flat of his tongue against your clit.

Your body stiffens, and your face lifts to the heavens. “Don’t stop,” is all you can muster.

And he doesn’t.

He eats you out until you’re shaking, falling apart under him. He presses his fingers back into you, three this time, and sucks on your clit while he strokes you from the inside. He stares up at you while he does it, watching you writhe in breathless, beautiful agony. One of your hands finds his hair, brushing through his curls with a touch that’s much too gentle for what you’re suffering at his hand.

You can feel your pleasure mounting, tightening like a coil deep in your belly while heat flames between your legs. Your moans are coming out in pants, now, barely intelligible noises that break against the riverbed. Your hand in his hair tightens, gripping for dear life and holding him there and pushing him away all in the same movement, and your back bows off the ground, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head as he pushes you higher and higher—

Then, like a band snapping, your orgasm rocks through you, and your vision goes black while your hips stutter and your core clenches and quivers.

Bliss washes over you, and you slowly come back to earth, and you find Astarion unbuckling his armor, nearly frantic in his movements.

”Astarion,” you croak, reaching for him.

He leans over you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. His hands tug feverishly at the buckles.

”Astarion,” you sound like you’re begging. “Astarion, please—“

He huffs playfully, still pushing off his leather armor one layer at a time. “What is it?” he asks, sparing one hand to stroke gently at your throat. “Do you need some attention? Aren’t you just obsessed—?”

”No,” you whine, finally rising up on your knees and reaching for his hands. “Let me— I want you to feel good.”

By now, his chest is bare, and he’s kicked off his boots. “Sweet thing, the thought of being inside you is driving me insane.” His leather pants slide down his thighs. “Do you want—?”

”Astarion,” you say again, your voice emphatic. You take his hand and bring it to your mouth, parting your lips against his fingers. “Please.”

Astarion freezes suddenly, staring at you with an expression of recognition. His eyes trail from yours down to your mouth, where his fingers sit. He can feel the heat of your breath, and he grows impossibly harder at the thought of what you’re asking.

It’s something he’s so rarely done since being turned. A pleasure he’s so rarely accepted.

Your lips brush his fingertips when you speak. “I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, and then you take two of his fingers in your mouth.

His stomach drops as he watches you, and his cock twitches at the sinful sight of your lips wrapped around his long pale fingers. You watch his pupils dilate, and his lips part slightly as you slide your tongue down, swirling gently. Your own desire pools in your belly, watching him watch you.

Please.

He nods, his breath starting to hitch slightly at the idea of filling that mouth. You smile, and you draw back until his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. Then you ease him back gently onto his elbows, picking up where he left off by dipping your fingers into the band of his underwear. You look up through your eyelashes, watching his chest heave up and down.

”Tell me to stop,” you say sternly, and he nods, understanding your meaning. So, having his confirmation, you continue.

You slide his last layer of clothing slowly down his strong thighs, watching every reaction your movements elicit. Watching for any sign of trepidation, of apprehension. But you only see desire, and one of his hands goes to your hair, knotting in your tresses. Encouraging you further.

You move your hands lower and lower, and your mouth begins to water as you follow the shaft of his cock. He’s gorgeous in every way, and when you finally reveal the pink head, glistening with precum, you have to hold yourself back from devouring him.

You tug his underwear the rest of the way off, and then you kneel in front of him, sure that whatever gods may be listening have placed him here in front of you.

You dip your head forward, wanting only to touch him with your mouth. With his hold on your hair, hopefully that would give him enough power to say no if it became too much. Tentatively, and watching for his reaction, your tongue slips out from between your lips and licks a gentle line along his shaft, giving you your first taste of him.

Astarion’s entire body stiffens at the sensation, and you do not move again, waiting for some sign that this was okay. After a moment, he tugs at your hair and very gently touches your cheek, and the look in his eyes is clear direction for you to continue.

You brush your lips against him, leaving gentle kisses, and then your tongue follows to the head of his dick, tasting his precum before swirling and bobbing deeper.

Astarion throws his head back, and he keens as you take him into your mouth. It’s a broken sound, but his hand in your hair pushes you deeper, and you obey. You drool when his hips cant forward, and you match his movements by swirling your tongue and pulling back before sliding all the way back down. He almost can’t believe the skill of your mouth, with how innocent you looked not five minutes ago, but then his thoughts scatter again when he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to press you down until you’re choking on him, wants to cum in your mouth and make a mess of you—

But he stops himself, pulls you back by your hair and kisses you, because he needs to fuck you.

He’s panting when he grabs you by the throat and lowers you onto your back. “Say it again,” he tells you, half delirious with the need to be inside you. “Say you’re mine.”

”I’m yours,” you respond immediately, eyes shining in the moonlight.

He groans your name, cupping his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, lining himself up at your entrance. Your cunt is still dripping for him, and he presses his fingers against your clit, watching you jump as he touches the swollen bundle of nerves. He laughs, a breathless sound, and then he places one hand beside your head, staring into your eyes as he slides inside you.

Thank you, he wants to say. Thank you for saving me.

But that’s much too vulnerable a thought to share, so he simply rocks his hips into yours, watching your mouth fall open in pleasure.

He’s perfect, you think as he slides back out of you before slamming back in, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. He’s perfect and he’s here and he’s yours, and you want to tell him so, but you can’t even speak, so you squeak out moans and scrabble at his chest as he fucks you.

He watches you quickly come undone beneath him, and when he decides he needs more, he lifts one of your legs and props it over his shoulder. The new angle lets him hit a target inside you that has you seeing stars, and you’re a drooling mess beneath him, eyes glazed over with pleasure. His fingers once again find your clit, and he rubs those practiced circles, just like before. He watches your chest heave, and your lips try to form his name, but he’s knocking the wind out of you with every thrust. You feel him inside you, on top of you, all around you, and you know that this is dangerous, that this is the sort of magic that will keep you coming to his tent every night.

And oh, how you both want to tear each other apart each night.

You feel your second orgasm building, so much faster than the first, and you gaze up into his eyes, watching him fuck you, and it quickly becomes too much.

“Astarion,” you finally gasp, your voice pitched so high it almost breaks, “pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

The sound of your voice threatens to send him over the edge, and his thrusts begin to turn wild, frantic. He shoves himself into you until you come apart, unraveling at the seams. Your cunt clenches over and over again, pulling him closer from the inside, and before he can pull out to empty himself on your stomach, you grab his shoulder and tilt your hips forward, begging him to stay there.

Begging him to cum inside you.

The thought shatters him, and he moans into the crook of your shoulder, thrusting erratically as he rides out his own orgasm. You feel his cock twitching inside you, and you hold him close as his thrusts slow, then stop.

As you hold him, you press gentle kisses to his face. His forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. His lips. He kisses you back, slowly, deeply. Then he pulls himself out of you, and you almost regret the sudden emptiness. But you can’t think about it for too long before he lowers himself to the ground beside you, and you follow him, still kissing every inch of him that you can reach.

”I’m yours,” you remind him. And even as you both start to clean up and head back to camp, he remembers those words.

He belonged to no one, but maybe one day, he wouldn’t mind belonging to you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3

[beautiful-basque-country]

What do you think? https://youtu.be/WW4D-1Sa-r8?si=8peyR-RkNAeYOynL

Kaixo anon!

Somehow I thought somebody would ask me about that video? I watched it yesterday.

I'm suscribed to Linguriosa's channel and have learnt very much from her videos, that are generally well researched and explained.

This one isn't different. She tries to be somehow aseptic and focus on the laws that attacked Galego, Català, and Euskara during the dictatorship without too much assessment or analysis beyond that.

For instance, she says that the first ikastola (school 100% in Basque) was opened in Donosti in 1954 but fails to mention it was actually a clandestine school. She also fails to add context when she says thatin the 60s - the so-called "liberal phase" of the dictatorship" - magazines and records could be edited in Basque.

By that time, 23 years - a whole generation - of repression and punishment and making people ashamed had passed; that thousands of Basque-speakers had left their homes (27,000 to Cuba and +7,000 to France, just in 1937, and we're talking about the registered immigrants; it's calculated that half the people that escaped Spain did it illegaly);

Literally millions of people from the rural communities of Spain moved to the industrial capitals - especially Barcelona and Bilbo -, which made the few Basque speakers remaining not to interact in Basque since maaaaaaaany citizens were now from outside EH and Spanish, even though not over imposed by law as before, was very much imposed by the situation;

This is to say that by the 60s when Franco allegedly changed his mind and was so gracious as to let Basque people have content in our language, Basque was a TINY language on the verge of death. Unimportant. Incidental. Completely safe.

Then I see comments below Linguriosa's video saying something like "I am Basque and I was always taught that Basque was super banned under Franco and now I see that I was fed propaganda" and my heart breaks. Because this is exactly what happens when you fail to give as much context as possible to actually let people understand the whole picture and story.

Because, really, if you know nothing about this and watch the video, you actually get the idea that Franco became more tolerant regarding the minoritized languages in Spain as he got older and what he was actually doing was just laughing at our people: see? you have freedom to use your language now, too bad nobody can speak it anymore!

I'd love to know the takes of my friends @useless-catalanfacts and @jar-jar-ate on this, if they oblige! ^_^

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 8: Surprise

Another of my prompts from last year that fit.

*****

Rated T | 2,430 | tw: homophobic slur

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige—he always was—but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

****

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay insisted that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so incredibly perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before he kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy I am that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s- we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until, like, 10 minutes ago, so I don’t even have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought, though he kept that to himself.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you. You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned—minus is own spontaneous proposal—and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part— Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so- it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring.”

“Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting yours on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently fixed a curlon Bucks head and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took his ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

What if you did find Jason at arkam asylum? What if you tried to save him and succeeded? How would that alter his AK mindset?

What I'm really curious about is if you got caught. Joker would obviously use you to his advantage. Poor Jason would be devastated. (Once he's lucid enough, which the Joker would probably make happen.) But! As AK isn't that what he wanted? For you so find him? Did he really expect little old you to pull it off?

I only see you as stumbling upon Jason in an emotional search. Still relatively thought out, but nothing like... Batman approved. You know? You probably had a fight or are avoiding Bruce altogether because you know he would tell you no/stop you.

Gosh, the drama! I have a cold and it is way past my bedtime. You have entered orangutan's sleep deprived angsty mind...

-🦧

Been thinking about this one so hard!!

Overall, I don't think you finding and saving him changes AK's mindset that much. You found him, yes, you did what no one else could. But every one else? They failed. Batman, the one who he swore would come save him, still never showed up. So do his plans change? No, he still wants to make Bruce pay, still wants Gotham under his heel to show that he can win. The Arkham Knight still wants his revenge.

I think, once he's free from the Asylum, he's probably softer to you when you're alone. He's more loyal (in a sense) and trusts you to come and go as you please. You've proven yourself to him, after all. He'd give you roles and responsibilities in the militia too, if you'd like.

But if you get captured along side him? Once he realizes you're not a hallucination? Every thing gets so much worse. He's harder and easier all at once to break with you there. He gives into everything quicker to try and spare you any pain, but that spark in his eyes? It lingers far longer than it should– than it would– if you weren't there.

You definitely didn't have a plan when you went to look for him, no back-ups or failsafes, you were just desperate. So, there's no one coming for you– either of you.

But you did find him, even if you didn't save him. And while this doesn't change anything, he won't forget it. He won't forget that you found him, and in doing so got yourself hurt right along side him. It breaks something in him, I think. It makes him heavy with more guilt, more anger, more violence.

None of this fixes anything, but I think it makes him weak to you– weaker than he already was. That guilt, that bond you have now (because no one else knows what you two went through) means he listens to you. No matter what you say, what you ask for, whether he agrees or not, he listens to what you say. (and if you say to burn Arkham, to burn Gotham and all her rot to the ground, he will)