#you always show up even when I think your gone

[maskedbyghost]

You hated Simon Riley.

And he hated you.

It wasn’t the petty kind of animosity that came from competition or a clash of personalities. No, this was deep-seated loathing, built from years of working together, of butting heads, of him undermining you in front of the team, and you snapping back with your own venom. Every mission was a battle within a battle—bullets flying outside, but the real war waged between you and him.

It had come to a head tonight.

The mission had gone sideways. The intel had been off, and you were both stuck in some abandoned safehouse in enemy territory, waiting for exfil. The tension had been unbearable—his glares, your biting words, the sheer frustration of being stuck together in the dark, humid room.

And then it exploded.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was you; maybe it was him. One second, you were hurling insults, and the next, your back was hitting the wall, his body pressing into yours, all that rage spilling into something else—desperate and hungry.

“Shut up,” he growled, his breath hot against your lips.

“You first,” you snapped, shoving at his chest, but he only leaned in harder, his body heat overwhelming. “I swear to God, Riley—”

He cut you off with his mouth, all teeth and force, the taste of anger and something darker mixing between you. You bit his lip in retaliation, drawing a low sound from his throat, and then his hands were on your hips, gripping hard enough to bruise.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” His voice was a rasp against your skin as he shoved your jacket off your shoulders. “Always got to push back.”

You let out a breathless laugh, reaching for his belt and yanking it open with a sharp pull. “Because you never know when to shut up.”

His hand caught your wrist, pinning it to the wall beside your head, his other hand fisting into your hair to tilt your head back. He studied you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath uneven. You could feel his pulse hammering against your own, both of you on the edge of something that neither wanted to name.

“Say the word,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t. Instead, you surged forward, biting his jaw before whispering against his ear, “Show me what you’ve got, Riley.”

Then it was chaos. Clothes are torn away, bodies colliding, every motion a challenge. You shoved him back onto the creaky bed, straddling his hips as he glared up at you, hands already gripping your thighs. His smirk was infuriating, his fingers digging in like he was daring you to keep control.

“Think you’ve got the upper hand?” he taunted, his voice rough as he dragged his nails up your spine, making you shudder. “Cute.”

You dragged your nails down his chest in retaliation, leaving red lines in your wake. “I always win, Riley.”

His laugh was low and full of something wicked. “Not tonight.”

And then he flipped you, pressing you into the sheets with a force that stole your breath, his weight holding you down. His mouth found the column of your throat, his teeth scraping before he bit, marking you like he had something to prove. You gasped, arching against him, hands gripping at his shoulders as he pressed even closer, his body heat scorching.

It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t slow. It was rough and messy and filled with every ounce of rage and desire. Every motion was a fight—him trying to take, you refusing to surrender. But you both knew the truth.

Neither of you wanted to stop.

And when it was over, when the only sound in the room was your breaths and the rustle of sheets, you still didn’t move away. Simon was watching you, his thumb tracing the fresh marks on your skin as if memorizing them.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “We’re never speaking of this.”

His lips curled, amused. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

But the way he pulled you back to him, the way he kissed you again—slower this time, more lingering—told you that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

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

this is my apology for all the angst I put you through.

@daydreamerwoah

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentines day <3

[vero-lynn]

If y'all thought I was crazy before now I'll show you how insane I can get.

You guys see this guy? Yeah? Okay. Once again I'm here to share my headcanon that this is Masky who's driving the car at the moment. I've been thinking about it A LOT.

So, When Tim is talking to Jessica, that's him. That's him UNTIL he starts having a coughing fit unprovoked and pretty much safe from the operator.

After the coughing fit happens, and Tim seems to be feeling better, the camera glitches. It's not DURING the coughing, it's not BEFORE the coughing, it's AFTER the coughing.

Now, Jessica didn't glitch it, the operator didn't glitch it, it was acting JUST fine before, so, then, what did it? Well, this is where Tim switches up with Masky yet again. But I have more than this to make my theory a little better.

So, when we see "Tim" drive the car later on, he's clearly holding in his cough, he never did that before, he always coughs freely without an issue, so why hold it back now? Then there's the pills.

He doesn't take them. The camera is turned around and we don't hear him opening the bottle, we don't even hear the rattling of the pills. Nothing. The bottle is put away.

Masky also takes the pills, we know that, he has to - it's not like they're only for Tim, but I think it helps Tim to "keep" Masky away as well, at least a little bit.

And right now, what I think masky is doing, is, well, what he's always done ! Making Tim forget. Letting him leave all of it behind and move on, live a normal life like he always wanted to, and how he always tried helping him do. There's nothing left to drag him back, everyone who he considered dangerous is gone, Tim can finally move on.

But I have one last thing.

Yeah. Yeah.

Everything is fine.

But Vero!! What about it? It's a normal phrase! WRONG!!! This is a callback to totheark. And I'm so serious. Brian uses "everything is normal, everything is fine, I worry about nothing, because nothing's on my mind." ABOUT THREE TIMES. Once in marble hornets, and then twice in the comic. And it's always to comfort himself and keep himself calm.

If Brian uses it, why wouldn't Masky? To comfort himself, and to comfort US. As he always did with Tim and Brian.

Everything is fine. There's nothing to worry about.

Thank you for your attention.

[amourtoken]

All three hughes brothers radiate casual dominance and i will not elaborate 💕

I AGREE but i think it's all different types yk?

Quinn's been in this position before. He's the oldest sibling, he's the captain, he's used to being in control. He knows what you need before you need it.

Quinn could have your whole schedule memorized, and he always helps you keep track of everything. If he's gonna be gone for a while he'll order you food to the house so you don't have to worry about it and he has reminders set for all your medication so he can remind you when he needs to. He's always checking in, "have you eaten today?" "Are you remembering to drink water?" "Don't forget your meds, baby." "I'll text you when I'm on the way home, been thinkin' about you all day" type texts. Big daddy energy yk? You're his everything, let him handle all the work and you just sit there and look pretty for him.

Jack is more outward with it, he's showing off for you. He'll order for you at restaurants cause he knows it makes you nervous, he's a strong proprietor of the sidewalk rule, he's always carrying your stuff for you (including carrying you sometimes) and God forbid you ever open a door for yourself, he'd lose his shit if he couldn't do it for you.

Jack watches over you like a guard dog in public and he loves being able to see you prance around care free in whatever cute outfit you'd picked out knowing nothing is gonna happen to you as long as he's by your side. Whenever you drive home from dates he's letting you pick the music and he's got his free hand settled on your thigh, gently brushing the skin with his thumb. Of course when you get home he's opening the door for you, he does it so often you don't even bother trying yourself, just staying in his passenger seat till he helps you out (always topped off by kissing your forehead or the back of your hand while helping you out)

Luke is a bit softer about it, but he can get intense. Best of both worlds really.

Lukey's always walking with his hand on your lower back or pulling you close, your hands holding his forearm which reminds him how much bigger he is compared to you. He always has to be touching you, but you're more than happy to let him. He feels secure knowing that if his hands are on you you're safe and taken care of.

He makes a big deal of you wearing his clothes or things that refer to him. Whenever you're getting dressed in the morning he'll throw you a shirt out of his closet that he picked out just for you and you always put it on. He loves seeing you in his jerseys too, especially at games since you're walking around with his name plastered on your back like it should be. Owned. Spoken for. Taken. All of the above. To really top it off Lukey buys you jewelry with pretty 43's all over it. For valentine's he got you a necklace with a shiny silver 43 on it and he hasn't seen it leave your body since, it always leaves him feeling a bit proud whenever he's reminded it's there.

If you're at any devs events, or just out and about, his eyes are ALWAYS locked on you. Literally every time you look up, you catch his eyes glued to you. It's precautionary, just him keeping an eye on you in case something happened even if it's a miniscule probability. You're his to care for and he's gonna be sure that sticks.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cherry lipstick : harry potter

▰▰ pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

when harry's curious about lipstick, she takes him by surprise— by showing him how it tastes.

mari talks! had to get this out of my mind, I'll always love flustered/awkward harry potter.

Harry had tried to keep himself away from her. He really tried. But how could he, when she has this pull on him that no one else has. Her effect is always immediate, every time she walks into a room, Harry feels the need to drop everything if only just to look at her.

She is beautiful, of course Harry is not the first or last one to notice it. But he is the first to be distracted enough by her to end up blowing up a potion on his own face. That had landed him a scold from Snape and then— detention.

Snape had made him come back after the day ended to clean the potions classroom without magic. And it was a mess, not only after the disaster Harry himself had managed to pull, but also because first years had been receiving class after.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to walk into the room a few minutes later. "you're late, miss y/l/n" Snape told her without even looking up from the book he was reading, his voice cold. "I believe, the reason you were assigned detention again was because you were late to class."

Harry, who was trying very hard to stop himself from looking at her, rolled his eyes. "She's only two minutes late, I'm sure she'll be fine." he mumbled, because Harry was never one to control his smart mouth.

Snape looked up just to glare at him for the interruption. "As I was saying, that's thirty minutes more added to your detention, miss y/n. And since Potter made it clear that he doesn't mind a few minutes more, he will stay with you."

He barely has time to react before Snape looks at the clock on his desk and shuts down his book abruptly, tucks it under his arm and strides towards the door. "I have a meeting. You two better stay here and have everything clean when I'm back or else you'll spend tomorrow night cleaning again."

And with that, he steps out of the classroom, the door behind him closing with a click.

Silence, then— "thanks for trying I guess." she tells him softly as she takes a rag and comes closer to help Harry clean the desks.

"Couldn't help myself" He replies without looking up, he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

She giggles but doesn't add anything else so they spend the next thirty minutes in silence and it's starting to drive Harry crazy, but he doesn't know how to start a conversation with her, he's way too nervous. Instead, he steals glances at her from time to time.

She's the one to break the silence again when she stops and looks around. "Do you reckon Snape would know if we used magic?"

When Harry looks up, she's already looking at him with her head tilted, an amused little smile on her lips. "His greasy head always knows everything." Harry tells her, smiling when he hears her giggling again.

He's expecting her to keep cleaning but instead she drops the rag, reaching into her robe and pulling something small. Harry doesn’t know what it is until she takes the cap off.

Lipstick.

He just can't help but watch, helpless, as she twists the tube and leans against the nearest reflective surface to apply it carefully on her lips.

Oh Harry's doomed. He knows he is. His heart pounds so loudly he's almost afraid she'll hear it. But she doesn't seem aware of it as she glides the lipstick over her lips, then pressing them together softly before pulling back to inspect her work.

He's so far gone that he doesn’t notice her turning around until it's too late, and he's not able to look away before she catches him staring at her.

"What?" She asks, her voice soft but full of amusement.

Harry gulps down, pushing his glasses up his nose nervously. He desperately tries to think of a normal excuse, but he can only stutter his way through words:

"I- I'm just- I guess I'm just curious about—" he feels like he's choking on words so he stops, looking away, the red on his cheeks giving away how embarrased he feels.

Her eyebrows raise, but far from being offended like Harry suspected she would, she smiles. If anything, she looks mischievous.

"Do you want to taste it, Potter?" She asks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Harry, ever oblivious, thinks it's just a tiny bit weird for her to offer her lipstick to him. But maybe she just finds it funny, so he simply agrees. "Yeah, I guess."

As she comes closer, he thinks she'll swipe some lipstick onto his lips. But then, she's stepping even closer and he's not sure he can even breathe. He finally understands what she was asking.

And before he can even think, she leans in— And kisses him. Soft, sweet. A simple press of lips, but Harry is so shocked into stillness that he doesn't think of doing anything, his heart racing.

When she pulls away, Harry's still frozen on his spot as her eyes flicker over his face, amusement shining through her expression.

"Well?" She asks, lips still so temptingly close to him. "Did you like it?"

Harry swallows thickly, and he has to stop himself from licking his lips as the cherry taste lingers on them.

"I—" he clears his throat, and he doesn’t even know where he gathers the confidence to keep talking. "I think I need to try it again. Just to be sure."

Her laugh is cut short by him pulling her by the waist to kiss her again, cherry lipstick melting against his lips.

The door creaks open almost an hour and a few more kisses later, and Snape walks back into the room, his face cold and unimpressed. Harry's just grateful they weren't caught, trying to act nonchalant and get his focus back on wiping down another table.

"Well, I expected a little more." Snape says as he surveys the room. "But at least you two managed not to destroy the classroom further. A miracle, truly."

While Harry hopes Snape doesn’t notice just out of it he is, y/n seems to be way better at keeping her cool, though he can swear he sees her trying to hide a smirk.

"I guess you're both dismissed, you can-" Snape interrupts himself once his eyes fall on Harry. "Potter, what is that on your lips?"

Harry's entire brain short-circuits. He could try to come up with some half-assed excuse, but— "Alright, Good night!" and then he's bolting out of the door.

y/n, much more composed, smiles at Snape as she walks pass him. "This was a lovely evening, professor" She says before casually following Harry out.

Snape doesn't have enough patience to try and find out what that was about.

Harry stumbles down the hallway, heart pounding, still flustered. It doesn’t take her too much time to catch up to him. "Leaving in a hurry, Potter?" She teases, her smile bright.

Harry groans, running a hand through his already messy hair—courtesy of y/n. "He was looking at me like he knew!"

"Oh he definitely knew." she hums, totally unbothered. "I mean, you did look suspicious with the whole— y'know." she gestures at his still stained lips.

He gapes at her, his cheeks burning. But he doesn't try to add anything else, his embarrasment still too big and his heart hammering in his chest as they walk side by side.

But when they're about to part ways, he can't help himself before he's blurting, "Go to hogsmeade with me this weekend."

For once, she seems taken by surprise, raising her eyebrows at him. "Like a date?"

He wasn't thinking about it as a date—well, he wasn't thinking at all to begin with. But the idea doesn’t sound bad at all. Who's he trying to trick? he really likes it.

"Yes, a date." He nods when he realizes she's still waiting for his reply.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You can try strawberry lipstick next, see if you like it."

Harry laughs, definitely caught off guard. "Is that a yes?"

She's already strutting away from him, but she throws him a smile over her shoulder. "I'd love to, Harry."

Harry's heart jumps at the way she says his name, and he watches her walk away before he races up the stairs.

A few minutes later, when he bursts into his room, Ron immediately points at him. "Mate why are your lips so red?" he squints "is that lipstick on your cheek?"

He can only groan in response, dropping onto his bed and covering his face with his arm. He swears he could die right now.

But the stupid smile on his lipstick covered face? Yeah, he's definitely not getting rid of that anytime soon.

[silkenwinger]

angst galore incoming, inspired by this/translation (almost required listening tbh)

He stares at his door for ten minutes straight. Some part of him wishes he was at work. He tried, at first, to oppose Price, but his captain is one stubborn man, and when he puts his will into one thing, he's capable of moving mountains to make it happen. So Simon is "home" for his birthday.

Price said it. Try calling her. Except he doesn't think it will do one good thing, and he only has himself to blame. He broke it off with you because he could feel the worst of himself coming out of his mouth and seeping its way into his hands. He's always been a far cry from a perfect partner, but he wanted to spare you from his absolute worst. If he couldn't do that, he might as well be alone. You never complained, but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t like some of his ways. That you didn’t tell him anything because you, at some level, were scared of him, of what it’d be without him.

He remembers the day very clearly. You'd gone out for dinner. You looked cute in your peach dress; he looked as dreadful as usual. Your expression stayed joyful for most of the night, anticipating god knows what. He'd let you eat and then tore you apart once you were back home. You had pleaded with your tears, and your words, with your body... he'd been unmovable then.

It crept on him as the days passed. At first, he felt like he'd done you a great service, releasing you from his shackles. He always wanted too much. You'd be freer without him, without the fear that comes with dating a soldier. And as sharp as you are, you'd find a way without him, even if it felt hopeless at first.

Then he started to feel as badly as he did before meeting you. Part of it he drowned in work— the rest stayed to laugh at him. He spent hours working out so he'd get so tired, the nightmares couldn't reach him in his slumber. When that didn't work, he stared at the wall in the dead of the night willing you there, in the room with him. Now that he's doing the same thing, the inane thought manifests into his mind and doesn't leave. He knows you're a homebody– rare chance of you being out at this hour on a weekday. He'll make the same drive he always did, walk the courtyard, knock on your door. He will apologize and hold you close and call himself a stupid fucking dog for letting you go. For not believing you when you said you could go through this together, that it wasn't only his burden. Yes... you'll love him still, the way you did for so long, no games or childish tricks, only honesty and gentleness.

The light in your living room is on. He rings the bell, then knocks on the door to be clear. He has to see you now. He thinks he will die if he doesn’t. You open a sliver of the door, looking out with one eye. Clever girl, you never know who’s on the other side. When you recognise him, you open it more, still slowly.

"Simon," you murmur, your throat bobbing as you look at him from head to toe. He must look like a mirage. Your hair is done. Hanging out with the girls?

"Hey," he hears himself say. You look well. As well as the day he left you.

Your mouth is hanging slightly, your expression confused, but not necessarily angry. Maybe you are happy that he showed up, that he's still alive, that he thinks about you. Your hands, fiddling at each other, look cold as ever, nails coming to scratch off some non-existent cuticle.

"May I come in?" He thinks he's never been so brazen in his life, and his reputation is not exactly spotless. Your nose scrunches and you laugh then, the beautiful sound that he missed so much, a breathless giggle. He’s so close— so close to making it again, to holding your hands in his, to—

The spell is broken when another voice calls your name. A male voice, almost worried, inquisitive. To ask who’s at the door. Reality crashes on him as loud as an unexpected explosive, the shells of it stabbing him. Your laugh isn’t one of understanding, of residual love, it’s a laugh of disbelief at him. He freezes then, and can’t force himself to look inside, to confirm what he’s heard. His hands flex, his fists clench. You’re the one talking now, holding your hands up, almost reaching to touch his arm, but he dodges it, takes a step back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he manages to spit out, looking at you for one last time, not even daring to look inside for whoever you’re seeing now. You look sad, now, again, as he left you. Always causing you grief.

“Simon, it’s ok, we can—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he tries to give an explanation, some kind of madness that took control of him and moved his body across the city. But he fears its name is loneliness and yearning.

He turns and starts walking away, not even looking back when you call his name again, as much as he’d like to. He closes the gate on his way out, hands in his pockets.

[sua-alienstage]

OOC///

turns out it wasn't an hour

WIEGE ANALYSIS - SPOILERS

Be warned that this is not a theory, its just what has been saw. by me, someone who is basically blind. without further ado lets begin

First shot:

First thing we see for the most part is luka smiling at hyuna, that despite her absence and despite him ending the life of hyun-woo he still loves and adores her and the gun is sort of a mild inconvenience to him

This shot is incredibly interesting, i believe that this are all of Lukas "clones". the ones that heperu didn't see as perfect, so he killed them. and luka is staring in shock, shooken by the fact that he was so willing to end the lives of them even if they did nothing but be unperfect.

Then we see hyuna. She appears to be in a collapsed buildling and this is how she lost her leg. this isn't the first time we have saw this picture though as it was a teaser for the lyrics ( Post from VIVINOS - YouTube). I don't know where exactly this is but i fear we might not be able to know due to what happened later on in the video

it then cuts to mizi and hyuna at what i can only assume is the rebellions "headquarters" and mizi is crying, its clear she hasn't gotten over sua's death and if i'm going to be honest I don't think she will

It then cuts to sua and mizi wearing each others clothes from round one. and mizi puts suas dress over it almost as if saying "i prefer this one" or "this one suits you better" and sua looks sad and only smiles once this entire scene. she's aware of what she will do in round one and probably has done for a while. it then cuts to till spray painting but i haven't saw that of value enough to include (sos till fan's)

This scene is one of the saddest this mv, Its "snowing" and if you didn't know snow in anakt is children's ashes, which explains Hyuna's crying, as i believe this is after hyun woos death so hyun woo is snowing down then there is a small cut of luka resting his head on Hyuna's

then from 1:55 to 2:05 it looks like what i believe to be a modern au as there sua has a smart phone. and in this small scene luka and hyuna appear to have wedding rings on (thank you random tumblr person for pointing that out) then there are multiple cuts of them all being happy and alive. them singing having fun, sua comforting mizi. till drawing. they are all happy

now this shot confirms when wiege takes place. right after blink gone. mizi is crying over tills body, she couldn't save him. she tried but failed. she then (i believe) imagines up a picture of sua.

Next has a variety of misc shots of luka and hyuna the most notable being a shot of the rebellion (excluding mizi, most likely before she joined)

they are all crying over a dying member of the team, except hyuna which i think is to show off her guarded side. a side she hasn't let out to most people, only one person: luka. apart from that she is incredibly guarded to everybody

Luka then runs up to hyuna who protects him from getting shot. She saved him but sacrificed herself (wonder where we have heard that hm? ivan and sua perhaps)

she then says a speech, her final words to the world and more importantly luka.

I resented you so. I had to keep moving forward in every moment... But you were always my one and only weakness. That's why I resented you so. Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself... Again and again, endlessly. Because everything... begins from there.

This i'm not going to even try to analyse but its so emotional. a pure emotion to luka And speaking of emotion we see luka crying.

as she says her speech rockets fall from the sky. I dont really know why so any help would be incredibly helpful

That's all. Keeping living your free life. o7 hyuna.

Also the song slap's i'm definitely adding it to a playlist

[supernotnatural2005]

His Only Exception

Pairing: Solider Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben isn't a fan of Valentines day, but he's come a long way since the fall of Vought and the days before. And maybe, you're the exception.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, mentions of past trauma, implied spicy times, established relationship.

AN: Okay so this is my first Solider Boy debut. 😅 This idea just came to me and thought it would be a great idea for the holiday >❤️< For the sake of this story, I have set this in an alternate reality where Solider Boy had killed Homelander and Vought's no more... I hope you all enjoy, and let me know what you think 💕

Masterlist

Valentine’s Day wasn’t exactly Ben’s thing.

Hell, he thought it was a cash grab—just another excuse for couples to pretend they were happier than they really were. Romance, flowers, chocolates? That crap wasn’t for him. The only good thing going for it was getting his dick wet. At least, that’s what he told himself.

And yet, here he was, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, fidgeting with the edges of a small, beat-up gift box like it was a live grenade. He’d been up before you, slipping out of bed without waking you—something that never happened. Normally, he was all over you in the mornings, shamelessly getting handsy while groaning about wanting breakfast. But today was different. Today, he was a little nervous.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

After everything he’d been through—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the torture—he’d finally found some redemption. 

Homelander was gone, Vought had crumbled, and he was free to go on as he pleased. Within limits, of course—that was the agreement. But he didn’t know what to do with himself. All his so-called friends were dead—not that they were really his friends. Just ungrateful fucking leeches who got what they deserved. He had no family, and now, he was forced to navigate a world he barely recognised.

Women showed a whole lot more ass and tit than they used to, and weed was legal in most states, so there were perks. But surprisingly, Ben didn’t care much for those things anymore. 

He’d always wanted a family - to settle down, have a few little rugrats running around. But he knew he had to change in order for that to happen. Women stood up for themselves a lot more now, called him out on his bullshit, some even avoided him outright. It wasn’t like the old days, when they’d beg to suck his cock just because of who he was.

Now, he was just some washed-up, century-old superhero. A man who had killed, not only his own son, but America’s golden boy. He was either hated or respected. Never loved.

Until he met you.

Feeling lost and wallowing in self-pity, he’d reluctantly taken advice from Grace—who, despite hating his guts, had suggested he try a support group. She’d claimed that maybe, buried beneath all the ‘misogynistic, disgusting, selfish bravado’ he liked to throw around (her words), there was still some trace of humanity in him.

He hadn’t exactly helped his case when he’d laughed in her face and scoffed, “therapy is for pussies”, though.

But eventually, the loneliness, the emptiness of his old life—it all got tiring. He wanted more.

When he first saw you, sure, he thought you were easy on the eyes, a knockout really. You had nice curves, a pretty face to go with them. And you seemed like the kind of woman who respected herself, but in a sexy/ professional kinda way. But what stood out most was your kindness.

You knew who he was—everyone in that room did. Most either looked at him with fear, disgust, or curiosity. But not you.

You looked at him like he was just another guy trying to get his shit together. Just another person wanting to change. And though he’d never admit it, that’s what hooked him. It’s why, despite his disdain for that kind of thing, he kept coming back.

For once in his life, you made him feel normal. Accepted.

So when you finally took a chance on him—and it hadn’t been fucking easy to get you to—he knew he had to make it count. Now, almost a year later, he was a semi-changed man.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in one of his t-shirts - he was still getting used to the way the sight of you like that made his chest warm - rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Ben leaned back against the counter, trying way too hard to look casual.

“Morning, sunshine.” You gave him a soft smile before noticing something unusual. No crude morning remarks, no immediate attempt to pull you into his arms, and ravish you on the kitchen counter. Just him, standing there, looking...shifty.

Your eyes flickered to the small box in his hands. “What’s that?”

Ben huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s stupid. Nothin’.”

You stepped closer, reaching for it, and he let you take it—though he grumbled under his breath, “It ain’t a big deal.”

You ignored him as you opened it, revealing a simple, delicate necklace. It wasn’t flashy, nothing over-the-top, but it was beautiful. Your fingers brushed over the small pendant, noticing the faint engraving of his initials on the back.

Your chest tightened. “Ben…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Look, it’s not, like, a thing.” His voice was gruff, defensive, but there was no real bite behind it. “I just figured, I dunno... chicks like this kinda shit. And I didn’t wanna be the asshole boyfriend who forgot.”

You smirked, stepping into his space, pressing your hand against his chest. “You’re such a liar.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You care.” You tilted your head, studying his face. “You’re acting all tough, but this meant something to you. Admit it.”

Ben scoffed, scooping you up effortlessly and tossing you over his shoulder, making you yelp. “Jesus, you get one little gift and suddenly go all Dr. Phil on me.”

You laughed, smacking his back playfully. “You’re embarrassed!”

“I’m not fucking embarrassed,” he grumbled, carrying you back toward the bedroom. “And besides, Valentine’s Day is about one thing and one thing only, sweetheart.”

With a cocky smirk, he tossed you onto the bed, leaning over you. “And that’s me making you scream my name.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered. He still had his rough edges, cracks that hadn’t fully sealed, old habits that died hard—but he was trying. And that’s what mattered.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, lingering kiss. He groaned low in his chest, settling himself between your legs, his cock hard and heavy as it pressed against your core through his sweats. When you pulled back, you whispered, a little breathlessly, “I love you, Ben.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, like he was still trying to figure out how the hell he got lucky enough to have you. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but every time since, it hit him in a way nothing else ever had. Being loved—not for his fame, his money, or some character Vought had portrayed him be, but for who he was—was a feeling unlike any other. A high better than any drug he’d ever taken. And he’d taken a lot.

Still, the words never came easy. Vulnerability wasn’t in his nature, and saying it out loud made it real—something that could be taken from him.

So instead, with a smirk and that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, he showed you just how much he loved you. And, true to his word, it ended with you screaming his name.

AN: I hope you guys liked this one! And HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! ❤️❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Soldier Boy Tag List:

@happyfxckinghorrors @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @stoneyggirl2 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss

[sombrashe]

2 random relationship headcanons ∿ team thanos

suggestive

✐ᝰlets you take a hit of his vape in the middle of sex. doesn't matter if he's fucking into you or if you're bouncing on his lap. he's grabbing his vape off the bedside box and blowing smoke in your face

"Quit it, Choi."

"Harsh... want a hit? It's cherry lime."

"Sounds awful."

"You say that to everything."

"That's because blue raspberry is the only flavor."

✐ᝰrolls a blunt on your lower back as you're scrolling. swatting at your ass when you laugh too hard and shake some of the bud loose. he finishes it off by keeping his tongue out too long and licking a stripe from the blunt to your side.

"Ew, Su-bong. What have I said about the licking?"

"That you love it and want me to do it."

"I get enough weed stench on me being in your presence. I don't need it embedded into my skin."

"Boring."

✐ᝰbrings home random pills he's collected throughout his shift at the club and expects you to take them with him. you always question every little thing about the pill. all he has to do is taking a quick look and knows exactly what it is.

"That's ecstasy. It's an upper."

"So I'll get like super depressed after?"

"Yeah, but I'll be here. It's fun."

"I hallucinate, right?"

"That's one of the symptoms, yeah"

✐ᝰdoes your nails because he's dead broke. He wishes he could buy you those cute sets you always linger on when online browsing. He found some nail sets on temu and went to a beauty store to buy nail supplies. he kept these hidden while he watched video after video about how to properly do nails.

"Where did you learn this?"

"YouTube."

"Why?"

"Bored."

✐ᝰdyes your hair so long as you agree to go with her when she gets a new piercing. she loves seeing all the different colors you've gone through. she especially loves how you just make shit up, mixing emerald pixie and frozen cotton candy and naming the teal color frozen pixie candy. amazing

"What color are we doing next?"

"I don't know. Any ideas?"

"What about pink. You always look so cute in pink."

"Pervert."

"I didn't even say anything."

✐ᝰrants to you about her day, everyday. at first it was frustrating, it seemed like all she did was complain. the more you bit your tongue and listened you slowly came to realize she needed a new job. immediately. what kind of boss says those things??

"You need to quit."

"I can't just quit."

"I make enough to hold us over until you find another job."

"But we would have to cut down a lot."

"I will do whatever you need."

✐ᝰblushes when you offer to go down on him. you don't do it often since he normally initiates but the few times you do offer his face turns beat red. it always starts at the tip of his ears, moves over to the apples of his cheeks, and ends splattered across his cheat like a renaissance painting.

"You're so red, Min-su."

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not! I promise, I think it's cute. Sexy even."

"Uh-huh."

"No really, It shows how turned on I make you."

✐ᝰgenuinely giggles. anytime you get the upper hand during wrestling you stick your fingers right under his chin and start tickling. at first he lets out a sharp laugh. something harsh that is accompanied by kicks. when it really starts getting to be too much he starts giggling uncontrollably.

"Stop. Stop. Too much."

"Say it. Say I'm the champion."

"You're-."

"Min-su."

"You won. You're the champion. Now stop, please. I can't breathe."

✐ᝰwatches you whenever you're not looking. He feels like a creep doing it but you're just so gorgeous. Absolutely ethereal and he physically can't keep his eyes off of you. He does it so often he ends up spacing out and you have to raise your voice to snap him out of it.

"Gyeong-su? Gyeong-su!"

"What?"

"Have you heard a single thing I said?"

"What did you say?"

"Unbelievable."

✐ᝰhypes you up any chance he gets. just woke up and need nothing more than a shower? God, baby, you look so good. putting the finishing touches on your makeup before a night out? Wow, you're breathtaking. when you're facedown and his lips are inches from the shell of your ear? Amazing how I get to call you mine.

"Which shirt with these pants?"

"You look amazing in both."

"That's not helpful Gyeong-su."

"But it's the truth."

"Then lie."

[thezombieprostitute]

how does domestic lloyd do valentine's day?

Summary: You and Lloyd on Valentine's Day.

Warnings: Smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

Lloyd wakes up slowly. His brain takes its time registering the bright the room is. As soon as he does, he startles awake. You must have slept through your alarms! He's gotta get you up and get into the kitchen to make you breakfast!

As he turns to wake you up he's stopped in his tracks but the sight before him. You're laying on your side, head propped up on your arm, wearing a red sheer lace lingerie set that had hearts barely covering your nipples.

"'Bout time you woke up, handsome," you tease. "Decided to surprise you by taking the day off, letting you sleep in. You didn't even stir when I got out of bed to change into this."

"You sexy vixen," Lloyd purrs. He goes to roll on top of you but you push him onto his back and straddle him.

"Nuh uh, sexy," you giggle. "You take such good care of my every day. Today, I'm gonna take care of you."

"So long as you promise to put this mustache to good use," he smirks.

"Why on earth would I deny myself your second greatest feature?" you exclaim as your hips over crotch.

It's after noon by the time you and Lloyd get out of bed. Well, "crawl out of bed" might be more accurate. You and Lloyd are always insatiable for each other. If it weren't for your stomachs growling you'd likely stay in bed all day.

Lloyd puts on his apron and smiles the whole time he cooks you up a little something. You enjoy the show, watching his muscles as he moves, enjoying how his butt cheeks jiggle just right. You want to smack them so bad but you have to refrain while he's cooking.

"You are such a tease," you comment.

"Damn right," he snickers as he moves almost close enough to where you could grab his butt. "And you love it."

"I love you," you retort.

"And I love you, too," he winks before getting back to cooking. "So did you have any other surprises for me today?"

"Well, only if you're up for it," you goad.

Lloyd turns off the burners and plates the food. Taking off the apron, you give a whistle as he turns to face you. He's only got one plate for the food so you know what's going to happen. He sits on his favorite chair and pulls you to sit on his lap.

"Pretty sure I'll be up for a lot of things by the time we're done eating," he quips in your ear. You take a bite and moan while melting into him. "Especially if you keep acting like that."

"Not my fault you're such a good cook," you gently poke him. "Almost a better cook than you are a lover. Almost."

You alternate bites for you and Lloyd as his hands gently massage your legs, sore from the morning's activities. Despite going at it all morning, you feel Lloyd harden underneath you, making you wet. Occasionally you'll grind your hips against him, making him moan and groan for you. Once or twice he nips at your neck, calling you out on your teasing.

When the food is gone Lloyd follows up on your conversation from the kitchen. "What was the other stuff you had in mind?"

"You mean besides you stuffing me in multiple ways?" you wink. "I was thinking we could go to Amelia's and I'd try on anything and everything you chose."

Lloyd's hands freeze and he growls softly in your ear, "anything and everything?"

"I'm not saying I'll buy any of it," you amend. "I still say it's high priced stripper clothes. But I'll be happy to put on a show for you."

"Fuck, you're trying to kill me. But what a way to go." Lloyd forces you up on your feet as he bends you over the table. "Gotta work out a few more before we go or else I'm taking you in the changing room."

"Wouldn't be the first time," you chuckle.

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[princesseilish]

Heyy babyy, been missing u and I have a request that i've been thinking about actually and you're the only person that came to mind. (Always thinkin about u)

Probably Billie saying goodbye for the tour and reassuring her daughter or probably y/n leaving to run some errands and having Billie all the responsibility with the two kids.

You choose cause I can't make up my mind actually :/

(imissyousomuch and iloveyouwifey💋)

LULLABY

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: crying, fluff, no use of cursing, that’s it? i think?

Synopsis: Billie is leaving for her first show, for tour, and she has never been away from her daughter for that long

A/N: Hii my love, i miss you too, like more than you’ll ever know

The night before Billie left for her Hit Me Hard and Soft tour, Rosie was inconsolable. The little girl, usually so full of energy and speaking in hyperbole, was now a sobbing mess, clinging to Billie like her life depended on it.

“Mommy, don’t go,” she hiccupped, her tiny hands gripping Billie’s hoodie, refusing to let go.

Billie, sitting on the edge of their bed with Rosie in her lap, sighed softly and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Bug, you know I have to, but I promise I’ll call you all the time, okay? And I’ll be home before you even know it.”

Rosie wasn’t convinced. Her big brown eyes, already puffy from crying, welled up again as she buried her face into Billie’s chest. “But—but what if I miss you too much?”

Y/n, sitting beside them, gently rubbed Rosie’s back. “You’re gonna miss Mommy, and that’s okay, baby. But I’ll be here, and we’ll do fun things while she’s away. And she will call us every day.”

Rosie sniffled. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Y/n and Billie shared a look. It had been a while since Rosie crawled into their bed—she was getting older, becoming more independent. But tonight? Tonight, she needed them.

“Of course, bug,” Billie murmured, lifting Rosie up and laying her between them.

That night, Billie softly hummed a lullaby, just like she had since Rosie was a baby. It was second nature at this point—the soft, familiar tune drifting through the dark room, soothing her little girl into sleep. Y/n watched as Rosie finally calmed, her little hands tucked under Billie’s hoodie.

But now, Billie was gone. She had already played a few shows, and it had been two weeks since she left for Québec. And ever since then, Rosie had been… off.

At first, y/n thought it was just normal separation sadness. But then she started noticing the signs—Rosie was restless, struggling to fall asleep, waking up in the middle of the night and wandering into y/n’s room with tired, teary eyes.

And then, one night, when y/n walked by Rosie’s room, she found her daughter curled up in bed, her little lip trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

“Baby?” y/n whispered, kneeling beside the bed.

Rosie peeked one eye open, barely holding back her tears.

“What’s wrong, lovebug?”

Rosie hesitated before whispering, “I can’t sleep, Mommy. I can’t… without Mommy’s song.”

And that’s when it hit y/n—Billie’s lullaby. It had been part of Rosie’s nighttime routine for years, and now, without it, she couldn’t settle.

Y/n felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t realized how much Rosie needed it.

She sat on the bed, brushing Rosie’s curls back. “Baby… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Rosie’s tiny hands played with the edge of her blanket. “Didn’t wanna make you sad.”

Y/n’s heart broke.

“Oh, my love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “she would never want you to go without your lullaby, okay?”

Rosie sniffled. “But she’s busy.”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Billie, praying she wasn’t too caught up in something.

It only rang twice before Billie’s tired but warm voice came through.

“Hey, baby.”

Y/n sighed in relief. “Hey, love. Are you busy?”

“Not really, just chilling after soundcheck. Everything okay?”

Y/n turned to Rosie, who was already scooting closer to the phone. “Bug, someone wants to talk to you.”

Rosie hesitated before whispering, “Mommy?”

Billie’s voice immediately softened. “Hi, bug.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Rosie’s little lip quivered as she curled into y/n’s lap, gripping the phone with her small hands.

“I miss you,” she whimpered.

Billie let out a soft breath. “Oh, baby, I miss you so much too.”

Rosie sniffled. “I can’t sleep.”

Y/n heard Billie shift on the other end, as if sitting up straighter. “You can’t?”

Rosie shook her head before realizing Billie couldn’t see her. “No. I need Mommy’s song.”

There was a brief pause, then Billie’s voice came through, gentle and soothing.

“You want me to sing it for you, bug?”

“Please,” Rosie whispered.

And without hesitation, Billie started humming the lullaby. The same tune she had sung to Rosie since she was a baby.

Y/n watched as Rosie’s body slowly relaxed, her tiny fingers loosening their grip on the phone. Her breathing evened out, her eyelashes fluttering as sleep finally took over.

Billie kept humming, even after Rosie had drifted off completely.

Y/n brought the phone back to her ear, keeping her voice low. “Thank you, baby.”

Billie sighed. “I hate being away from her.”

“I know,” y/n whispered. “She loves you so much.”

Billie was quiet for a moment before she said, “I’ll record it. The lullaby. So if she needs it again, she won’t have to wait for me.”

Y/n smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “She’d love that.”

They stayed on the phone for a little while longer, Billie listening to Rosie’s soft, steady breathing.

And even though she was miles away, in a different city, in a different time zone—Billie was still right there where she belonged.

[ponyosfrogg]

Blood and Silk

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Assassin! Reader

Summary: Once he was your everything, now he's just a reminder of what they did to you. Can both of you move on from your past to form an alliance?

AN: Hello! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) Here's the first chapter of my new series. The next two chapters are gonna be longer (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ Lmk what you think abt it! 💘 Btw i didn't proofread this whole thing like at all!! 🥹🙏🏻

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

The night was dark and the sound of footsteps echoing across Gotham's skyscraper rooftops was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point it can even be said that it was calming and reassuring for those civilians.

It couldn't be said that it was an open night. Damian couldn't even see the stars because of the dark clouds gathering around. Gloomy Gotham weather was the only thing that didn't change since the beginning of the time, besides the vigilantes who are fighting to correct some of the corrupted justice system. So like we said it was an ordinary night.

But it wasn't for Damian, not entirely.

His grip on his batarang got tighter while he was standing on top of a gorgoyle statue, watching over his city. It all started a few days back, he felt like he was being followed by someone, something. At first he thought it was because of his paranoia after all he was trained to be an assassin long time ago. The first thing they had taught him was to be careful. He could still hear his mentor's words in his mind. 'Never let your guard down. If you think something is happening that means it is happening.' So he, now, had a reason to believe someone was following him.

It wasn't just happening during the patrol, he could feel the same familiar eyes watching over him in everything he does. When he's at the manor, when he's at the wayne enterprises even when he is out with his friends. He couldn't see someone which meant that they were too skilled to be seen yet too persistent to go unnoticed. He was getting tired of this cat and mouse game. After all he was always the cat never the mouse.

He turned around and jumped over to the rooftop while he grabbed his other batarang as well. He looked around once again and started to yell in annoyance. "Enough with the hiding." His voice was quite steady despite his irritation and annoyance. "Show yourself."

Silence.

There was only the sound of the busy city that was filling his ears, then—

A dagger sliced through the air. Damian barely had time to dodge it even though he moved quickly. He could sense the warm liquid on top of his ear.

Fuck. That dagger had slightly cut him.

He could feel his anger building up. He threw his batarang over the direction that dagger came out but he lost his precious moments already when he stopped for his ear, his hunter was already gone. It was quick.

He sensed a movement behind him and turned around just to see someone coming out of the darkness. That figure was lean yet strong. If he hadn't sense that figure he wouldn't hear them coming by because that figure was silent, precise and deadly. League-trained.

"You made a mistake!" He almost growled, lunging forward. But they were faster, much faster.

If he hadn't met with 'The Flash' he could've thought that this person might be him. It seemed like they have been training since birth because none of the assassins he had a chance to meet were this fast. He knew that if he used what he learned in the league of assassins he might lose because it had been such a long time and he was out of practice. He also knew that what his father thought him might be not useful at all too, since they were completely opposites. But he didn't have time to reconsider his method of attack, he had to be fast.

The first touch was brutal. Their hand came near to his face almost cutting his face. He dodged that as well but got kicked on his stomach while doing so.

Their movements were calculated, effortless; it was almost like they had been studying him for years. Every attack Damian threw was countered with such an elegant and easy way. It almost seemed like they were playing, not fighting. They weren't attacking him, no. They were just easily defending. It was not a physical fight, it was a mental one. to make him doubt himself, showing him that there are enemies who can kill him without even trying. Every strike met with a dodge at the last possible second. When he realized he lost both of his batarangs, he immediately fell off to the ground. That second cost him his balance because they threw a strong kick on his stomach, again.

He felt some heaviness on his stomach and when he raised his head he saw the dagger that was pressed against his neck.

That was the first time in years he saw his reflection on someone else's steel. He wondered why he wasn't dead already but a sudden realization struck him like lightning. This wasn't an assassination, this was personal.

"Take off the mask" He demanded even though he knew he wasn't in a position to make demands. His voice was low and sharp. He needed to see.

You grabbed the red silk scarf that was covering your face and took it out effortlessly while your other hand took off your hoodie, releasing the hair it has been holding.

Damian's blood ran cold, he could feel the lump on his stomach. His eyes darkened with anger once again.

"You..." The words caught on his throat.

He didn't expect this even a little bit. You were the girl that filled every childhood memory of his with happiness, you were the girl that he had to marry after he took over the league, you were the girl that he had a crush on for a fucking lifetime, you were the girl that stole his heart, his body, his mind and his soul. After moving in with his father he thought about you every fucking day then when he goes to the sleep he would have dreams about you. He  wrote you many letters, about his new life here, about how you would love the taste of the milkshake and fries, how you would love his older brother Jason who was a total psycho, how you would make fun of him when he attends one of the galas that Bruce was holding, with a suit and a tie. He wrote them just to never send them to you. He had buried this memory, your memory somewhere inside of a vault that was locked down forever in his mind after some time. At some point since you didn't come after him he was sure that you died but deep in his heart, he knew when he was all alone in that big bedroom of his, he abandoned you.

"You..." You repeated, voice sharp as the dagger you were holding close to his neck.  Your eyes seemed colder, brutal and unforgiving. Looking at him with a despise and disgust.

But what cut deepest was not the hate that you hold for him in your eyes, no. It was what you chose to call him.

It wasn't Damian, it wasn't Wayne. Hell it wasn't even stupid nicknames that his brothers were giving him although he mentioned multiple times he hated nicknames.

"Did you miss me heir of the Al Ghul?"

His jaw tightened. The weight of his past slammed into him all at once. He should have known it was coming, you were coming.

Damian grunted as you pressed your weight a little bit more on him. Pinning him onto the ground. He felt like he couldn't move, even though he could easily switch your positions by putting his legs around your body. He knew that you didn't secure your position on him just for him to try it. He knew that you were toying with him. The cold, sharp steel of your dagger was still pressing on his throat but that wasn't what made his heart race—it was the familiarity of your presence, your touch and your smell. You being this close to him made him remember when two of you were sparring together. When both of you were just kids who fell in love. He quickly tried to send that thought away and was able to do that because you just gave him something different to think about when you leaned over more, almost laying on top of him. Without breaking the eye contact, you slowly reached over for the weapons that he hid around his body. One of them was near his knee, the other one was on his belt and the third one was on his back. One by one you unarmed him without even looking at the placements. It almost felt like you were the one who put those weapons around his body, not him.

You could sense the power you have over him but you knew that he was like this because he was in shock. Once he pulled himself back together and realized he's the one that holds power over you he would probably turn your life into hell, yet that was what you were hoping for deep in your heart.

You threw away every weapon of his on the other side of the roof while you pulled your other hand from his neck and put your dagger into its leather placement around your upper thigh.

Damian's chest rose with every movement you've made. He knew that if you stayed in this position a little bit his body might do something to make his attraction towards you obvious by betraying him. He took a breath.

"You done?" He muttered while he rolled his eyes. "Because I've got better things to do than lie on the ground while you rearrange every weapon on your and my body."

God, he didn't even lose a little bit of his snarky sense of speech. He was still as cocky as ever. You rolled your eyes as you got up from his body and crossed your arms on your chest.

"You're in no position to tell me what to do dickhead, you're no longer my heir nor my prince." He gritted his teeth. You've insulted him three times just within a sentence. It was refreshing for him to see someone, beside his family, insulting him and that made him feel in discomfort. He shifted his position and crossed his arms like you did.

"What do you want then Kitten. I'm sure you're not here to say hi to your old lover." And there he was, he somehow managed to deal with his shock and now he was making you angry. You've lost your upper hand and you knew that. Actually you knew you'd lost it when you first fell in love with him back then.

"Don't get so cocky now dear, I don't think the term lover fits for someone who abandoned the other person don't you think?" You smirked like you felt nothing while saying those words but it cut you deeper than it cut him, accepting the fact for once out loud. "I think what you call those people is a traitor." Damian's eyes got darkened as he clenched his teeth. He hated this attitude of yours. He didn't let his guilt arise instead he just scoffed like you've said the funniest thing ever. "Why are you really here?"

You hated that you had to open up this dickhead so stress and panic took over your body as you paced towards the edge of the rooftop. You jumped over the protective wall and sat while you stared at the city lights. Gotham was beautiful, you could understand why he never came back for you. You needed to gather your thoughts for a bit. He was Damian, you knew that even he had broken his promise before you could trust him yet something inside of you more like some part of you was leaving you hesitated. You didn't even realize he sat right beside you.

"I've left the league, almost a year ago." You said to him almost whispering. You knew that he heard you because his eyes turned over to look at you. He was shocked and caught off guard. "You already know that I was trained to rule beside you even after you've left they kept training me. First I thought they were preparing me for another heir but I knew that beside you there wasn't anyone in line."  You could feel your eyes tear up but you quickly hold them. You didn't want to cry again over this. You've promised yourself.

"For some time it was good, really good. I liked the power and all that. But later I realized there were corruptions within the league and I tried to fix it. That was my first mistake, being too naive." You didn't even think when you were talking. "Of course I was just a puppet and when they realized they could no longer have a power over me they killed everyone I've loved. They wanted to torment me by killing them first but of course I ran away." You remembered that day like it was just today. Every detail, every sound, every footsteps.

"I've fled to another country. I've built a life there you know. I was working in a florist shop, I had a lot of friends, I even started to speak their language for a bit. I've always thought this would be the life I would have if I wasn't an assassin. I was happy." You smiled to yourself. "You know I even had a boyfriend. First I dated him to adapt that life quicker but he was so nice, so naive and full of goodness... I've found myself liking him."

Your words made Damian feel something. He couldn't help the flicker of emotion that danced across his eyes. Jealousy. But it couldn't be right? It has been decades since he was even with you, and you were kids to begin with. Yet the thought of you being with someone else lit some fires within his heart. And he couldn't stop himself from imagining things. Did he cuddle you after a long day at work? Did he introduce you to his family? Did he wanted a life with you? Maybe imagined he would be your husband and all that. These thoughts made his stomach twist in pain. Yet he was too afraid to acknowledge all that.

"For six months it was all good, I've truly believed that they have left me be. But one day I had work overtime in the shop and when I got back. There was blood-"

you stopped talking to gather your thoughts together before speaking again.

"-There was blood everywhere. They tortured him and they killed him afterwards. I didn't even have enough time to mourn over him, so I ran away again."

The tension in the air was thick. Damian absorbed your words one by one. His eyes closed with the sorrow. He felt bad not for you or for the situation, he felt bad because he left you all alone to deal with it.  He wanted to say something. Like he regretted that he has left you everyday since he came here, like even though he had everything he wanted without you it was always something missing. Like he tried to date girls similar to you, that lookalike you, that speaks like you. With all these emotions, all these feelings he might actually throw himself off of this rooftop.

"But I'm done running away I'll fight back. So, now back to your question, I'm not here for your pity or to fix things with you. I want an alliance, I want revenge and I want blood."

He turned over your side to look at you and realized you were looking at him with a determination in your eyes, pain was dancing behind your vengeance speech he could see that. "What do you say Damian, let's take this fucking league down. It's already been a long time coming."

[alwayssassydreamer]

Goddess

Song Prompt Challenge

A/N: my attempt to write something for valentine's day while being not really romantic 🙈

You're like a goddess in disguise I'm drownin' slowly in your eyes It's like you kill me by design You're all I desire Tell me you love me, tell me you need me Tell me that you'll never ever go think about wantin' to leave me You're Aphrodite, God, I'm in love Tell me every single thing you need from me I'd do anything for you, my deity Your wish is my command,

Warnings: none just fluff

Characters: Ace x F!Reader

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The night was quiet except for the sound of waves in the distance and the occasional pop of wood in the fire.

Ace sat across from you, leaning back on his hands, his freckled face glowing in the warm light. His usual carefree grin was gone, replaced by something softer, more contemplative, as he watched you through the golden haze.

You felt his gaze, a heat that rivaled the fire between you. Looking up, you caught his eyes—warm, loving and a little cheeky. They drew you in, holding you captive as if he’d cast some spell. You tried to look away, but the pull was too strong.

"You’ve got this way about you," Ace said, his voice low and quiet.

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a playful smile.

"Oh? And what way is that?"

His grin flickered back for just a moment, but it was softer, less teasing than usual.

"You’re like… a goddess in disguise or something," he admitted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t stop looking at you."

His words caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. But you weren’t one to let your emotions show so easily.

"Smooth talker, aren’t you, Portgas?" you teased, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

"I’m serious," he said, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes burned brighter, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"When I look at you, it’s like I’m drowning slowly in your eyes. I can’t fight it, and I don’t even want to. It’s like… you kill me by design."

The way he spoke, so raw and unguarded, sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed, trying to keep your cool, but his words had already carved their way into you.

"Ace…" you began, but your voice faltered when he stood, walking around the fire toward you.

"You’re all I desire," he said, his voice dropping even lower. He crouched in front of you, his warm hand reaching out to brush against your cheek.

"And the way you’re looking at me right now? You’re drowning me all over again."

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it came out in a shaky exhale. Ace’s thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his touch gentle but electrifying.

His forehead pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of him, the unspoken desperation in his words. Ace had always been afraid of being abandoned, of losing the people he cared about. You knew that better than anyone.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered. “Tell me you need me. Tell me that you'll never ever go think about wantin’ to leave me.”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you brushed your fingers through his unruly hair, tilting your head slightly. “Didn’t know you were such a poet, Ace.” you murmured, teasingly.

His grip on you tightened just a little, as if afraid you’d slip away, but his lips curved into a smile. “Only for you,” he admitted, his voice softer, vulnerable.

Your gaze softened, and you let your fingers trail down his jaw. “You big idiot,” you whispered, your teasing edge melting into something more tender. “Of course, I love you. Of course, I need you. And I will never ever leave you”

His smile widened, the tension in his shoulders easing. You leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, your hands sliding down to rest against his chest. You melted into him, holding onto him as if you were the one drowning now. When you pulled back, you grinned.

“Besides,” you added playfully, “if I’m a goddess, then you’re stuck worshipping me.”

Ace chuckled, pulling you even closer. “I think I can manage that, it's not too hard when you're so perfect.”

You raised a brow, lips curving into a smirk as you traced a slow circle on his chest. “Careful, Ace,” you mused. “Keep talking like that, and I might start expecting daily offerings.”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Oh yeah? What kind of offerings does my goddess demand?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then leaned in, your lips barely brushing against his. “Mm… endless kisses, back rubs and cuddles."

Ace smiled, running his thumb gently over your lip. “So, endless kisses, back rubs, and cuddles?” His voice softened even more. “You’ll have them, always. Because I’ll never stop loving you.”

You swallowed hard, your teasing forgotten as you reached up to cradle his face. “Ace…” you breathed, but the words failed you.

He smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. “No need to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me love you.”

His lips captured yours in a kiss so tender, yet so full of longing, you felt as if he was pouring his soul into it. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a quiet vow that he would love you for as long as he breathed.

[luna-the-cretar]

Okay, no, but imagine you’re Doctor Cogburn (is that how you spell his name?)

(Cos finale spoilers)

Your adoptive son leaves for a job, and he tells you he’ll be back soon. Maybe a couple of months. Maybe he says he’ll write to you if it’s taking longer than expected.

Weeks pass. Stryga is pretty far from here, so okay.

Then weeks turn into months. Surely he’s on his way back home now.

Six months pass, and you haven’t heard from him. You assume he’s dead, because of course you assume so. Your child has been gone for far longer than expected, and he hasn’t done so much as write to you. So you assume he’s dead, and you mourn.

A little over a year since he had left, and suddenly in the distance, you see a group of people. A group that he is leading. He looks different—his hair is longer, he looks gaunt, his clothes are ragged and torn, and he now has a lantern by his side that he refuses to let go of—but it’s still him. And he’s leading a group of about a dozen humans, and a small human child is clinging to him, chatting his ear off like children are want to do.

You run to him and practically leap into his arms. He moves the lantern to his tail, and he hugs you tighter than he ever has before. You find that you are doing the same. You’re both crying, but neither of you mind. You get to cry. You thought the child in your arms was dead and gone, you mourned him, and you find him alive and here.

When you part, he tells you about the situation. That the people he led here are from a strange land called Barovia, and they want to start a new life here. He introduces you to the child by his side, and tells you that he renamed him, and that he named the child after you. You say hello to the child and give him a smile, and he gives you a bright smile in return.

Later that night, when Thomas had gone to bed, he tells you of his adventures. Of the people he met and befriended. The one name that keeps being brought up again and again is Sarnax, and he explains to you that he was the previous owner of the lantern, before his unfortunate passing.

“It was a sacrifice he made to get us home.” Shepherd says, absentmindedly fingering the lantern.

“Tell me, boy. Did you love him?” You ask, plain and simple.

Shepherd hesitates, not due to wanting to keep a secret, but because he is trying to find the right words to say. You can see the gears turning in his head.

“We were close. He was my best friend. He called me his brother.” Shepherd says, giving you a wry smile. “That answer enough for ya?”

You nod.

The years pass by in a flash. Despite not being related by blood, Thomas proves to be just like Shepherd as a boy. He’s adventurous and brave—or perhaps stupid, in some cases—with a knack for leadership. He even adopted his dad’s sense of sarcastic humor, and if you pay attention, you’ll notice that both of their mischievous smiles are the same.

“Was I this bad as a kid?” Shepherd asks one night.

“My boy,” you say with a smile, “you were worse.”

He groans, but he smiles nonetheless.

You make Thomas his own pair of weapons once he’s old enough, and you name them “Justice” and “Retribution”. Thomas was so excited, and showed them off to anyone who cared. You don’t think you’ve seen Shepherd smile wider than that moment.

You don’t live long enough to see Thomas experience his adult life. You were already getting old by the time Shepherd left for Barovia, and you had a good decade or two left in you once he returned. But it’s alright. You got to see your boy return home, and become a father himself. You got to see him make a name for himself, beyond the red skin and horns.

He will cry, and he will mourn, but he will get through this. He always does.

[mercurysmicrowave]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

Pair: Nanami Kento x reader x Toji Fushigiro

Wc~3.5k

Includes: Tooth rotting fluff, polyamorous relationship, mentions of sex but no smut, not proofread

Kento has found your behavior to be odd the past few days. He comes home, and you're always somewhere else. Don't get him wrong. He loves the one-on-one time he gets with Toji. The two rarely have moments where they can enjoy each other's presence. And Toji was definitely taking advantage of the situation. Kento wasn't even able to step through the front door. Toji would swing the door open, greet Kento with a smirk, and whisk him away to the bedroom.

With how loud the two men were, it made it easy for you to sneak in and out of the house without being noticed. It also helped that after the multiple rounds, Kento was properly fucked out and sleeping on Toji's arm.

And that's exactly what happened at this moment. Once the moaning had stopped for three minutes, then started again for sixteen minutes, then stopped for another ten, you were sure that Toji's half of the plan was finished. You creaked the door open. Toji was skillfully moving his arm from under Kento and instead placing a pillow for the tired salaryman. Toji put his clothes back on and joined you in the hallway.

"How long do we have?" You whispered.

Toji laughs. "If we wanted, we could be out all night, and he wouldn't notice." He puffs his chest, proud of his work.

"Yeah, well, sometimes we can only go one round because I'm just that good," You replied smugly.

"Right," Toji ruffles your hair. "But it ain't a competition sweets...even though he'd never be satisfied with one round." Your eye twitches. You'd show him how great one round with you could be. You shake your head. Not now. Now it's time to get to carry out what you've been working on for weeks. Well, not exactly, it could've been done in a day, but you and Toji love messing with Kento. He's so fun to tease.

Toji shows off the car keys he took from Kento, and together, the two of you take Kento's car on a little joyride.

It's around 7pm when Kento wakes up. He groans as he sits up in bed. He looks beneath him, shocked that Toji isn't there. Why isn't Toji there? Kento can't help how his heart picks up pace. He closes his eyes to think. This doesn't help, as now he is acutely aware of the lack of noise in the house. Why was everything so quiet? He goes to grab his glasses on the nightstand. He feels around for a bit, and although he does find his glasses, his keys aren't where they usually are. Alarms go off in his head. He can barely keep himself upright(Toji would claim this was because of him, but truly it was fear that had struck him) as he gets out of bed and struggles to put on clothes. He holds onto the wall as he walks out of his room. His mouth seems dry, and he can't bring himself to call out to you or Toji. What if he didn't get a response back. As he gets closer to the end of the hallway, his nose scrunches up as putrid scent hits him.

"Dammit, Toji!" You yell. "The box said ten minutes"

"But we made two servings! That means double the time to cook!" You and Toji are quickly opening up windows and fanning the area. Kento let out a sigh of relief before his legs finally gave out and he fell to the floor.

"Kento!""Ken"! You and Toji stop what your doing and move to help Kento stand up.

"You're here," Is all he can say. You and Toji look to each other.

"Duh," Toji responds. You flick his head.

Kento shakes his head. "I woke up and you weren't there...and my keys were gone" He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, Ken," You say. "We were gonna wake you up with cookies and brownies, but someone never learned to count." You glare at Toji.

"It's still edible," Toji argues.

"We can't serve that to him," You lift up Kento's face and squish it with one hand. "Look at him. If one more thing goes wrong, he'll die."

Toji rolls his eyes. He takes Kento from you and holds him in his arms "Right. Guess we'll have to go with plan B" You salute Toji and race to the master bathroom.

"Keep me company while their gone?" Toji asks. Kento nods and let's Toji carry him to the living room. Sat on the couch, Toji turns on the TV. The two men embrace each other as the watch the first thing to come one.

It doesn't take long for you to shout from the bathroom. "IT'S ALL READY!"

"There's my cue," Toji turns off the TV. "Up we go." He carries Kento to where you are. Kento's room-well at this point it was everyones room- was covered in rose petals. You had no restraint when it came to decorating. Toji carries Kento into the bathroom. The lights are dimmed, and the tub is lined with lavender scented candles. The tub is filled with bubbles and hot water. You smile, waiting for Kento's reaction. He stares shocked. He looks to Toji, then back to you.

"Happy Aniversary!" You and Toji day in unison.

[niteskysx]

strawberry.

bjorn x reader (i tried smth different by putting Reader in the fic instead of yxn so let me know if it looks okay or if it works for you guys 😭)

Summary: One night, she shows up in his room—with intentions he never thought she’d bring to him, acting like the complete opposite of her usual shy, rule-following, goody two-shoes self. He thinks she’s finally dropped the good girl act. Has she?

(if this is a bit long, i apologize. i tried to post it on ao3 but i havent been accepted there yet lol)

Bjorn sat on his bunk, thumbs tapping idly at the controller in his hands, the dim light from the screen casting a glow over his face. His brows furrowed in concentration as he muttered under his breath, completely absorbed in the game.

The door slid open with a soft hiss.

��Unless you’re Tyler with a bottle of booze or an alien here to kill me, get lost,” he grumbled without looking up.

No response. Just soft footsteps.

Bjorn’s fingers paused over the buttons, and he finally looked up, frowning when he saw her standing there.

She was the last person he expected to show up at his bunk. Little-miss-stick-to-the-rules, the one who always looked at him like he was one sarcastic comment away from getting shoved out of an airlock. Her usual stiff posture was gone; instead, she leaned against the wall, lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. The hell? She never smiled like that — not at him.

She didn’t look like herself. Her hair was a little more tousled, her eyes shadowed like she hadn’t slept.

She sat down next to him, close enough that her knee bumped against his. Bjorn blinked.

“Uh… hi?”

Her lips twitched. “Hi.”

Bjorn scowled, setting his controller aside. “Okay, what the hell? Did you get lost on your way to literally anywhere else?”

She tilted her head, gaze flickering to his mouth before meeting his eyes again. “No. I wanted to see you.”

Bjorn’s body stiffened. His brain scrambled for a logical explanation—maybe she hit her head during that last escape, or maybe Tyler had spiked the water rations for fun.

“What do you want?” he muttered, voice low and rough.

“Nothing,” she said simply, her smile deepening. “Just your company.”

Bjorn shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Go find company with the others,” he muttered. “You know, the people you actually talk to.”

“But I don’t want them,” she murmured, leaning in slightly. Their knees were completely touching now.

Bjorn narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you’re acting weird. Like… you got body-snatched weird.” He forced a smirk. “Should I check for antennae?”

She laughed softly—a different kind of laugh. Low. Smooth. Something about it made his stomach tighten.

“Come on, Bjorn,” she murmured.

His body tensed. “Come on, what?”

She leaned forward just a bit, her breath warm against his ear. “You always push me away,” she whispered. “Why?”

His pulse jumped. He pulled back, eyes searching hers. “Okay, yeah, you’ve either been hitting the ship’s hidden stash or you hit your head.”

She tilted her head, her fingers skimming his arm. “What if I just want to get to know you better?”

Bjorn caught her wrist, gripping it firmly. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” His voice was sharp, but his grip wasn’t.

She only smiled, like she knew something he didn’t. “I don’t know.” Her voice dropped, almost teasing. “Why? Do I seem… different?”

“Yeah.” He let go of her hand, shoving himself upright. “You don’t act like this.”

“Like what?” she asked, stepping even closer. Now she was standing between his legs, looking down at him. He swallowed.

“Flirty,” he said bluntly.

She giggled. Actually giggled. Bjorn swore under his breath. “You hate me, remember?” he muttered. “Think I’m an arrogant prick.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.” Her fingers dragged down his arm, nails scratching lightly over his sleeve.

Bjorn shivered. He should push her away. Instead, he just stared at her. “You’re not like this,” he said again, voice strained. “You’re shy. Quiet.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being shy,” she murmured.

He sucked in a breath as she shifted even closer. He tried to lean back, but his shoulders hit the headboard.

“Maybe I like your attention…” Her breath brushed against his neck, warm and teasing. “And wondering what it would feel like to touch you.”

Bjorn’s brain short-circuited. What the hell was happening?

She was practically in his lap now, her weight pressing against his thighs, her fingers ghosting up the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him to stop this, to shove her away and demand what the hell had gotten into her.

Instead, his mouth did what it always did when things got weird: it ran with it.

“Well, you know what they say,” Bjorn drawled, letting his gaze flicker to her lips. “Opposites attract.”

She smiled. “You think we’re opposites?”

“Yeah. I’m fun. You’re…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Not.”

She giggled again, a sultry little sound that sent heat curling through his stomach. “Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Bjorn exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way her knee pressed into his thigh. “Please. I know you. You’re the one who gives me that disappointed teacher look every time I crack a joke.”

Her fingers toyed with his belt. His muscles twitched under her touch. “Maybe I just enjoy your attention.”

Oh, hell no. Something was definitely wrong. His pulse hammered in his ears.

“What’s with you?” he asked again, voice rough. He caught her wrist before her hand could slide under his shirt. “Seriously.”

Her pupils were blown wide now, black swallowing the color. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Her lips parted. “But don’t you like it?”

Bjorn gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, if you’re trying to seduce me, you might wanna work on the creepy factor.”

She tilted her head. “Is it working?”

Bjorn’s grip on her wrist tightened. “I mean… maybe a little.”

His smirk faltered when she swung one leg over his thighs and fully straddled him. Heat surged through his body. Her weight pressed against him, her nails dragging over the back of his neck—it messed with his head.

“Relax, Bjorn,” she whispered. “You think too much.”

“That’s funny,” he muttered. “Everyone says I don’t think at all.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging his head back slightly. His throat bobbed. Every instinct screamed to stop this, because something about the way she looked at him wasn’t normal.

But then she leaned down and kissed him.

Slow. Deep. Needy.

Bjorn groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he kissed her back. She tasted like metal and danger, like something he shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop craving.

His hands slid up her back, gripping her like he was afraid she’d pull away. The kiss turned messy, desperate. His mind screamed at him to get a grip, to push her away before he did something stupid.

But when her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer—he was gone.

So, so screwed.

(3  Hours Earlier)

The emergency lights bathed the control room in harsh, red flashes. Alarms blared through the ship’s speakers, a robotic voice repeating: “Containment breach. Sector 5.”

Navarro’s hands flew across the controls. “Shit, shit—come on!” she muttered, her eyes darting between the monitors. One showed Tyler and Bjorn, trapped in the quarantine chamber, weapons raised. The other displayed a writhing mass of translucent, sinewy creatures slithering toward them.

“Navarro, get us the hell out of here!” Tyler’s voice crackled through the comms, his usual bravado laced with panic.

“They’re closin’ in,” the reader said, gripping the back of Navarro’s chair. Her heart hammered in her chest. The creatures' movements were disjointed but fast, their limbs twisting unnaturally as they swarmed toward the two men. “Can’t we override the door?”

“I’m trying!” Navarro’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “They locked it remotely from the lab after the breach.” She paused, brow furrowed. “Wait. There’s a manual override in the maintenance shaft.”

The reader swallowed hard. “I’ll go.”

“You sure? It’s crawling with those things out there.”

The screen showed Bjorn, standing back-to-back with Tyler, swiping his forearm across his sweaty face. His voice crackled over the comms, his accent sharp: “Oi, can we speed this up? Not tryna be anyone’s midnight snack here!”

The reader didn’t answer. She was already sprinting toward the maintenance hatch.

The shaft was barely wide enough to crawl through. The metal walls groaned with each movement. Sweat dripped down her temple as she pushed forward, flashlight clamped between her teeth.

The override panel came into view — a small box marked MANUAL RELEASE. Her hands shook as she flipped it open and punched in the code Navarro had given her.

“Come on… come on…”

From the shadows ahead, something scraped against the metal. The hair on her neck stood on end. Her eyes darted toward the sound. The flashlight caught a flash of pale, rubbery skin skittering across the metal.

She slammed the release lever down.

The alarm shifted to a new tone: “Chamber door disengaged.”

Back in the control room, she stumbled through the door as Tyler and Bjorn burst in behind her.

“Holy fuckin’ hell,” Tyler panted, bending over with his hands on his knees. “That was close.”

Bjorn leaned against the wall, sucking in breaths. His shirt was torn, streaked with dark fluid. “Yeah,” he wheezed. “Remind me to never volunteer for a ‘routine inspection’ again.”

“I bloody hate space,” he muttered.

Hours later, the adrenaline had worn off. The ship was quiet again.

The reader stood in the tiny bathroom, running damp fingers through her hair. Her reflection stared back, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. She turned her head to the side, inspecting a scrape on her cheek from the maintenance shaft.

That’s when she felt it: a faint tickle along the shell of her ear.

She frowned, reaching up. Her fingertips brushed against something cold and slick.

It moved.

She jerked her hand away, heart slamming in her chest. Another tickle — deeper now, just inside her ear canal. Her breath hitched. She grabbed the edge of the sink, eyes wide with horror.

Sudden pressure built behind her eardrum. Her vision blurred. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared.

Her pulse slowed.

Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was just leftover nerves from the mission.

She forced a shaky breath and turned off the faucet.

Behind her, in the mirror’s reflection, her pupils dilated unnaturally. Just for a second.

And then... black.

———————————————————————————

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her body arched into his touch as his fingers toyed with the button of her pants, fumbling to undo it. His mouth found the pulse at her throat, sucking softly, and a low hum escaped her lips.

Then—

A jarring flicker behind her eyes.

The sensation was sharp, like someone yanking a cord plugged into the base of her skull. Her vision blurred. For the briefest moment, everything went black.

When clarity returned, she was on Bjorn’s bed, half-straddling his lap, his hand already slipping beneath her waistband.

Her heart seized.

What the hell—how did I get here?

Her stomach lurched. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, like waking up in the middle of a nightmare. The pressure of his palm against her hip, the heat of his breath on her neck—she didn’t remember any of it or how she got into this position.

“Stop,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Get off—get off me.”

Bjorn didn’t react immediately. His mouth was still at her throat, teeth grazing her skin.

Her pulse skyrocketed. Panic took hold.

“Stop!” she said louder, raising her hand and slapping the side of his head.

“OW! What the—?” Bjorn recoiled, clutching his temple. His eyes flashed with confusion and anger. “What the hell?!” 

She shoved his chest so hard he nearly fell off the bed. His head snapped back, the sting of her slap still burning against his scalp.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, scrambling off his lap like he was on fire. Her eyes were wide with panic, cheeks flushed.

Bjorn blinked. His brain short-circuited. His hair was disheveled, her lipstick smudged across his jawline. “Me? What am I doing? You’re the one who climbed into my bed and started getting handsy!”

Her mouth dropped open. “I did not!”

“Oh yeah? You just happened to sit on my lap and try to eat my face for fun?” He pointed to his hair. “You yanked my hair like you were testing the damn roots!”

Her face twisted with confusion — then horror. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.” 

She stared at him, heart racing, mind spinning.

He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “First you come in here, climb on top of me, panting in my ear like a rabid fox—and now you’re bloody hitting me? Fucks the matter with you?”

Her eyes went wide. “I—I don’t remember doing that. I don’t know how I got here— I don’t- I was lying in my bunk and… then I… I woke up here. With.. you.”

Bjorn let out a low, bitter chuckle. “Right. Sure you don’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head as he stood. “God… you are such a fucking tease.”

She backed away, breath unsteady. The confusion etched into her face was unmistakable. Bjorn’s eyes narrowed; his head tilted as he watched her, curiosity flickering behind his frustration.

Her brows knitted. She took another shaky step back, nearly stumbling before catching herself. Without another word, she turned and fled the room.

Bjorn ran a hand through his hair, giving his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “Fucking girls, man,” he muttered, then collapsed back onto his bed with a frustrated groan. 

Reader slammed the door to her room and locked it, her chest heaving. Her heart still raced from whatever the hell had just happened in Bjorn’s room. She backed away from the door, rubbing her temples.

What the fuck was that? How did I even get there?

She paced to the mirror, her reflection just as disheveled and panicked as she felt. Her hair was tangled, her lips swollen from Bjorn’s kisses. But she didn’t remember walking there. Didn’t remember straddling him. Just… being at the sink. The pressure in her head. The sick squirming sensation beneath her skin.

Her hand flew to her ear. The spot just beneath the canal—where she’d felt it last night. A twitch, then a burrowing sensation. Her stomach churned.

No. No, this couldn’t be real.

She pressed harder, wincing at the soreness. Something had happened. Something had crawled in.

Her mind shot back to earlier: Tyler and Bjorn fighting off the small, slick creatures in the cargo bay. The skittering limbs, the way one darted toward the vent before Bjorn stomped after it.

Her pulse spiked.

One must've gotten out.

One must’ve gotten into her.

———————————————————————————

The med bay had found nothing. No parasites, no head injuries, no alien goo lodged in her brain. By the end of the day, she was convinced she’d had a psychotic break. A weird, horrifyingly embarrassing psychotic break that involved dry-humping Bjorn’s lap.

She hadn’t spoken to him since. Every time she passed him in the halls, she speed-walked in the opposite direction while he smirked like the cocky asshole he was. 

Now the crew was gathered in the common area, poring over whatever scraps of data Navarro had managed to recover from the ship’s security feeds. Everyone was tense. Tired. Half-expecting those acid-blooded monsters to rip through the walls at any second.

Navarro tapped a few keys on the console. “Alright,” he muttered. “Here’s footage from corridor C, two hours before the first attack.”

The screen flickered. Grainy black-and-white footage showed an empty hallway. The group leaned in. Nothing happened for a few seconds… until a small, worm-like shape wriggled across the floor and disappeared into the ventilation shaft.

“What the hell is that?” Tyler asked.

“No idea,” Navarro said. “Looks like it moves like a—wait.” His brow furrowed as he clicked to the next feed. “This is from the crew quarters last night. After we locked down the south wing.”

The screen changed.

Her stomach dropped.

There she was. In fuzzy night-vision, walking into Bjorn’s bunk with a slow, almost predatory stride. She watched herself climb onto his lap, run her fingers through his hair, and kiss him like she was auditioning for a damn romance holo.

Tyler choked on a laugh. “Holy shit.”

Her entire body locked up. Heat flooded her cheeks. “T-t-that… that wasn’t me!” she stammered, voice cracking.

Bjorn, sitting across from her, turned his head slowly and met her gaze. His mouth curved into a lazy, delighted grin. “Sure looks like you.”

“It’s not!” she shouted, practically vibrating with mortification. “I-I don’t remember any of that! I was possessed!”

“Oh yeah?” Bjorn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “By what? The Horny Ghost of Deck Three?”

The group burst into laughter.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I-I swear! I was sleeping! And then I woke up in his room and—”

“On my lap,” Bjorn added helpfully. “Don’t forget the lap part.”

Navarro frowned, tapping the screen. “Wait, hold on. Look at the timestamp.”

They all turned back to the footage. As her possessed self kissed Bjorn, a tiny shape slithered out from behind her ear — the same worm-like creature — and crawled from the bunk to the floor.

Seconds later, her body froze mid-kiss. Her eyes went glassy.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I wasn’t crazy.”

Navarro nodded grimly. “Looks like whatever that thing is… it was controlling you.”

Bjorn let out a low whistle. “So you were possessed.” His jaw tightened, amusement draining from his face. “Brilliant. I was snogging some alien parasite, not you.” His eyes darkened. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Tyler shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest. “Why Bjorn, though?” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—jealousy, maybe. “I mean… you could’ve climbed into either one of our bunks.”

Bjorn, still lounging against the table, perked up. “Yeah. Why me?” He straightened, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on hers. “Gotta say, I’m curious.”

Even Navarro, typically all business, arched a brow and turned his attention toward her. The question hung heavy in the air.

She froze. The weight of their collective stares pinned her in place. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I… I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what that thing wants.”

The silence stretched, brittle and sharp.

Navarro finally broke it, voice grim. “To reproduce,” he said, nodding toward the footage. “That thing—whatever it is—wasn’t just controlling you. It was looking for a host.”

Her eyes widened. “A host… for more of those things?”

“Exactly.” Navarro’s jaw tightened. “And it didn’t pick Bjorn at random.”

Bjorn’s smirk faded. “Wait… what the hell does that mean?”

Navarro leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That thing was trying to reproduce. It chose you because you’re the most compatible host.”

Bjorn let out a dry laugh. “Compatible? What, like I’ve got a ‘prime breeding material’ stamp on my forehead?”

Tyler snorted, though his eyes never left the screen. “I mean… wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about you.”

Bjorn shot him a glare. “Piss off.”

She barely heard them. Her mind was spinning. “So… it climbed out of me and went into Bjorn?”

Navarro gave a slow nod. “Or at least tried to. We saw it crawl toward him on the footage before it disappeared under the bed.”

Her stomach turned. “And now it’s… what, still in here somewhere?”

The group fell silent.

Bjorn tensed. “Under the bed,” he repeated, glancing toward his bunk. His legs shifted, like he was preparing to bolt. “It’s still here.”

Tyler’s face paled. “Shit.”

Navarro stood. “We need to find it. Now.”

Bjorn took a step back, eyes scanning the floor. “Right. Great. A horny alien worm loose in my room. Just what I fucking needed.”

———————————————————————————

As Tyler and Navarro swept the flashlight beam across the floor, scanning for the creature, Bjorn shifted closer. His shoulder bumped lightly against hers.

“You know…” His voice dipped, low and teasing.

She stiffened. Bjorn leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Do you really not remember what happened between us?”

Her throat tightened. She turned her head slightly — and immediately regretted it. His blue eyes caught hers, sharp and glinting with amusement.

“I—I told you. I don’t remember,” she stammered.

He tilted his head, a slow smirk curving his lips. “Shame.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then flicked back up. “You were so… enthusiastic.”

“Bjorn,” Tyler called out. “This isn’t the time.”

Bjorn gives him a look of displeasure.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire at this point.

_________________________________________________

The flashlight’s beam glinted off the metal bedframe, casting shadows like skeletal fingers across the wall. Tyler crouched, lowering the light to the floor. The shadows shifted — and then something moved.

Tyler’s voice interrupted the moment: “Shit—there it goes!”

A glistening, worm-like creature squirmed at the edge of the beam, pale and slick, like it had been birthed from static. It slithered toward the baseboard.

Navarro lunged first. His boot stomped down with a sickening squish. The creature convulsed beneath the heel, its form pulsing, writhing.

“What the hell is that thing?” she breathed.

“Parasitic entity,” Navarro grunted, grinding his heel into the floor. “Uses human hosts to reproduce.”

Bjorn’s jaw tightened. “Reproduce… like make us host its babies?”

Navarro didn’t answer. She just pressed down harder. The worm gave one final twitch before going still, a smear of iridescent fluid pooling beneath it.

Bjorn exhaled shakily. “Jesus Christ.”

Tyler leaned against the desk, skin pale. “So… is that it? We’re good now?”

Navarro crouched to examine the remains. The goo shimmered unnaturally in the light. “This one’s dead.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But if it came through when we opened the rift… there might be more.”

Reader’s stomach twisted. “More? Like how many more?”

Navarro wiped the goo onto a tissue. “That depends on how long it was in you.” She stood, meeting reader’s eyes. “And what it did while it was.”

Silence stretched between them. Her skin crawled with invisible touches.

Bjorn broke it with a shaky laugh. “Great. So I almost got laid by a possessed chick because some horny alien worm decided I was a suitable breeding ground.”

He raked a hand through his hair and gave a crooked grin. “Gotta say, not my proudest moment.”

———————————————————————————

The ship was too quiet.

She sat curled up on the worn couch in the living quarters, pretending to read the manual for the comms system while the vents hummed overhead. The rest of the crew was gone, off checking the engine room for more of those alien freaks. She should’ve been worried. Anxious. Hyper-alert.

Instead, her mind kept flashing back to that grainy CCTV footage Navarro had pulled up yesterday.

Her. In Bjorn’s lap. Hands in his hair. Mouth on his like she was trying to suck the soul out of him.

The secondhand embarrassment still made her want to self-destruct.

"Deep breaths," she muttered to herself. "It wasn’t you. You were possessed. Just…ignore him."

“Talking to yourself now?"

Her spine straightened with a jolt. Bjorn’s voice.

Of course.

She didn’t look up. "Go away."

"Why would I do that?" His footsteps creaked across the floor. “We’ve got the whole ship to ourselves. Thought we could…bond.”

"Pass."

He chuckled. The sound made her eye twitch.

Her focus stayed glued to the manual as he dropped onto the couch across from her, sprawling like he owned the place. Silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze like a physical weight, dragging up her legs, past her folded arms, straight to her face.

“You know,” Bjorn said after a minute, “I’ve been trying to figure something out.”

She exhaled sharply. “Are you now?” She answered completely uninterested.

He ignored her. "Your chapstick."

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to his. "What?"

"That night," he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumb. "When you kissed me."

Her cheeks flamed. 

“Strawberry?” He squinted, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Nah… cherry, maybe? It was sweet. Kinda fruity.”

Her stomach twisted.

Bjorn chuckled. “C’mon. Tell me. It’s been driving me fucking crazy all day.”

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, standing abruptly to leave.

She turned toward the hallway — but he was faster. He stood and moved into her path with infuriating ease, blocking the exit.

Her heart skipped. She took a step back, and her shoulders hit the cold wall.

Bjorn placed a hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in just enough to make her breath hitch. His blue eyes sparkled with pure mischief.

"You know," he said softly, "it's my birthday today."

She crossed her arms, willing herself not to react. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks." His smirk deepened. "Aren’t you gonna ask what I want for my birthday?"

She clenched her jaw. "No."

"Go on." His gaze flicked to her lips. "Ask."

Her throat tightened. She hated how her pulse spiked when he looked at her like that. Like he saw straight through her bravado.

"...What do you want for your birthday?" she mumbled, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.

Bjorn's mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. "A kiss."

Her head snapped up. "You’re insane."

"Maybe." He pushed off the wall just enough to trail his fingers down her arm. Goosebumps erupted across her skin despite herself. "But you seemed pretty into it last time."

"It wasn’t me," she said through clenched teeth.

"That’s what you keep saying." He leaned in again, voice low. "But you know what I think?"

"No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me."

His breath brushed her cheek. "I think you liked it."

Her chest squeezed. "You’re disgusting."

"And you’re a terrible liar." His eyes dropped to her mouth. “C’mon. One little kiss. For my birthday.”

The worst part? He was close enough that she could smell the faint cologne-and-cigarette scent of him, feel the heat of his skin. And for one horrifying second, she thought about giving in.

Then her fight instinct kicked in.

She smacked the side of his head — hard — and shoved him away.

Bjorn stumbled back, surprised, then laughed. "Agh! What the fuck?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, chest heaving. "Go and get your head checked, you freak."

She turned and marched toward the door.

Behind her, he chuckled again. "Damn. That actually fucking hurt."

She rushed out, heart racing, steps quick and unsteady.

"Strawberry," Bjorn called after her. "I knew it."

taglist: @guardiandear @asvtrials @spikedfearn @kayharrisons @maladaptive-dreamer @em1i2a3 @theblueflower05 @mommyarachna @caileeflavoured @blackynsupremacy