#800+ words

[gimmeurtmi]

Thinking about being on FaceTime with Minho because he misses you but he doesn’t want to admit it that easily so he’s hugging his cats and showing you them saying how much “the cats” miss you and you should come over “to see the cats”

this is so cute!!!!! bunny exploiting his kitties 🥹

“hey,” you answer with a smile, propping your phone against the vase on your table.

on the screen in front of you, an incoming facetime call from your boyfriend loads up.

his face finally comes into view, but you can only see half of it. soonie is looking at the screen, bopping his nose against it, while minho hides his face in the cat’s fur.

“hmmh,” he mumbled back.

“how are you?”

“i’m… fine,” minho says, slumping as he rubs his chin on soonie’s orange back. “soonie asked me to call you.”

“really?” you chuckle.

“yeah, he’s been asking for you all day,” minho nods. “say hi!”’

soonie bumps against the phone again, and you wave at the cat. minho smiles for the first time when soonie’s tail flicks against his shoulder.

“did anyone else miss me?” you prompted with a grin.

minho nods. you soften, glad to see minho’s finally learning to verbalise his thoughts, before he flips the camera around and shows you doongie sitting on the hoodie you left at minho’s place last weekend.

“he’s obsessed with it now,” minho explains, “i don’t think you’ll get it back.”

“i’m sure when he sees me again he’ll prefer sitting on me than the hoodie,” you assure minho. it’s then you notice minho’s wrist as he hugs soonie closer to his chest. he’s wearing the bracelet you left behind—the silver one your sister got you for your birthday. it had your initials on it.

“my bracelet looks nice on you,” you smile softly, heart beating fast as you see those letters on him. minho hides his face in soonie again.

“i was just keeping it safe, so it doesn’t get lost. i know it means a lot to you,” he mumbles.

“well, thank you for keeping it safe.”

you let the silence comfortably stretch between you two, minho blinking slowly as he looks at you. he missed your face, a lot, but he can’t bring himself to say that.

“and what about dori?” you ask after a few moments, “he missed me, too?”

minho nods quickly, clicking his tongue towards the side of the screen before a darker cat comes into view.

“hi, dori!” you wave at him, as he climbs on minho’s back. “i missed you!”

minho smiles.

“do you wanna tell dori about your day? he’s asking,” minho presses his lips together, nodding as if what he just said makes complete sense. but you decide to indulge him anyway.

you tell dori about your day, what you’ve been up to and what you had to eat and the story of the lost file at work that no one seems to be able to find.

minho listens carefully, his fingers running through the cats fur as they stay quietly next to him.

“i think you should come over soon,” minho says quickly, so quickly you’re not even sure if he planned on saying it. a light pink tint on his ears tells you it might’ve been accidental. “to see the cats.”

“to see the cats?” you repeat, eyes squinting lightly at him. you wonder how long it’ll take before he starts saying it’s him that misses you—but you know you’ll wait patiently until he’s ready to confess. until then, he can use the poor cats as his excuse.

“they’ve been miserable all day without you,” he explains, leaning his head on soonie’s. “they’ve barely moved.”

“have you guys been eating though? staying hydrated?” you’re quick to ask. minho affirms they ate two hours ago.

“i can come over tomorrow,” you suggest with a smile.

“i’m working tomorrow,” minho all but pouts.

“doesn’t matter,” you shrug, “i’m coming for the cats, aren’t i?”

minho squints at you, pursing his lips at your teasing. you giggle.

he lifts himself up slightly, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at you. you dare to think his eyes look fond.

“doongie says you have a cute giggle,” he says quietly.

“tell him i say thank you,” you smile. “give him a kiss from me, too.”

“can’t,” minho shakes his head, rubbing his chin against his palm, “you need to come here and do it yourself.”

“i will. tomorrow.”

he whines out your name, kicking his feet against the bed.

you feel a warmth surrounding your heart at his behaviour, feeling all of a sudden like you were wanted. you decide you shouldn’t tease him so much.

“when do you finish work?”

“midnight,” he grunts.

“do the cats want me to sleep over?” you ask hopefully.

minho’s face lights up. “yeah, i think they’ll like that.”

“i’ll like that too,” you grin. “the four of us can cuddle all night long.”

“four?” minho gaps.

“unless you missed me, too?” you smirk.

minho groans, hiding his face in soonie’s fur again, the tips of his ear a bright shade of red.

[ziltoidcoffee]

Jealous Terry is indeed a concept, but! How about jealous Daniel? He'd probably feel insecure sometimes about not coming from money like Terry does, maybe worries that Terry will get bored with him. Every time he sees some debutante try to flirt with Terry at a party, he sees red just a little bit and has to remind everyone there that Terry belongs to him as much as he belongs to Terry.

(Anon, I love jealous Daniel too. It’s essentially canon! Remember when Ali said he was jealous? LMFAO Her loss! I love this idea and came up with something below. Imagined this a few years after KK3. Hope you enjoy it!)

Daniel hates these corporate parties.

From the extravagant decor to the top-quality horderves and champagne, everything is generally tolerable, sometimes even enjoyable. Or it would be if it weren’t for Terry’s determination to entertain and satisfy every single guest. 

Daniel knows he shouldn’t protest. As CEO of Dynatox, Terry is the face of his company. They’re only able to live a life of luxury due to his years of hard work. But Daniel wouldn’t care if Terry went bankrupt tomorrow. He’s not with the older man for his money. Terry has many charming qualities, and Daniel didn’t even know Terry was rich until he was already in love with him. So it shouldn’t be surprising that Daniel isn’t the only one enamored by him.

But it doesn’t make watching every woman at the party practically throw themselves at Terry all night any easier. They’re all hoping for a chance to become Mrs. Silver, and since Daniel’s only attending as Terry's close friend and student, these women have no idea that post is already taken. Daniel understands Terry’s hesitancy to tell anyone. Even though it’s the ‘80s, certain people are still uncomfortable with the idea of two men dating. Plus, Daniel doesn’t really want that attention. Though he would love throwing his drink in their faces instead of watching them across the hall while he works on his second glass of the night. 

Daniel can only take this for so long. He reaches for another drink when his gaze catches on Terry speaking with a female employee he recognizes as the receptionist. She laughs at something he says and runs her fingers down his arm, fluttering her eyes at him. Terry smiles back at her and doesn’t remove her hand. That’s all Daniel can handle tonight.

His feet are moving almost of their own accord, striding across the banquet hall to approach the woman from behind. Terry meets his eyes briefly before Daniel taps her shoulder, and she spins around instantly to gape at him. “Excuse me,” Daniel says through gritted teeth, and he can see Terry smirking in his peripheral vision. “I don’t mean to interrupt. But I need to speak with Terry.”

She pushes her hair off her shoulder and scoffs. “We’re in the middle of—”

“It’s fine, Elizabeth,” Terry interrupts, gripping her shoulder, and he’s smiling when she looks back at him. “It must be important.”

“It is,” Daniel growls, his hands clenching at his sides. 

Elizabeth nods at them. “Well, don’t be too long, Mr. Silver,” she says then takes a swig of her champagne.

Terry says nothing, and Daniel wants to punch them both in the face. But instead, he grabs his boyfriend by the wrist in a bruising grip and ushers him into the hallway, ignoring the staring party goers. When they reach the end of the hall near the coat room, he does a double-take to make sure no one is around and turns back to push Terry against the wall. 

Despite his superior strength, Terry lets him and grins while Daniel frowns. “What’s wrong, Danny?” he asks in faux innocence.

Daniel crowds him against the wall, shoulders tense in frustration. “That girl—she kept touching you,” he hisses, poking him in the chest. “And you just let her! You've been letting them all night!”

His boyfriend’s smile goes wider. “Oh, Danny,” he drawls in the back of his throat. “They're nothing to me. You know that.” His hand lifts to grab him by the jaw, and Daniel jerks his face away, still angry with him. 

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers, refusing to meet his eyes. His own are burning at the corners, vision starting to go hazy. "I hate watching them all over you and not being able to do anything about it."

“Daniel,” Terry snaps, taking Daniel’s chin between his fingers. He squeezes and turns his head to force their eyes to meet. Unlike his earlier amused expression, his lips are turned down in a serious frown. “Do you want me to tell them?” he asks.

At first, Daniel says nothing, trying to decide what Terry means. Then the weight of his question hits him, and he has to swallow while he fights his way towards coherence. When he drags his voice free from his chest, his words are raw and raspy. “Yes,” he says. “I want them to know you’re mine.”

Terry’s eyebrows go up. “Are you certain, sweetheart?” he asks, and his fingers release his jaw to brace the back of Daniel’s head. “That may come with some unwanted attention.”

Daniel's hand comes up to clutch at the front of Terry’s tux, pulling at the fabric to bring him closer until they’re only inches apart. “I don’t care,” he declares. “They should know you belong to me."

Then he tilts his head up and cants forward to crush their mouths together. 

Terry doesn’t even flinch and smiles into the kiss. When they return to the banquet hall after a long makeout session, Daniel enters holding his hand, and Terry introduces him to a group of girls, asking, “Have you met my boyfriend Daniel yet?”

[obsob]

happy and proud!!

✷(print shop)✷

[frownyalfred]

I’m on the 1-2k chapter defense squad now. Y’all need to stop judging authors for writing short chapters.

The fact that they updated at all? For free?? And managed to write more than two words?? Readers can be a little more grateful.

5-10k weekly chapters are nice, but not routinely achievable for someone with a job/work or family/school etc.

[horus-unofficial]

hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

why do we go back?

damian wayne x reader

warnings: anxiety, kind of a panic attack?, implied past trauma/abuse

wc: 800

~~

“I went back.”

“Why? They—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey, breathe.” 

-

Damian’s brothers don’t text you that often. You don’t have their numbers saved in your phone. Or you didn’t. You have Tim’s now. 

come to the manor now. non-medical emergency 

oh and this is tim by the way 

You don’t even see the text until you’re done with your meeting, phone on do not disturb and notes document in fullscreen mode. It was sent at 1:30 in the afternoon. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen at 1:30 in the afternoon. 

I’m on my way, you text back at 3:00. Is he okay? The response comes as you’re setting up your gps. no. then, i mean he’s fine but no. You pull out of your parking spot a little faster than you should have. 

Once you get on the highway, you turn off the GPS. The number 21 exit towards Bristol and Wayne manor is nearly as familiar as your own. You’re thankful for the dozens of trips you’ve made because Tim calls you five minutes in. 

“What happened?” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The anxiety that had taken root when you saw the first text is morphing quickly into fear. 

“He disappeared.” 

“What?” 

“He’s not on manor grounds anymore. But he’s not in his suit.” 

On top of the phone call screen, a push notification lets you know that Damian's code was used to disarm your alarm system. You let out a short breath and switch lanes. Your exit is the next one. 

“I know where he is,” you tell Tim as you shift over into the right lane. It’s a little backed up, the way it always is this time of day, “I got him.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You take exit 24 towards the lower east side, then switch to an even more local highway and take exit 8 towards the residential district. When you pull into your parking spot in the cul-de-sac, your house looks empty. When you walk inside, Damian’s combat boots are sitting by the door, not unlaced all the way. One of them is sitting on its side. The other is askew. You let your bag slide off your shoulder to hit the ground next to your own shoes and venture further in. 

Damian’s sitting on the steps in dark casual clothes and white socks with a paint blob pattern. His knees are bent, legs pressed against his chest. Your steps aren’t steep and Damian is very tall. Hands clenched into fists rest on top of his knees. His neck is bent too, forehead pressed against his fists. 

You slide back on the wooden steps when you sit down. Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. You wait for him to come to you. He does. 

“I went back.” His voice is rough but not thick with tears. 

“Why?” You ask. The League leaves him with deep hurts every time he goes back to Nanda Parbat. And not the physical kind. “They—”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims like the words burst out of his chest. The energy propels him up, fingers digging into the arms of his sweatshirt as he rocks on his heels. “I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey,” You stand to meet him. The emotions in his green eyes are wild, untethered. “Breathe.” He shakes his head at you, fingers curling harder into his sleeves. “You can.” Damian scans your body language and you let him, relaxing the tension in your shoulders and leaving your hands open, arms angled to hold him if he wants it. 

“I’m here,” you say to the hesitation in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

You let out a grunt of air as Damian slams into you. His arms wrap around you tight enough that you think he’s afraid you’ll turn into smoke if he lets go. You raise your arms more slowly, one coming up to rub at his back and the other to cup the back of his neck.His knees buckle. You slow your descent to the ground only barely, saving your knees from catching the brunt of your weight. Your butt stings instead from how hard it hit the floor but it’s worth it when Damian buries his face into the junction between your neck and your collarbone and breathes. They’re choppy loud breaths that come with shoulders shuddering under the hand you have rubbing up and down his back, but no tears hit your neck. 

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “You’re safe here.” Damian’s arms only tighten further. In response, you hold him tighter too. 

Why do we go back, you wonder, when we know the only thing to come of it is more pain? 

[alocon]

A Warm Embrace - Logan Sargeant

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

written by alocon

Summary: Ice skating double date under the stars with your boyfriend. Pure fluff to celebrate the Williams Car Launch x

Warnings and Tropes: Pretty short, quickly written, pure fluff, ice skating and stuff. No use of Y/N.

[Masterlist]

A Warm Embrace - LS2 x Fem!Reader

"Do you trust me?" You asked as your boyfriend's grip tightened on your arms.

"Of course. I just don't trust myself."

You repositioned his hands so they were on your shoulders, your hands holding onto his waist as you slowly began to move you both further away from the barrier at the outside of the ice skating rink. Logan's grip on you was definitely going to leave some soreness over the next couple of days, but you didn't mind. You couldn't think of anyone better to be ice skating with currently. You felt his gaze focus on you, as you had recommended to stop him worrying, knowing how he calmed when he was in your presence.

Looking around the rink, you caught the eyes of Lily, who was very happy with Alex's progress on the ice. He was doing well, having only fell over a handful of times and was currently looking really stable. And as you thought that, he went again. Spoke too soon, you thought.

Your eyes met the soft ones of the person you had so desperately fallen for as you slowly pulled him around the track. He smiled, looking at the way your face got slightly redder the longer he looked at you. It was like, in that moment, he had forgotten all about the ice that you were on. He trusted you. He felt safe. All that mattered in that moment was your touch, your hair, your eyes. All that mattered was you.

"I am so in love with you." His voice was quiet as he spoke.

"I love you too, Logan." You meant it. Of course you did, how couldn't you? He was a sweetheart. He would go straight to you whenever he finished a race. He would wake you up when he stayed over yours by placing soft kisses all over your face. He would risk being a little late to spend those extra few minutes cuddling in bed with you. He would tie your shoes, not because you didn't know how, but because it saved you doing it before you headed out for a long day at work. He would slice your apples for you, peel your oranges if you asked him to.

You would do things for him too. When he got sick the month earlier, you called his mother and video called her whilst she step-by-step taught you how to make his favourite childhood soup, just so he could feel at home. You would play with his hair when he couldn't sleep to calm him. You would wake up at 4am some days to make sure he had breakfast before training even if that meant being exhausted by the end of your shift once you finished, which could be as late as 10pm.

Logan was getting better at this, the pair of you gradually speeding up as you went around the rink. His focus was on you. You began to slightly loosen your grip, seeing if he was able to stand on his own on the ice now. He was. You took his hand, pulling him slowly with you, ready to reach out and grab him if he almost fell over. But he didn't. The two of you talked and laughed as he got more confident on the ice, only ending up slipping up once by the end of it.

After getting off the ice, the four of you sat at a nearby restaurant, outside, to have food. It was delicious. You twisted the pasta up on your fork before passing it to Logan as he had asked to taste it. He then did the same for you.

"Today has been so fun," Alex said, smiling as he ate. "We definitely need to do this again."

You agreed. It was perfect.

You felt arms snake around your waist as you brushed your teeth, ready for bed. Your boyfriend kissed your forehead, gently swaying the pair of you as he left kisses all over you. Your forehead, your shoulder, your cheek, your neck, everywhere. He whispered sweet things into your ear about how you're his favourite person. You're his everything. He wants to spend his life with you.

All day he had seemed nervous, you didn't know why but you figured it was because of your venture onto the ice. "Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, "Of course, anything."

"Do you want to move in with me?" You span in his embrace, looking into his eyes for any sign of that being a joke. It wasn't. He continued to speak. "I was just thinking, you spend a hell of a lot of time here anyways and we've been together for a year now and waking up in bed with you is one of my favourite things. Obviously if you don't want to, you don't have to. I was just-" he went silent the second your lips met his.

You pulled away, feeling a shiver run down your spine from the low temperature in his bathroom. "Of course I will, I would love to."

His hands traced your spine through your shirt as his hands travelled to your waist, placing a kiss to your lips before wrapping you into a warm embrace. His warm embrace.

liked by lilymhe and others

youruser: Double dates are my fave x

tagged: logansargeant, lilymhe, alex_albon

view all comments

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logansargeant: I love you ❤

youruser: I love you too ❤

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alex_albon: We need to do it again soon, also stop trying to steal Lily from me!!

lilymhe: She didn't need to try, she already had me 🤭

logansargeant: ????

alex_albon: ????

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lilymhe: adore you x

youruser: miss you already, beautiful x

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user: the girls flirting in the comments is giving me life

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williamsracing: Our favourite grid couples!!

youruser: Love you guys, next year is our year

williamsracing: You've taught her well logansargeant

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user2: cuties

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arthur_leclerc: Gross x

youruser: alr just because you don't have a girlfriend doesn't mean you get to run your mouth x

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oscarpiastri: Double date with us next???

youruser: Absolutely!

-The End-

[Word Count - 800-900 not including the comments on the post]

Hi All, I know, it was very short. I will make a longer Logan story at some point, however, I am half asleep and it's 10pm and I wanted to write something quickly before bed. I wrote this in about 15-20 minutes so enjoy. The Williams looks beautiful this year!! And the suitsssss 😍 Not edited btw sorry for spelling errors Have a lovely day. Another Lando story soon, maybe? Either him, Max or Charles I'm thinking x Alocon

[cutemothman]

The Gettysburg Ghosts of Farnsworth House Inn (x)

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Heatwave | Frankie Morales x Reader Drabble.

You can't sleep with your furnace of a boyfriend smothering you, but you can't sleep without him either. Warnings: Mention of naked Frankie, implied both reader and Frankie sleep naked, just fluff based on my own sleep issues <3 Un-beta'd - wrote it mostly in bed this morning. 720~ Words

Your skin burns, hot and sticky as you feel the weight of another person draped over you. Most of the time you can just roll him off and strip the sheets off when the weather gets this extreme. But not tonight. Tonight, Frankie will not relinquish you from his catatonic embrace.  

Frankie groans softly as he spoons you. His thick fingers splayed across your stomach; broad chest fused to your sweat-slick back. One leg is draped over your hip and its almost blissful. Almost.

But you’re too fucking hot.

“Frankie, baby,” you whine as you try and wriggle from his grip, “Too hot.”

All that seems to elicit is a muffled “hmm” from him as he somehow pulls you in tighter. His scruff tickles your shoulder as he nuzzles his face behind your ear.

Great, now you’re too hot and you’re turned on. There’s no way you can sleep like this.

“Frankie,” you groan as you prise his arm off you, “Need to sleep. I’ve got that meeting with my boss in the morning.”

You know it’s falling on deaf ears, but it makes you feel better, convincing yourself more than him. You slip out from under him after a minute of wrestling his thick thigh from over you.

“Love you baby,” you say softly as you press a gentle kiss to his furrowed brow.

He stirs as he reaches for your now empty spot on the bed, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty. You love him so much, but you can’t sleep like this.

You make your way down the hall and into the spare room. You slip under the fresh sheets of the modest single bed. You think you’re settled, sheet covering your lower half – because lord knows even in a heatwave your feet get cold – and head resting lightly on the pillow.

Ten minutes tick by, then twenty. When you check your phone for the third time it’s only been twenty-five minutes, but you still can’t sleep. You haul yourself back out of bed, cursing the weather as you slip back into your bedroom.

The pale moonlight illuminates Frankie’s sleeping form as he lays on his back. He’s sprawled out in the middle of the mattress, bare to the humid night air where he’s kicked the sheets off in his sleep. You ease yourself back down onto the bed, crawling into the small space left as you hope Frankie will stay where he is.

Your head hits the pillow just as Frankie shifts back onto his side, a sleepy grunt falling from his lips as he reaches for you. His fingertips ghost your burning skin as he scoots closer.

“Frankie,” you groan as you turn to face him, “I need to sleep, please just roll over.”

“But I like holding you,” he protests sleepily as you see his eyes flutter open, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m too hot Frankie, I can’t sleep with you wrapped around me, it’s too much,” you admit with downturned eyes, teeth pinged into your bottom lip and embarrassment and shame curdle in your belly.

“Amor, I’m sorry,” Frankie says with a sigh as he reaches for you, but he stops himself, “I can sleep in the spare room if that helps?”

“No,” you say as you cup his scruffy jaw with both hands, “I tried that, doesn’t feel right without you in bed with me,” you explain as you scrape your fingers through his scruff.

“What can I do?” Frankie asks as he places his hands over your own.

“Stay with me like this?” You ask as you brush your feet against his, “Just touching a little?”

“I can do that, go to sleep mi sol, I love you.”

“I love you too Frankie,” you say with a yawn.

Eventually you both fall asleep, close to touch, but Frankie is sure to keep his distance. He wakes up sometime in the night, with you curled up against his chest, dead to the world. He smirks to himself as he nuzzles the top of your head. Some things never change, and no matter how hot you get, you always crawl right back into his arms. No matter how poorly you sleep.

“Sleep well, amor.”

He whispers against your scalp as his eyes flutter closed.  

[baker-chan-senpai]

just some fluffy serirei for the soul

[artbyblastweave]

Okay, Time for that belated Shrinking Rae post-

In the comics, Shrinking Ray's "arc" (bearing in mind an extremely liberal definition of that term, they had exactly one scene showcasing this) was that he was implied to be developing an inferiority complex; he's not necessarily incompetent, but he's out of his niche, his clever shrinking-based plans kept getting upstaged by brute-force solutions from the more conventionally powerful heroes like Invincible. He's the scrawny, nerdy little guy with the joke powers, he never gets a win, and in most fights he literally isn't visible. In the fight with the Lizard League his death is framed as pathetic and ineffectual- there's one or two panels between "I'll make you pay!" and getting eaten alive by Komodo. All of this is doing a couple of things- it's emphasizing that again, this is in fact a story and setting where superheroes sometimes just die really badly with limited fanfare- a thing that IIRC hadn't happened since the original Guardians team wipe in issue 7. Second, it's an indicator that the new Guardians are structurally kind of on the ropes. They're heavily staffed by second stringers, they exact second they have to split their forces they suffer a 66 percent casualty rate, and that's with backing from two capes who aren't actually part of the team. Grim! Anyway, when they do the adaptation Shrinking Ray becomes Shrinking Rae, because they want to tweak the gender balance of the cast and the pun is too good to pass up. But I think that there was a reasonable reluctance to transfer the "arc" from the comics one-to-one, because to be blunt, "Ineffectual Nebbish Glasses-wearer who whines a lot and dies pathetically," paired with absolutely nothing else, is gonna read as misogynistic if the character is a woman now. So in the adaptation Rae is markedly more competent. We're introduced to her taking down a much larger opponent by fucking around inside his ear canal, which becomes a favored trick of hers. There are traces of the self-esteem thing- the visual gag where she physically shrinks about a foot when getting chewed out in the briefing- but the overall throughline isn't "look at this loser who somehow ended up on the guardians." In the Lizard League fight, she doesn't get eaten- she's deliberately trying to execute a Thanus maneuver and just fucks it up, seconds after successfully killing a different villain the same way. And there's a second where it looks like it might work, too, before hope is cruelly yanked away. Which makes for a markedly cooler death scene- but who died? What was actually going on with her? Anything? In some sense she's cooler, but it's kind of an undifferentiated cool. She had what, Six lines? Seven? On balance I think Rae is still doing her fundamental job in the story, which is to pad the Guardians roster for a while and have someone who actually dies and stays dead as a result of the Lizard League fight- but I think they definitely missed an opportunity to give her some more texture than her comic counterpart had. Part of me thinks that the show would have been a good place to go even harder on Shrinking Rae being in over her head, but in a considered way, to emphasize that the Guardians aren't well managed- maybe tie it into the tensions between Robot and Immortal regarding sustainable team management practices. Part of me thinks you should go the other way, that if you're gonna do away with the idea she's underwhelming you should blow up her role, have her actually say and do some things that affect the story or the team dynamic in any noticeable way, because as it stands she's kind of visibly siloed as the designated mauve shirt. I'm definitely of one mind that this showcases something I suspected was gonna bite the show in the ass, which is that they're (laudably) diversifying a secondary and tertiary cast whose main role in the source material is often to die badly or fade out of focus.

[gimmeurtmi]

warnings: 🔞 dom!minnie, edging, oral (f receiving), use of “edge slut” once, sof

[ 00:34 ] “there, bubs,” seungmin groaned as he easily slipped inside you, “gonna keep up, yeah?”

you nodded, letting out a weak confirmation. you’ve been begging for your boyfriend’s cock since he came home—but all he gave you was his tongue. he took you right to the brink four times, smirking up at you every time you groaned out in frustration.

he finally caved after your fourth edge, when your pleas started to sound weaker, voice sore.

your walls fluttered around him, practically sucking him in deeper as he settled on his forearms above you.

seungmin gave you the time you needed to adjust to the stretch, your core sensitive and wanting from all the teasing and missed orgasms.

he took this moment to kiss your jaw softly, smiling against your skin.

“you’ve been so patient,” he mumbled, “as soon as you’re ready i’ll give it to you as fast as you want.”

you snaked your hand behind his neck, digging your fingers in his beautiful chocolate brown locks.

“want it slow,” you croak.

“slow?” he asks to confirm, surprise written on his face.

you nod. “wanna feel your dick as you fuck me. want it so slow i won’t even cum.”

seungmin chuckles darkly at you, brushing your lips softly. he moves one of his hands to your hair, combing the sweaty locks off of your face.

“baby,” he coos softly, “i’ve denied you too much, huh? you’re edge drunk now?”

you nod quickly.

“my little edge slut,” he smiles softly, kissing you as he slowly starts moving his hips against yours.

he pulls away from your face, only to study it, making sure you’re enjoying the movement and it isn’t too soon. your eyes flutter, a small moan leaving your chest.

“like that, bubs?”

“yeah,” you moan out, feeling every curve of his cock dragging against your walls. “don’t wanna cum, minnie.”

he laughs. “i trained you so well,” he gushes, “you’re asking for them now?”

“please,” you nod, opening your eyes and looking right into his. seungmin almost blows simply from the dazed out look in your beautiful eyes. he clenches his jaw, slowing down the thrusts he didn’t even realise were faster now.

“how many more do you want, pretty?” he kisses your collarbone, rubbing his finger against your cheek soothingly.

“i don’t know,” a dry sob leaves your lips, “i don’t know.”

“hey, hey,” seungmin sooths, levelling his face with yours. he keeps a steady—slow and steady—pace as he checks over your signs.

your breathing is still normal. your hands are still on him, playing with his hair. your eyes are hooded slightly, but they focus on his when he makes eye contact with you. seungmin knows you’re still okay—just that you’ve finally let go of your self control.

“you don’t need to know,” seungmin assures you, “that’s what i’m here for, right?”

you smile softly at him, a little crunch in seungmin’s stomach fluttering all the way to his heart.

“right,” you nod.

“and you know i’ll always pick what’s best for my girl.”

you nod.

seungmin buries his hand in your hair, grounding you slightly to the feelings around you. his fingers against your scalp, his dick moving in and out of you in slow motion, the sweat starting to cling to your hips where your bodies are pressed together.

“you’ll always take care of me,” you confirm.

“that’s right, my love,” he kisses you, “i’m only ever gonna keep you safe.”

with that, he removes his hand from your hair, pushing it between your bodies. he gently presses against your swollen clit, moving his fingers in circles—faster, faster, faster to match your moans.

“i’m, fuck, i’m close—“

as soon as the words leave your mouth, seungmin tears his hand away from you, pulling almost all the way out until only the tip is left inside you.

you whine, the empty feeling overtaking your body as the pleasure starts slipping away.

as you calm your breathing, seungmin pulls out completely, before running his dick against your clit. you’re so sensitive it makes you jump, hissing out quietly.

“this isn’t fair,” you complain, as if you didn’t ask for it.

“i know, bubs,” seungmin pouts down at you, as if he isn’t the one who did it to you.

“i know how much you wanna cum,” he nods, running his index finger up and down against your folds, “but i’m not going to let you.”

he laughs as you clench at his words.

“why?” you pout.

“because i know what’s best for my bubs,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek, “and my bubs loves when i edge her.”

you pull him closer to you, kissing his neck as you start grinding your hips up against him.

seungmin lets you, but only because he loves how you act when you’re desperate like this.

“say it for me?” he asks, running his finger up your stomach and between your tits.

“i love when you edge me, i love cumming only when you decide i can,” you whimper, moaning when his finger starts circling your nipple.

“that's right, pretty, you’ve learnt so well,” he praises, kissing you softly as he moves his finger back down your body, pressing your clit again.

[ziltoidcoffee]

Would Terry ask Mr. Miyagi's permission to marry Daniel? Would the first time they interact since kk3 be as awkward as I think it would be

(A+ prompt. I love this idea so much. 💙 Idk if below is what you wanted, but I was trying to think of how Terry would without being deceitful again.)

When Terry arrives at Little Trees, the store is still open despite the late hour. The doors are still wide open, inviting customers inside, and the old man is still at work, rearranging a group of pots near the window. His head is tipped down, focused on what he’s doing, and Terry wonders briefly if he will have to make noise to get his attention. But then Mr. Miyagi looks up from his collection of bonsai to gaze at Terry from across the room.

There’s no shock in his eyes, offering only a black, unreadable stare, and Terry thinks for a minute that the old man has forgotten him. He is rather old after all. Maybe he’s already senile. Then Mr. Miyagi tells him, “Daniel-san not here. Out with friends,” and his voice is as calm and collected as ever.

“I know,” Terry responds because he always knows where Daniel is. He hasn't let the boy out of his sight since they first met. Even after he betrayed him, before they got together, Terry still had someone follow him around.

It was initially because he was looking for Daniel’s weakness, some way to get back at him, but then his monitoring became watching and looking out for him. And maybe he was also a little paranoid. But anyone in his position would be afraid of someone stealing Daniel away. The kid was too perfect, too good for him. Still, Terry was selfish. He wanted him all for himself, whether he deserved Daniel or not.

He’d make that clear today with Mr. Miyagi. It’s the entire reason for his visit. Not that his answer even matters. Terry would do whatever he wanted anyway. He just knows Daniel would appreciate his asking, and there’s nothing better than a pleased boyfriend—soon-to-be fiance. Plus, Terry needs to know if he should prepare for battle. Mr. Miyagi took down John once. He is a formidable opponent, and no good soldier attacks without first knowing what’s on the other side. Daniel is worth fighting for, after all.

“Then why here?” Mr. Miyagi asks as he moves across the store, and there’s not even an ounce of concern in his stride.

Terry at least thought the old man would question his presence, considering the last time they saw each other. He doubts Mr. Miyagi approves of their relationship despite Daniel’s assurance that he doesn't care.

“I’m here to speak with you, alone,” Terry explains. “About Daniel.”

Mr. Miyagi finally shows some emotion, his eyebrows rising. “Daniel-san okay?”

Terry nods. “He’s fine,” he says; then after a pause, “More than. We are very happy.”

“I know,” Mr. Miyagi echoes his words back to him, and Terry is a little smug.

Daniel is such a chatterbox. He probably brags about Terry all day. It’s only fair when he has to listen to Daniel talk about Mr. Miyagi. Sometimes he even gets a little jealous of how often the old man comes up. But Terry gets to kiss those lips shut, and that’s worth enduring some ranting.

“Good. Then you should know I plan to stick around for a long time,” Terry tells him with a shrug, acting like he doesn’t care what the old man thinks.

But he feels his lips tug up in a smile when Mr. Miyagi nods and says, “If that what he want.”

What Daniel wants is irrelevant, Terry wants to argue. Only because he plans to convince the boy to marry him even if he has to ask several times. At least it would be a fun challenge. But he’s almost certain Daniel will say yes. Even if it’s not legal yet, Terry’s aware of the boy’s desire for a family, and marriage is the logical first step. Kids can wait a bit. He’s not that crazy. They’re still young, or at least Daniel is.

Terry crosses his arms over his chest. “Then you approve?” he asks.

Mr. Miyagi stares at him. “I only want Daniel-san to be happy.”

So does Terry. The old man is missing the point. “And if marriage makes him happy?” he asks.

A heartbeat of silence passes, and Terry’s heart pounds in his chest, something he wishes he could stifle. But his body can’t ignore his subconscious need for Mr. Miyagi’s approval. He doesn’t care what the old man thinks, but Daniel would likely never marry him if his “best friend” disapproves.

Finally, with a sigh, Mr. Miyagi picks up a bonsai in a blue wooden box and walks around the counter to hold the plant out to him. “If Terry-san makes Daniel-san happy, then Mr. Miyagi approve.”

Terry can't help but go still, shocked by the turn of events. But finally, he declares, "I will," and accepts the plant.

Mr. Miyagi smiles. "No tell Daniel-san you here."

Terry grins back. Maybe the old man is an ally and not the enemy he feared.

[stardustedknuckles]

Okay but I need to know what the people who have only watched c3 think about Beau and Caleb because I've been rotating them in my head for three years too long to be objective anymore but like. Getting to see them through the eyes of a new party just reminded me that even though so much of our delight in C2 was focused around the constant indignity of the Nein, they are objectively a flickering metronome between "how the fuck are these people alive" and "this is the most hyper competent group of mercenaries I've ever seen" and I just. Do they know. Do they know that Beau is so fucking cool. Are there people who learned these two npcs have a whole campaign and want to learn more about them. I look at these two and see a montage of tiefling dicks and red eyes and promising to kill the other if something goes wrong. I see Caleb smearing mud and bat shit on Beau's face and Beau just resigned even as she makes the most aggrieved and annoyed sounds, Beau hauling Caleb's dissociated ass over her own skinny shoulder and walking him to safety. I look at them and see 500 hours and more of the empire siblings. The weeks and months they spent going from hating the parts of themselves they saw in each other to loving in the other what they still struggled with in themselves. I see chosen siblings, best friends. What do other people see?

[n7punk]

why did they make these

[rockingrobin69]

Want

Malfoy did this thing where he only used a finger and a thumb for crisps. He’d wade through mud without a second thought to retrieve Scorp’s ball from the hissing nettles, he put his arm up to the elbow in cold spaghetti sauce on a dare, he rolled down not one but three different hills with Teddy on their hikes, but when it came to crisps, he was his perfect lordly self. A finger and a thumb going in neat motions, barely even crinkling the bag. A dignified amount of crisps pinched tightly, brought slowly into his mouth. So careful and clean and entirely unintentional. He didn’t even know he was doing it.

Harry did.

Harry noticed everything about him. Hard not to when Malfoy was like this, weird and loud and awkward, pathetic and incredible and everywhere. When Teddy adopted him and Scorp (officially, with a letter he’d hand-written, signed with a drawing of, randomly, a horse); when they moved in, and Malfoy’s pyjamas became a recurring vision, llamas and tiny buttons following even in his dreams; when he found the stray cat, named her Nibbles for no earthly reason; when he was a menace, and Harry adored it. Him. Adored—the whole thing, how their lives suddenly became this, tight and uncomfortable and too warm and perfect.

Teddy was no help. He practically had love-hearts for eyes whenever Malfoy walked in the room. All these ‘Draco, look!’ and ‘Draco, can you—’ and ‘Draco, Draco, come sit next to me!’ that drove Harry spare. And Scorp was such a tiny little thing in all his Molly-made-jumpers, babbling with a look of utter importance and following Teddy around, and cackling with joy whenever he was in Malfoy’s arms. And the cat, fucking, cat, always getting kisses and—

No, Harry wasn’t jealous, that wasn’t quite it. He was… overwhelmed with how gentle it all was. Never really imagined life could be like this, didn’t think he’d want it. Discovered he did with such terrifying intensity, that he yearned for something that wasn’t quite nameable, that he somehow almost had. It kept him up at nights and filled his days with this weird, feverish joy. It was soft and itchy and all his. Almost his. So fucking close to being his.

And Malfoy was right there, sitting across from Harry with his ankle on one knee and the bag of fucking crisps and the way he was eating them, almost—decadently, and utterly, helplessly serious. On the rug, Harry realised he probably loved him.

Stretched, leaned slightly to his side until he was touching Malfoy’s knee. “Hey,” he said, swallowed.

“Hi.” Malfoy offered him the bag. “Want some?”

“You eat crisps funny,” Harry said for an answer. “All cleanly and stuff. It’s funny.”

“Oh. Well. Always happy to amuse you.”

He was so ridiculous, with the little stickers he let Ted and Scorp stick on his socks, on the sliver of his leg that was visible. It would hurt like hell to rip these out, all the fine blond hair caught underneath. Harry couldn’t breathe for a moment, it struck him so hard.

It was the middle of August and a really cold day. All the lights in the living room made it look like… something Harry wanted so badly. Instead of trying to make it into words, he leaned his head against Malfoy. Allowed the fingers threading through his hair. The movement so, so gentle.

“I’m picking Ted early from school tomorrow,” Malfoy announced some time later, in this awful voice he used for Scorp, or when Teddy had a nightmare. “He hates the dentist, so I promised to take him on a walk after. Maybe the hill where we went last month, the one with the waterfall.”

Harry hummed something delighted and heartbroken. Buried his face in Malfoy’s thigh, surrendered to the feeling of his hands, of his warmth.

“Harry… I meant, do you want to come with us? Sorry. That’s not—wasn’t quite clear.”

Buried his face tighter.

“Or—maybe we can go another day? Just us. You and me, I mean. There’s this place I think you would like. If you absolutely insisted, we could take Nibbles along on her lead.”

Brought his head up, pouted at Malfoy’s pretty face. “No, that’s…” stopped when he noticed the smile. When he realised that this thing that he wanted was already his. Pressed a tiny kiss to Malfoy’s shin, to a sticker of a star on his hairy leg. “You are,” Harry said, and meant it from the bottom of his heart. Breathed, breathed. Sat there and grinned to himself.

The bag of crisps crinkled. The afternoon went on, lit and weirdly warm. It was the life Harry didn’t know he wanted, that he ached for, that he had.

(If you enjoyed this, I've recently shared the first part of Wonderful on AO3. Consider checking it out for your pining needs).