#of you maybe... and then he DID take a moment to close Mr. White's eyes...

[halfbaked00q]

Fellow Bond scholars, what is our take on the ending of Spectre & how Bond handled Blofeld? I know I've seen opinions say he SHOULD have shot him. But..... tbh.... I'm not... entirely convinced?

Like. I know Supposedly, it was All Very Personal. But just. I guess... to ME, lmao. It felt so swagless and contrived. That I was kinda like.. personal where.

Like *Silva.* Now THAT was personal. But just.... and maybe it's also cuz Spectre had sooo much late-stage falling action? But for me, Blofeld felt more on the level of Yusuf Kabira. Where like yea it was personal, cuz of Vesper, but it wasn't *personal* cuz of Bond himself, or anyone he cared about.

hmmmm.... I guess maybe here's where I've somehow managed to convince myself that actually... maybe they SHOULD have done the Q gets kidnapped draft lol? Cuz then that WOULD have been personal. And it woulda been food. for ME. Cuz then I could rub my "for MY personal haha sickos purposes" M parallels on it.

But then they woulda also needed to establish more rapport between Bond & Q, and that would have cut into the already not-developed-enough Bond & Madeleine time, and ig that's why it got cut maybe? lol. but then Bond & Madeleine ALSO wasn't successful cuz they didn't have nearly enough development between the two of them, lol, so.

But yeah just. I dunno. I mean getting DRILL to BRAIN sucked, yea (obligatory they needed to have made more of that!!! there should have been 100x more consequences!! for. DRILL.. to BRAIN..) but I mean like. lowkey feel like it was still a swagless as hell torture. Like, Le Chiffre at least put his back into it. Sweated and huffed and puffed his heart out about it. Meanwhile what did Blofeld do? ooh strap him to a chair? Press a silly little button and have a silly little robot arm do a silly tiny unfold? (also lmao. was that drill even big enough to penetrate skull. like that was a miniscule, FLIMSY-ASS drill... like what was that, barely 1mm tops? I swear the cranial drills I see when I google are bigger... okay one random med tools site has "4-6mm for general drainage and children; 8mm, 9mm, 10mm or 11mm for adult craniotomy," and then this other rando one has 10mm, 14mm, and 22mm. soooooo. ??) Honestly, maybe the reason Bond was able to walk it off was cuz the tiny-ass pin-needle didn't even actually penetrate the skull. It did that thing where instead of going in it kinda just spun on the surface, lmao.

But yeah, like....... I dunno. And also Blofeld's supposed final stand with the dumb string and sad bad consumer-ass printer printed photos was so pathetic lol. Like it wasn't even "oh no this is twisting the knife" it was, like. "well now I just pity you even more lmao...." To me at least. once again.: hummus; thoughts?

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

[rafeshit]

STARSTRUCK (inspired) drew x fan!reader

warnings — none

summary — you are trying to get home when a celebrity hits you with a door.

you were in the city of new york, eager to get home after a long day. the city lights were shining, illuminating your path, but you're too tired to appreciate it. You've been looking forward to collapsing onto your couch, and shedding off the white dress you wore to a party.

As you turn the corner, you're suddenly slammed into by a door that read “set stage”, flung open by a suited figure. "Ow!" you cry out, clutching your head as you stumble backwards. Your world spins for a moment before you collapse onto the pavement. You lie there, dazed, and confused.

The suited figure, dressed in a black suit and tie, rushes to your side, "Oh my god, did I just hit you?" he asks, worry evident in his voice. You gaze up at him, your vision blurry, and reply with sarcasm, "No, the door just flung open by itself. Good job, door." You can't help but roll your eyes, even as a sharp pain shoots through your head.

He looks taken aback, but then mutters, "Oh, this isn't looking good." You struggle to sit up, wincing as the pain intensifies. As you take in the man's features, your eyes widen in recognition. You've seen that face plastered on billboards, magazine covers, and movie screens. "Wait, you're drew star—" But before you can finish, the man's hand closes around your mouth, his eyes darting around nervously.

"I'll get you free tickets to my movie if you don't scream my name," he says, his voice urgent in desperation. You shove his hand away, irritation flooding your system. "I don't want tickets to your stupid movie. I want to go home." You try to stand up, but the world spins again, and you stumble backwards.

“wait your not a fan of me?” He asks, visibly hurt.

you roll your eyes, “not in a million years.”

The man's expression turns grave. "I'll drive you to a hospital, my car's just around the corner." You hesitate, not wanting to get into a car with this stranger, no matter how famous he is. You've heard the stories about celebrities and their games,"I don't want to get into the car with you," you say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Would you rather walk all the way home with a concussion?"

You cross your arms, trying to sound braver than you felt, “I’d rather play in traffic.”

The man's gaze flicks towards the alleyway, he must have heard the distant chatter of fans approaching, because he quickly says, "Enough with the bratty act, follow me." There's a tone of authority in his voice that makes you hesitate, but your head is pounding, and you're not sure you have a choice. You struggle to your feet, realizing that your head hurts more than you initially thought. Maybe getting into the car with this... celebrity is all you got.

You follow him, grunting as you hold your head, and get into the black car parked nearby. As you sink into the leather seats, he says, “would you mind sinking a little lower I don’t want the paparazzi seein’ you”.

You roll your eyes, sinking lower. The man slips into the driver's seat, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror as he starts the engine.

As you settled into the luxurious car, you felt annoyed at being stuck with this stuck up celebrity. Drew glanced at you in the rearview mirror, attempting to make small talk. "So, how's your head feeling?" he asked. You shot back with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "Oh, it's just peachy. Thanks for asking, Mr. Celebrity."

Drew's expression remained calm, but you detected amusement in his eyes. He continued to drive, navigating the city streets with ease, until you finally arrived at the hospital. As you entered the emergency room, the lights only added to your growing headache. A doctor approached you, asking a series of questions about the accident. After a quick examination, he led you to a private room for a scan.

The wait felt long, but eventually, the doctor returned with the results. "Well, the scans came back empty, so I think you'll be just fine," he said with a reassuring smile. Drew peeked his head into the room, "So, she'll be okay?" The doctor nodded, adding, "Just make sure your girlfriend drinks water and stays off her feet for a while, just to be safe."

You quickly corrected him, "He's not my boyfriend." Drew chimed in, "Yeah, unfortunately." You rolled your eyes, retorting, "God, you're so full of yourself." Drew shot back, "I wasn't being cocky, I was just saying anyone who dates a brat like you is in for a treat." To which you laugh at.

The doctor excused himself to retrieve some paperwork, leaving the two of you alone. You turned to Drew, asking, "So, Mr. Movie Star, what's it like finally not being the center of attention?" Drew's response was filled with sarcasm, "I'm literally killing myself over this." To your surprise, you laughed at his remark, and he smiled, adding, "Just because I'm a movie star doesn't mean I'm not human." You nodded, "I know, but that doesn't make you exempt from me going off on a guy who hit me with a door." Drew chuckled, "Yeah, I guess so."

As the conversation continued, you proposed an idea, "Hey, how about you give me an autograph and I'll sell it to pay for this hospital bill?" Drew agreed, "Deal, pretty girl." However, he added a condition, "You can't tell anyone about this, not even your closest friends, or else the press would get the wrong idea."

You assured him, "I wasn't planning to, you're not that big in my world." Drew replied, "Right," but you quickly added, "But now you are, since you're my knight in shining armor." A smirk spread across his face at the remark.

Before long, the doctor returned with the paperwork, and Drew got up to leave, grabbing his suit jacket and a piece of paper. He scribbled his signature on it, handing it to you with a small note attached,

"I really hope you're gonna be okay." Your eyes widened as you gazed at the autograph, accompanied by a wad of cash and his phone number. The note read, "I'll pay for your bill, but give me a call, and maybe you could ride in my car to a restaurant and not a hospital. Sell it if you want, but I'll be really sad if my number gets leaked."

A small smile crept onto your face as you read the message and the brat in you softened ever so slightly. Maybe he isn’t who you thought he was.

[kbunzzi2oa]

Touch of madness pt.2

Synopsis ☞Working as a doctor for an asylum was interesting, you had different patients, but one catches your eyes..Yang jungwon a very special patient...You got close to him to the point were you stole his heart, fighting with him for love, release and peace. And you did...happy life and you where getting married...with a small twist.

W.C ☞ 14k

Contains ☞fiance!Jungwon x fiance!fem reader, NSFW, smut, small suggestive scenes, kissing, use of guns, bombs, fingering, bathtub sex, making out, mentions of jungwon getting injured, ft. heeseung from enhypen

nef notes! ☞IM ALIVEEEEEEEEEEE, projects and tests are hell but everyone HERE IS TOUCH OF MADNESS PART DUOO. i saw some people requesting a part two SO I DELIVERED. in this one we have the two little love birds married. Hope you guys like this one, likes, comments, feedbacks and reblogs any of them are great!

The church was crumbling. Stone walls cracked, stained glass shattered, ivy curling through open windows like veins through a corpse. But to you, it was beautiful, sacred even.

Because he was standing there.

Jungwon.

Dressed in black, sharp as ever, his hair falling into his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. You knew he hadn’t. Neither had you. Not since the night you escaped with him—blood on your hands, sirens in the distance, and love like a blade pressed to your throat.

He smirked as you stepped through the church doors.

“Took you long enough, Mrs. Not-Quite-Yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered as you walked down the ruined aisle in your white dress. It was second-hand, torn at the hem, stitched together with shaking fingers—but you’d never worn anything more meaningful.

“No one ever walked this slow to marry a killer,” Jungwon teased, voice low and cocky.

“No one ever married one like you,” you shot back.

He grinned.

There were no guests. Just a priest you’d bribed with a favor—and a promise not to kill him.

Your hands met at the altar. Rough skin, soft warmth. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like it meant something more. Maybe it did. You weren’t sure anymore.

The priest began, “We gather in the presence of—”

“Skip it,” Jungwon muttered, eyes never leaving yours. “She’s already mine.”

You swallowed hard.

And then he said the words himself, voice quiet, dangerous, and sincere:

“I, Jungwon, take you, Y/N. To love, to protect, to fuck, to fight for. Through blood, through betrayal. Until the end. Until they drag me from your arms kicking and screaming.”

Your chest tightened. You repeated yours just as fiercely, just as brokenly.

“I take you, Jungwon. In darkness, in chaos, in madness. Until death or bullets part us.”

The priest blinked. “You may… kiss the bride?”

Jungwon didn’t wait. His mouth crushed into yours, desperate and raw, teeth catching your lower lip, tongue pushing past your lips like he had something to prove.

You kissed him back harder.

And it felt like victory.

But just as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground, something shattered in the distance—

A window.

Then—

“POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"

The sound was unmistakable—glass exploding, the shriek of tires outside, a harsh voice on a megaphone:

“LEE JUNGWON. YOU ARE SURROUNDED. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP.”

Your heart stopped.

Jungwon’s hands gripped your waist tighter, eyes already scanning the windows, the pews, the exits. Cold calculation spread over his features, and just like that, the groom disappeared—replaced by the killer.

“Y/N,” he said, voice like gravel, “you need to move.”

“No.” You grabbed his face, grounding him. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Baby—”

“No!” you snapped. “I didn’t marry you to watch them take you away!”

He stared at you—really stared—and for a moment, the mask cracked. You saw fear. Not for himself. For you.

Then he pulled you down behind the altar as bullets ripped through the doors.

Guns exploded into splinters.

You screamed, covering your head as Jungwon reached under his jacket and pulled out a compact pistol. He handed you another—cold steel, familiar weight.

“You remember how to use it?” he asked.

You nodded. You’d practiced. For this.

Jungwon rose just enough to fire a single shot—then another. Screams erupted outside. He ducked as a bullet tore through the stone inches above his head.

“DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD HIDE, YOU SICK FUCK?” a voice shouted through the chaos. “PUT HER DOWN. SHE’S NOT PART OF THIS.”

You fired back at the voice.

“Wrong,” you screamed. “I am.”

Jungwon turned to you, eyes wild, breath short.

“You really are crazy,” he whispered. “I love you.”

You kissed him fast, hard, then pushed him toward the side door. “We have to move.”

But the back was already breached.

More boots. More shouting. You heard the word “tranquilizer.”

Jungwon saw it too.

He shoved you behind a pillar just as they opened fire again.

Smoke filled the room. The priest was long gone, crawling through a window. The stained glass above the altar shattered in a rain of colored shards.

And in the middle of it all...Jungwon, your Jungwon, stood like a devil in wedding clothes, blood on his cheek, gun in hand, smiling like it was all a game.

But then—

A dart hit him.

His arm jerked. The gun clattered.

“NO!” you screamed.

He staggered backward, blinking in confusion, legs trembling.

The agents rushed him.

But you were faster.

You emptied your clip at them, hitting one square in the shoulder before lunging for Jungwon’s body, dragging him toward the back as he slurred, “’M okay… don’t cry… you’re so pretty like this…”

“Stay with me,” you begged. “Don’t you dare fall asleep—Jungwon!”

But his eyes were already rolling back.

You were surrounded. Cornered. Crying. And covered in blood.

And the only way out now… was through.

You dragged Jungwon’s limp body through the broken back door, the night air hitting you like a cold slap. The forest swallowed the sound of sirens, but you could still hear their shouts, their orders, their hatred chasing you like a pack of wolves.

“Stay awake,” you whispered fiercely, holding his face in your hands. His skin was cold—too cold—but his eyes fluttered open just enough to catch your frantic gaze.

“You’re my husband...my love,” you told him, voice breaking. “You’re not leaving me.”

His lips curved into a lazy smirk, even through the haze. “Crazy wife.”

You laughed through tears, clutching him tight.

Your hands trembled as you checked the dart wound. You tore strips from your dress, pressing them over the puncture. No time for tenderness—not tonight.

Behind you, branches cracked, footsteps pounding, but you moved like a shadow, carrying your husband through the darkness.

You found a clearing by a river, the moonlight reflecting off the water, peaceful and mocking.

Jungwon coughed, eyes clear for a moment. “You still think you can keep up with me?”

“I’m not trying to keep up,” you said, voice low and fierce. “I’m trying to save you.”

He reached for your face, fingers trembling. “You’re so soft, Y/N. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” you snapped, wiping your tears on your sleeve. “You’re all I want.”

His hands slid under your dress, warm and possessive.

“Then show me,” he said, voice husky.

You melted into him, desperate and raw. The world could burn around you—you only needed this moment. His lips on your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, and the way his cock hardened beneath your touch was the only proof you needed: you were alive. Together.

You kissed him deep, hunger spilling over, and the night grew heavy with promises—of pain, of pleasure, of a love forged in fire.

No siren, no bullet, no betrayal could touch you.

The cold night air contrasted with the heat blooming between your bodies as you pressed against the rough bark of a towering tree. Jungwon’s hands roamed like they owned you—because, in this twisted, broken world, you were his, and he was yours.

His voice was a low growl against your ear, “You want me like this, don’t you? Dangerous. Broken. All in.”

You swallowed hard, heart hammering, and nodded. “Only you.”

His fingers slid beneath the torn fabric of your dress, tracing the line of your thigh. “You’re so damn beautiful when you try to keep it together.”

You reached up, pulling him into a desperate kiss, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. His cock pressed firmly into your hip, and the ache between your legs flared, demanding release.

“God, you drive me insane,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your jaw.

You shivered as he pressed you against the tree, the rough bark scratching your bare back, grounding you in the moment. His hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing your throat.

He kissed a trail down, teeth grazing, breath hot. “I’m going to mark you,” he promised, voice thick.

Your breath hitched.

He was never gentle, but with you, every bite, every touch held a dark tenderness that no one else would understand.

The fire of your love—and the chaos surrounding it—made everything sharper, more alive.

Jungwon slid his hands up your body, pulling your dress off completely, exposing your skin to the chilly air and his burning gaze.

Your hands trembled as you unbuckled his belt, fingers tracing the hard plane of his stomach, the heat radiating from his skin.

When he finally slid inside you, it was a mix of pain and ecstasy, his cock filling you in a way no one else ever had.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, matching every thrust, every growl.

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

“And I’m never letting go.”

The night wrapped around you like a dangerous promise.

But dawn was coming.

And with it, the fight for your freedom—and your future.

Morning light crept through the cracked walls of the abandoned church, painting the shattered glass with ghostly colors. The forest around was early silent, as if the world held its breath.

You sat on the cold stone floor, Jungwon’s head resting in your lap, both of you bruised but alive. The gunshots from the previous night still echoed in your mind, the memory of his faltering breath a cruel reminder of how close you came to losing him.

“We can’t stay here,” Jungwon muttered, voice hoarse but defiant. “They’ll be back.”

You stroked his hair, fingers trembling. “Then where?”

“Anywhere but here. Anywhere far enough to disappear.”

A distant sound shattered the fragile calm—a crunch of leaves, footsteps approaching.

You tensed, heart pounding.

But it wasn’t the police.

It was someone else.

A figure stepped from the shadows, a smirk playing on his lips. “Surprised to see me, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold.

“You know him?” Jungwon spat, struggling to his feet despite the pain.

You exchanged glances with both of them, your head lowering "Heeseung used to be my ex..." You saw your husband's gaze was sharp, you hurriedly explained "We ended in good terms, it was just you know, the work distance...but he's a good guy"

The man raised his hands, mockingly innocent. “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you… yet.”

You exchanged a look with Jungwon—bitter history heavy in the air.

“I came with an offer,” the man said, voice silky. “Help me catch Jungwon, and I’ll make sure you two disappear forever.”

Jungwon laughed, a dark, mirthless sound. “You really think I’d trust a snake like you?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you want to keep that pretty little face of yours intact, you’ll think twice.”

Your mind raced. Was this a trap? A chance? A choice?

You glanced at Jungwon—his eyes burning with fury and something softer: trust, hope.

Whatever you decided now would change everything.

And there was no going back

You met the heeseungs gaze steadily, refusing to show the panic twisting your insides. “Why should I believe you?”

He smiled, a slow, calculating curve of lips. “Because I know things you don’t. Things about Jungwon’s enemies—about the people who want him dead, not just behind bars. I can protect you. Both of you.”

Jungwon stepped forward, fists clenched. “We don’t need protection from snakes.”

The man’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You’ll need me when the hunters come for you. They won’t stop. And they won’t show mercy.”

Your heart pounded. You looked at Jungwon, desperate for a sign.

He studied him for a long moment. Then his expression hardened.

“If we work with you,” Jungwon said slowly, voice low, “there are rules.”

He nodded. “Of course. You call the shots.”

Jungwon’s gaze locked with yours. “Are you in, Y/N?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. The world was spinning, but there was only one answer.

“Yes.”

The three of you moved like ghosts through the city’s underbelly—always one step ahead of the law and enemies you barely understood.

Jungwon was fierce, cocky, and relentless. He protected you with a savage intensity that made your blood race and your skin ache with longing.

And yet, with every stolen moment, the weight of what you’d signed up for pressed down.

One night, after a narrow escape through rain-slicked streets, Jungwon pulled you into a dark alley, pressed you against the wall.

His voice was a growl. “You’re mine, Y/N. No deals, no bargains. Just us.”

You shivered, both from cold and desire.

He kissed you hard, desperate and demanding.

“Show me,” he whispered, “that you mean it.”

Your hands roamed his body, every touch an unspoken promise.

You lost yourself in him—the fire, the danger, the twisted love that only you two could understand.

Amid the chaos, there was one secret you never meant to uncover.

While digging through Jungwon’s hideout, you found a small, hidden recorder.

Curiosity overwhelmed you.

You pressed play.

The voices that filled the room were unmistakable—Jungwon’s, yours, and… others. Sounds of your intimate moments, whispered confessions, heated breaths.

You froze.

Someone had been recording everything.

Jungwon’s cocky laugh echoed from the speaker, followed by your breathy moans.

The realization hit like a bullet.

“This isn’t just a game anymore,” Jungwon said quietly behind you, lips at your ear. “They want to use us. Use me.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding with fear and something darker—thrill.

“We fight back,” you said.

He smiled, eyes blazing.

The night wrapped around your hideout like a shroud, but inside, the tension was electric—danger and desire tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Jungwon paced, cocky grin sliding across his face despite the storm brewing outside.

“They think they can break me. They think they can break us,” he snarled, voice low and fierce. “But they don’t know what happens when I lose control.”

You watched him, heart pounding, adrenaline and something more fiery igniting between your thighs.

“Show me,” you challenged breathlessly.

He didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed you by the wrist, yanking you toward the worn couch where you’d barely rested in days. His mouth found yours, teeth and tongue claiming, tasting, devouring.

His hands tore at your clothes like a man starving—like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity.

You arched into him, matching his hunger, your nails digging into his back.

“Say my name,” he demanded between kisses, voice thick with need.

“Jungwon,” you moaned, breathless.

His cock hardened against you, heat radiating through your core.

“Good girl,” he growled, sliding inside you with a brutal, relentless pace.

Every thrust was a promise and a warning, a wild confession.

You clung to him, lost in the dizzying storm of sensation, until the world dissolved into nothing but his name on your lips and his body moving with yours in perfect, dangerous harmony

Morning came too soon.

The recorder had disappeared overnight, but you knew the threat remained.

The man who offered the bargain called again, this time with terms that smelled like betrayal.

“They want Jungwon in custody, no deals,” he said coldly. “But I can offer you a way out—if you’re willing to pay the price.”

Jungwon’s eyes darkened. “We don’t negotiate with snakes.”

You looked at him—your husband, your killer, your salvation.

“We fight,” you whispered.

The night air was thick with smoke and tension. Jungwon’s breath was ragged, his body pressed flush against yours in the cramped safehouse, a world away from the chaos hunting you.

“You think this ends clean?” he snarled, eyes blazing. “They want to drag me back, strip away everything. But I’m not a prisoner. I’m a goddamn storm.”

You swallowed hard, fingers clutching his shirt, feeling the tremor beneath his skin.

“You’re not alone,” you whispered, voice shaking. “We’re in this together.”

He smirked, that cocky, dangerous grin you loved and feared.

“You’re mine, Y/N. All of you. No one touches you.”

And then—without warning—he crashed his lips to yours, hard and desperate. His hands roamed, desperate to claim, to protect, to promise.

The fire between you ignited again, fierce and raw.

Clothes fell away in a frenzy, the cold room forgotten as heat consumed you.

Every touch, every gasp, every whispered curse was a battle and a surrender all at once.

Your bodies moved together like a violent dance—intense, consuming, and pure.

Daylight was a fragile thing, but the danger was relentless.

Jungwon growled your name as you shattered beneath him, lost in the storm of pleasure and pain.

Gunshots echoed in the distance as Jungwon prepared for the inevitable.

“You ready?” he asked, calm but deadly.

You nodded, heart pounding.

“We fight. Or we die.”

His hand found yours, grip iron-strong.

Together, you stepped into the storm.

The abandoned church had become a battleground. The walls, once sacred, now echoed with gunshots and shouted orders. Jungwon stood at the center, cocky smirk blazing even as bullets shattered stained glass around him.

“Come on,” he taunted, voice dripping with challenge. “Is that all you’ve got?”

You were behind him, heart thudding violently, every nerve screaming. Your hands trembled but stayed locked in his. You were his anchor, and he was your storm.

The police swarmed, weapons drawn, but Jungwon moved like a predator—fast, calculated, ruthless. His every motion a dance with death, and you followed him without hesitation.

Suddenly, a bullet grazed his shoulder. He hissed but kept moving, dragging you toward the hidden basement stairs.

“Down here,” he said, voice strained but cocky as ever.

You descended into darkness, the chaos muffled above.

In the small cellar, you pressed the wound, fingers shaking.

“You’re reckless,” you whispered.

He smirked. “Only for you.”

Pain flickered across his face, but his eyes burned with something fierce—a promise of survival, of forever.

You cradled him, whispering soothing words, your breath mingling with his ragged gasps.

Outside, the fight raged on, but here, in the dark, it was just you and Jungwon.

No more running. No more lies.

Just love—messy, dangerous, unstoppable.

Hours later, silence fell.

The police had retreated, the hunters beaten back—this time.

Jungwon lay beside you, exhaustion and relief tangled in his touch.

“I told you,” he murmured, voice low and vulnerable. “I’m yours. No matter what.

Steam clung to the walls like a secret, curling in soft tendrils around the dim light above the tub. The air was thick, scented with lavender bath oil and something darker—something more dangerous. Jungwon sat behind you in the wide porcelain tub, his arms resting lazily along the rim, framing your body like a predator claiming his prey.

Your back was pressed against his chest, the heat of the water matching the slow burn crawling under your skin. He tilted his head, nose brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and unhurried. “Is it the water, or is it me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

His hands slid down from the edge of the tub, slow and possessive, fingers trailing across your arms until they dipped beneath the water. One hand splayed across your belly, holding you flush to him. The other traced a wet line up your inner thigh, so close it made your breath hitch.

“You let a monster touching you like this,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “What does that make you?”

You turned your head just slightly, lips nearly meeting his. “Maybe I’m the one who let the monster out.”

That earned you a dark smirk. His fingers dipped lower, teasing with maddening restraint. “You like the danger, don’t you, Y/N?” His voice was velvet, but it dripped with wickedness. “That I could snap your neck with these hands and yet all you want is for them to be deeper inside you.”

Your moan was stifled against his shoulder as his fingers finally pushed in, slow and deliberate. The water sloshed gently, heat and tension rolling together like storm clouds.

“I’ve killed people for less than the way you look at me,” he growled into your ear, pumping his fingers harder now, pace unforgiving. “But you… you disarm me. You make me crave, not kill.”

You arched against him, his name slipping past your lips like a confession.

“Louder,” he demanded. “Let them hear who owns you.”

His mouth was on your neck then—biting, sucking, claiming—as your body trembled in his hold, not from fear this time, but from need. The water rippled with every thrust of his fingers, every grind of your hips, until you were falling apart with a cry muffled by his lips on yours.

When you finally stilled, gasping and boneless against him, Jungwon chuckled darkly.

“See, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your throat, “there’s nothing innocent left to wash off you. You’re mine now. Just as ruined as I am.”

And as his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer beneath the water, you knew he was right.

His fingers slipped from inside you with a slow drag that left you whimpering, aching and hollow. But Jungwon wasn’t done. Not even close.

He turned you in the water with ease, like handling something delicate and breakable—something he fully intended to ruin. You found yourself straddling his lap, knees pressing into the slippery porcelain, his dark eyes staring up at you like a storm ready to pull you under.

“You want more?” he asked, voice soaked in lust and control. “Then take it. Use me.”

You hesitated, breath trembling, but the way his cock pressed hot and thick between your thighs made your body act on instinct. You gripped his shoulders, grounding yourself against the broad stretch of muscle beneath your fingers as you rolled your hips, dragging your slick folds over him—teasing, torturing, wet heat against hardened need.

He hissed through his teeth, jaw clenched, but made no move to take control. “That’s it,” he growled, voice nearly a snarl. “Good girl. Show me how desperate you are to be fucked by a monster.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You lifted your hips just enough, reached down to guide him, and then sank onto him in one slow, delicious glide.

Your gasp shattered the silence. His moan was a low, guttural sound as you tightened around him, walls fluttering from the stretch. The water sloshed violently around you, the scent of heat and lavender drowned out by the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin.

You rocked against him, eyes fluttering closed, but he grabbed your throat—not hard, just enough to make your breath stutter—and growled, “Eyes on me. I want to see what I do to you.”

So you looked. And what you saw nearly undid you.

Jungwon’s gaze was ravenous, pupils blown wide, lips parted with lust and awe. His control was slipping with every grind of your hips, every time you clenched around him, dragging yourself closer to release.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he groaned, lifting his hips to meet your rhythm now, thrusts rough and perfect. “So filthy. So mine.”

His thumb pressed into your jaw, and he pulled you down for a kiss—if it could even be called that. It was devouring. Teeth clashing, tongues tangling, the taste of lust and something far darker shared between you.

Your nails raked down his chest, leaving red lines in their wake, and he only smiled, breathless. “Mark me,” he whispered. “Brand me, baby. Show me I belong to you too.”

You leaned in, biting down on his neck, hard. He groaned deep in his throat, hands digging into your ass as he pounded up into you now, no longer holding back.

The climax hit like a violent wave. Your body seized, clenching tight around him as you screamed his name, nails sinking into his shoulders.

He followed seconds later, cursing and moaning against your collarbone as he spilled inside you, the water rocking violently around you both like a storm had passed through the tub.

You collapsed against him, breathing hard, lips brushing his ear.

“Still think I’m innocent?” you whispered.

Jungwon chuckled darkly, stroking a hand down your spine. “You’re worse than me,” he breathed. “And that’s why I’ll never let you go.”

[inuiiwonderland]

Empire

Being crowned as empress of the Yuunkaedangon empire at the age of 17, you begin to start loving the new status and power. But it soon gets a bit boring and demanding the moment you turned 18. Harem? Heirs? Tf not!

Chapter 3

Words: 900 (I think)

-

You watched closely as azul walked around his new pavilion. He was adorned in the finest of silks and jewels. You watched as he paced through the room, curious.

“I hope it’s to your liking”

He turns around, beautiful blueish purple eyes staring right back at your own.

“It is ... .thank you” You smile. You notice that azul is the shy type.

You grab the small box near one of the tables before making your way up to him.

“A welcome gift” He looks at the box in your hands before gently picking it up. He opens it and is met with a gorgeous hair pin. Azul stood there, stunned.

“Call Atsushi if you need anything” You say before leaving.

Azul was indeed a very beautiful man. The first time you saw him, you were absolutely stunned. He was tall, well mannered, and beautiful. Mrs. Ashengrotto was, in fact, happy to meet you. She introduced herself and her husband all the while a nice pearly white smile graced her lips.

Azul was rather shy. He was quiet the whole time and only spoke when a question came to him. You assumed he was nervous, but nonetheless you had a nice time talking to him and his family.

On the way back, azul brought his two most trusting servants and friends.

The leech twins

You have heard about them, their family name has quite a reputation. But you didn’t mind.

You introduced Azul to Riddle and Leona. The three of them are getting along! (Not really, but kinda!)

Well at least you don’t have to hear more nagging from the higher ups. (For now)

-

“Have you heard?”

Rumors are spreading like wildfire lately in the empress palace lately. Something about an unknown traveler being spotted near the Yuunkaedangon empire. Rumor goes that they aren’t from here. No identification, family, home. Some even say they aren’t from here. A different world maybe? Who knows.

-

You quietly work on the papers that you pushed aside for the past couple of days before atsushi took away your chocolate privileges. He’s a very scary man when he wants to be…

As you worked, a knock on the door stopped you from what you were doing.

“Come in”

A worried Atsushi walks in. Breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath.

“I-it’s doctor yujiro”

-

Heavy and fast footsteps are heard throughout the small clinic as you make your way through. Everyone quickly got out of your way and bowed as you didn’t pay any of them any attention.

“He’s in there” The doors to the room open and you are met with the horrible sight of doctor yujiro bedridden and sick.

“Doctor yujiro”

“Is that my little empress?” His small and weak voice pierces right through your ears.

“What happened?”

“Smallpox”

“Smallpox? How? Doctor yujiro is always clean and healthy, how can-“ Yujiro lightly laughs at your ramble.

“I’m as human as you are my dear”

“But you’ll be okay….right?” You ask, a worried expression starting to make its way on your face.

Both the doctor and Atsushi go silent

“You’ll be okay, right?” You say again, but a little louder this time.

“I’ve been sick for weeks”

“Weeks?! And no one has told me?!” You turn to atsushi with a hurt look on your face. Shocked and upset that he didn’t tell you.

“Atsushi did you know-“

“He didn’t” Doctor yujiro weakly says.

“He was as clueless as you were, the only reason why I have asked for you was because I’m dying” Your eyes widened.

“No that-“

“Please ... .I know I am and I can feel it as every day passes. All I want before I go is for you to take in my son….please” He pleads. Eyes going glossy at the thought of his son having no one to take care of him.

“Grim, please take care of him for me”

The yujiro family has been working for your family for centuries. You met doctor yujiro after catching a fever when you were just 9 years old. Your father, previous emperor, was distraught about the fact that you wouldn’t make it. You were sickly pale and weak, it wasn’t until your grandmother immediately told him to go to doctor yujiro to help you with the fever.

And it took weeks but you still healed. Yujiro has been your doctor ever since and you two have grown closer as the years go by and he sees you as a child of his own.

So seeing grim, his 6 year old son crying his little heart out in your arms at his father’s funeral really shot a thousand arrows to your heart.

“My papa! I want my papa!”

You gently pat his hair as he cried on the crook of your neck. Riddle, Leona, and azul stood behind you as they also paid their respects to Doctor yujiro.

You continued to let grim cry in your arms as you spoke soft comforting words in his ear. The way back to the imperial palace was quiet except for the soft snores of grim in your arms. Atsushi volunteered to hold him on the way back but with a quick shake of your head made him back up.

Upon arriving at the imperial palace, Atsushi carefully tried to pry off grim from your arms but at the feeling of him leaving your warmth, tears quickly formed as he started to cry again.

“No! No ! I-Im sleeping with sissy!” He cries out. One of the servants tried to carefully take him but as he continued to cry and not let you go, you dismissed them.

“Are you sure my empress?”

“Yes it’s fine, the boy will sleep in my chambers with me tonight” With one last look, you turn around and head to your chambers but not before saying goodnight to riddle, Leona and azul.

The three men can’t help but stare in worry. Ever since the way back to the palace, you’ve been spacing out and staring into space.

Now azul isn’t as used to you than the others, so when he noticed riddle and Leona talking amongst themselves about how tired and stress you look, it made him worry too.

You are a nice person

When he first heard he was being put up as a concubine, he was honestly horrified.

He was expecting a scary and rough looking person with a gross obsession with lust but was rather shocked when he saw you walk into his family home.

You were absolutely, breathtaking. Different from what he had imagined.

Maybe being a concubine won’t be as bad as he thought.

-

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Sorry for the very late update! Been pretty busy but like I said I’ll be updating every Friday! (Try)

[wisteria-lodge]

I was trying to pin-point the place where the narration switches from "Malfoy / Draco Malfoy" to just "Draco"

(because at some point it does, he's 'Draco' in the epilogue.)

And I found some interesting stuff.

~ The book consistently uses 'Draco' during scenes that feature Lucius, or sentences that mention both Draco and Lucius together. This makes sense - up until Book 7 Lucius is "Mr. Malfoy" or "Lucius Malfoy" in the narration... and you don't want a "Malfoy" and a "Mr. Malfoy" in the same scene, that's just confusing.

(this is also probably why Voldemort calls all his Death Eaters by their last names during the graveyard scene... except Lucius. We're still firmly in Children's Lit, and if Voldemort had started addressing one of his Death Eaters as 'Malfoy' ... somebody would have gotten confused and thought that Draco was somehow there.)

~ The first scene that really commits to "Draco" in the narration is the opening of Book 7, where Voldemort is holding court in the Malfoy dining room. It's told in third person omniscient, and even though Lucius isn't doing much... it's a scene about Voldemort taking his wand (and his power) away from him. So there's a fun mis-match between the detached /objective narrator, who calls him "Malfoy" or "Lucius Malfoy," and Voldemort... who calls him "Lucius." The way the scene is written is telling us that he's being disrespected.

Draco is called "Draco" in this scene so we don't confuse him with his father... but maybe there's also a little implication that "Draco" is the most neutral thing to call him, and he's only "Malfoy" through Harry's eyes (ie the "Harry filter.") Still, using his first name like this during such an emotionally charged scene does have the side effect of bringing us a little emotionally closer to the character - especially during Charity Burbage's death, which is a beat that doesn't have anything to do with Lucius.

“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking the snake’s snout with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed unable to look at her anymore. (...) “Avada Kedavra.” The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor.

~ The bit where Draco tortures Rowle is the first time when Harry's narration uses "Draco" (in a scene that has nothing to do with Lucius.) We actually watch the switch happen:

A log fell in the fire: Flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed white face — with a sense of emerging from deep water, Harry drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes. (...) Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.

~ He's "Draco" all through the scene in Malfoy Manor... and of course he is, Lucius Malfoy is massively important to that scene. But since by now we've had a little moment of "Draco" from Harry, and from the narration (and he's "Draco" during the whole bit with the prisoners in the cellar, which Lucius isn't there for...) I think that this writing choice (unintentionally?) implies... an emotional connection from Harry, that wouldn't be there if his narration stuck to "Malfoy." Like here are two sentences that I think would read very differently if Harry's narration used "Malfoy" instead of "Draco."

Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely: a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair.

Harry saw Draco’s face up close now, right beside his father’s. They were extraordinarily alike, except that while his father looked beside himself with excitement, Draco’s expression was full of reluctance, even fear.

~ Harry calls the wand he uses to defeat Voldemort "the hawthorn wand" a couple of times... but MOSTLy he thinks of it as "Draco's Wand." Including at like, the moment he's actually defeating Voldemort:

Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand: “Avada Kedavra!” “Expelliarmus!”

I think the Doylist reason for this is to help the reader understand the (pretty confusing) chain of events that leads to Harry being the master of the Elder Wand.... but in the moment, that's a ton of emotional weight for Harry to be giving the name "Draco."

~ There is this interesting little moment where Harry calls Draco "Malfoy" out loud... but "Draco" in his head:

“Not [your wand] anymore,” panted Harry, tightening his grip on the hawthorn wand. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?” “My mother,” said Draco.

So it seems we've got a little conflict going. Maybe Harry doesn't have the same relationship with Draco that he used too... but is a little uncomfortable letting Draco know that. Actually, the only time Harry just calls him "Draco" in dialogue is when... he's talking to Voldemort.

“I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago.”

(draco behind a pillar having an out-of-body experience because really potter? did you HAVE to phrase it like THAT?)

~ Interestingly, Harry's narration switches back to "Malfoy" during the Fiendfyre scene. This might be to make Draco more of an intentional pair with Crabbe and Goyle ('Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle' is a construction the books love.) Or maybe it's to reflect Ron and Hermione's perspective? Backpedal a bit on the implied Harry/Draco emotional closeness? Because... lemme just show you what this scene looks like if I swap out "Malfoy" with "Draco"

Draco saw him coming and raised one arm, but even as Harry grasped it he knew at once that it was no good. “Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Draco yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry [Ron] and Hermione dragged Goyle onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching, into the air once more as Draco clambered up behind Harry. Draco was screaming and holding Harry so tightly it hurt.

~ And then, in their last real interaction, the names are all over the place:

Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed: Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his savior, and Ron punched him from under the Cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused. “And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!” Ron yelled.

All I can think here is that it's "Draco" when the narration is focusing on Harry's experience... and "Malfoy" when it's focusing on Ron's.

[astroselene]

white chocolate

pairing: draco malfoy x reader words: 1.5k warnings: smut, you know how it iiiis a/n: white chocolate has literally nothing to do with this fic, other than it was my working title. maybe draco's sweet like white chocolate :') this is tender, loving smut ig, just wanted to show some love for our boy draco <3

------------------------------------------------------ Your footsteps echoed off the dark stone floor as you walked down the drafty corridor toward the prefects’ bathroom – towards Draco. The torches and lanterns cast a dim light, creating shadows upon the wall. It was nearing curfew, but Draco had requested to meet you at the bathroom tonight, at the end of his patrolling shift of the castle. These bathroom ventures had become quite the habit for you and your boyfriend, meeting there every now and then to get some alone time. Privacy at Hogwarts was hard to come by, and your time with Draco was limited due to both of your lessons, your extracurriculars, his Quidditch practice and prefect duties to boot.

Your heart jumped at a longer shadow on the wall, and you could’ve sworn you saw something move around the corner. It was probably just Mrs. Norris, but you hastened your steps, wanting to get to Draco as fast as possible. You reached the door and let out a sigh of relief. Draco had arrived first and left the door open for you just an inch.

You stepped inside the vast marble bathroom and closed the door quietly behind you. Warm, humid air hit your skin, and you heard the noise of the running water from the countless taps above the giant bathtub. The air smelled like roses and lavender, and you took a deep breath in, smiling as your heart fluttered in anticipation, sensing the man behind you.

“You kept me waiting,” a voice drawled behind you.

Your skin prickled and butterflies danced in your stomach at his voice. You’d never get used to how good he made you feel, or what just hearing his voice did to you, even if you had heard it a thousand times before.

You turned around in spot, finding Draco with a small smile on his face, his expression contrast to his cocky words. He was already in the bath, surrounded by bubbles and steam, his arms splayed at the edges of the white marble of the tub. The humidity was making his usually neatly combed hair go out of place, a single stray falling softly over his forehead. It looked lovely on him.  

“You know I came as fast as I could,” you smiled back at him. His smile grew in response to yours. “I bet Mrs. Norris was snooping around again, I had to be careful.”

You studied each other, silence stretching for a while, anticipation blooming in your stomach and dropping lower.

“Come here,” Draco rasped, his voice huskier than just a moment ago.

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you and the bathtub slowly. Your hands reached up to loosen the tie on the thin nightgown you had worn for the trip from your dormitory to the bathroom. It wasn’t exactly practical wear for the ice-cold corridors of Hogwarts in winter, but it was his favourite and you wanted to wear it for him. His eyes snapped down to watch as your hands untied the knot and let the robe fall from your shoulders.

His eyes roamed up and down your body, hunger growing in his eyes. He shifted slightly in his seat in the bathtub.

You kept your eyes locked on his as you reached back to loosen the clasp of your bra, a small lacy thing you knew he loved. His fingers flexed on the marble, his knuckles going white as he gripped the edge. He kept staring back at you, not looking down, even though you knew it was taking every inch of his self-control. Your fingers hooked in your underwear next, shimmying it down as you enjoyed his eyes on you. You straightened up, making sure to take your time to look back at him. When you did, you smirked at the obvious lust on his face. He finally let his eyes travel down your body, and you could’ve sworn you hear him groan under his breath the at the sight of you, all in nude just for him.

Draco shifted again in his seat and made a come-hither motion at you with his finger. You bit your lip, almost squealing, as you stepped in to the heavenly-scented hot water. You crawled toward him and held onto the edge of the bathtub behind Draco’s shoulders as you eased yourself down into his lap. You sighed with pleasure at the sensation of the hot water caressing your body, and the feel of his strong thighs under you. His hands moved to your shoulders, and you closed your eyes as his soft hands stroked your skin. He skimmed his thumbs along your collarbones, and you moved your own hands to the back of his neck and the blond hair there, scratching gently at his skin. You heard him gasp at the tug on his hair, and you opened your eyes finding him almost nose to nose with you, looking at you with his crystally blue eyes. You closed the small gap between you with your lips, moaning softly at the sensation.

You had been waiting for this all day. Judging by the feel of him growing against your thigh told you he had been waiting for this just as much.

Draco moved his hands to your waist, deepening the kiss. Your mouth opened for him, and you both moaned at the feel of your tongues brushing together. Your hips moved of their own accord, and Draco’s moan turned strangled as you brushed against his length. Draco’s hands slid down to your hips, grabbing hold of you as he urged you to move against him. The humid air filled with your soft moans and his grunts, water lapping at the edges of the bathtub. You closed your eyes as he brushed against you, leaning your head back as Draco’s mouth latched onto your neck to place sloppy kisses against your skin. You had barely started but you both were already panting, almost ready to come apart. It had been way too long since you had done this.

Draco licked a stripe up your neck and one of his hands pushed your head forward, so you were facing him again. He kissed you sloppily, swallowing your moans.

“Darling…,” he choaked, with a plea in his voice that was enough to tell you what he wanted.

You pulled back from him so that you could lift your hips and position yourself better above him. Your knees were already beginning to ache from kneeling on the hard marble, but right now you couldn’t care less.

Draco’s one hand gripped your hip tightly as the other went to his cock, pumping it once, twice, almost like teasing himself for what was to come. He helped you angle yourself, and his eyes rolled back to his head as you slowly lowered yourself on him. You keened at the feel of him filling you, almost overwhelming with how full you felt. You stopped for a bit to get acquainted with the sweetly familiar feeling, until you felt an insistent squeeze of his hands on your hips.

You started moving up and down on him, capturing his lips in a kiss. That coil in your stomach you had felt even before undressing was close to snapping. You didn’t care so much for your own pleasure right now though, you just wanted to please Draco, to make him feel good. He was always so busy, often stressed these days with everything on his plate, and you just wanted to make him feel relaxed and good, just for a bit.

You started rolling your hips, driving him deeper into you and his head fell back with a moan that echoed off the walls. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pleasure on his pretty face, his hair in complete disarray by now, and you moaned yourself at the sight of him falling apart under you. His pants were coming faster now, his breathing almost ragged from the sheer pleasure he was feeling. You knew he was close, for he was starting to flex his hips, his abdominal muscles going taut at the impending release.

He lifted his head and buried his face in the crook of your neck, your motions ever increasing in speed as you both chased your highs. You felt his release before you heard it, his hips stuttering against yours and a broken moan escaping his lips, as he started to come down. You were panting, your hair glued to your forehead, and beads of sweat coating your chest in addition to the water droplets from the bath.

You kissed Draco deeply, swallowing his sighs of pleasure,  just enjoying holding him against you a while longer. After lifting yourself off of him, you curled in his lap and whispered sweet nothings to each other. It was long while before you found the strength to leave the bath together, hand in hand.

header from @ cafekitsune

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter v.

You find yourself in macabre and unusual company.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

If you stopped thinking for a brief moment, you could pretend the world was ending.

Your surroundings were nothing but dilapidated, decaying structures. The rubble and crumbled bits of the building were all colourless, ranging in hues from off-white to charcoal black. The vast majority of your peripheral vision was filled with various junk, from tires to magazines. Not a single other living being was in sight.

It was just you, laying in solitude amidst a sea of ruin.

At least, you were able to imagine that for a few minutes, dazed and disoriented from whatever had occurred. Perhaps an earthquake? Laying against the heap of miscellaneous objects—some of which were uncomfortably poking at your back—you let yourself indulge in a moment of quietude, entertaining the concept of an apocalypse.

Of course, there was no worldwide calamity. It was just you, your bad decision making, and forsaken luck.

“▮▮▮▮! ▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” Frantic shouting interrupted your moment of peace.

“Shut up,” you groaned, not caring if they could understand you or not. Your head hurt. Hell, your whole body ached and everything was sore. You could not care less about whatever they wanted; you just needed them to stay quiet and let you recover.

However, it seemed like your words did the opposite, your presence seemingly exciting whoever it was.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮? ▮▮▮▮! ▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!”

Fucking hell, your head hurt way too much for this. You begrudgingly opened your eyes, looking around to find the source of the yelling. Whoever it was, you could not care less, you just needed them to stop talking.

Upon first glance, you couldn’t see anyone, human or monster. You tried to watch for movement, or listen for where the sound was coming from.

“▮▮▮▮! ▮▮▮▮!” The voice called out again. It came from behind you.

Turning your head to look behind you, you violently flinched at the sight, your elbow crashing back into something solid.

Your lips parted to make your usual vocalization of pain, but no sound came out. You were too stunned by the sight before you. Sure, you had seen some strange creatures upon your arrival, but this one in particular you could not even begin to comprehend.

It was a decapitated head, smooth auburn locks framing its face, which looked just as shocked to see you.

The head recovered from the initial surprise much faster than you did, quickly returning to its incessant yelling.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮! ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮!”

Your mouth opened and closed—you wanted to talk, but you were too astonished to know what to say. A head was speaking to you. You felt like Alice, fallen into a rabbit hole and awakening in a surreal world. The sight of a severed head would typically make you scream and run as far as possible, but you could barely believe your eyes, let alone know how to respond appropriately.

So you continued staring in horrified awe, which the head didn’t seem to appreciate.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮! ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮!” It repeated the same words from before.

You were certain by now that it wanted something from you, but you weren’t sure what. Judging by the tone of their voice and their distressed expression, they wanted assistance of some sort.

What could a sentient head possibly need assistance with? The first thought that came to your mind was perhaps it needed to find its body. If that was the case, then you just needed to carry it to where it wanted to go, right?

The sight of the chopped off head alone made you queasy; the last thing you wanted to do was touch it. But you remembered the crawling man, how friendly he was, and how he helped you. Maybe it would be good for you to assist another resident of this realm.

Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves, you looked at the head. You held your hands out as if grasping an invisible sports ball, before flipping your hands, palms side up, and lifting them. That was a suitable way to express picking something up, right?

The head was still for a brief second before the corners of its lips tugged up frighteningly high. It nodded—or at least appeared to.

You inhaled again, holding your breath this time as you reluctantly brought your hands over to the head, lifting it up. You could feel its chestnut strands brushing against your fingers; they were surprisingly tidy.

Carefully observing the head, you noticed no negative reaction from it, indicating that you had done the right thing. You turned it around to face away from you, allowing it to see which way you were going.

You rotated your body to the left, waiting for its response.

“▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” The head didn’t sound too pleased, so you supposed this wasn’t the correct direction.

You turned the other way.

“▮▮▮▮!” It exclaimed. This time, it sounded much more positive, but you faced a different direction again, just to be sure.

“▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” Its response was the same as earlier. There should only be one correct direction, so you deduced the other one was indeed right. You turned back and began walking that way, the head seemingly satisfied. You were glad it stopped speaking, even if it meant that you had to carry it around.

It was difficult navigating through the junkyard, debris and waste crunching underneath your feet. You casually glanced around, noticing some magazines, some clothes, what appeared to be a sex toy—

You paused for a second, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected sight. You were glad you did, because you then noticed what appeared to be a box of granola, just next to the silicone phallic object.

You reached towards the granola box, praying to whatever god was out there that it wouldn’t be empty.

Much to your relief, the seemingly intact box had some weight, and you could hear rattling from the objects inside.

“Yes!” you triumphantly shouted. The head didn’t seem to understand or partake in your joy, which you couldn’t really blame it for.

Holding the box of precious granola in one hand—you were tempted to eat it now, your hunger awakening at the sight of food, but wanted to finish your quest with the head first—and the head in the other, you continued walking through the wasteland, before arriving at a corridor.

You glanced at the head, awaiting instructions.

“▮▮▮▮! ▮▮▮▮!”

You assumed this word meant either ‘yes,’ ‘go,’ or ‘continue,’ but you weren’t sure which it was. Hopefully it’d be more clear soon—not that you looked forward to staying here for longer.

At the end of the corridor were a few doors. You faced the first one.

“▮▮▮▮!”

You opened the door, seeing a suspiciously ominous hole in the floor, from which stairs led down to a mystery place.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” This time, it said something different. As per usual, you failed to understand your interlocutor, but you stepped towards the opening, hoping it would protest.

It did not. You gulped nervously, gingerly stepping into what could be your approaching death. Do I really want to do this?

You hesitated after taking the first step, but the head spoke again.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” The first word you recognized, now deciding to assume it meant ‘go.’ Naturally, the second word that followed would be ‘down.’

Go down into the creepy basement, you thought to yourself. Totally not a bad idea! This isn’t how everyone in horror movies dies at all!

You considered just leaving the head here and turning back, but considering how you had come this far already, you decided to just ignore every instinct in your body and descend the stairs.

I’m going to die, you thought, I’m so going to die. Any second now...

Those words cycled through your head as you walked down, one dreadful step at a time. After arriving at the bottom, you were faced with another godforsaken closed door.

Are monsters sensitive about privacy or why the fuck are the doors always closed? You wondered.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮!” Another phrase you didn’t know, but it was safe to guess he wanted you to open the door.

May my death be fast and painless, you thought, turning the handle and pulling the door towards you.

Glancing inside the room, you could see a sofa and a coffee table—what resembled a normal living room. You finally let out the breath you were holding, seeing that you didn’t walk into some horrific torture chamber.

“▮▮▮▮▮.”

You screamed, dropping the granola box and almost the chopped head, startled by the unforeseen voice. To your left stood a man with long, silver hair, ashen skin, and bandages wrapped around his eyes. There was some blood on the bandages, but it had long since dried.

The head in your arms quickly began speaking to the man, the two of them engaging in conversation with one another. You stood there awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited for them to finish speaking. You felt horribly out of place; your inability to understand the language excluded you from their interactions. It wasn’t so much that you longed to talk with them, but being left out nonetheless felt disheartening.

You had spaced out for most of the conversation, only paying attention when the conversation abruptly stopped.

The silver-haired man was looking at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something. Shit, was he talking to me? So much for having good manners...

“Hi,” you tried to smile, hoping it didn’t seem as forced as it felt. Your heart was anxiously thumping in your chest like a bird attempting to escape its cage.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮��▮?” he asked.

“I don’t understand, sorry,” you mumbled sheepishly. The man didn’t seem harmful, but much like the red umbrella man, he stood at an intimidatingly tall height.

“▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮?” Another question. You gazed up at him with a pitiful expression, hoping he wasn’t thinking anything negative about you—or thinking about murdering you.

To your surprise, he began making his way over to the sofa, sitting down on it. He gestured to the single seat across from him.

“▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮.” He appeared to be instructing you to do something. You decided that the best course of action would be to follow.

You stiffly shuffled over to the chair, feeling a mixture of social anxiety and potential-threat-to-life anxiety.

—

“Can understand,” you responded. It felt like your pronunciation of the words was a bit off, still. Nonetheless, the silver-haired man seemed to understand you just fine. He was smiling, a grin that you would usually deem harrowing but had slowly gotten used to over the course of however long you’ve been here. You wished there was a way to tell time; you hadn’t learnt that word yet and therefore couldn’t ask. You decided to ignore that for now.

“You teach me, me happy,” you stated. “What say?” You wondered if there was a word to express gratitude.

“▮▮▮▮▮,” he replied. That must mean something like ‘thank you.’

“Thank you.” You tested the words out on your tongue yourself. It felt a bit strange speaking the language—not because the words were foreign to you, but rather, they almost felt familiar.

“▮▮▮▮▮.” The crawling man had said this word to you previously in a similar context. This confirmed the definition of the word now—welcome.

“Welcome,” you softly repeated. Another question came to the forefront of your mind, one that had been nagging at you for a while—you wanted to know the silver hair man’s name. Silver-haired man was a bit long for you, even if you were only mentally saying it. But without the word ‘name,’ it was hard to ask about it.

After carefully pondering what to say, you decided to try making use of your new vocabulary.

“Chair,” you said, pointing to your seat.

“Correct,” he answered with a smile.

“Table.” You gestured at the coffee table.

“Correct.”

“Y/N.” This time, you pointed back to yourself, hoping he would understand it.

“You...” his voice seemed to trail off in uncertainty. “Y/N?”

“Correct.” You nodded. “How say?”

The silver-haired man appeared to be carefully contemplating what he was about to say next. You anxiously waited, fiddling with your thumbs. You could only hope that they had the concept of names.

“▮▮▮▮,” he declared at last.

“What you name?” you tentatively asked, both checking to see if you had understood each other with the word, and trying to find an alias with fewer syllables for him.

For a second, he seemed bewildered, as if the question you had asked him was something alien. But the expression dissipated as soon as it came and he was smiling again, leaving you to wonder if you had imagined that brief pause.

“Not know.”

He doesn’t know his name? Your eyes widened in astonishment, your lips soundlessly parting. Does he just not know his name? Or are names not used here?

It was a strange concept for you to grasp. You wanted to inquire more about it, but you weren’t sure how you would even begin to approach that topic, especially with the limited vocabulary you have.

While the silver-haired man did teach you an abundance of words, you still found difficulty communicating in this language. The language used in this world was rather constraining; you had very limited word choices. From your current understanding, their vocabulary was rather sparse, only existing to communicate concepts and general ideas rather than having specific descriptions.

“Possible give you name?” you questioned, your tone gentle. The man nodded in response.

Perhaps you could find a way to shorten silver hair. That way, it would be easy to remember and it would make sense. You ruminated over the potential combinations and nicknames you could give before at last settling on one.

“Silvair,” you finally declared, proudly smiling at him. “Mr. Silvair?”

“Silvair,” he imitated your speech. You noticed then that he had a bit of an accent, his pronunciation slightly different from yours, though it wasn’t cacophonous at all.

“You like?” You waited for his approval. You saw his lips part, just about to answer you, when the sound of approaching footsteps caused both of your heads to snap towards the door.

“Danger,” Mr. Silvair announced.

You watched, aghast, as the space before you shredded and tore, materializing itself in a familiar flicker of scarlet.

“Find you.”

next chapter ->

if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.

thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[serendipitous-imagines]

Can you do a Homicipher Mr Gap x transmasc reader smut fic? Maybe w him eating the reader out? Perhaps?

cws/tws: female genitalia verbiage, oral, fingering, begging, edging

omg,,, my first homicipher request!! i have been so in love with all of the characters in this game and it has been so fun playing through all of the routes! i do get easily jumpscared bc i am a coward but hey, fear and adrenaline adds to emotions I am pretty sure ;> as always~ the fun stuff is under the cut~

Where were you again...? Oh, right, you were stuck down here, running around mindlessly, looking for an elevator that may or may not bring you back to your world... And everyone surrounding you was a creature that was almost beyond human comprehension. But... they were kind, kinder than anyone had ever really been to you, and they cared, they cared so much about you, about how you felt, about how your body ached and reacted. Sure, it could have been because they wanted to do experiments on you, maybe even take your arms, but it being cared for like this felt so nice. Honestly, it would be a waste to leave everyone down here. How would you even live life normally again after meeting everyone? A soft groan escaped your lips as you rolled over on the bed, flopping your head down into the pillow that had definitely been untouched for a while, but it was better than laying on the ground. You could not imagine how it felt for Mr. Chopped- where even was he? Where was anyone? The room suddenly felt far more cold and empty than it had before. Anxiety crept into your chest and in an attempt to comfort yourself, you pulled the white blanket up to your head, wanting to hide from the vast empty echoes of the labyrinth where you found yourself confined. ... Why did it feel like you were being watched...? Lifting the sheet up hesitantly, you tilted your head downwards, unknowingly holding your breath as you glanced down at your legs. Nothing... You set the sheet down and let out the breath you had been holding, looking around the room. You were just being paranoid because you were alone, there was nothing to worry about, you were sure Mr. Crawling would be around at any moment and you would feel better. Shaking your head, you lifted the sheets to lay back down and- "AHHHH!!!!" Your whole body jumped, a scream involuntarily coming out, legs pressing together as you made eye contact with Mr. Gap smiling up at you from under the covers. "When did you get here?!" you yelled, fingers trembling as you held the sheets up, eyes wide.

"I help..." Mr. Gap mumbled, a smile on his face, his visible eye upturned with small crinkles in the corners of them. "Is there a reason why you are smiling so hard?" you asked, a smile on your face, wondering what organ or part of your body he was going to ask to take. Mr. Gap tilted his head, not understanding your question, his smile still ever-so-prevalent. "Give?" he asked. "Me want have." Mr. Gap repeated, his voice a little more firm. You could feel his warm breath hitting the insides of your thighs, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the warmth in the cold room. "Want what?" you asked, thighs shifting to close from the embarrassment of Mr. Gap's head being so close to such intimate areas. "Want you." Strong hands wrapped themselves around the inside of your thighs, pinning them open despite your attempts to force them closed. "M-me?!" your voice squeaked in surprise as your pants were ripped clear off of your legs. Mr. Gap's face leaned forward, huffing your scent, his fingers digging deeper into the squishy flesh of your thighs. "Smell good. Smell like. Want. Want. Want." Mr. Gap repeated, massaging your thighs in his palms obsessively, his words melting into mere mumbles as his teeth caught the fabric of your underwear, ripping them off (though you were unsure if he ate them or dropped them onto the bed, they were destroyed anyways). "Mr. Gap..." a breathless mutter came from your lips as Mr. Gap's mouth wrapped around your pussy, his tongue frotting against your clit. Your hips lifted at the sensation, a small whine leaving your lips as Mr. Gap's tongue started to speed up, greedily lapping up the arousal that started to drip from your vagina. How did he even know how to do this? Your hand slid beneath the sheets, wrapping your fingers around his hair as his tongue buried itself inside of your pussy, rubbing against your insides, easily gliding around in your arousal. Mr. Gap let out a low groan, a noise you had never heard him make before as his hand slid up your thigh before hovering just below his chin. His lips wrapped themselves hungrily around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves as two of his fingers circled around your soaked and sensitive entrance. A moan of pure desperation and a need like none other you have felt before came from your agape mouth, tugging on Mr. Gap's long hair, which had started to become knotted between your fingers. Your gazes caught one another, and you could see and feel his smile get wider before he sunk his fingers without warning into you. Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around Mr. Gap's unforgiving fingers that slid deep inside like he was going to pull your internal organs out from you. Your hips rocked, riding his fingers as his tongue pressed against your clit, flicking up and down as he sucked. Those calloused fingers provided a much needed texture, curling inside of you and forcing your walls wider open. Hearing such beautiful mewls coming from you, and feeling your hips starting to tremble, closing in on your orgasm, Mr. Gap cruelly slid his slick-covered digits out of your pussy, rubbing your hole as you gasped and looked at him with eyes that could only be described as downright pathetic. In an action even more cruel, he pulled his mouth away from your swollen and throbbing clit. Your head lifted, your eyes wide in surprise as he rested his head on your thigh and just smiled at you, a taunting, cruel smile. "You know exactly what you are doing..." you whined out, rolling your hips towards his face. "Me funny." "No," you retorted back with a pout on your lips. Mr. Gap laughed, fingers still mindlessly rubbing your opening, which was now soaking the sheets beneath you. "Me funny. You cute." Mr. Gap looked up at your face, which was twinged pink before he pushed three of his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your hole far rougher than he had before. At full force, your orgasm hit your body at full force, crying out Mr. Gap's name as your cum squirted into his mouth and he greedily swallowed it.

FANDOMS ~ MASTERLIST ~ COMMISSIONS ~ REQUESTS

[lostwysteria]

(Part 10. Ok. I lied. This show is killing me and I need to cope.)

Masterlist

Ling ran over to the cameras, not knowing what to do, but knowing something was wrong. Wreck wasn't supposed to be there.

“Wreck! What are you doing here!?” Nice asked in shock as he stood up.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to pick something up. You see, i’ve been hearing some interesting new rumors. I wanted to verify them myself. It seems as if they were true, though. You really did replace me, huh?” The man asked. He moved fast and grabbed Homemaker, twisting his arms behind his back and encasing his arms and feet in stone, immobilizing him.

“Wreck! Let him go! Don't do this. Please.” Nice pleaded. He was frozen. He couldn't move closer and risk setting Wreck off. He could read the instability in his body language. He didn't know who to worry about more at that moment.

“Please? Ha! Don't make me laugh. All I have ever wanted to do was be by your side. When I couldn't be a hero with you, I became your villain. All to be close to you, my oldest friend. Now, though, you’ve really replaced me? No. I think I’ll be taking this pretty little thing with me. See what's so special about him. Have fun dealing with Enlighter’s little surprise.” Wreck said as the studio door burst open and a Fear Empowered man attacked.

Wreck absconded with Homemaker slug over his shoulder.

The cameras were still rolling. They caught everything.

…

Faejay @rockinrobin

OMG???? NiceMoon IS PLATONIC??? AND WRECK!!! OUR BOI WRECK IS IN LOVE WITH NICE???

Shut Up and Dance @tiredfanfic

MY SHIP IS MAYBE SAILING!? But did you guys catch that? Wreck became a villain to be close to Nice! I have told you guys before that I work with Heros and can allegedly confirm that they were childhood friends that had a falling out.

Holly @hollybellsring

@tiredfanfic

You have been trying to tell us something this whole time?????!!!!

Gegege @obscureanimefan

@tiredfanfic

Wait. You recently started writing NiceHome fics. Are you implying something????

Shut Up and Dance @tiredfanfic

Look forward to a WriceHome fic.

…

Ling felt nauseous as Wreck sped through some underground tunnels. He stayed silent the whole time. He didn't want to anger the already upset man.

They emerged in an older neighborhood. Wreck climbed up an old fire escape and into a messy apartment bedroom. He tossed Ling onto the bed.

He took off his helmet and plopped down next to him.

“So. Homemaker. What makes you so special, huh?” He asked almost casually. “Sure, you're cute as hell and give off some frankly killer milf vibes. But why replace me with you?”

“What!?” Ling choked. “It's not like that. I’m just his caretaker. I… I saved him from killing himself. I was on the same roof he was. I’d just gotten fired from my soul crushing day job. He cried for hours. I can't leave him.” Ling explained. “Nice needs you. Not being able to be with you is tearing him up.”

“What?” Wreck asked in a hoarse voice.

…

Nice wasn't too worried. He knew Wreck wouldn't actually hurt Lin Ling. Once he found where they were, Nice could settle things and hopefully get the ball rolling on that throuple he wanted.

Miss. J tapped him on his shoulder and handed him his phone. “His number is unblocked.”

A text from wreck was already opened

‘At our old place. I see what you do, now. Lin Ling is just way too good at this.’

Relief and then joy flooded his body. He knew that Wreck would see it!

…

Ling was cleaning up a storm. Wreck was lying on an old couch with a cold, damp washcloth over his puffy eyes. He had cried for three hours. He paused in his dusting and stirred the sauce for the spaghetti he was making.

“This place has never been so clean.” Wreck said from his spot.

“Sorry. I can't help it. Spotlessly clean, but still cozy is my compulsion. Part of my Trust Value.” He explained. He turned the stove off. The suce was done.

“Don't worry. I get it. I'm dating, maybe, Mr. OCD himself.” Wreck waved a hand dismissively.

It was at that moment a white blur came through the open window. Ling found himself on the bed from earlier. He was laying next to Nice who was smothering Wreck with cuddles and kisses. His hand was in Nice’s free hand.

“I would NEVER replace you.” Nice said fiercely.

“I know.” Wreck said, wetly.

“Tomorrow, I'm taking us all home.” Nice told both of them. “Tonight, though, we are staying here. I need both of you equally.”

[taiyouhimerich]

wow yeah im stealing my own cai bot is this what they call creativity????

“Smells like sweet home”

Husband! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

tags and warns: aaaw cmon just a bit of soft thing, it colds even be safe for work! but with just a little bit of mention of sexual interaction, so still 18+ mdni!!!

psss gonna make part 2 w/ aomething morrrrre

Words count: 1,4k (and yes thats alot for me)

Leon never needed much from life: he dreamed about what all American men probably dream about. You know, a white picket fence, a housewife always waiting for him at home and ready to welcome him after a hard day's work, and a couple or triple adorable children who would run up to him, hugging him, missing their daddy. And for a long time it seemed to him that all these dreams were shattered the moment he ran over the barricades on the road leading to Raccoon City.

But that belief was shattered the moment he saw you. Beautiful, graceful, soft, just perfect for him, how could he not notice you among all the crowds of these gloomy, rude, cruel people? He felt like an insecure teenager again, noticing the most beautiful girl in school, a feeling he hadn't had in a couple dozen years. Courting you was ordinary, romantic, but nothing fancy, but it still won your heart. Or maybe it was the way a grown-up man blushed and sweated like a puberty boy when he saw you, you don't know for sure, but it was definitely something that made you start dating him.

If you ask him now, he would say that he does not even remember what happened until the moment when he knelt in front of you, taking out a modest but beautiful ring in a velvet box from his pocket. Standing in front of you at that moment, he was thinking that he didn't know what he would do if you said no, and you could swear that you saw tears in his eyes when you agreed. Your fiance looked like a tiny puppy, wagging his tail and running around his owner with joyful barking while you put on your wedding dress, asking him to stay close and help with the corset at the same time. You were amazing: the beautiful white fabric flowed over your body as if you were doused with milk, and several layers of tulle under your skirt made your figure even more magnificent. He hugged you tightly after he was done with the lacing, while you tried to chase him away, laughing kindly, saying something about you needing your personal time, when she leaned into your ear, tucking a strand of your hair before whispering.

“Then let it be as you say, I'll give you your so-called personal time, because from the first second of our honeymoon, I won't let you go for even a moment....”

And he didn't lie, he never lied to you, because no matter how much you both wanted to go to an Indonesian beach or watch flamingos, you couldn't get out of bed. Oh, how you fucked, all the food you ate was from room service, you were on the bed, on the floor, in the luxurious bathroom, even on the balcony at night, you did everything you could think of while Leon pressed against you, kissing under your ear, pleading, but deep voice purring.

“Just one more time, Mrs. Kennedy.”

Mrs. Kennedy did something incredible to you, and you succumbed over and over and over again, allowing him to enjoy you, his beloved woman, his wife... and considering how furiously he thrusted into you, the mother of his children at the same time. So neither of you were surprised when, a month after your honeymoon, your period didn't come, and the next day you saw two stripes on the test. Even twice, so that the results are for sure. You heard the joke that two positive tests mean two children, it was from Leon when he joked about it, and you slapped him on the back of the head, making him laugh, but when doctor told you at the first ultrasound that you were going to have twins, you were both shocked. In a pleasant shock, to be precise.

And this was the moment that he loved to remember every time he returned home to his dear wife, unlocking the front door with keys so quietly that his newborns would not wake up. Most of all, he wanted to throw his bag on the floor right in the hallway, along with his unbuttoned uniform, and fall on the bed, without a shower and dinner, although dinner at three in the morning is a terrible idea. When he lets out a tired sigh, hearing his vest release his chest, falling to the floor with a soft booming thud, he hears the rustling and creaking of your bedroom door, immediately tensing up and turning his head in that direction. A smile paints his face with happiness when you come out to him, in a pink fur robe and slippers in the form of pugs, coming closer, and slightly timidly spreading your arms in an invitation to a hug.

“My pretty one....” He mumbles, taking a step towards you and wrapping you in a tight hug, letting you bury your forehead in his shoulder.

“I missed you, Lee....”You gently stroke his back, running your palms over his shoulder blades when you feel his kiss in your hair. You can't help but giggle softly, kissing him somewhere on the jaw, feeling his unshaven stubble with your lips. It makes you laugh again and pull away, putting your hands on his chest with a smile. “Unscathed?”

“Kinda. A little injuries here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle, you know me.”He laughs hollowly, placing his palms on your forearms to pull you closer and kiss your cheek. “I missed you too... and our little ones.... How are they?”

“Scott is just perfect, and Melissa has become more moody in recent days.” You respond by sighing softly while his kisses make you giggle. “She is not so willing to being fed with breast, I have to use a pumper.... God, there's too much of you in this girl, you know.”

Leon laughs, quietly, so that God forbid not to wake up your children. “I don't think I've ever been able to give up on your breasts.”His lips continue to shower kisses on your face as he gradually descends to your neck, pushing back the collar of your robe. Huh. He even remembers the times when you met him in a red silk nightgown and black lace underwear… Well, after the wedding and pregnancy, your wardrobe has changed significantly. But that doesn't mean it's bad for him. Come on, he likes how homely you are!

His lips find your collarbone when he runs his tongue over your skin, sucking greedily, under your quiet but ringing giggle, and it makes you let out a soft moan. Your hands find his head with a familiar movement, intertwining with his hair as you mumble. “I don't think I've ever offered you...”

“Do you want to do it now?”His cheeky grin is audible even when you can't see his face, while he buries his head in the neckline of your robe, nuzzling into the cleavage between your breasts. He knows for sure that you will slap him on the back of the head, confusedly mumbling something about how it's something perverted, but he can't help but inhale, closing his eyes and soaking up the smell of your boobs. Those round soft tits, all big and swollen because of the milk, smelling of sweet, warm this very milk.... His children, his precious daughter and son, smell the same scent because your milk is what is always around them, so this smell is so cozy, homely, relaxing him and making him forget about all those horrors he looked at during his missions....

That's where he ends up, but not because you push him away, no. He stays between your boobs, continuing to take this bath of your milky scent until he feels... ashamed. When this process heals his mental wounds enough for him to think more sensibly, he realizes how embarrassing this thing really is. That he's literally obsessed with your boobs and sniffing them like some kind of pervert. He feels the warmth of your chest against his face for a little longer, and then pulls away, straightening up and straightening your robe. He can't help but squeeze them lightly in his palms, and before you can say anything, he looks away, clears his throat, and pats you on the shoulder, walking around you and muttering.

“Gonna check on ours.”

Later, you will find this tough, exhausted man sitting on the floor between the cradles of your children, sticking only his fingers between the partitions to hold each of the babies by the palms. A soft smile spreads across your tired face. What a cutie. All of them.

definitely p2 guys i just feel ashamed to make it as a one pretty big post, so I splitted that…..

[lisbeth-kk]

Easter Egg Prompts (2025) Day 5

A special invitation leads to a significant change in someone's wardrobe.

Dressed Up

Mycroft and Greg have been a couple for almost eight years when they finally find a weekend that fits them both.

“It has always irked my brother that I tied the knot first,” Sherlock smirks when they receive the wedding invitation.

“Easily deduced,” Rosie snorts. “You two are like kids sometimes.”

“Says the kid herself,” John quips.

“I’m frequently much more mature than any of them,” the ten-year-old girl retorts.

“Well, let’s move on before this escalates further,” John says firmly. “You, young lady, will need a new dress. There’s no way your posh uncle will let you inside Dartmouth House in any of your clothes.”

“I know. Uncle Myc told me he would take me shopping before Easter.”

Sherlock huffs dramatically at this admission.

“Doesn’t that man have any confidence in our capability to dress our daughter properly for a fancy wedding?”

“Apparently not,” John comments. “We should just indulge him, or he’ll just kidnap her after school anyway. Or worse, during class.”

“Hm, you know him well,” Sherlock remarks.

“He is rather predictable. Compared to you. Don’t tell him I said that, sweetheart,” he addresses Rosie.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she lies.

***

Mycroft is quite civil about collecting his niece for a shopping spree. He consults her fathers and is given carte blanche when it comes to the kind of attire, he and Rosie pick.

“As if he needed it,” Sherlock snickers. “He’s going to spoil her rotten.”

“That is his habit,” John concedes.

“Indeed. I should have predicted a colour theme. Luckily, blue is a favourite of mine too. Will you be wearing – “

“Oh, yes, darling. I certainly will,” John interrupts huskily. “I might even go commando as the evening draws to a close.”

“How risqué of you, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock purrs, feeling slightly weak in the knees by the thought of his husband in his kilt without pants.

“Maybe we can persuade the aunts to pick up Rosie and take her for the night.”

“Who is the genius now, John?”

“I have my moments. Now, get your delectable arse over here so I can have my way with you.”

***

“Why did you want to have a colour themed wedding, even deciding that the guests should wear blue?”

“It is much more organised and unambiguous that way,” Mycroft explains.

“God, you’re weird. A good thing I love you, or you’d be in real trouble.”

“Rosamund Watson-Holmes!”

“Relax, Uncle Myc. I’m only teasing you. Now, which fancy establishment are you taking me to?”

“Patience, my dear,” Mycroft chastises her, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

“Which shade do you think will fit me best? Light or dark blue?”

“Considering your blonde hair and fair skin tone, I would say, either. Let us not rush into such important matters without sufficient data.”

“You sound like Papa,” Rosie tells him with a broad smile.

“Well, let us keep that a secret, shall we,” her uncle replies haughtily.

“Sure,” she lies.

***

From early on, Sherlock took responsibility when it came to Rosie’s hair. Curls can be difficult to tame, and he had decades of experience. John was beyond relieved. He wouldn’t have known where to start.

On the day of the wedding, Sherlock locks himself and Rosie into the bathroom to style her golden locks to perfection. Once finished with hers, she goes upstairs to collect her new dress, while Sherlock takes care of his own curls. 

Neither of her parents has seen the garment. She wants it to be a surprise, but she needs help with the back zipper, which Mrs Hudson has agreed to help her with.

The dress is light blue with an A-shaped, wavy skirt. Magnolia appliqués, one large one blooming from the right hip to the middle of her chest, and three small ones on the left side of the skirt make for a striking appearance. White ballerina shoes and a silver bracelet with light blue and silver hearts, complete the outfit.

“Oh, Rosie, dear! You look like a princess,” her Nana exclaims when Rosie twirls around, making the skirt flow around her legs.

“Thank you, Nana. What do you think Daddy and Papa will say.”

“Probably nothing, dear. They will be too choked up to utter a word. Enjoy the silence when you can, I say.”

“Have you already started on your herbal soothers?” Rosie inquires with narrowed eyes.

Martha Hudson harrumphs and mumbles something about her hip acting up.

***

Rosie tiptoes up the stairs. Murmuring voices are heard in the sitting room, and she peeps through the gap in the door. Her fathers are standing in front of the fireplace dressed up in their finest clothes. Well, her Daddy at least. Sherlock is almost always wearing a suit, but today he’s also wearing a tie, which she knows he hates, so she guesses he's making an effort for his brother’s sake. 

Daddy in a kilt, is something Rosie’s only seen in photographs, and he looks even better in reality. The garment isn’t entirely blue of course, but she thinks Uncle Myc won’t mind. Its colours are subtle enough.

For a few moments, she marvels at how much they still seem to love each other. Her friends have told her in abundance about quarrelling parents, and most of them have never even seen their parents kiss.

Speaking of. 

They lift their right hands simultaneously, cradling the other’s cheek, and shares a tender kiss.

“I love you so much, John.”

“Love you more,” he replies, smiling smugly.

“Not possible,” the detective mutters.

They share another kiss, and when they part, Rosie walks casually into the room.

“You two look nice,” she compliments them.

To Rosie’s astonishment, Nana was right. Not a word escapes the men, but there’s no question about what they feel. Their faces are like open books, letting their beloved girl see what they cannot express.

“My darling girl, you are breath-taking!”

“Oh, Rosie! What an amazing dress. You look wonderful.”

They’re both in dire need of the tissues she procures for them.

tbc

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

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely @jolieblack

@221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie @7-percent @lhrinchelsea

@peanitbear @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982 @johnlock-and-tea @a-victorian-girl

@missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch

@acumberlockedgirl @willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020 @mydogwatson @redmondcollege

@thegildedbee @ilovegayangels @elizabethhood @xmengal03 @riversong912

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl @dw91165 @jonkwatson

@binx72 @macgyvershe @raina-at @dragoonthegreatest @kholkate

@fookincarrotsandpotatoes28 @talkativeanxiousturtle @aloeverawrites @twoandahalfdimes @desi-yearning

(Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Sylus)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Sylus. The reason is because he is a red flag. As red as his eyes. Spawn of the devil. Unless, he is actually not as evil as you label him to be. Does this change something in you? Yes? No? Maybe so?

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  | 6 [final...] |

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His figure looked ethereal in the night glow.

Your hand moved backwards to scoot you away from him in order to create more space between the both of you.

Air was the only support you get. Your motorcycle was not that wide to begin with. Body tumbling backwards, down to the bare earth.

Only you didn't.

Your body hung comfortably in the wrapped of his sturdy hold. His face was one of relief even you would notice in the dim light.

Unfortunately your body when auto on survival mode at the very moment.

*SMACK*

"Aughh!"

He reeled back with you still in his hold. Setting you straight on your feet before swiping his sore jaw.

"OH GOSH ! I'm so sorry. Sorry. Sorry."

You stood there in panic as you saw the result of your impromptu action. A very bad impromptu one at that.

"Kitten got feisty again, it seems. I can sympathize with your phone better now." He gave a strained chuckle.

"Quit joking around." you snagged his hand, "Come on, we need to treat it now."

His surprised expression went unnoticed by you as you dragged the tall man all the way to your cabin.

He was outright staring at you as you swipe a cooling salve on the sore spot then plastered some patch to cover it up.

"Done. Again. I'm terribly sorry for what I did."

He gave you a low deep laugh as a reward for your heartfelt apology. He caught your hand in his. Unsure yet firm. This sitting man was as tall as your chest now yet he has this air about him that spoke unreadable volume.

You couldn't let go.

You don't want to.

Yet... you didn't reciprocate it either.

"Care to join me for a nice walk?"

"At night?"

"I'm nocturnal, sweetie. Didn't you already know that. Night walks are perfect for me." He teased you.

You glared a tiny hint at him, "If so, I'll take you up on the offer, Mr. Nocturnal."

+----------------------------+------------------------+

It was serene.

Neither saying anything. Taking in the surroundings. Being part of nature. Noticing the more of the subtle beauty in it.

And a subtle gesture you couldn't take your eyes of.

The white-haired man was walking ahead of you, not too far, not too close either. Just enough to be in the proximity of you and him colliding comfortably.

His step was calculated. Taking care of finding suitable footing and no annoying obstacles for the ones walking behind him. Still following him to who knows where.

It was... nice.

"Is that your natural hair colour?"

He laughed at the sudden question from the first meeting, "That's the most baffling answer you're seeking now, kitten."

"Somehow... Yes."

"It's called albino. Yes. I'm more sensitive to light. No. I'm not secretly a vampire. But tomato juice isn't half bad as a beverage."

You laughed at his lighthening answers.

"Careful."

You looked at him cheekily as he stopped, "What? You're getting shy exposing your secrets?"

He shook his head with a small smile, "No. There's a clearing up front and there's a big log that you might bump into. Given your height, it proves to be challenging."

You saw the said log and felt insulted for a second. Arms crossed, you glared at him. He smirked.

He went over it easily. You're about to do the same until he held up his hand. Looking confused, you decided to hold it anyway to help your leverage to step over the acclaimed log.

"Whaaoh!"

He lifted you up in his arms then proceeded to carry you to the clearing. Your hold on his shoulder and neck feels awkward yet you hold it firmer. He hummed pleasantly in return.

You both reached the middle of the clearing. Grass sway lightly with every step he took. He gently let you down before taking off his jacket. Laying it on the ground, he nodded at it to you, sitting next to it leisurely. You gingerly did.

"Explanation is due. I hope you don't mind my late introduction." He started.

You laughed, "I can partially guess that you're part of the game company when I got the new phone. But I have no way to confirm it until you show up. So, care to explain yourself, Mr. Albino who likes tomato juice."

He was amused. Truly amused by your simple teasing manner towards him. His calm demeanour mostly masked his nerves and he was grateful for your playful banter.

+----------------------------+-------------------------+

You hid your laugh. He scoffed at it.

"Careful, sweetie."

"What? More logs that I can't walk by?"

You teased as he sighed in defeat.

"Who knew you got duped into being a part of a character in the game so easily. That took "intimidating" out of your book so fast."

He looked straight at you as you were still trying to tone down your laugh.

"Am I scary to you?"

You turned to him, quirking your eyebrow to his question.

"People are naturally scared of my sharp features and my height just adds to the fuel. Do I scare you too?"

His honesty and raw feeling reached you like a rick roll. He looked all unbothered by it but his eyes never betray what his true heart has been going through all his life.

You looked away, "Yeah. You scared me. Scare me so much that I fell down the first time I saw you. Scare me so much that you hold me up from getting hurt. Scare me so much that I punched you because I was shy about it."

Your face turned to his astounded face. Hand gently cupping the patch. He nuzzled it a little, two gems took a new shine as they looked at you.

"Scare me so much of your invite me for a night walk. Scare me so much that I actually like it. Scare me so much when you always test every step first so that I wouldn't accidentally fall."

You close the gap between you and him, noticing he immediately went rigid like a statue.

"Scare me so much that you can lift me up casually. Scare me so much on how gentle you can be."

Your head laid on his steady chest, hearing every fast heartbeat just as much as yours.

"Scare me so much that I can't believe you're actually here. Thank you for finding me, Sylus."

His hand cupped the back of your head while the other one held your waist for the second time tonight. His breathing was even.

He whispered your name.

"Thank you for being here with me."

+--------------------------+------------------------+

"Cute."

You chuckled. The band-aid on his face did wonders in giving him the "bad boy vibe" if it wasn't for the cutesy design on it.

"You're enjoying this aren't you, kitten."

His smirked met your cheeky smile.

"Let's go. There's four more Wonders I need to cross from my list."

"As you wish, sweetie."

Hand interlocking.

One hand with a red-yellow bracelet on the wrist.

One hand with a red-black bracelet on the wrist.

The red thread intertwines two souls forevermore.

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  | 6 [final...] |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Taglist:

@poptrim @is-it-night-or-day

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[horoscope1078]

:)

Lando had been grinning all morning, and that was never a good sign. You squinted at him as you both strolled through the charming streets of Spa, your hand tucked into the pocket of your hoodie to shield it from the crisp Belgian breeze. It was the weekend of the Belgian Grand Prix, but for now, Lando seemed more focused on mischief than on racing.

“What’s with the face?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“This” he said, pulling a small blue and white package out of his hoodie pocket. “This is going to change your life.”

You stared at the package, recognising the name printed on it, stroopwafels.

“Oh, I’ve heard of these” you said, intrigued. “They’re like caramel waffles, right?”

Lando gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “Like caramel waffles? That’s like calling a formula 1 car just ‘a fast vehicle.’”

You snorted as he tore the package open, handing you one of the thin, circular treats. “Alright alright. What’s the proper way to eat them, Mr. Dutch Heritage?”

He beamed proudly. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Lando grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward a nearby café. The place was small but cosy, with warm lights glowing behind the counter and the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. He ordered two hot drinks and then pointed at your stroopwafel. “Now, this is the trick. You don’t just eat it straight away like some amateur. You place it on top of your cup and let the steam soften the caramel inside. It’s an art, really.”

You raised an eyebrow. “An art?”

“Yes, an art” he said smugly. “Passed down through generations. My mum grew up in the Netherlands, remember? She taught me all the important things in life, like how to properly consume a stroopwafel.”

You chuckled but did as he instructed, setting the waffle on top of your steaming drink. Lando did the same and then leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he watched you expectantly.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, trying to distract him from his obvious amusement at your inexperience.

“What’s what like?”

“Having a mum who grew up in the Netherlands.”

Lando’s expression softened, his grin turning into something fonder. “It’s cool. We used to visit all the time when I was a kid. The food is obviously great, stroopwafels, poffertjes, all that stuff. But also, my mum’s side of the family is really chill. And the country is just… nice. The people are friendly, the cities are beautiful, and I got to ride bikes everywhere, which was fun. Maybe that’s why I like racing so much.”

You smiled, picturing a tiny Lando zooming around on a bicycle, probably crashing into things. “That actually makes sense.”

“Of course it does. I’m full of wisdom.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could tease him, he suddenly gasped. “It’s time!”

“Time for what?”

“The stroopwafel. It should be perfectly softened now.” he lifted his off his drink and took a dramatic bite, closing his eyes in exaggerated bliss. “Mmm... perfection.”

You snorted but picked up your own, taking a cautious bite. The moment the warm caramel melted onto your tongue, your eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

Lando grinned. “Told you.”

“This is amazing.” you quickly took another bite, savouring the way the caramel oozed between the layers of waffle. “Why have I never had one of these before?”

“Because you had a sad, stroopwafel-less existence until I saved you.” he leaned back smugly, sipping his drink. “You’re welcome.”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t argue. “Fine. I’ll admit it. You were right.”

“Oh, say that again?”

You rolled your eyes, finishing off your stroopwafel. “Don’t get used to it.”

Lando chuckled and nudged your foot under the table. “See? Now Belgium isn’t just about racing for you. Now it’s also about experiencing life-changing snacks.”

You sighed dramatically. “I feel so enlightened.”

“As you should.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping your drinks as the world buzzed around you. The café was warm, the stroopwafels were sweet, and Lando, well, Lando was being his usual goofy self, but with that undeniable charm that made your heart squeeze a little.

After a moment, he tapped his fingers on the table. “Alright, next up, frites with mayo.”

You groaned. “Lando, how much food are you planning to make me eat today?”

He gave you an innocent look. “It’s called cultural appreciation.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine. But if I can’t fit into my jeans tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll buy you new ones” he said, smirking. “Consider it an investment in our adventure.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow, even a simple afternoon of snacks and stories with Lando turned into an adventure. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[wintercarnage]

☥  ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 delirium.　⠀p. parker & t. stark . . .

( ♱ ) … Sickness makes Peter forget something important.

777 。。masterlist

Everything is hot. A burning, heavy feeling that encompasses everything. All of Peter’s senses have been invaded by it. There’s sandbags on his arms—must be, with the heaviness and pain of them. He can’t think, even, the blare of pain drowning out any conscious thought.

A moan of pain escapes his lips, throat dry and aching with disuse. “Dad,” he calls weakly, throat straining with the motion. “Dad.”

There’s voices. It’s all muffled—something’s wrong with his ears. Something is wrong with his body. God, why does everything hurt so much? What did he do to deserve whatever curse has befallen him? He cleaned up the lab last time he used it!

“Dad,” Peter calls again. His eyes are so heavy. Maybe his dad is here—he just can’t see him. With strength that feels monumental, Peter forces his eyes open, blinking away the dry crust in them. The room is bland, dark. And empty of any other people. Couch, bed he’s in, IV drip, TV on the wall. Pale green, white, silver. A dull atmosphere smelling of lemon cleaner, a perfect match to the dull aching between his eyes.

It’s not long before someone comes in. Peter floats between conscious and not, mind rolling this way and that like a toy boat on its first journey through bobbing waters. As far as Peter can make out, it’s a doctor. Someone he should know, if reaching for the name didn’t feel like grabbing at straws.

“Where’s my dad?” Peter asks. The doctor startles, and Peter realizes she must not have known he’s awake. She’s silent for a long moment that drags and drags. Peter’s eyes are so heavy. He’s so, so tired. Is he allowed to go back to sleep? No, he has to wait for his dad. That’s right.

“I’ll get him for you,” she says eventually. She checks over his vitals, murmuring about “stable yet low.” When she does leave, she calls down the hall for “Tony.”

Peter lets out a low whine of protest—she said she’d get his dad. Briefly he thinks Tony might be another doctor, and that maybe she’s looking for a second opinion. The thought is trampled when another wave of pain floods in and Peter curls into a ball on his side, back to the door.

The door opens and closes. The sound sends knives into Peter’s ears, and he raises his hands, almost expecting a hot rush of blood. The skin is dry, and it leaves him fumbling. If there’s no blood, why does it hurt so much? But, oh, he’s crying. That’s what that sound is—small and sharp, interspersed with wheezed, broken inhales.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, you’re okay.” Peter forces his eyes open again at the voice. The room swims and dips.

“Dad?” Peter croaks desperately. “It hurts. I don’t feel good.”

“I know, bambino. I’m sorry.” He sits on the bed beside Peter, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“That doctor lady asked for Tony,” Peter mumbles. He shoves himself forward—an act that gets him only an inch or two of movement—and rests his head in his dad’s lap. “Who’s Tony? Another doctor? Do I need another doctor?”

There’s more silence—why is everyone so quiet? It does help the pounding of his head, but it also lets the nausea running rampant under his skin take over without distraction. Numbly, Peter tracks his eyes around the room. The TV is still off.

“You’re fine. Just get some more rest, okay?” His dad says eventually.

“Okay,” Peter mumbles as he sinks back under.

—

When Peter wakes up again, the heavy fog that had been wrapped around his brain has receded. The room is still mostly dark, but the blinds have been pulled up halfway, allowing sunlight to filter through and fall across the floor. The TV is playing on mute, the actress on screen doing some elaborate dance number.

Peter’s gaze lands on the couch, where a figure is cramped on the cushions, blanket around shoulders, and flipping through a thin stack of papers.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter forces out. He coughs weakly into his elbow, throat dry and scratchy.

“Hey, kid.” Tony sits up, pushing the papers off to the side. “You back with me?”

“Yeah, I—I think so.” Peter pushes himself up, arms trembling with the effort.

“Hungry? Thirsty? Your throat sounds dry.”

“Some water would be nice.”

While Tony calls for water—and food, though Peter didn’t ask for that—Peter takes a moment to breathe without feeling like an elephant is on his chest. The heater hums away, pumping heat and making Peter aware of the chill in his bones. His fever must have broken at some point.

“Food’s on the way,” Tony says, putting the phone down. He walks around the bed and places the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” Peter responds with a watery grin. “Not fun.”

“On par, then. Doc said you’d have a speedy recovery.”

“Not like me to get so sick,” Peter mumbles. “Completely stupid. I hate being sick.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

The food arrives a little while later: mac and cheese, chicken strips, applesauce, and two slices of pepperoni pizza. It’s all delicious; exceptional, even, but it just makes Peter want to go home even more. He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been in the infirmary, tucked away at the back of the compound, but it’s been long enough, if he has anything to say about it. Peter can already feel the familiar itch to get back on the streets, longing for the moment of weightlessness between one swing and the next.

“What did you tell May?” Peter asks suddenly, halting Tony, who has a pizza slice raised halfway to his mouth.

“Exactly what happened. You got sick, and my doctors were taking care of you. She came up to see you a few times, but you were always asleep.”

“I feel like I slept for a week,” Peter mutters. “After getting hit by a bus.”

Tony cracks a smile. “The jokes are back. Must be feeling a lot better, then?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter limply stirs his applesauce, trying not to focus on the ache of his legs. “Can we watch Star Wars?”

“Sure, kid.”

[hockybish]

I Didn't Want This Either

l Luke Hughes l masterlist l part 1 l * warning: death *

"Can we talk?" Jack knocked on the window of Luke's car. He didn't like what he was going to ask Luke, but he needed to get the conversation over with.

"What's up?" Luke watched as Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

Jack took a deep breath in, counted to five, before let out the inhaled air.

"I know this is never probably going to happen, but I just want to be prepared just in case. because you never know what could happen. and Addie agrees with me, for once, I know it's crazy.

"Jack spit it out."

"Now that I have two kids. I've been thinking more about what happens to them if something happens to us. And I think I want you to raise them if we can't." The older brother asked of the younger one.

"Jack, I don't know." Luke contemplated what he was being asked, which was really nothing, but he knew. "Isn't there anyone better for the job? Mom? Quinn?"

"No, Luke. Quinn and Liv have enough going on and Mom and Dad don't need to raising two little kids after the raised us." Jack explained. "Plus you're great with them and they love you so much. Please Lukey."

"Fine"

"Great! I'll add you to daycare pick up." Jack reached over to give his brother an awkward hug before they went on with their separate ways.

--

"You're pretty." Jack chanced a glanced over at his beautiful wife. They had just dropped the kids off at daycare and were on their way to the rock.

"You're not too bad yourself Mr. Hughes" Addie said scrunching her nose at the man next to her.

"I'll talk to Luke or Nico today, maybe one of them can take the kids and we can have tonight." He kept looking back and forth from the road to his wife.

"Jack watch the road please." She clenched her jaw. There was traffic all around them, making her feel a bit nervous.

"What Ads? It's fine." Jack's eyes left the road again to look at his wife.

"Jack!"

Jack never saw the car until it was too late.

--

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Luke jumped out of bed. He scrambled to get ready for practice when the brain fog cleared and he saw it was after 10 am already.

He was so late. His alarms must not have gone off or something, because he was never late for practice. And here he was going to be late for the first time in forever.

Luke chose to forgo his usual morning routine and caffeinated beverage, thinking it might give a chance to get to the practice facility faster.

He was almost there when the traffic started to picked up. There must have been an accident. All sorts of emergency vehicles were surrounding the area.

As Luke got closer to the heart of the situation he noticed a two crumpled up cars. A silver one and a very familiar looking green one.

Luke got a good long look at the wreck as he passed it. Two white sheets littered the ground, the car accident must have been that bad that people died.

That's why there was so much commotion.

He felt bad for the family that was going learn the news that they lost people they loved. Little did he know his phone was blowing up at the moment, messages and phone calls from his parents and brother, family members, teammates, and close friends with that specific news.

The now super late hockey player got to his destination only an hour later than he was supposed to be there. He thought it was a bit odd how the normally packed parking garage was near empty. Where was everyone?

"Luke what are you doing here?" Nico frowned at the defensemen who was trying to get ice ready as fast as he could.

"I know I'm late. I didn't set my alarm and then there was some big accident. I'll do extra of whatever you want. I'm sorry." Luke finishing up lacing his skates up. If he had been looking at Nico eye's went wide at the mention of the accident.

"Practice was cancelled a couple of hours ago."

"Why would they do that we have a game tomorrow?"

"The league is thinking of postponing it"

"Why?" he stopped what he was doing to look up at his captain. There was a feeling in the room, there was something seriously wrong.

Luke finally glanced around the empty locker room, it held the same odd feeling that the lot had.

"Um. Have you looked at your phone lately?" The older man scratched the back of his head nervously.

Luke furrowed his brows at the question. No, he hadn't looked at his phone, he had been a little busy trying to get there as quickly as he could, the action didn't feel necessary at the time.

But now a bad sinking feeling was telling him that maybe he should.

He had a total of 19 missed calls from him Mom, Dad, and Quinn alone. Not to mention the other various voicemails that completely filled the digital voicemail box was completely filled. On top of that there were over a hundred txt messages from a variety of people.

There was even a message from Jack, a simple heart emoji followed by an 'i luv ya bro,' that was timestamped hours before everything else.

"Nico, what's going on?" His voice hitched after he read a txt from Trevor that read 'i just heard about j. i'm so sorry.' When Luke looked up from the device he took note that Nico was now accompanied by their new coach and a few devils' personal.

"Luke you should call your parents back" The captain picked at the skin around his fingers.

"No just tell me. What's going on?" He thumbed through his device trying to decipher the

"Let's take this somewhere a little more private. Yeah?" The group of higher ups attempted to usher then to a different room a little more quiet and appropriate to have this conversation. Luke shook them off, wanting them to just spit it out.

"Say it Nico" Luke shook them off. He wanted Nico to just spit it out. He was tired of this go around and the hesitation

Nico sighed heavily. He didn't want to be the one to tell his friend the news, it would be better if it were coming from a family member, but they were all on there way to New Jersey at moment. So he had to do his best.

"There was an accident" Nico began to say. Luke felt his heart beat faster, and a pit forming in his stomach as he realized what Nico was telling him. Maybe this would have been better coming from his mom or dad, hell even Quinn.

"Jack and Addie were in the car-" Nico continued. That green car that look familiar. Jack had a green car.

"No no no no no no no." He covered his ears in an attempted to block out what Nico was telling him. This wasn't happening.

"they didn't make it." Nico finished. He put his hand on Luke's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The kind gesture didn't help anyeay as Luke grabbed the nearest garbage pail and emptied the contents of his stomach in it.

It was true. It couldn't be true. Jack wasn't dead. This was all just some sort of prank, a sick joke. Jack was going to walk around the corner and say sike.

He need to get out of there. Anywhere but there. He had this pain in chest, and it was hard to breath anytime he thought of his brother.

He got in his car and drove without a destination in mind. He drove and drove until he found himself in a deserted mall parking lot, not another car or person in sight.

Luke sat in his perfectly fine car and screamed. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would be able to judge him. Not that he cared. He needed to get his emotions out.

Why Jack? Why couldn't have been him? If only he had been on time today, maybe it would have been him in that accident and Jack would still be alive.

He had been receiving texts all day. Luke ignored all of them. A few people called, he ignored those too. Ellen had been calling him at least once every hour, but he still refused to talk to her.

There was one number that had been persistently calling him, even more than his mother had. Maybe she had gotten a hold of another phone and was calling from that. He didn't know, but he finally decided to answer the call.

"Hey Luke, this is Y/N calling this Happy Times Nursery, how are you?" The very peppy and friendly lady ask.

"I'm um, I could be better. What is this pertaining to?" He mumbled his reply confirming it was him.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well we've been trying to reach Jack and Addie for a couple of hours now seeing that it is well past pick up time for Lucy and Felix. We were just wondering if someone was on their way to retrieve them. They are our last kids for the night and we would like to go home."

Shit, the kids

Let me know what you guys think!