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always-andromeda · 7 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Frankie Morales x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3,038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ After recruiting you to be his plus one for yet another wedding, Frankie can't help but ruminate on and regret the last one he brought you to.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Lolabee!! I'm super excited to finally share that I'm your secret Valentine!! I apologize in advance for posting this so late in the game; exam week has been super hectic. That being said, I decided to give myself a little bit of a challenge and write something for Frankie for the first time ever. I should preface this by saying that when I read your prompt for rom-com vibes, I immediately began filing through all of my favorite rom-coms. And since my current favorite is Plus One, this fic is very much inspired by it!! Happy late Valentine's Day!! (dt: @thelightsandtheroses) (divider credits: @cafekitsune)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ fluff with little bits of angst (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no physical description given to the reader except for the fact that she wears makeup, mentions of alcohol and references to the reader drinking, the slightest references to Frankie's past, this fic is almost entirely removed from the movie's canon (these characters are basically my paper dolls that I'm making do cute things<3), idiots in love, they tease each other, they go to a wedding, misunderstandings occur, but it all works out <3

“You’re bringing your own tissues this time, right?” Frankie called from where he sat at the edge of the bed. He’d slept in far worse places. But he could already feel new knots forming on top of the old ones in his back. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to spending yet another night attempting to sleep on the dense hotel room mattress.

You replied from the bathroom, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m prepared.”

“You better be. Because you’re not using my tie to blow your nose again.”

If you were in the room, Frankie could’ve practically felt your glare burning a hole through him. But instead he only heard the clear exasperation in your tone when you answered, “I did not use your tie to blow my nose.”

“Might as well have…” he mumbled. Santi’s wedding had claimed that casualty. By the end of the ceremony you’d soaked his tie in tears and covered it with a fine layer of translucent powder from dabbing your face off. And as much as he teased, he hadn’t minded it. He hadn’t minded it any more than he’d minded the distant friends and relatives who’d assumed that you were his girlfriend. Which…wasn’t an insulting assumption by any means.

The next time – at Benny’s wedding – Frankie brought you tissues. He didn’t like to think about Benny’s wedding. But if there was one thing he was happy about, it was that he’d thought far enough ahead to bring them for you. He was glad to see your smile. To feel your arms wrap around him as you thanked him and told him he was such a sweetheart. He was also grateful for the Hawaiian sun; for the developing sunburn that had prevented you from seeing how much that one nickname made his cheeks flush in that moment.

Your head popped out of the bathroom doorway, your makeup only half done, to aim a smartass smile at him with your lined lips. “Hey, I like to think of it as a gift. You should too.”

“Your ability to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You're damn right,” you said indignantly.

Frankie sighed, pushing his hair back for about the dozenth time. He then laid back on the bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “If we’re lucky, this is the first and last time you’ll need to worry about packing some to begin with. Will’s the last stop on the wedding train.”

The thought almost made him misty eyed. Within a few hours, he’d be the last single man in his crew. The last one awake at the sleepover. Eyes so wide they were practically ablaze staring through the uncertainty of night. Unable to find sleep. Unable to believe he’d ever find it to begin with.

Your voice cut through his trance. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe next year we’ll get an invite for Tom’s second wedding,” you teased.

Frankie rolled his eyes. At least he could take some sort of comfort in that. Redfly had tried out the whole settling down thing. And it just didn’t work. Frankie wished his buddies well, but he couldn’t help but feel deep down that they’d never be made for domesticity. They weren’t made for teary-eyed speeches and destination weddings.

“Don’t count on it,” he drawled.

“Don’t count on it,” you mimicked Frankie’s slow, gruff voice which earned a small laugh from him. “I’ll tell you what, I bet you that Ben’s best man speech isn’t going to be nearly as good as Will’s was.”

He attempted to recall what Will had even said only a few months prior. It had to have been good, the man was a public speaker, for Christ’s sake. He guessed, “That one was long, right?”

“Yeah…don’t you remember it? Frankie, were you even there?”

“I was there alright.” He laughed to mask the wince he wanted to let out. Then he cleared his throat, throwing out another vague guess, “But I seem to remember that by the end of it, he needed some damn tissues too.”

“If you had a shithead little brother who managed to get married before he could experience massive head trauma, you’d probably get a little choked up too.” You added more to yourself than to him, “God, Frankie, how do you forget a speech like that? It was fucking beautiful.”

There was a very high likelihood that he had forgotten. Frankie spent almost every day following that entire night trying to forget it. And he wondered how in the world you remembered it either considering how much you’d drank.

If you could remember what Will had said…you should’ve remembered what you’d said too, right? You, standing in the bathroom and observing yourself in the mirror as you combed through your lashes to separate them, had to have known what you said to him that night. Because he knew it. Whether he liked it or not, he had that particular speech memorized with the way it ran through his head.

Frankie had known you were in a tough spot. Hell, it was part of the reason why he’d brought you along; part of the reason why Benny had insisted Frankie take you.

She just got broken up with, Frankie had tried to reason.

Benny had merely smirked, Which is the exact reason why you should invite her out. Give her a chance to get fucked up. Spend the night with one of the bachelors. It’s the quintessential wedding experience.

Frankie couldn’t have even pretended to mask his disgust at the idea. But he couldn’t lie…bringing you along again sounded leagues above going alone.

And now, sometimes he wished he had toughed it out instead.

No matter how much he tried to forget, the details always flashed through his mind. The way your fingers ran through his hair. How your touch managed to stay so soft despite how completely out of it you were. But that’s how you’d always been with him. Even at his absolute worst points when he was a less than ideal man, you found some shred of decency inside him that you never hesitated to cradle and nurture.

Maybe that’s what had made those tangles form in his stomach; the idea that he was taking advantage of that kindness.

Because that wasn’t…you. You wouldn’t have done that in your right mind. If your boyfriend hadn’t just broken up with you. If you hadn’t just found out that the entire time Nick had been cheating on you with that woman from accounting in his office. If you hadn’t drank way too much. None of this would be happening if you weren’t at your absolute lowest.

So he wiped the slate clean. It’d almost always been easy to do that. To simply forget. But he should’ve known better by now. Those things he somehow managed to lock up always found a way to ooze out of the cracks in his facade.

There were a few times Frankie thought you might crack during the ceremony. Especially when Will read out his vows, because of course the guy went the extra mile, delivering them with that stern reverence that made him the kind of guy you wanted on your team.

But you didn’t cry. This time…you grabbed his hand. It almost didn’t occur to him that you had until Will kissed his now wife and you squeezed Frankie’s hand in excitement. For a moment, he wondered if you’d managed to get a drink in before the ceremony. You couldn’t have; the bar wasn’t supposed to open until afterwards. He knew it couldn’t have been an alcohol induced action but he was still afraid to acknowledge it.

So he kept as still as possible. Even when the ceremony ended and you began to pull him around the venue. Though he knew his hand was getting clammier with every minute that passed, he let you drag him around the little circles of friends and family of the bride and groom. He had checked out enough that he didn’t quite realize what he’d gotten himself into until you were bringing him to the dance floor and positioning his hands on your hips.

Only when you let go of his hand and placed your own on his shoulders did it strike him how similar this felt to that night at Benny’s wedding.

You spoke like you were treading thin ice. “That speech was…surprisingly alright.”

“And you didn’t cry,” he remarked equally as carefully.

“I didn’t cry!” you exclaimed.

“It would’ve been fine if you had.”

You shook your head, “That wasn’t the kind of speech you cry at. It was simple. Sweet. I liked it. Who would’ve thought Benny’d have it in him, right?”

“So what do you do for that kind of speech?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A polite clap. Maybe a cheer.”

“A cheer? Maybe you should’ve brought your pom poms instead of tissues.”

The way you scrunched up your nose into a playful grimace tugged at his heartstrings. Then you laughed, “Shut up.” God, he loved when you and him fell into this groove.

So he continued with the bit, “You should get some for Tom’s wedding. The guy deserves a whole damn squad if he gets all tied up again.”

“Thought you said I shouldn’t count on it?”

“If you’re gonna count on anyone getting married soon, it’s better if it was him.” Frankie clicked his tongue, “Not like I’m going off the market anytime soon.”

“Oh, Frankie, stop it.” Your smile dropped ever so slightly, eyebrows turned inward as you gazed at him with something akin to pity or sympathy; he wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have no idea what the future could bring.”

“Not a wedding, that’s for damn sure.”

Your expression only intensified. He recognized it well after the amount of times you’d talked him off a ledge. “You can’t just discount the possibility entirely,” you argued.

“I can and I will,” he said stubbornly.

You were quiet for a few seconds, “So you’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? I mean…who would your best man be?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Your lip quirks to the side of your face as you feign a contemplative look before concluding, “Probably Santi.”

“Look at you, you did it for me,” Frankie deadpanned.

“I could plan the whole damn thing for you, don’t test me.”

“Why’s that?”

This time you pressed your lips together. And Frankie swears he felt you stumble over your own feet ever so slightly; like he’d caught you off guard with the query. “Oh, you know…weddings usually aren’t those things that people are eager to plan.”

“But why would you specifically be planning it? Unless you’re–”

A beat passes before you break out into an incredulous grin. “You’d want me to marry you and plan our wedding? That’s a tall order. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick one or the other, sorry.”

Frankie chuckles. He let the remark pass. He always enjoyed this back and forth. How you and him had always been able to bounce off of each other. It was hard enough keeping up with some of the guys. But keeping up with women was a whole different story. He always seemed to be a few steps behind most of them. For some reason, your pace was just perfect. Your humor, your timing, it all clicked with his personality.

Just like you were prone to doing, you broke the silence with an awkward laugh and big eyes staring right into his. “So…which one do you pick?”

He almost didn’t catch the question; almost didn’t want to. “Hm?”

“Would you rather marry me or have me plan your wedding?” you clarify.

“Come on, you know I’m not answering that.”

And the tide shifted once more. Just as quick as you were to smile, your expression melted into one of muted mortification. Like you’d just tilted your hand a little too far

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Your hands slid off his shoulders and you wiped them off on your dress before wrapping them around yourself. That was when you retreated, leaving him standing there looking like more of a fool than he ever thought he had.

He stared after you for a few seconds, struggling to process what had just happened when it finally registered.

Soon he was following after you. How you knew to navigate the venue so quickly, he couldn’t be bothered to wonder. All he knew by the time he got to the lobby of the wedding hall was that something was wrong.

He spotted you rushing down the sidewalk as he stepped outside. In all his exasperation, all he could get out was, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The cool night air of the fall settled in and billowed around him like a curse. He wasn’t quite sure if the deep chill that ran down his spine was from the weather or the sight of you turning around, eyes already wet with tears that you were desperately trying to blink away.

Your voice came out hoarse as you shouted back, “You’re asking me what the fuck? No, Frankie, what the fuck is up with you? I kissed you…God…how many months ago? And you don’t say a fucking word. I keep talking about Benny’s wedding and you keep acting like none of it fucking happened.”

Frankie threw his hands up. “You were drunk. I don’t even remember how many fucking drinks you had.”

“I had a couple virgin cocktails,” you scoffed. The admittance wasn’t stubborn. But it did come with a tone of disdain, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“You wouldn’t–” he stopped himself. You wouldn’t have done any of that unless you were drunk.

“You acted like you were drunk.”

You shook your head. “I was having fun. I was with you and I was having fun, you dumbass.” Then you sighed, gaze darting towards the street nervously. “And I woke up the morning after and I thought that…I thought you would’ve at least said something. I thought you would’ve asked me how I felt. I thought you would’ve had the decency to at least check in. But you were just…you were completely fine.”

“I wasn’t fine…”

“And now you want to crack jokes about marrying me?”

Frankie wagged a finger in your direction, an almost childish defense. “You brought that shit up first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, that doesn’t matter,” you muttered before raising your voice once more. “What matters is that I kissed you. I looked into your eyes and told you I fucking loved you and you said nothing.”

Hearing your voice say it again, even filled with such frustration, such anguish, he could help the way something fluttered in his chest. And even still, he shoved it down deeper than he ever had before.

“Because I wasn’t going to hurt you the way that Nick did.” He watched your gaze soften. “It would’ve killed me to hurt you like that.”

With the sounds of the city passing you both by, Frankie caught one of the worst sights possible. The tear that rolled down your cheek. And then the few more that followed, all shamelessly continuing their desolate stride down your neck. How you unclenched your jaw and unfolded all of the pain you’d kept since that summer into a few words. “You hurt me worse than Nick ever did.”

Your whole being compacted in on itself once more, recoiling from the vulnerable admission with a breathless conclusion. “Fuck you, Frankie. Fuck you.”

There it all was. And all he could think about was that night at Benny’s wedding. The night you told him you were glad Nick was gone. The night you smiled softly at him, thumb running over his bottom lip as you whispered.

I love you.

They were such fragile words. Words he hadn’t wanted to put any weight on, lest they shatter from beneath him and leave him falling face down in his own hopes. Because a small part of him had almost always hoped it was you. He never let himself truly believe the idea for long. But, God, he wanted to…could he still? He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice trembled in time with his hands. And he’d fully come to terms that it wasn’t just the cool air. He wasn’t a stranger to fearing for his life, with the work he’d once done, it was a given. But this wasn’t that. This was different. It was a fear of something a little more abstract. Because following this risk, there wouldn’t be oblivion. On the other side of his eyelids was a world where you either forgave him or you brushed him away. He certainly believed he deserved the latter with the way he’d been. But he’d never know unless he took the plunge.

When he opened his eyes again again he was grateful to find you still standing in front of him. He wouldn’t let this night steal his courage again. He repeated, voice firmer than before and charged with certainty, “I’m sorry.” Then finally replied, “I love you too. I love you.”

You gave him those hope filled eyes once more. He saw how it slowly morphed into joy; the kind that carried peace. You stepped closer, fingertips brushing against the material of his jacket as you reached for him.

Frankie closed the gap without any hesitation, his own hand moving to cradle your face as he moved in to kiss you. None of his recollections of the first time he’d done it could’ve ever lived up to the second one. There was no dread, no looming guilt, no fear. Only excitement and hope.

“If I could only pick one. I’d marry you. Any day…I’d marry you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back. And with his eyes still closed, he felt you smile as you answered, “Maybe I’ll ask you again next year. For now, let’s have this.”

“I can handle that,” he smiled then melted into you once more. And already it was something he knew he could easily get used to. Next time you asked, he’d be ready.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#spacesisterssecretvalentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic

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hardly-an-escape · 7 months

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Fluffbruary Days 14-17

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Hob sighs and leans back in the hotel bathroom tub. At least it’s deep. He’s got a glass of whiskey, which tomorrow Hob will probably regret – not due to the alcohol, just the fact that it’s from the room minibar and costs three times what it’s actually worth – and he’s dumped what might be legally considered a ‘metric shitload’ of bubbles into the hot water, and he can finally, finally relax.

He likes these conferences; he honestly does. It’s refreshing, to connect with people in his field and both commiserate and be reminded why they do what they do.

They’re just also exhausting – even for an extrovert like Hob.

His limbs are feeling pleasantly warm and heavy and he’s halfway through his whiskey when the phone rings.

For some ungodly reason the hotel has put a phone in the bloody bathroom, so at least he doesn’t have to get up, just haul himself far enough out of the water to reach the counter.

“Hello?” he says irritably.

“Hob?” says the voice on the other end of the line. “I have a question about one of your citations in the paper you presented this morning. I was…”

“Morpheus?”

“Obviously. I was wondering about –”

“Morpheus, it’s –” Hob tries to break in.

“– about the research on Jonson that you cite in –”

“Morpheus, it’s after nine o’clock in the evening.”

There’s a long pause.

“Is it?” the other man says uncertainly.

“Yes, you absolute walnut.”

“I… was working. I must have lost track of time.”

“Why on earth are you still working? Don’t you have a flight in the morning?”

“I suppose I have. Nothing better to do.”

Hob doesn’t know Morpheus all that well; they see one another a few times a year, at seminars and conferences. They argue cheerfully about the merits of various Elizabethan playwrights, they – yes, fine, they flirt over cocktails at receptions, occasionally – but they don’t really talk. And yet he can see Morpheus, curled up in an uncomfortable desk chair at the cramped little hotel room desk, papers spread in front of him. The man has a memorable presence and a genius mind. And thin, elegant, fidgety fingers, which Hob imagines wrapped up in the phone cord.

And a dark, velvety voice, which is currently pouring into Hob’s ear.

“I apologize for disturbing your evening, Hob.”

“That’s alright. But you ought to find some way to relax tonight, for goodness’ sake.”

“Oh, ought I?” Morpheus sounds – amused? “And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Well, I for one am drinking a whiskey and having a very nice bubble bath.” Hob splashes deliberately. “And I can only recommend that course of action.”

“From an academic standpoint, Dr. Gadling?” Morpheus asks dryly.

Hob sinks a little deeper into the hot water. “Naturally, Dr. Murphy. From what other standpoint might I recommend it?”

Desire swells and pools in his belly. He can’t help it, with Morpheus’s voice in his ear bringing the man’s image so vividly to his mind’s eye. The sharp grey-blue eyes and even sharper cheekbones, which contrast soft lips.

“I’m sure I couldn’t even begin to guess.” Lord, but that voice is smoother than the whiskey Hob has just polished off.

“Perhaps sometime I’ll have the opportunity to enlighten you,” he says boldly.

“Perhaps.” Hob thinks he can hear a smile. “Good night, Hob.”

“Night, Morpheus.”

A click, and the line goes dead. Hob leans up to hang up his own handset and recedes back into the bubbles.

Morpheus would be a tactile lover, he’s sure of it. His hands prove it; that nervous, artistic elegance. Hob’s own hands drift lower, slip between his legs.

Perhaps sometime he’ll have an opportunity, indeed.

prompt list!

#my writing #dreamling #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #the sandman #oh my god it's a human au where they're both academics HOW REVOLUTIONARY lol #be the fanfic you want to see in the world

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witchersmistress · 9 months

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My little darling

Hello my darlings! here is another kinky prompt request from the lovely @livesinfantasyland,

Summary: Walter the grumpy bear that he is, has to go interview a witness at the last place on earth hed like to be in let alone with a rookie involved

word count: 1.4k

Trigger warning: lap dance, oral male recieveing, bodily fluids, blow jobs, praise kink, daddy kink

Walters pov

I am so ready for this fucking night to be over. Slamming my hand on the desk causing my entire desk to rattle. I search for my phone and flip it over, it is a quarter to 11, you're at work by now so i wont have you to go home to. “Marshall” my chief yelled “ My office, now” huffing I pushed back from my desk and stood making my way into his office. “Yes sir, you wanted to see me?” he motioned for me to close the door, shutting the door with my foot. Sitting in the chair in front of me. “ I need your help on the case involving the dead politician. He had a regular spot he liked to frequent and we have evidence that he was there the night he died.” i cocked an eyebrow, “But…” he dropped the folder on his desk with a heavy sigh “You are the only detective i feel comfortable sending here” i grabbed the file and opened it.

Inside was what information we had on the politician, his name was Alex O’Connell age 35. Stuff about his career and how he was next in line to be the senator for Minnesota. I snorted at those as I perused the rest of the file. The lab found some particulate evidence on his lap that they were able to identify as strawberry body glitter, the same type of body glitter that is often used by the girls at the Showroom. I looked at him “Really sir? Why me?” he let out a loud laugh “Because Marshall you are unfazed by anything. Take Maxwell with you, he could use some entertainment "I rolled my eyes and stood from my spot “Say no more sir, on my way "I walked out of his office as he continued to laugh.

Grabbing an empty paper cup i throw it at the back of Ressler’s head, he spun around “What the fuck Marshall” grabbing my coat and phone, “Thats for turning my night into a longer one dickhead. Maxwell with me. Now” he scrambled around at his desk and ran to catch up with me. “Where are we going” he asked when he finally climbed into the car, starting her up “ We are going to the Showroom” his face blanched and his eyes widened. If he wasn't already seated I'm pretty sure he would have fallen down. Putting the car in drive we took off.

We arrived at the club shortly after 11: 30 pm. Climbing out of the car, and around the side into the building. It was dark and the music was a low thumping beat, the floors rattled with the vibrations of the speakers. Maxwell looked like a deer in headlights as we approached a group of ladies. They were sitting on a stage, there were 4 of them, the redhead in the center of the group, she had her hair pulled back, curled slightly at the end. She had on this beautiful oriental blue lingerie set, with black fishnet thigh highs and black high heels. She tossed her hair back and looked over at us as we approached. She flashed a wicked grin as we showed our badges. “Good evening ladies, I’m detective Walter Marshall and this is my partner Chris Maxwell.” I looked at him, his hands shaking as he held up his badge for them to see. Rolling my eyes i turned back to their leader, “We are looking for the particular girl that uses this stuff” pulling the evidence bag from the folder revealing the small container of strawberry body glitter “ It is called Strawberry Lust Dust” The redhead girl smirked and uncrossed her legs and left them slightly parted “That would be me doll” she stood and sauntered over.

She went to Maxwell first, it was dark here but it wasn't hard to guess that he was blushing harder than a cherry tomato. “Come with me gentlemen '' she purred as she grabbed Maxwell's tie and pulled him along behind her. I let out at chuckle as we walked down a hallway past a velvet curtain to a private area, she pulled Maxwell to a stop and pushed him back into a chair and summoned me with a come hither gesture and pushed me into the chair before her “That’ll be $60'' maxwell happily handed her the money as she giggled wickedly and began to dance, she straddled my lap, and pushed her breast into my face and giggled “ Ms. I am here to talk about Alex O’Connell.." I trailed off as she climbed off my lap and started swaying her hips to the beat of the music. “ You're not so interested in talking now are you, baby?” she wiggled her eyebrows at me in a seductive manner as she crouched, opening her legs so we could see her run her hands from below the belt up to her neck as she stood and whipped her hair around.

Clearing my throat, “ Alex O’Connell, he was next in line to be the senator may have been a client of yours ” she turned to face me still swaying her hips “Yea Alex he is a regular what about him?” She put one leg between my thighs and bent over, shaking her ample cleavage in my face, her body shimmering in the low light. Standing back up she continued to dance “We found evidence that you gave him a lap dance the night that he died” i spoke.

“He died? Whoa” she sat down on my thigh and released a heavy breath.” gave him a couple of dances the Thursday night, he was pretty drunk. He got in a fight and Marcus threw him both out.” she looked at me to maxwell and back to me “Wait am i a suspect because all i do i gyrate and that has never killed anyone” Maxwell stifled a laugh, i cleared my throat “ Did he get into a fight with the bouncers?” she was tapping her nails on her heel “ No it was another politician, blonde hair, Joey something” Maxwell shot up from his seat “ Joe Evans, he lied to me, we should go talk to him” i nodded and he pointed to the girl on my lap “Then ask her to get up” she smiled wickedly “I think thats going to be kinda awkward isnt it now baby doll” i huffed a laugh “That's my gun” she giggled wickedly “Maxwell wait for me outside” he was hesitant to go “Now Maxwell” he took off without a second glance.

She stood from my lap and took a few steps back “Amelia” I growled “Come here now” she shook her head at me “Make me Daddy” . She called me from her spot. “Baby girl now” she sauntered towards me, I gripped her by her hips and pulled her onto my lap, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “ I should spank you for that stunt you pulled, your lucky Maxwell has no idea who you are” she pouted at me with those blood red lips “ Fuck, your lips would looks so good wrapped around my cock right now” he gave me a shy smile, leaning back, i pulled out my throbbing cock and began to stroke myself “Now dance for me little one and when i tell you, you better suck down every last drop do you understand 2me?” she nodded and began to dance for me again.

She climbed that pole and danced like she owned that room. Just as I could feel my balls tighten, she climbed off the stage and purposefully bent over and showed me her wet panties. “Get over here now” she turned round and took my cock into her mouth. I wrapped her hair around my fist and the other one around her throat. “Such a good fucking girl” she hummed and started working me with her mouth, doing that thing with her tongue, she sent me over the edge. She continued to swallow me down till I dragged her up my body and devoured her mouth with mine. Pulling away, as she caught her breath “ I’m not done with you yet little one, I’ll see you soon” “Yes sir” she giggled and climbed to her feet giving me a quick kiss on my cheek before she sauntered away to fix the lipstick smeared all over her face. Stopping at the gentlemen's room getting off what I could , I made my way to my truck where Maxwell was waiting for me. Starting the truck and getting ready to leave, I looked at the time 12:30 am. Grabbing my phone i sent her a quick text “Be ready my little darling, you have yet to receive proper punishment”

#henry cavill characters #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henrycavill smut #walter marshall fanfiction

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bluebellofbakerstreet · 2 months

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BluebellofBakerstreets 007 fest 2024 finish line master post

15 point art:

(I know we don't use points anymore, but it's how I'm used to organizing things.

Spot the Difference, Pub Wedding, Q in Covent Garden, Kingston

10 point art:

Big Ben, Q Paper Doll Drawings, Llewellyn Q, Strawberry Fields, Camille Montes, Eve Moneypenny, Nomi, Dalton Bond, May Day, Severine, Cleese Q, Dr No Cover

5 point art:

M&M Cat, Rebus Pictures

5 point writing:

Dr. No, or James and the Magical Island

Scavenger Hunt Fills:

#6 Design 3 outfits for a Bond character or your Station character to be worn on 3 separate occasions.

#26 You need to create an identifying image of a Bond character of your choice for one of your contacts. For reasons too dreadful to recount, your voice is temporarily shot and all pencils, pens, paper, tablets, and other traditional sketching materials are unavailable. Find a way to show the character's appearance using any other equipment (food, household materials, dirt, whatever) of your choice.

#28 Fill a prompt on the 007 Fest 2024 prompt on the Anon Prompt Exchange! I did two: here and here (prompts are listed below)

#39 It's never too early to introduce James Bond to the next generation, although some of the content is too mature. And too long. Rewrite a Bond book or movie as a children's book. If you can, record yourself reading it like a bedtime story to a child!

#41 Create a remix that's inspired by the work of somebody also participating in 007 Fest (with their permission). i.e. art to a fic, a fic of a fic, make a podfic, etc (ex: Illustrate a scene from a different point of view) I did this twice: here and here.

#58Create and post a Bond-themed crossword.

#59 Solve someone else's Bond-themed crossword.

#64 Find the Difference - Create an almost identical image and change a few things there (could be an edit or art). Tell us how many things have changed when you post it.

#68 Create at least 5 Bond-themed rebus puzzles

#74 Meet up with another member of Bond fandom! Take a pic to commemorate the moment. (Does not have to have identifying features in it.)

Prompt Sheet fills:

# 50 Missions in which Q will appear in different costumes, or uniform or just funny outfits!! I'm dying to see him in a police uniform and cap, or in navy uniform, in a full suit of three layers, etc.. (or Q dressed as a steward, but not for flight of course) 50

# 57 Show us a Bond character in a different historical period. 57

Collab Table:

Llewelyn Q

Strawberry Fields

Camille Montes

Eve Moneypenny

Nomi

Dalton Bond

May Day

Severine

Cleese Q

Events:

Logan Lucky 7/1

Paddington 7/5

Layer Cake 7/15

The Martian 7/22

Game making night

Game Morning 7/27

In-person meetup 7/20

57 comments

#007 fest #007fest 2024 #station pacific #my007

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

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Prompt || Bucky is the barista at a coffee shop and always screws up Reader’s name on purpose. — Requested by @aquariusbarnes <3

Pairing || Beefy!Barista!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 600

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Random prompt event || Masterlist

There were two reasons for you to regularly visit the little coffee shop around the corner from where you lived—one; the coffee was the best you’d ever had, and two; Bucky. The handsome and adorable barista that was to die for.

The aroma of delicious coffee as you walked into the shop hit you just as hard as the beautiful grin that spread across his face when he saw you, along with his eyes crinkling when he smiled brightly.

You felt so flustered and shy as you walked over to the counter. His intense gaze made you feel all fuzzy inside. Warming you up from the chilling weather outside you had just come from.

There was no line, and the place was not that crowded today, which meant the interaction with him while you ordered didn’t have to be rushed, and you could bask in the sweet and awkward spark between you two.

“Hey, Bucky,” you timidly uttered as you peeked at him underneath your lashes.

“Hey, you! How was work today?”

“O-oh, it was ok. Long, but ok. I have a few errands to run now before I go home.”

“I’m assuming you want the usual then? To go?” He beamed with a lopsided smile, already typing in your order for you to pay with that 10% off he always gave you.

“Yes, please. A large one.”

“You got it,” he nodded and picked up a paper cup. His tongue poked up slightly in concentration as he scribbled down on it, making you chuckle inaudibly at how such a beefy and broad guy could be so adorable.

You and he chatted casually with a few sweet, awkward pauses here and there while he went around behind the counter to make your drink.

“Here you go, doll.” Your fingers brushed as you took the cup from him, making a flow of sparks tingle its way through your nerves.

“T-thank you, Bucky.”

You wished you could stay longer, have your drink in the shop and secretly watch him work, falling more and more in love with the charming guy, but you had to leave, which made your heart ache incredibly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He questioned, a hint of hope laced in his tone, making your insides flutter.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Awesome! I’ll see you then, doll.”

“Bye, Bucky.” You gave him a shy wave, as did he.

Once you were outside, you took a sip of the coffee. The delicious liquid instantly warmed you and made you feel loved and whole. You moaned when you took another sip.

You turned the cup to look at the little message he had written for you. He always wrote you something sweet and corny.

“I hope this coffee warms and brightens you up just like you make a whole room feel when you walk into it. Have a lovely rest of your day.”

And below it, as expected, your name, but spelled slightly wrong.

It made you chuckle because you knew he did it on purpose since it had taken you a few times to learn his name. You blame it on being so nervous around him since he was so godly handsome, but you would never admit to that. So this was kind of his sweet and teasing revenge on you, and you didn’t mind one bit. It had become your little thing together.

Your mood became somber when you realised that it would almost go a full 24 hours until you would be back in your favourite little coffee shop—your heart already longing for its warm and cozy vibes and the handsome and adorable barista that worked there.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

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otterloreart · 13 days

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Art Prompts:

1-TV Headed Men

2-Moth Dolls

3-Planet Themed Mermaids

4-Milkshake Dragons

5-Ice Cream Themed Superheroes

6-More Magical Pony Art (I Love Them!!)

7-Ocean Themed Space Aliens

8- Sea Snakes (They’re awesome! Here’s a link to an article about them: https://blog.padi.com/sea-snake-facts/)

9-Snakes With Prosthetic Arms

10-An Otter With A Cute Little Bow In Her Head

I got way inspired by the sea snake prompt apparently and spent way more time than I meant to on them! I included the whip snake (highly stylized) as an example of a "land snake" (opened up one of my herp books to a random page).

If they were toys like the other snake designs they would include stands to represent the fact theyre "swimming" whereas the land snakes would have slightly more flat bottoms so they can "stand". The sea kraits have round bodies with flatter tails while the seasnakes have vertically oval bodies.

These designs are not 100% accurate to real snakes, obvi, they're artistic reinterpretations of the snakes design. For ex: the whip snake has a stripe, but also has very distinct scales, so I made them diamonds. And the eyelash shapes are just for cuteness.

ok facts about sea snakes I want to add to clarify some things stated in that article (just adding my own knowledge/clarifying things (PLEASE do not take offense to this i am glad to read facts about snakes i just have brain worms when it comes to snakes))

put under cut because it was getting too long

"to keep things simple" isn't... right: theyre split into different categories because they're separate evolutionary lines! And there are a handful of other differences (although the article does go into those later, but ngl thats why i dont like lists organized this way). Anyways, it makes it sound like these categories are not relevant to the evolutionary history imo

I would have clarified that while they all do have paddle like tails, the kraits actually have bodies more similar to land snakes, whereas the true sea snakes have vertically elongated bodies to make swimming easier and are bad at being on land.

Okay so this is true mostly EXCEPT we built a huge canal through panama and there have been sightings of sea snakes on the "wrong" side of the panama canal, specifically yellow-bellied sea snakes which live on the pacific side. There are no breeding populations, but due to human intervention there's potential risk of them being introduced.

See this is why I was like the categories aren't for "simplicity", the sea kraits are separated from the other sea snakes because of their many differences: a major one being that they come on land to lay eggs! A number of snakes all over the world give birth (though yes, not in the ocean) to fully formed (not "nearly") babies!

I would just add that this is part of why they can't cross over to the Atlantic! here's a paper!

...all snakes are carnivores (hence, weird thing to say)? unless you count eating eggs as being "not a carnivore". in which case this would be untrue because the turtle-headed seasnakes (genus Emydocephalus) eat primarily fish eggs!

and this one isn't quite right because of turtle-headed seasnakes again! They have almost no teeth except tiny fangs and as far as I can find are either mildly venomous or nonvenomous. since they dont hunt their venom glands are vestigial.

Sea snakes and kraits are elapids, which include other highly venomous snakes like cobras, coral snakes, and all of the highly venomous Australian species!

While doing research on realistic snake plushies, sea snakes made by WildRepublic were one of the major clear attempts at a retailer trying to be scientifically accurate.

Kraits DO actually look like cartoon animals

and yeah the olive sea snake does really look like that:

(although the olive one has apparently been taken off their website?)

although the way they title and tag their products continues to piss me off to no end, like this is an EEL not a SNAKE, they're just out here spreading misinformation and confusing things.

they completely rebranded in like 1999 because their wildlife plushies took off so personally I think they have a responsibility now to scientific accuracy since they took on that mantle. but i digress.

#sea snakes #my art #snake art #snake facts #ummmmm that was a lot im done now #reptiblr

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acapelladitty · 11 months

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Scarecrow/Harley Quinn - CNC (Kinktober #11)

Summary - The infamous Harley Quinn finds herself in quite the tricky situation when she is held captive by the equally infamous Scarecrow. (A commission for the very kind and wonderfully sweet @forthegothicheroine)

“Did you think, all those years ago, when you sat coyly in my office, batting those beautiful lashes and begging me for an extension to your paper, that it would end up like this?” Crane asked, gripping Harley’s chin in a spindly hand. “I refused you then, professional judgement, but I always knew I would have you like this. Spread around me like a common whore.”

Baby blues painfully wide and fluttering anxiously as muffled words struggled to break through the thick cotton gag which looped around her mouth, Harley was every inch the perfect little doll in his grasp; a beautiful victim with her bottle-blonde hair fanned out around her head like an angelic halo as she shook her head against the darkened sheets she found herself pinned against.

Crane’s cock was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and he rubbed it along her slickened folds, enjoying the shudder which crossed her muscular frame as her body betrayed her, the wetness there giving him all the consent he needed. Her skin was soft, like velvet coated steel due to her years of physicality and gymnastics, and it gave her a strength which he himself lacked. But here she was, presented before him like a delightful gift – one which begged to be unwrapped as her mouth and hands remained restrained to prevent any hope of escape.

A soft grunt fled his throat as his long fingers gripped her creamy hips, the indents of his fingertips brutal enough to guarantee at least a light bruise, and the hold allowed him solid purchase as he snapped his hips forward and buried himself within her in a single, violent thrust. Her warmth was immediate, and his grunt dissolved into a low, languid groan – one which only increased in volume as he slowly slid free, her walls delightfully flush around him. The loss of contact barely had time to resister as he slammed himself forward once more, his groin flush against her thick thighs.

It was addictive.

So hot and warm around him as her eyes blinked away discomforted tears. Muffled cries making her breasts bounce in such a way that Crane found it difficult to decided where to pin his hot gaze. She enthralled him; every inch of her perfect frame a siren-like call as he found himself unable to resist having her in the way he knew that so few others had.

Stretched around his cock, her walls fluttered around him greedily, pulling him in closer with every jerk of his cock and the fingers of his left hand dropped free of her hips to trail up her heaving stomach. Tracing a soft line up her abdomen, his fingers paused to tweak almost playfully at her hardened nipple before tapping along the swell of her collarbone.

“A beautiful little doll.” Crane growled, wrapping his fingers around her neck as she swallowed in panic and thrashed below him. “Just perfect to be used.”

His lazy thrusting and musings were cut short by a very deliberate sensation against his lower back as the heel of her right foot came to tap roughly at the base of his spine.

Tap.

Three distinct movements and the feel of them made his hands drop from her neck immediately as though the skin there had burned his palms. With a deft swiftness, he loosened the fabric gag and pulled it free of her mouth as his hips stilled; his cock still buried within her cunt, but unmoving as his analytical gaze swept across her face to search for an answer he knew would soon be revealed.

“Harleen?” Crane prompted; his voice softened from its previous aggression as he allowed her to settle her frantic breathing. “Do you need water? Loosened?”

“No.” Harley stuttered out. “I’m – I’m okay. Just feeling a bit, y’know.” Her words were shaky and Crane could see the shadows in her eyes, the panic there which she was so valiantly trying to hide behind a soft, placating smile.

“Do you want to stop?” His other hand still planted on her creamy hip, Crane stroked the skin there gently with the sides of his fingers. It was a simple gesture which replaced his unspoken concerns as he gazed down at her.

“Not yet.” She confirmed before pausing. “But maybe – maybe don’t put your hand on my neck again, okay?”

Her eyes, so big and blue, blinked at him and a warmth which had nothing to do with the arousal which still burned within his veins swept through his chest.

“Of course.” Crane agreed as his hips moved slowly once again, allowing Harley to set the pace a little more as he pretended to forget to reapply the thick fabric of her gag.

#Jonathan crane #scarecrow #harleen quinzel #harley quinn #scarecrow x harley quinn #scaredyquinn #gotham rogues #dc comics #cillian murphy

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the-sparkling-diamond-satine · 2 months

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WIP Ask Game!

I wasn't tagged by anyone it's just been a month and I am organizing my list of wip's and thought it would be fun to play again! Let's see how many new wip's I have + how much my list has changed in a month...

Prompt: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

you must've been looking for me (sending smoke signals)

Satine/Nini hair

Hamish offering

last minute

reunion

pleasure

preferences

aftershocks

light in the dark

Satine/Nini PWP

Satine/Nini PWP roof

Nini/Satine panic attack

4 am shower

you took it from me (but i would've given it to you)

changing room

tell me you see me

Satine Hamish panic attack

Cold Satine

Sleep talking

The Duke and Hamish

Bijou

sexting

if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did

last

first

texture (chapter 2)

"Please don't hurt me."

All Grown Up

Makeup Christian

Makeup Christian (Modern AU)

t4t (Modern AU)

Lifeguard AU

Jealous!Satine

OCD Christian

thanks, I hate it

Study abroad hook-up to LDR

Firework! for maya

shower sex (laughter during sex prompt)

to cover the bruises (which ending??)

Arabia and Satine

Christian/Satine/Nini

Friends hear through hotel walls? (Arabia and Ivy)

Arabia/Ivy + Satine/Nini + La Choc x Baby Doll

Arcade trash rat

Missing Tour Hamish

Catsit Switch Up

Exes to lovers costars in a musical

Slower burn romance

gravity will hold us as we're holding on for life (and we're racing to get older)

nightmares

safe

say please

too small to remember/too precious to forget

don't

"Come with me, to the stars!"

moments of tenderness

oral fixation

Hadestown time loop

pregnancy/kid!fic

in her sleep

non-binary Satine

Phone sex line

Coffee Shop AU

Fairy tale doesn't work

Broken mirror

Theatre AU

Elevator - piano teacher and porn star

memento mori

Lush

5 moments when it wasn't safe to be himself (and 5 when it was)

Next Time Around

trans Christian childhood

t4t

chronically ill satine ???

first binder

needy

satine/nini kiss

denied

"you're fun to touch"

experimental role reversal

airport crabs

I am tagging @falsestardust @gingerpeachtea @ashleyslorens @franniebridgertons @juanabaloo @all-seeing-ifer @sloanedestler @angel-with-paper-wings @elysabeththequeene @ven10 and anyone else who wants to play!

#ask games #yeah i write a normal amount. yeah i am good at finishing projects before starting a new one (lie)#pls send me asks i LOVE talking about my fics and wanna have something to do #PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE #THE LIMIT DOES NOT EXIST ASK ABOUT 10 IF YOU WANT I DON'T CARE #ASK ABOUT 23 #ASK ME PLS #moulin rouge #beatrice.txt

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amoebaforce · 6 months

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I just got a really cute idea for a prompt thingy. How about the WoL who uses their skills as a weaver to make Y'shtola a Runar plush? Or of you have other ideas for a similar thing with the rest of the scions, whoever you think they'd want a plush of most.

omg. anon. this is so cute, it's diabolical. enjoy!

tags: fluff, teeny tiny angst, Runar x Y'shtola shipping inbound, gn!WoL word count: 444 (unintentional but interesting)

It's waiting for her when she comes to bed: a little gift box wrapped in purple, tied with silver twine. A gift. Y'shtola closes the door behind her, stalks nearer with a slow caution, as if the thing might get up and bite her if she touches it too hard. She reads her name on the little card, and curiosity blooms like a night orchid in her chest.

The card isn't signed, but when she lifts the lid, Y'shtola finds a little note sitting in a bed of tissue paper. Looping handwriting lines the page:

Shtola, You remember a few weeks ago, when I told you I was working on my weaving? Well, with all the downtime we've had since then, I kinda got really good at it, and I wanted to make you something as a "thank you" for saving my butt a whole bunch of times. So, say hello to my newest creation. I hope it reminds you of some good times. Love, WoL.

Y'shtola practically tosses the letter aside, anticipation burning, and rips her way into the ruffled paper. Nestled within is a little doll -- but not just any doll. A silver-furred Hrothgar clad in sleeveless black robes, with pale-gold buttons for eyes and a mouth stitched into a permanent smile.

In a heartbeat, the mage's eyes fill with tears.

"Runar," she murmurs aloud, though no one will hear.

Curiosity shreds itself into lonely guilt; into the terrible, aching crush of grief. Water spills down her cheeks, and she dashes it away and sinks into her mattress, stroking a disbelieving finger across the plush's tiny face.

The Warrior made this? For her? Out of all the novelties and toys they could have chosen... Y'shtola doesn't know if she should laugh or weep. She closes her eyes and she's back beneath those purple boughs, wrapped in evercool shade and two thick arms, murmuring promises she hadn't been able to keep.

At least, not yet. She was getting closer -- she knew she was. She could feel it in her bones. Some day soon, Y'shtola would find that missing piece she'd been searching for, the key that would unlock the door back into the First, and they'd finally have their reunion. She crushes the plush to her chest and imagines it.

Heavy indigo shadow. Endless black sky. Names uttered soft and sweet in the quiet dark, unobserved and unobscured.

Y'shtola blows her held breath out her nose and wipes her eyes again. Until she had the real thing back in her grasp, she would just have to make do with this little imitation.

And she'd have to thank the Warrior in the morning, too.

#my writing #writing request #ffxiv #y'shtola rhul #runar ffxiv #y'shtola x runar #master matoya #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fluff

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chairofchaos · 17 days

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👏👏That's two compliments for you

🐶 Then one for someone else!

PLUS

Pick two prompts from the Eris Week game you haven't done yet that you really want to answer!!

AAAAH Okay I saved these for Eris Week because FUN! I'm answering this on my laptop so forgive me for the lack of emoji usage.

Compliment 1: I like the way I write. I think I'm growing every day, but I genuinely enjoy the words I put on the page and the process I have for picking them, especially surrounding the words I choose to describe certain characters.

Compliment 2: I like that I am learning to be emotional. I used to take everything so seriously and not have any fun, and on the flip side, I used to not be able to write about heavy topics with any sort of weight because I didn't know how to put those things to paper with any degree of sanity. So I'm glad to be growing in that area, as well. Does this mean I'm torturing some of my favorites on the regular? Absolutely it does. Is it worth it? Yeah. Yeah, it is.

Compliment For @ysmtttty: My friend, your writing is phenomenal. The way you describe Azriel and Eris in Red Ferrari makes them come to life off the page. I just finished your Day 2 Eris Week fic, and it made me cry. In exploring Eris' inner child, you write so beautifully that he's real. And it is truly something to see.

Prompt I want to do; [The speech bubble]: My favorite kind of comment to recieve is usually the one that says something along the lines of "I WANT TO KILL YOU CHAOS WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT" (feels like an almost verbatim comment from @c-starstuff-man0 btw) or a "I'm so scared right now" OR (and this one I stole straight from @neciebee on AO3: "Goddamn you are mean to our Ken dolls" because you're right. I'm mean to the Ken dolls.

Prompt i want to do; [The bat]: Azriel said the following to Eris during the High Lords' Meeting:

Hey, how you doing lil' mama? Let me whisper in ya ear

#this was so fun thank you #don't hesitate to send me more because I'm having a great time #happy eris week everybody!!!#erisweek2024 #I was so tempted to Rick Roll you guys you have no idea

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screamingcrows · 22 days

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bestie if you mayhaps feel up for doing it perhaps i could get rhinedottir wjth a prompt of your choice? if not then maybe a character of your choice for number 28 <3

I'm almost 100% certain this wasn't what you wanted but! /lh

Rhinedottir + 8. "This isn't what I wanted"

Most found it impossible to visualize Gold as anything but the harsh reality of progress. A sharpened blade that cut away at fallacies cushioning truth. There was no room for weakness within her workshop, a fact her students knew she had no qualms enforcing in whatever way she saw fit.

In hidden corners, whispered jests of how she'd replaced every caring bone in her body with unyielding metal might hide a sliver of truth none dared consider. For even though the researcher herself had without doubt been confronted with those rumors, they had yet to be refuted.

For a nation proud of their humanity, would it not be the greatest sin to throw that away?

You, however, shared none of those concerns. There was no doubt in your heart that Rhinedottir cared greatly for you, how could there be, with the way a hand held you firmly in her lap while dexterous fingers combed through your hair.

A chaste kiss was pressed to the nape of your neck, eliciting a pleased sound from your lips. She would often liken you to a precious little animal, far too fragile for the world in which you'd been placed. Guilt always lined those words when spoken, scratching against an unknown wound along your spine.

The shorthand flowing from pen to paper before your eyes halted with her voice, the last dot being placed before you pushed it away for now.

"Seems you've improved doll," a pale finger traced the curves of drying ink before settling atop your thigh with a squeeze, "that little mind of yours certainly has a knack for learning."

Compliments always had you beaming, understanding their rarity even if you were favored, "It's because I have a great teacher."

Her chuckle carried the promise a gentler warmth than the fires she said you'd traversed to get to her embrace. Truth be told, you had no memory of a life before her, 'trauma response' was what you'd been told, after all, a terrible war raged above the calmness of your new home.

Without issue, Rhinedottir turned you to face her, piercing golden eyes capturing your own. The subdued smirk that rested on her lips called for you to lean closer, yet you refrained when fingers tightened around your waist.

A deep breath left her vulnerable and for a moment she looked as worn as the glassware that littered the counters behind her. Crystalline shards lay scattered on the ground, having only bothered to remove any offending liquids before calling you over to record her findings.

"What a little charmer I've got," you leaned into her touch, uncaring of the sharp nails that threatened to pierce your cheek, "how about-"

It was rare to see her falter, but the pause and crease in her brow were unmistakable. Perhaps something had gotten on you? After a minute of rubbing at your skin she seemed satisfied, holding up a finger coated in black sludge for you to see.

Heat flooded your cheeks when she chuckled, "Messy creature" a kiss was pressed to the top of your head, a fond melancholy when she continued, "how about we celebrate your progress with a little trip?"

Even through the blindfold she'd insisted you wear, lest the surprise was spoiled, a dull fear settled beneath your ribs at the feeling of light dancing along your skin. Rhinedottir's arms tightened their hold a little, the familiar scent of her easing your nerves as you pressed into her.

"Just a little further, there's no need to be anxious."

"I- I don't think I want to go topside..."

Sensory deprivation had undoubtedly made the trip seem longer, there was no way she'd risk leaving. So why did the smell of smoke and death linger?

There'd been no clamour either, you couldn't have gone through any of the gateways. They were always heavily guarded these days.

A small sigh left her lips as she rubbed at your collarbone, "This isn't what I wanted-"

It felt a little wet where she'd touched, icky almost, and had your hands moving to blindly inspect it. When had you spilled something? However, you didn't get far, Rhinedottir coming to a halt and shifting her hold to something more uncomfortable.

The complaint died on your tongue as her words sunk in, 'Let me see you one last time' was that what she'd said?

Blinding light pierced your eyes as the cloth was removed, the small tut from her lips doing nothing to soothe the pain as you squinted.

"I like the blue eyes. I think I'll keep them for future creations-"

Before a scream could tear itself from your throat the jaws of a shadowy creature had already parted, swallowing all light as you were enveloped by teeth and tongue, drenched in ichor that felt like home.

The last you saw of Rhinedottir before you became one with the sludge, she'd already turned away.

Send me a character or prompt and I'll write something

#I- i don't know this was quick and dirty bestie I'm sorry #I wrote maybe half of this while *in* lab today so it isn't proofread either #it doesn't come across clearly but reader is a prototype homonculus and isn't pure - as such their body is slowly reverting to its base #but hey! pretty eyes become the groundwork for albedo!#screaming at the murder #rhinedottir x reader

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allvalleyskillschallenge · 11 months

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November: Loss & Life

From the cooling weather to the turning colors of the leaves, Autumn is a time of transformation and reflection. Of mourning and celebration. It's a bittersweet season; the falling leaves remind us that in the sorrow loss, there is also great beauty in letting go.

Accordingly, the All Valley Skills Challenge theme for November is:

Below, you will find this month's prompts. Our mods have created a series of moodboards, each inspired by a Festival of the Dead from a culture represented in the Karate Kid and Cobra Kai universe. We've also included a short description of the unique traditions of each:

(Moodboards by @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy, @desolateice and @wicked-jade.)

Dia de los Difuntos - Ecuador Celebrated on November the 2nd, and coinciding with All Souls Day, Ecuador's Dia de los Difuntos (Day of the Deceased) is a holiday that combines Catholic tradition with the death rituals of the indigenous Quechua people. On this day, families gather to honor and celebrate the lives of loved ones who have passed away. Traditionally, they visit cemeteries to clean graves and to bring gifts of flowers and food to share with those they've lost. The belief is that the food will help give souls strength for their journey to the afterlife. Stalls selling guaguas de pan (bread babies - a sweet bread piped with colorful icing, shaped to resemble a doll or baby) and colada morada (a thick, dark purple corn drink, served hot) line the streets, along with vendors selling other treats and grave decorations. In rural areas, it is common for families to dress in their finest clothes and share a picnic together in the cemetery. The festivities also often include carnivals and parades.

Kyu-Bon (Obon) - Okinawa/Japan The Obon Festival, also called Kyu-Bon in Okinawa, is celebrated throughout both Okinawa and Japan. While the holiday is based on the solar calendar in mainland Japan, in Okinawa, it follows the lunar calendar. This means it can fall anywhere from mid-July to early September. Always starting on a Monday, the celebration lasts for three days. It is customary for Okinawans from all over to Japan to return to their hometowns, in order to observe the holiday with their families. On the first day (Unke), families hang glowing lanterns outside and leave their doors and windows open, to guide and welcome the spirits of their ancestors home. They also leave offerings such as sugarcane sticks and uchikabi paper (money for the afterlife) on the family altar. On the second day (Nakanuhi), families prepare food, visit other relatives homes, and exchange gifts. The final day (Ukui), is a time for feasting, celebrating, and sharing stories. Prayers and goodbyes are said before sending the spirits back to the afterlife. Food, handwritten notes, and uchikabi paper are placed in a large bowl as a gift for the ancestors. The contents are then burned, so the spirits can take the offerings with them when they go. Over the course of the festival, colorfully clad Eisa dancers march through the streets, entertaining both the crowds and the spirits by dancing, chanting, drumming, and playing folk songs on the sanshin.

Chuseok - South Korea Celebrated on the full moon of the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar for about a 3 day holiday. People return home bearing gifts, visit and clean grave sites, and share a feast. Parts of these feasts include songpyeon (a type of colorful rice cake), types of Hangwa like the honey cookie yakgwa, fruit, baekju (a type of alcohol), jeon (savory pancakes), japchae, bulgogi and more. Food will also be set out at a in-home memorial for the ancestors and those who've passed. Games are played like Yut Nori, as well as sports like Ssireum (a type of wrestling), and Taekkyon (a type of martial arts). There is also a dance, Ganggangsullae.

All Souls Day (Il Giorno Dei Morti) - Italy Also coinciding with All Souls Day, Il Giorno Dei Morti is the Italian Day of the Dead. While November 1st (All Saints Day) is the day to honor the Catholic saints, November 2nd is reserved for honoring dearly departed loved ones. On this day, families flock to cemeteries in order to pay their respects to the dead by lighting candles and laying flowers - customarily, bouquets of chrysanthemums - on their graves. In Sicily and other parts of southern Italy, parents will hide small gifts, such as toys, sweets and Pupi ri Zuccaru (sugar puppets) around the house for their children to find. The children are then told that the gifts were left for them by their deceased relatives, who came to visit them in the night. Traditional foods vary from region to region. Pan dei morti (bread of the dead) is consumed in almost every part of the country. Other treats include Frutta di Martorana (marzipan sweets from Sicily), and Ossa dei morti (bones of the dead - crunchy, almond-flavored cookies that are shaped to resemble bones.)

You will have one month from today to create and submit fanworks inspired by this theme. This is your chance to show off your creative skills, whatever they may be. From writing, to art, to everything in between. Our goal is to encourage all forms of creative expression within the TKK/CK community. All pairings and ratings are welcome.

This round will officially close on Monday, November 30th at noon, CST, so if you would like for us to share your works, make sure to submit them before the deadline. Tag us @allvalleyskillschallenge and #allvalleyskillschallenge, to make it easier for our mods to find and reblog your works!

We’ve also created an AVSC Collection on ao3, if you would like to add your works there. We highly recommend that artists who wish to share uncensored, NSFW content do so on ao3, to avoid violating tumblr’s guidelines.

Please check out our FAQ for more details. If you have any further questions, feel free to contact us at @allvalleyskillschallenge, our asks are open.

#allvalleyskillschallenge #avsc: november 2023 #theme: loss and life #the karate kid #cobra kai #fandom events #announcement

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a-new-vers · 8 months

Text

~H5~

Woke up today to find out Halsey has set the stage for a new hunt for fans to go on. In true Halsey fashion, it's cryptic with a distinct visual style we can probably expect from this era.

So let's explore, shall we?

A Lil' Timeline:

Halsey played the 27th at Lollapalooza India. During their set before they began to play Gasoline, a visual on screen displayed a URL: FOR MY LAST TRICK (click to go to the site).

Click HERE to see a video of when it was displayed at the concert.

The Website:

The theme behind the website seems to be opening a miscellaneous stick/patch packet.

The first thing is prompting the user to "pull to open" as in a tag to swipe off. You can see the collection of patches behind the plastic wrap. Once you finally open the package, all the patches will disperse.

This is where the Internet sleuthing begins, people. 24 unique patches (technically 25, but I'll get into that later) with different meanings. Let's get into it.

1 - SNA Flight Tag

So really obscure, but googling Air California flight tag brought me to this used bookstore site. In any case, the thing to notice is the date it is attributed with, 1968.

2 - Vintage Blotter Art

According to this blog (which is the only place I could find the image), this is a vintage blotter from 1994. Blotter art is an "...art form printed on perforated sheets of absorbent blotting paper infused with liquid LSD."

3 - Blythe Dolls

I believe this doll is a Blythe doll. Image reverse search does not come up with an exact result, but from the details you can make out, the dolls eyes are quite clear. Which looks a lot like Blythe Dolls, a doll brand that came out in 1972. Their gimmick was that the eyes could move left to right.

4 - Witch Halsey

Unsure, but it would seem it's Halsey as a witch. The aesthetics are similar to IICHLIWP (H4).

If the main theme here is the 70s, there’s the movie Season of the Witch that came out in 1973, February 14th. It’s apparently commentary on traditional American suburban lifestyle through the perspective of a housewife who does not like her place in life. She meets a witch and progressively gets into the occult.

5, 18, 19, 23 - Outside of USA

5: It's hard to tell what most of the words are, but the text "Pagado" (Spanish for "paid") is on the piece of paper. . The particular location might be Palenque, a Mexican city. Relevant date: June 25th, 1977.

18: Belleville. Based on a real winter carnival programme. Belleville is a a city in Ontario, Canada. Relevant date: 1971.

19: “We smokers all want to be non-smokers too” or something along these lines. I'm trusting online translation for this (German to English). Unable to find when this was made.

23: “For Us.” French. The image search doesn’t result anything. Unable to find when this was made.

6 - Peril is My Pay

Based off of a detective book involving traveling. The font is the exact same as one of the book covers. It was published in 1960s.

7 - I have something to tell you

A sign up. I assume it has to do with being updated on any album news.

Looking through the inspect tab you can see the information is being sent to “Sony Fan Music.” It does take note of which country you are in and your address.

8 , 9 - Round visuals

I think these are visuals to give grasp to the 70s theme. It’s reminiscent of 60’s/70’s clothing/aesthetic.

10 - Michigan license plate.

1971 comes up in the plate. Michigan has come up in HFK (H2), on Bad At Love. I doubt this has anything to do about the “boy back in Michigan” but perhaps traveling back throughout her albums.

11 - Ghost

Jan 27th 2014, interesting date to put since this is the date this is all happening, just a decade after.

I've seen some people say this is meant to be the anniversary for Ghost, the song. Although it came out in 2014, its release date was in July, and it originally came out on sound cloud on February 3rd. So unsure why Jan 27th is there. EDIT: I have been made aware that Jan 27th 2014 was its international release date! I am but a fool.

The text can be in response to the lyric “Where did you go?” and the themes on the song of someone leaving. IDK, this could also be a meta thing. If a theme here is traveling and visiting locations/people, then perhaps one thing you won't find if the ghost?

Additionally, this follows the theme of revisiting her previous albums.

12 - Cannel 17

WPHL-TV is a television station in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, serving as the local outlet for The CW Television Network. The logos here are form the 60’s/70’s.

13 - Master Mystifier

Or, alternatively, Harry Houdini. The date I do not believe has any relevance here but perhaps the idea of magic.

I came about the google search “Houdini’s Last Trick” where his last trick is widely asked about. It would seem to be an inspiration for the name of the website. So potentially Halsey will lean into magic, tricks, and deception.

14 - Calling Cards

Text on card: “Compliments - May I See (C) You (U) Home? If not, please return this card.”

“May I See You Home” seemed to be a common phrase for calling cards. They were handed out to ask people out. Again, the font and images are similar to H4 aesthetic. These were used in the 18th and 19th century.

15 - B&W Hair

Oh, I actually no idea.

16 - Candy

The closest I could get to finding what this meant is when this font was used for the book Candy by Maxwell Kenton, published in 1958.

As wiki describes the plot "Candy Christian, aged eighteen, is an extremely pretty and desirable but naïve young woman, who finds herself in a variety of farcical sexual situations as a result of her desire to help others. The men in her life, regardless of age or relationship, wish only to possess her."

17 - Southern-Belle

Clearly the saying southern belle. A girl born form the south, typically with certain attributes. The saying came from the idea that “... a girl who was expected to grow up into a lady. She was supposed to be fragile and flirtatious while also sexually innocent. She was beautiful but risky to touch, like porcelain.”

https://historyengine.richmond.edu/episodes/view/2259#:~:text=Course%3A,risky to touch%2C like porcelain

20 - Rabbit

I couldn’t find anything that looks the same, but I assume it has to do with Alice and Wonderland. Concerning dates, the book was published in the 1800s, while the arguably most famous iteration (the animated movie) came out in the 50s.

However, this can relate to the potential theme of magic and deception and girl/womanhood. But I’m also inclined to think the rabbit might have nothing to do with Wonderland and might be something else all together.

21 - K-Mart

Wiki comes in handy here. As described, “Satisfaction Always icon seen on Kmart branded packaging until the mid-to-late 70s, adapted from a hanging sign displayed in every early Kmart store.” So 70’s themed.

https://logos.fandom.com/wiki/Kmart_(United_States)/Other?file=Kmart_-_1960s_(Satisfaction).svg.

22 - Eye, Eye, Eye, and Eye

The eyes. Girl IDK, they’re eyes. They kind of remind me of the biblically accurate angels and the eyes they have. Although, I doubt that's what they're meant to be.

24 - Cigarette

People seem to think this relates more to Badlands, and I’m inclined to agree.

Themes:

Here are overall themes that seem to be present within the collection.

- Travelling

- Magic

- 60s-70s

- Eyes

- Books

- A Feminist Lens

- Past albums

A Tangent on Web Dev:

I just kinda wanted to point out the cool coding stuff they've done. When the patches are still in the plastic bag, they're always randomized in which order they're in (you have to refresh to notice this). They also disperse in a randomized order. I thought maybe the way they disperse could be a trail of sorts, like a map. But it seems totally random. I still find it cool how they've done that, every time in a different location, as if you open the package they come out uniquely for each person.

Oh and about the 25 patch, it seems the first patch in your packet appears twice when you open it. Idk if the number 25 matters or if this was done by accident. But the 25th patch is a duplicate, and never one in particular, just which ever is the first in your shuffle.

The End

For now.

#halsey #H5 #for my last trick #music

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savventeen · 2 years

Note

2 ... With mingyuuuuuuu 🥺

break the curse, break my heart

pairing: cursebreaker!mingyu x cursebreaker!gn!reader rating: M (mostly for reader's potty mouth) wc: 5.1k prompt: ‘things you said through your teeth’ (from this list) summary: what's supposed to be a simple hex job turns into something much deadlier, and suddenly the two of you are fighting just to stay alive warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, near-death experiences, exorcisms (kinda), convulsing, blood, hospitals, but there's a happy ending friends no worries!!!, mingyu is self-sacrificing, self-harm (mingyu cuts himself so he can use blood for magic reasons), descriptions of a panic attack tags: modern magic au, curse-breaking as a career, they’re partners (in the business sense AND romantic sense), non-linear narrative, alternating pov, reader calls mingyu stupid approximately a billion times, but he absolutely deserves it so *shrugs*, seungcheol also makes a guest appearance as #1 hyung a/n: sorry this took approximately 84 years to complete (it was only supposed to be a drabble lmao) but i hope you enjoy it despite the wait!! also a quick note on the magic in this world: hexes are the equivalent of small pests and are more annoyance than anything whereas curses are Extremely Dangerous and often deadly

Hex hunting is not what you expected to be doing tonight.

Well, it was your job, of course, but usually you weren’t called in on a case so last minute, and especially not on one of your few days off.

But apparently whoever owns this house-turned-antique shop called in a favor or two at the guild, and everyone else was busy, so here you were — hauling yourself up a ladder and into a dusty attic at nearly midnight on Saturday night because there was pesky little hex on the loose that apparently couldn’t wait until morning to be taken care of.

Whatever. Jeonghan would owe you one, and you plan to save that favor for something big. Plus, it’s not like you’re doing this job alone.

Right on cue, Mingyu’s voice filters through your earbuds in a petulant whine. “Jagi-yahhhhhh.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he can't see it, a hint of fondness trickling through the exasperation in the form of a smile, and you continue your scan of the first room of the attic. The bright teal glow at the end of your wooden staff is your only source of light as you look for any signs of the wayward hex.

"Why did I have to be the one to search the basement,” Mingyu continues. “Why couldn't we have switched?"

You snort, peering around a stack of old moving boxes that tower over you and seem to be more duct tape than cardboard, miscellaneous protective runes scribbled all over them in sloppy permanent marker. "You lost rock-paper-scissors fair and square, babe, I don't know what else to tell you."

Besides the faint scorch marks you've found that match the ones throughout the rest of the house, you haven't had any luck in finding traces of the hex.

"But it's so creepy down here," he whines, pout audible through the phone call. He's right, of course — you suppress a shudder at the thought of having to face the numerous shelves lined with antique porcelain dolls stored down there, and thank the stars for letting you win that particular battle of rock-paper-scissors.

Even still, you can’t help but tease him just a little. “If you stop complaining and actually clear the basement, you can get out of there much sooner, you know.”

There’s a moment of silence over the line, and you take the opportunity to do one last sweep of the haphazard piles of boxes and broken artifacts — your staff’s glow unwavering — before heading to the door that opens into the attic’s second room.

“Wow,” Mingyu deadpans. “I think I hate you and everything that you stand for, actually.”

You bark out a startled laugh, loud and carefree in the way that only seems to happen with Mingyu, and you feel a smile bloom across your face. “Oh, wow,” you giggle. “Whatever did I do to deserve such sweet words from you?”

The teal light flickers slightly as you trace your staff in a familiar pattern in front of the door, checking for traps and finding none. Satisfied, you push it open with a creaking groan and step carefully past the threshold.

“You know exactly what you did,” Mingyu scolds indignantly as you step fully into what appears to be an empty room. “And you will get sweet words when you stop forcing me to go down into scary basements, y/n. I swear, some creepy possessed toy is going to be the death of me one day.”

“Sure,” you reply, distracted. Something about the room is…off.

There’s nothing immediately amiss — boxes and antiques just like the previous room propped up and shoved against the walls — but there’s something, a feeling, that you can’t quite seem to put your finger on, and it sets you on edge. “Should’ve picked a different career if you wanted to avoid scary basements, though.”

“Funny, we have the exact same job description and yet somehow you never have to go into the basements — only me.”

“Yeah,” you murmur quietly. “Funny.”

Something’s wrong.

Your bad feeling coalesces into a pressure that starts to build in your chest and the hair on your arms stands on end as goosebumps race across your skin.

“Gyu, something’s wrong.”

Belatedly, you realize you’d just interrupted him in the middle of a sentence, but you’re too busy tracing a quick series of protective sigils in the air around you to care too much.

His tone turns serious in an instant. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet, bad feeling.” There are only a few strokes left for you to complete when the teal light at the end of your staff flickers and then goes out.

“Shit,” you whisper.

“Y/n?”

Before you can open your mouth to answer, the end of your staff lights up again. But it’s not the calming teal blue that you’re used to. It’s red — deep, dark, and ominous — and the implication sends dread coursing through your body like liquid lead.

“Fuck, it’s not a hex, it’s a curse.”

You pivot to run out of the room, but before you can make it two steps away, something slams into you with enough force to knock you down to the floor. And then you’re screaming — the dark magic coursing through you in an agonizing wave that makes you feel like you’re on fire.

You realize you’re on your hands and knees and Mingyu is yelling in your ears and you feel like you might be dying, and for a few moments you forget that you’re trained for this. You might not have any of your usual equipment since it was supposed to be an easy in-and-out hex job, but you grit your teeth and remind yourself that you’re fucking trained for this.

"—cking answer me, y/n, please."

“Here,” you sob. You’re not sure how much time you lost, probably only a few seconds, but you think you can hear Mingyu pounding his way up the stairs.

“Fuck, thank god, okay. Hold on, I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

You can feel the curse trying to tear you apart from the inside out, an enraged wildfire with scorching claws, and it takes all of your concentration to pull the sharpie out of the pouch attached to your belt. You yank the cap off with trembling hands, and then another wave of agony courses through you and you collapse onto your side, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Doesn’t matter, you think. You don’t need to be sitting up for this, anyway.

You drag one of your sleeves up and shakily start to trace out a series of banishing runes — the ones you’ve known by heart for years now. But it only takes you a few strokes to realize you’re shaking too much to be able to draw anything legible. It doesn’t stop you from trying though, tracing wobbly shapes even as you can’t see them through your tears. And then the painful spasms get so bad that you can’t hold onto the pen anymore, and you’re left shaking on the floor feeling like every single one of your cells has become a raging inferno.

“Gyu, ‘m sorry,” you slur through your cries. “Love you, ‘m sorry.”

You don’t know if he responds, but you blink and suddenly hands are turning you over and clutching your shoulders, cupping your face, and — Mingyu is here.

He’s here and he’s saying something, his face a portrait of fear and worry, and you know deep in your gut that he’s too late. He’s too late and he’s going to have to watch you die right in front of him and that thought is almost more painful than the curse searing its way through every fiber of your being and then—

For a moment, the agonizing fire within doubles, triples, in intensity — the curse hooking its claws within you and coalescing into a pain so severe you didn’t think it was possible. The agony is so all-encompassing that you don’t even have the ability to think any last words, let alone say them, before the darkness claims you.

Mingyu has always hated going down into creepy basements.

It’s his least favorite part of the job and he makes sure that everyone knows exactly how much he hates it whenever he’s forced to go down into one. (Especially when he lets you win at rock-paper-scissors, because even though he’s fond enough of you to go down into the basements in your stead, he’s not at all above whining about it.)

He knows it’s all psychological, of course, that any other rooms of the houses they’re called out to are just as likely to be affected by malignant magic. But — there’s something that always feels so sinister about descending a flight of rickety stairs into unknown darkness.

And of course, tonight’s last minute hex job just had to have a basement full of creepy dolls that seemed like they were trying to stare directly into his soul. Because the universe hates him and he loves you too much for his own good.

The blue glow of his dual war picks isn’t helping the situation either, casting ominous shadows wherever he turns.

He comes around a corner and finds himself unexpectedly face to face with one of the dolls — the porcelain cracked excessively at the corners of the mouth, making it look like its face is stretched into a smile straight from hell. Mingyu shudders.

“God, I hate dolls so much,” he tells you. “Especially this one. I swear it’s going to come to life and try to eat m—”

“Gyu, something’s wrong.”

Your voice is completely void of all the lighthearted bickering from just a moment ago, and Mingyu’s tone hardens to match. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet,” you continue, distracted. “Bad feeling.”

He tightens his grip on his picks and turns to make his way out of the basement, but your whispered “Shit” stops him in his tracks. Worried, he calls out your name.

You gasp, loud and crackling over the phone call, and dread drips icily down his spine. “Fuck, it’s not a hex, it’s a curse.”

Before he can process how truly fucked that makes the both of you, you start screaming, and Mingyu promptly loses his goddamn mind.

His feet move faster than he can think, sending him rocketing up the stairs. But one of his boots catches on the top of the basement steps in his haste and he goes sprawling across the wooden floor.

He shouts your name as he scrambles to get up, and the longer you keep screaming instead of answering, the more desperate he becomes — begging you to just answer him, please, god, please.

You sob out a “Here” just as he’s making it up to the second floor, hating the house for being so huge it’s practically a mansion.

He curses in relief at the sound of your voice and says, “Hold on, I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

Soon the ladder to the attic is in front of him and he quickly sheaths his picks, practically flying up the worn wooden rungs. His movements turn frantic when he hears you slur an apology over the line, something that sounds an awful lot like a final goodbye, and when he sprints across the attic to the far room and finds you convulsing on the floor, his heart stops.

His worst nightmare is playing out right in front of his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe when he falls to his knees next to you.

Your staff is glowing a deep, hellfire red off to the side, and from the shadows in the room he can tell that his picks are glowing the same sinister color. He grabs you by the shoulders and rolls you onto your back, flinching at the heat emanating from your skin.

“Baby, look at me. Hey, look at me, baby, c’mon—” You don’t respond verbally, but your tear-filled eyes open a fraction and lock onto his. He moves his hands to cup your face — it feels like you’re on fire, fuck — and vows, “I can fix this, baby, okay? I’m—”

Too late, something traitorous whispers in the back of his mind. You’re too late, and they’re going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.

“Just— just hold on, please, hold on, baby, I’m gonna fix this.”

He sees the sloppy runework on your forearm, knows in his gut that even if he redid them himself, it would be unlikely for you to survive the banishment. Devastation chokes him for half a second, freezing and unyielding and all-encompassing, before he realizes: you probably couldn’t survive…

But maybe he could.

Again, his body starts moving before his brain can fully catch up, snagging your dropped sharpie from the floor and scrambling to trace a transference rune on the unmarked skin of your arm. He copies the matching rune onto his palm, and with one more desperate plea for you to hold on, he slaps his marked palm over your rune.

He already knows the curse is a nasty one, but the way he can feel it digging its claws into you, ripping and tearing as it’s forcefully dragged through the rune on your arm and into his, brings bile to the back of his throat.

You scream your loudest yet before going scarily, horrifyingly limp, but Mingyu doesn’t have enough time to do anything but try not to pass out as the curse sears its way into his body.

It’s agony, and Mingyu knows he has a very limited amount of time. From the way it already feels like he’s being boiled from the inside, it’s probably even less than he thought.

Maybe I won’t survive this, a quiet, scared little part of him whispers.

He bites back a scream between his teeth and starts drawing a binding rune on his arm, taking another glance at where you lie crumpled on the floor.

Maybe I won’t survive… but you will.

Consciousness, when it comes, is slow, syrupy.

For some reason, the fact that you’re conscious at all comes with a sluggish sort of surprise, a groggy, Huh. Not dead.

And then you realize just how freezing you are. It’s like your entire body has suddenly turned to ice. A voice in the back of your mind mumbles something about fire, but all you can focus on is how cold and how empty you feel, and—

Everything comes back to you with the force of a meteor — the curse, the pain, Mingyu, “I’m gonna fix this,” Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — and you’re jolting into motion with a choked gasp.

It’s not the unthinkable agony of before, not even close — but it hurts.

Your body feels like its insides have been scraped out with icy, rusted spoons and your bones have been replaced with lead that’s been left to freeze in the arctic tundra. Just getting to your hands and knees feels like climbing Mount Everest, and dizziness threatens to send you sprawling back onto the attic floor.

But you push through it with a grunt, and from your right you hear Mingyu gasp out your name in question. You turn, almost falling over in the process, and find him curled up against a beat up old trunk and a pile of small cardboard boxes, one of his war picks tossed to the side and casting him in a haunting red glow.

He looks awful, sweat dripping down his face and expression scrunched up in misery. His entire body is tensed, strained with the amount of force it's taking to hold all of the pain inside, and one arm is pulled tight to his chest while the other is pressed to the floor, his fingers coated in something wet and shiny.

You scramble as quickly as you can to him with a worried croak of his name, but he shoots out the hand he’d been holding against his chest and shouts, “Wait, stop!”

You do, but only because he sounds so scared. “Gyu, what…”

Your eyes trail from his worried face to his outstretched arm, to where a large burn sits in the palm of his hand, smudged with ink. More ink further up his arm catches your eye, and it’s with a dawning horror that you realize what exactly he’s marked there.

It’s a binding rune, and you think you’re going to be sick.

“What did you do?” It comes out as a whisper, and Mingyu doesn’t respond, just clenches his jaw and starts moving the hand he has on the floor.

You follow the movement, and you realize he’s drawn something on the floor with that shiny substance, a set of runes like the ones you tried to complete, and then something clicks in the back of your mind and you realize it’s blood. It’s his blood, judging by the equally dark and shiny tear in the knee of his pants.

No… no no no no no.

“What did you do?” This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.

You already know the answer to your question, the lines drawn in blood on the floor matching the ones you tried to draw on your arm. Since he used a binding rune on himself — stupid, stupid, stupid — the only way to complete the banishment is with a blood ritual. A stupidly dangerous, stupidly deadly blood ritual. “What the fuck did you do?”

His eyes flint with a steel-lined determination. “Took the curse,” he grunts.

All at once, all of the fear and worry coursing through you ignites into a righteous fury. You force your frozen limbs to move — careful not to smear his stupid, stupid runes — and clumsily crawl close enough to grip him by the shoulders as tightly as your shaking hands will allow.

"Kim Mingyu, why the absolute hell would you do something so fucking stupid?!"

You’re angry, furious, but it’s only a mask for the fact that you’re the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life. Desperate tears start dripping down your face, momentarily blurring your vision.

When you blink them away, you see him looking at you. No, not at you, into you — into your heart and into your soul.

And through gritted teeth, he vows, “Because you're the love of my fucking life, and like hell was I going to sit back and let this curse take you away from me."

A wounded sound punches out of you, and you twist your trembling hands in the fabric of his shirt. "So you're gonna let it take you away from me instead?"

Your fury melts into devastation, into grief, so quickly it leaves you lightheaded. You sway forward until your forehead makes contact with the burning skin of his neck.

“ ‘S not gonna take me.” He pants, pressing a searing kiss to the shell of your ear. “I promise.”

You can feel the way his arm moves as he traces out the final strokes of his blood rune, and you know the instant he completes it because his entire body tenses beneath yours. And then he’s screaming, raw and guttural, and then you’re screaming, and the curse fights every second with metaphorical claws and teeth until the banishment is complete—

And then, with a blinding flash of red, the house is silent, still, and dark.

It takes Mingyu much longer than what’s probably considered normal to realize that he is, in fact, awake.

He thinks he feels like he got hit by a bullet train, but mostly he feels so floaty that it’s hard to tell anything at all.

“That’d be the drugs.”

Hmm. He knows that voice. He wonders what Seungcheol is doing in his dream. Usually his dreams have more color, though, not whatever this endless black is.

“Not dreaming. And you’d know that if you opened your eyes.”

What a revolutionary concept. One that proves much more difficult than anticipated, because somehow when he wasn’t paying attention, someone switched his eyelids out for anvils. It could take him minutes or even hours, but eventually he’s able to peel his eyes open a fraction. It’s enough for him to see… beige. Just— a whole lot of beige. And then a really blurry face.

“Hey, hey, Mingyu,” the face says, suddenly eager. “Are you in there? Are you actually waking up this time?”

Mingyu blinks, and opens his eyes a bit more, and the blurry form above him morphs into the worried face of Seungcheol, his dark eyebrows pulled together in hopeful concern.

Mingyu blinks again. “No,” he pouts.

Seungcheol barks out a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Mingyu feels a hand slip into his and squeeze — oh yeah, hands, I have those — and another gently brushes his bangs aside. “Hey, kid. It’s good to see you,” Seungcheol sniffs.

“Why’re you cryin’?” Something must have happened to Mingyu’s face if the mere sight of him brings Seungcheol to tears. Did he trip and fall down some stairs or something? He vaguely remembers a set of rickey stairs. “Wha’s wrong?”

For a moment, Seungcheol just looks at him, biting his lip like he has a million and one things to say and no idea which ones to start with. Then he sighs, deep and long, and shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Kim Mingyu.”

You're gonna be the death of me.

Something in the back of his mind freezes, tugging at a connection, and then clicks into place.

All of a sudden, Mingyu is no longer in front of Seungcheol. He’s back in the basement, surrounded by shelves of porcelain dolls as he tells you over the phone, “I swear, some creepy possessed toy is going to be the death of me one day.”

And then memory after memory starts fighting its way to the forefront of his consciousness — red, sickly and glowing, the entire room bathed in it — his war pick in hand, the sharp end slicing into the flesh just above his knee — you, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, not moving, not moving, are you even breathing — the curse, ripping and tearing and shredding its way through the both of you — you, screaming, you, you, you—

He gasps out your name, body moving even as the memories continue to slam into him.

“Woah, hey! Calm down,” Seungcheol shouts, pushing Mingyu back down onto what he now realizes is a hospital bed. But he can’t calm down, not when he doesn't know where you are and the last time he saw you, you were— you were—

“Hey, stop it!” Seungcheol is practically laying on him, each of Mingyu’s wrists pressed to the mattress in a firm grip. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

Mingyu’s wild gaze snaps to Seungcheol’s as he continues to struggle. “Y’n, where’s y/n," he begs. "Hyung, where— they were hurt, they were d— please, I need to find them. I need to make sure they’re okay, please, hyung, please, they have to be okay, they have to, please, I need—”

Hands suddenly grip either side of his face and Seungcheol is almost nose to nose with him, eyes wide and imploring as he orders, “Breathe, Gyu-ah. C’mon, breathe with me.”

Mingyu doesn’t realize how irregular his breathing has become until he tries to take a deep breath and ends up choking on it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol assures. “Let’s try again, okay, Gyu-ah? Just follow me; you can do it.”

He continues to talk Mingyu through the panic attack, words as gentle as the fingers he uses to wipe Mingyu’s tears from his cheeks.

Eventually, he gets his breathing under control, and all Mingyu can do is grip Seungchol’s wrists where they still cradle his face and plead, “Hyung.”

“They’re okay, Gyu-ah,” Seungcheol confirms with a crooked half-smile, one that’s cracking at the edges with leftover fear and worry. “Stuck in another bed just like you, but they’re okay.”

Mingyu’s relieved sigh is shaky at best, and Seungcheol doesn’t complain when Mingyu pulls him closer so that he can bury his still-dripping tears in Seungcheol’s chest. He just carefully adjusts their positions so that he can fully wrap himself around Mingyu without messing up any of the wires or sensors. “It’s okay, kid, let it out. I’m here, hyung’s got you.”

And somewhere in between Seungcheol’s comforting words and the most cathartic crying session Mingyu’s ever had in his life, he falls asleep. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s waking up to some kind of commotion happening outside of the room.

Between one blink and the next, Seungcheol launches himself out of the bed and Mingyu watches as he jumps about ten feet in the air when the door slams open right as he’s about to reach it.

And then Mingyu’s breath catches in his chest because — there you are.

You’re standing in the doorway, silhoueted by the fluorescent lights of the hallway, looking like some kind of avenging angel. The bottom of your wrinkled hospital gown barely peeks out from beneath the extra large hoodie that looks like it’s trying to swallow you whole (his hoodie, he’ll realize later — one that someone must have brought for you), and you’re wearing a pair of purple fuzzy socks pulled all the way up to your knees.

None of that detracts from the look of pissed the fuck off that you’re wearing like battle armor, though. And if he weren’t so absolutely, joyously relieved to see you, Mingyu would almost certainly be terrified.

It’s as if the whole world freezes for a moment as the two of you lock eyes. The grumblings of the irritated nursing staff fade into the background, and all Mingyu can feel is the beating in his chest calling out to you.

Home, home, home, it seems to say, and he breathes out your name in awe.

Your face goes from furious to relieved to leaking a constant stream of tears so fast that Mingyu almost gets dizzy watching it.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you choke out, eyes roaming over his form like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you look away. And oh, the sound of your voice, even as it’s clogged with tears, is the most wondrous thing he’s ever heard in his life.

“Y/n,” he repeats, holding your name in his mouth like it’s something holy, something ephemeral and reverent and a syllable away from cracking.

And somehow it breaks whatever spell the two of you were under, because then you’re stalking over to the bed and throwing yourself into his embrace as you sob, “Kim Mingyu, you absolute piece of shit, I hate you so fucking much.”

He laughs wetly as he clutches you, pulling you so close that anyone would need a crowbar to separate the two of you. “I know, baby, I know,” he says.

“I’m so fucking mad at you.”

“I know, baby.”

“If you ever do anything like that again, I’m going to fucking castrate you, I swear to fucking god.”

He feels like his chest might burst with all of the happiness trying to shine out from between his ribs. “I love you, too, y/n.”

“I’m just gonna…” Mingyu looks up at the sound of Seungcheol’s voice and sees him standing awkwardly by the door with a finger pointing out towards the hall. Mingyu nods, and Seungcheol nods back before walking out. He steps out of the door before popping his head back in and saying, “Oh, also, you probably have around fifteen minutes at the most before the rest of the boys realize you’re both awake and storm the castle.”

You snort softly against Mingyu’s shoulder, and he smiles wide enough that his cheeks ache. “Thanks, hyung.”

Seungcheol just gives him a thumbs up before finally making his leave, and Mingyu sighs, soaking up the feeling of holding you in his arms. He quickly tucks his arms up and under your sweater, wanting to hold you even closer, and involuntarily shivers when he feels how cold you are.

“God, you’re freezing,” he murmurs, using one hand to pull the thin hospital blanket over the both of you.

“Mmm,” you agree, wiggling until you’re tucked under his chin and wrapped around him like an extra-clingy koala. “And you’re my new favorite space heater.”

Mingyu grins. “I’m honored.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grunt. He starts rubbing gentle circles on your lower back, and you melt against him with a drawn out sigh. “You’re still number one on my shit list.”

“Just as long as I’m your number one.”

He lets out a high-pitched yelp when you pinch his side. “Ow, jeesus, you’re pissed, I get it.”

“Good. Know your place.”

(If he blushes at those words, no one is around to see it.)

You lay together in silence for a few minutes — simply basking in the feeling of holding each other — and then Mingyu’s brow furrows as he realizes that you haven’t gotten any warmer. Also, he hadn’t really noticed before because he’d been too focused on you, but he’s feeling warm. Like, really warm.

“Hey, y/n.”

You grunt in acknowledgement.

“Is this Katy Perry hot-and-cold thing we’ve got going on a fun new side effect of the curse?”

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you groan, untucking your face from his chest just so you can glare at him.

Mingyu holds back a grin as he raises an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

You glare even harder before huffing and tucking your face back into his chest. “No,” you murmur petulantly. Before Mingyu can hold his victory over your head, though, you power on. “And to answer your question: probably. We can have Hao and Shua check to be sure.”

Mingyu hums in agreement and presses his cheek to the top of your head. A moment later, a thought occurs to him, and he grins as he says, “We’re even more perfect for each other now.”

You lift your head again, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion. “Why?”

He tilts his head down so your foreheads are resting together, and his eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “Thermodynamic equilibrium,” he whispers.

Your eyes soften, filling up with so much fond endearment that a few more tears decide to trail down your cheeks. “My baby is such a fucking nerd.”

And when you press your lips to his, the whole world goes quiet.

Home, home, home, his heart sings inside his chest. Home, home, home.

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