#Anyway ignore me. I'm reminiscing...

[iero]

To semi go along with that last poll I reblogged, my twin brother and sister, who are the babies of the family, just turned 23 yesterday and fuck, if it did not make me feel old because they are kids to me... Like, I actually watched these two grow up in front of my very eyes.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi! I want to start off by saying that I absolutely ADORE your stories!! ❤️💖💖😁😁😁😁💖💖❤️ And I also really hope you make a series out of the de-aged Captain Marvel au! The potential cuteness and absolute chaos is great!

Tim Drake no longer owned Drake Manor.

When his mother died, it had fallen out of his family's assets as his father had been less than prepared to run the company. When he woke that was.

At the time, Tim had been struggling with the loss and the craziness life had become. Moving to the penthouse was a necessary evil because otherwise, Bruce would have noticed that his "uncle" wasn't around as much. He hadn't really missed the manor, but it was a comfrot to see it there, unchaning since his family fell apart.

He always told himself he would repurchase it, making a mental note whenever he was at Wayne Manor, but he never did for one reason or another. The building remained on the market, but it was considered bad luck among the elites to purchase ancestral homes and the regular populance could never afford it.

Tim would sometimes glance at the manor while driving his motorbike to visit the Waynes. Occasionally, he would stop at the gate, staring at the building and reminiscing.

It would help clear his head on some dark nights. He silently promised himself that when he retired from the field, he would come back home and maybe raise his own family here. It was likely a lie because he couldn't imagine a life without being a vigilante, but it was a nice thought anyway.

He did that today, going for a drive to clear his head and aiming to stop in front of his old home to climb over the fence and sit under the same tree when he realized with a start that the yard had been cleaned up and a group of people were moving items into the building. Yanking out his phone, Tim did a quick search, feeling all the blood drain from his face when the listing now read: SOLD

An overwhelming sense of numbness erupted from his chest as he looked back up, watching the moving crew go to and fro with the belonging of the new owners.

Someone had bought his childhood home. Tim had allowed it to slip through his fingers.

He doesn't have time to process that before a child's laughter has him swinging his head to the top of the gate pillars. There, a boy with bright blue eyes is watching him, eating a giant swirl lollipop.

Tim's heart launches when he realizes how close the child is to tilting over as he yells "Hi mister!"

"Hey there." Tim says as calmly as he can speak."Are you okay up there? You can fall."

"I'm fine. It's really easy to climb up here."

Tim knows. He used the same method to follow Bruce and Jason as a kid. Still, it doesn't make it safe so he steps closer, just incase he needs to catch the kid. It helps, having this distraction from the ache of his mistake in not rebuying Drake Manor.

He ignores the empty sign that the child is leaning against, the faded outline of his family name showing where they removed the metal shapes. He can't handle that right now.

"If you're sure. My name is Tim by the way. What's yours?"

"I'm Billy! I'm five years old! " the boy answers, holding up his hand with a cheer. He gives his lollipop two licks before he gestures at Tim with it."Why are you standing in front of my house?"

"I just.....got curious. You have a pretty house." Tim says as evenly as he can.

"It's super pretty inside, too! My Dad bought it for my Mom and Papa," the boy cheerfully tells him. We move next to my uncle because my Dad says we have to stay close to family."

Wait.

"Bruce Wayne is your uncle?" Tim asks, and the boy nods rapidly. He even points down the street to where Wayne Manor can be viewed from a far distance- neighbors, they may be- the two properties were very vast. "He lives over there with my cousins."

Cousins.

"Oh" Tim hears himself say "That would be me."

Billy eyes sparkle "You're a Wayne?"

"Yes, Tim Drake-Wayne."

"I'm Billy Phantom! Heir to throne!" Billy shouts leaping off the pillar cuasing Tim to launch forward with his arms streach out ready to catch. He hits the ground with a oof but a lack of weight in his hands says he failed to caught Billy.

Not that it mattered as Billy floated in the air harmlessly. Tim glances at the workers to see if anyone has noticed that the boy is apparently a meta, but they don't even look over. Maybe the information was disclosed upon hiring?

"Are you Robin?" Billy says in his face, flouting upside down and staring into Tim's round eyes. He still lays in a heap on the floor, position for a catch and it must make quite a sight to any onlooker. "You look to big to be that one."

Before Tim could even think of an excuse, multicolored rose petals started to fall around them in a dazzling down. It appeared like foral confiti falling from the heavens. Billy flips around to see a pale, beautiful woman dressed in a gothic attire walking toward them.

Behind her, plant life blossoms into a wonderful sight. "Mom!"

"Billy, what did we say about Uncle Bruce's secret?" The lady says, voice musical to the ear.

"But Mom! Only the ghosts are around!" Billy whines, pointing at the moving crew further down the driveway, who have yet to pay attention to them. They didn't care that a goth version of Posion Ivy had strutted by.

"That's no excuse. What would your auntie Jazz say?"

"She says I was not being trustworthy with secrets and other peoples' feelings. I'm sorry." Billy slumps, flouting down to pout on the ground.

"Exactly. Hello Timothy," the woman continues, turning her purple eyes towards the down boy.It's lovely to have family over. "I'm Sam, goddess of the Green. Bruce recommended this place to us. We are excited for the next ten year vacation"

Bruce has a lot to tell him, more then just selling his family house without letting Tim know.

[reidsaurora]

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

[mrsnancywheeler]

call it what you want // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: finnick can't stop himself from an endless day of teasing leaving you frustrated with an itch only he can scratch

masterlist

warnings: pure filth, smut, porn without plot, endless teasing, oral (f and m receiving), frustration, finnick's kind of mean but also so sweet, degredation, use of the words whore and slut, grinding, desperate reader, just horny things everywhere, no use of y/n, unedited, I'm sorry, not tagging anyone bc it's just porn

2.7k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick Odair was the most insufferable, torturous man you knew. With his cocky tone, egotistical smirk, and the smug way he would endlessly tease you. It was like he planned to make you angry with desperation and he'd began the very morning when he'd walked into the bedroom after his early morning swim. Trailing sand and water all over the house which he knew would make you groan even if he always cleaned it up. You'd woken up with the sun and the sound of him walking into the bedroom, hardwood floors creaking. Even in your tired state you already knew that he was making a mess.

“Finnick, at least wipe off the sand with a towel when you get inside." Sleep still in your voice.

“But then I wouldn't get to listen to you complain every morning and where's the fun in that?" You wondered how his voice could already make you want to drown in it this early in the morning. Your eyes finally adjusted to see him, sun shining on the water droplets dripping down his chest, he looked like he was sculpted by the gods. Finnick stepped closer to the bed.

"Don't you dare, I don't feel like washing all the blankets today. I'll get up.” You cautioned, reluctantly moving the blankets off of you when he began crawling into the bed anyways, "Finnick!” You sighed, he was in one of his moods, the devilish kind.

“I'll wash them, honey, stop acting like you have to do anything. We both know all you have to do is be nearby, being a pretty girl for me." The way his words had you clenching around the air felt criminal, but you couldn't ponder on that for long when his lips were on yours. Filling your senses with the smell of the ocean, so comforting, so reminiscent of him. His mouth instantly took control and you followed eagerly, whining when he pulled away, pressing them to your neck.

"No marks, Finn.” You muttered out breathlessly as his hand wandered up to your breasts.

Yet you missed his warmth the moment he lifted his lips, “You sure, you don't want everyone to know you're my girl?" Everyone already knew that, but the way he said it was so convincing.

“No, I do." He rewarded you with his gorgeous, cocky smile.

“That's what I thought, sweet girl." His lips reattached to your neck, fingers pushing down the lacy top of your nightgown and you gasped when the cold air hit your nipples. Your brain was hazy again with the cold air and his hot lips attacking your neck. It was confusing when he pulled away and you hummed, puzzled by the sudden loss of content. “Gotta go take a shower, go get ready and I'll be quick, I'll make you breakfast." He pressed a fast, soft kiss to your lips and was gone in a split second. Leaving you leaning forward, disoriented and you weren't sure how long you sat there waiting to readjust from the bewilderment.

For a few hours he'd acted like nothing had happened, being his usual sweet, helpful self. He had you pick out a book to read to him as he cleaned up his mess of sand and water on the floor, cleaned the sheets and blankets, washed the dishes. All of his sweet acts had a way of making you forget what a menace he really was, it was hard to think negatively of a man who would brush your hair, make the bed, and do any other menial task for you. So initially you weren't too fazed when you'd gone to grab a cup and suddenly he was behind you to grab it for you.

“Thank you." You turned to face him and tried to ignore the heat taking over your body when his arms caged you to the counter, putting the glass down.

“Gotta take care of my sweet girl, don't I?" Finnick's lips were on yours again which would've been fine if he hadn't stepped closer, pushing you further into the counter. Hand holding the back of your head and another squeezing your ass which made you gasp into his mouth. You could feel him smiling at this before his tongue invaded your mouth. Then suddenly his hand was dropping lower, dangerously close to the hem of your dress. Instinctually you snapped your legs shut.

Finnick pulled away from your mouth just long enough to let out a “Tsk." As both of his hands fell to push your thighs apart.

“Finnick." Your eyebrows scrunched together, hips chasing forward. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning when his fingers grazed over your clothed core and then suddenly it was all gone. He'd pushed himself off the counter, away from you, had the cup in hand again and was filling it up with water. Jumbled thoughts trying to form a coherent protest.

“Drink up, honey, you're looking a little faint." He handed your somewhat shaky hand the water and touched your forehead in faux-concern, “You're burning up." You wondered how he could act like that when he had such a prominent bulge in his pants and decided you hated him for whatever game he was playing with you. Then without a word he was gone and you felt too wobbly to follow after him. Diligently drinking the cold water in hopes it would force your mind back into logical thoughts.

In his seemingly endless house you forced yourself into distracting tasks, cutting fresh flowers to arrange around the house, dusting your jewelry boxes, the small home library, anything to stop the idea you needed to find him and beg him for assistance. Occasionally you'd rub your thighs together, find yourself pushing your hips into the air and scold yourself for the lack of self-control. Frustrated with what he was doing to you without a care in the world. After you'd watered every plant, finished your book, and done every small thing you could think of you set it on yourself to search for him.

You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but the ache in your stomach needed him an unthinkable amount. Of course he was in the most obvious place, his little office, reading over something on his little loveseat. “Hi." You whispered when you tapped on the door.

He put down what he was holding instantly to look at you, nervous in his doorway, “Hi, pretty girl. What's wrong?" Finnick sounded so genuine, so sweet that you felt yourself falling apart like sugar in tea.

“Just missed you, Finn." Small, slow steps inside, looking around. You despised the way you were suddenly feeling so tiny, so helpless around him, but you loved the way you were able too.

“Spent all morning with you, honey." You almost felt guilty until you thought of the way he'd spent the morning torturing you.

“I know, m’sorry. Just so lonely.” You looked at the ground. Part of it was true, but also you wanted some part of him to pity you enough to stop you from tingling.

“Well I can't have you feeling like that, sweet girl, come here." You smiled when you rushed over to sit in his lap, legs wrapping around him. Of course he knew what you were doing and he prided himself for making you this nervous and desperate. Your face buried into his neck and he bucked forward so slightly you would've thought you missed it except it very much made your mouth fall open, fingernails digging into his arms. It felt like your inhibitions had left you when your body automatically responded by rubbing your clothed pussy on the rough materials of his pants. Surprisingly he let you, long enough that you were suppressing noises in his neck when he was picking you up with seemingly no effort. He glanced out the window, “I have to start dinner." He smiled and rose from the couch, leaving you, soaked, in his office.

You felt so teased that your brain couldn't form a rational train of thought. This was confirmed when you started crying in frustration, angry that he was doing this to you. You'd take anything, you were sure if he even touched you one more time it would get you off without him even being near the place that ached for him the most. The sun had gone down when you'd stopped your stream of tears, the sniffling, and mostly gotten over how embarrassed you were for rubbing yourself against him.

You toyed with your dress as you shamefully entered the kitchen, the lights overtaking you. “Was about to send a search party out for you, honey. Just finishing up though." He barely spared you a glance as he pulled two plates out of the cupboard.

You nodded, but said nothing as you sat at the table. Sticky thighs pressed together as you shifted in your seat uncomfortably. If Finnick noticed your odd silence he said nothing as he handed you your plate, "Thanks.” You were flooded with embarrassment for how shaky your voice was.

“Of course, always taking care of my girl." What a liar, you needed him more than you'd ever thought you had before and he'd done nothing but been endlessly cruel. A clock ticked in the silent room as you played with your fork. “Honey, you need to eat."

“I'm not hungry." You crossed your arms, seething with the way the sensation seemed to worsen just by looking at him. “Can't even think." You muttered, losing any semblance of respectability you thought you held as you buried your head in your hands.

"Why not?” He looked so mystified and you hated his act even more.

"You're being so mean to me, Finn.” You cried out, shaking your head, "It's not fair!”

"How am I being mean? I've been taking such good care of you, I always do.” You hummed a disagreement, shaking your head, looking up to pout. “So pathetic, honey, I take care of you, and you never use your words, then start throwing a fit at the dinner table." He clicked his tongue in disapproval, head shaking as he leaned back on his chair.

“No, I’ve been good! Haven't touched myself and you kept teasing.”

Finnick tilted his head like he was considering your words, a mocking pout reflecting yours. "You're right, good girls don't touch themselves. But good girls also don't start rubbing their pussy on me when I'm trying to check on them.”

You sob into your hands, "Please, Finnick, I really can't take anymore. It hurts and I've been trying so hard all day, I'm not trying to be bad, I promise.”

"Maybe you're not trying, but you're throwing a tantrum like a little brat. I would've given you what you wanted eventually, but you're so ungrateful.”

If he wanted a fit, you could throw a fit and part of you wanted to with how treacherous he was being. “I'm not ungrateful, you're just being so mean to me, ever since I woke up! You won't even let me suck you off." You crossed your arms again, hot with rage and need.

“Yes, I will. Come over here and help me out, thought you didn't even think about what you were doing to me." You hadn't really done anything, he'd started it, but you didn't argue when you instantly knelt down in front of him.

“I have, wanted your cock in my mouth all day, so badly, Finn." He groaned and you eagerly unzipped his pants.

"Then suck.” Finnick said exhaling and you kissed his tip, licking the pre-cum off of it. You kissed every inch of it you could, trying to hide the way your hips started to move. Just being able to do this was probably enough to help you unwind until he was tilting your face up. “Stop humping the air and be good for me." Before you could mumble out a sorry he'd let your lips right back to him. Instantly your wrapped them around him, part of you wanted to tease him just as he'd done to you all day. Starting slowly, cheeks hollowed as he moaned. He must have known you wanted revenge when his hands were in your hair. “God, I have to do everything." Roughly using your mouth, guiding you up and down as you gagged on his length. It didn't take long for him to come undone, for his string of curses and moans to lead to him filling your mouth. You swallowed every last bit of it before pulling away as his fingers loosened. “Your mouth is so good, honey, but that doesn't change the fact that I face fucked you, you didn't suck me off." He shook his head as he breathlessly admonished you.

Exhausted from trying to beg him you laid your head on his knee. “You didn't give me the time." You whispered, voice shaking. Your brain so foggy that you decided to accept defeat.

Finnick's fingers were suddenly much softer and so was his voice as he lead your face up, making you look at him. “Hey, of course I'm gonna take care of you, sweet girl, you didn't think I was gonna get you all worked up for so long and not leave you like this all night, did you? Just messing with you, don't think about what I was saying, you've been so good for me. So patient." You were crying in relief, forcing your face back into his knee. "Come on honey, let me take care of my needy girl.” He moved your head again, grabbing a hand to lift you as he stood from the chair. Guiding you to the bedroom. “Strip for me, sweet girl."

You mindlessly nodded to his instructions, sitting on the bed when you finished. “Thank you."

“How do you want me to help you out, honey?"

“Can I have your mouth please, Finn?" You muttered and he nodded.

“Of course you can, gonna make you feel so good." He pulled a pillow closer to your head, "Lay down for me.” You obeyed and he settled between your legs. Breath fanning on your core, making your buck your hips towards his face. "My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy, dripping for me. How long do you think it'll take?” He kissed your labia and you moaned so loudly it echoed in your head. “I think I've got you so ready that it'll be fast and if we're lucky you'll be seeing stars, won't you, sweet girl?"

“Please, Finn." You whined and suddenly he was devouring you. Face buried inside your cunt, your thighs started to close when his hands, in tune with your expected movements, held them open. “Oh my god, Finn, so good!" Your hands curled into the sheets, toes curling, bucking against his face. His nose rubbing against your sensitive clit as his tongue explored. You let your fingers wander up to his hair, tugging at the golden locks and nearly screaming when he moaned into you. It felt impossible that you were so worked up that you felt so close to unraveling already. “Keep going, so close!"

“Gonna cum all over my face, sweet girl? Wanna taste you." Finnick instantly was back on you, somehow with more intensity than before. He was right when you did come you could've sworn you saw stars, especially when he latched himself onto your clit the moment your orgasm started. Refusing to let up as you did in fact scream your way through it. You felt yourself hazily bucking away.

“Can't, Finn, s’too much." You whined and he chuckled.

“Just taste so good, honey, I'm just cleaning you up, okay?" You knew he was lying, that he'd stay like this until you were desperate to get away yet begging for more, and you nodded anyway. Accepting a different kind of defeat, you deserved it after the day he'd given you, at least that's what you told yourself when he dove right back into your core.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I rarely write smut, so I hope this is up to snuff, and I'm kinda nervous. But here y'all go, I was just feeling it tonight. Feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are all super appreciated and my ask box/requests are always open, I'm working on some requested headcannons right now! thank you for reading, love you all 💋

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

I’m by no means any sort of expert on any animal’s behavior so please feel free to ignore this random observation/ opinion.

But something I find interesting about people defending Moo Deng’s treatment is the frequent assertion that her keepers love her, as if that excuses everything. I honestly don’t doubt that her keepers love her, but that doesn’t mean their actions are appropriate.

To me it’s reminiscent of someone cornering and petting a dog against it’s will because “I just LOVE dogs!!!”. Loving the animal doesn’t mean you can’t inadvertently harm them with your actions.

Idk, I just have a lot of feelings on this and this was my attempt to sum them up. Hope it makes some sort of sense 😅

Oh yeah tell me about it! I appreciate you sharing this because I feel like I'm going insane when I see people being given the same information as I have and drawing a totally different conclusion from it.

Like... it's not okay just because they harass her a little bit. That's... not how that works.

Also I find the "trust the keeper" argument super ironic coming from someone who worked with dolphins - the species in human care that EVERYONE has an opinion on. And you'll tell people "hey, trust me on this. I see these dolphins every day. They participate in their own health care and don't do something if they don't want to. They are objectively in good welfare based on all the current data we have of what that looks like. I do behaviour records every day to prove this. And if I didn't think they were doing well, I'd be fighting tooth and nail to improve their lives or I would leave my job." (which I have done, btw)

And I'll still be told I'm enslaving dolphins and I do it for the money (when it was free labour - yay for animal industry exploitation - or absolutely bugger all). Trust the keeper... unless I watch a biased documentary packed full of misinformation. Then I know *more* than the keeper will and the keeper is just a moron who doesn't need a science degree and years of unpaid internship experience for this job!

But if it's a cute animal that has no preconceptions established of their welfare in human care? It's free game to coo over. Sure the keeper just dropped that squirming, panicking baby hippo he was trying to force into a tub! But he has so much experience because someone on reddit said so! It's actually all just desentisation! (not how desensisation works ever)

Can you tell I'm frustrated? Yeah...

Anyway I am usually the first in line to defend a zoo and their keepers - I know it's not easy to work in a zoo that's underresourced or in an education vaccum. But I'm going to call out bad handling when I see it. Especially when it's reinforced by social media clout and is being encouraged to continue by people justifying it as "desenitisation" or "actions of an experienced keeper."

[mins-fins]

everything is romantic — [ na jaemin — 엔시티. ]

where a vampire asshole and an immortal asshole have a centuries long situationship | now playing ❆

you've gotten good at fucking with people.

it's fun to watch the momentary victory someone has when they think (and think is really the key word here) they murdered you, just for you to rise from your place with blood staining your shirt. it's amusing, the horror that is. you aren't a psycho or anything, the fear that crosses each of their features is simply satisfying.

you aren't a murderer either, the blood painted on your hands is yours, the guy died from shock.. literally. you're afraid he might've had a heart attack just now.

that's rich.

and then, a round of applause.

you can't even get a lick of peace, fuck your life (life is an ironic word choice). his laughter is reminiscent of a curse, maybe you should start praying, grab a piece of garlic or some shit.

or maybe you should entertain his escapades for today.

"you murdered someone! it's a start!"

"technically he killed himself" you click your tongue. "..inadvertently" is the final addition to your sentence, indignation your main emotion as you face a certain vampire asshole.

na jaemin is elated by your irritation, his smile growing as yours continues dropping. he settles his hands onto your hips, gaze still. "you miss me?"

"jaemin" you say, each of the individual letters sticking together. you raise an eyebrow, eyes rolling. "you don't look a day over seven hundred fifty two".

his snort is moving. "you missed me!"

"not what i said" you chastise in retaliation, now rolling your eyes as you remove yourself from his insanely tight grip.

he takes a swipe at your stained shirt, sucking your blood from his pointer finger. he places his chin on your shoulder as he observes the blown out eyes of the dead man on your floor, that must've been a traumatizing way to go. "you planning to keep him or something?"

"he died like.. five minutes ago" you scold, lord sometimes you feel like his mother. "you are so impatient".

"not impatient, i know you won't let me take him anyway so it doesn't even matter".

your tongue prods at the side of your cheek, now it's your turn to laugh at his face. "don't tell me your angry" you begin, and he presents a pout.

you have to resist yet another eye roll.

"not mad" he kisses his teeth, dragging his index finger down the side of your neck. his fingers are always so fucking cold, he really just hammers in that vampire shit to 100%. "you could just let me.. a little bit" he whispers, pleading eyes on full display, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

you whistle in feigned ignorance, and his hands again settle on your hips as he forcefully turns you around. "you like me so much.."

"mm, and how do you know that?"

it's a useless inquiry, he can read your mind, he knows exactly what you just said. his grip bruises your hips, courtesy of his vampiric smile. "i know everything" he simply says, face stretching into a grin full of teeth, of course including the fangs.

he leans closer, and you lean back to tease for a moment. "i don't want a kiss" your smile betrays the urgency you attempt to display.

"liar".

"i'm not lying". you are, you really are.

jaemin merely hums, quick to press his lips to yours. it hurts, but you guess that's apart of his.. "charm". you assume his eagerness is due to the wait, which is stupid considering he doesn't do much, he could choose to follow you around all the time but no! he simply appears whenever he wants to (and it's not like you'd be pleased if he followed you all the time, your words may get twisted).

and in the most jaemin fashion, he bites, drawing blood from your bottom lip. your wince is quickly replaced by your glare, yet he seems so pleased. "did i hurt you?"

you scoff, rolling your eyes. he swoops forward to lick the blood from your bottom lip, eyes lighting up. "you're in love with me".

you raise an eyebrow, suddenly very interested in your hardwood floors. "that's debatable".

"i think it may be true".

he clasps his hands together, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you simply stare, attempting to see through him yourself.

it's stupid trying to decipher the mind of na jaemin, especially when he get decipher yours so easily in this moment.

"okay.. sure".

you'll let him entertain himself with that one, it's not like it's true anyway!

"i heard that".

you scowl. "fuck you".

he shrugs, seemingly pleased with that response. "sure, i'll wait for you upstairs".

and there's something a little amusing about that smile of his.

[meocities]

Keen

mithrun/reader - 1,561 words, implied/referenced self-harm, hurt/comfort

note: hi anon, i love you, i am so so so sorry for taking four months to get this done. i was going to also do kabru but it was just taking so much time so i . did not write him. i hope this brings you comfort and thank u for requesting :)

It's not that you mean to stare. Your only defense of yourself is that you're not judging him, but even that is flimsy. It feels wrong to even think, as your eyes travel over the scrabbled scars on his forearms, but it almost feels like coming home.

Which is a thought that is definitely out of line — not to mention assumptive — but it doesn't matter how quickly you backtrack, because Mithrun has definitely noticed you looking now. His arm is still outstretched, hand holding the shirt he was wearing, because, right, you were supposed to fold it for him. You're already making a fool of yourself on the first night you see him to bed, the first night you perhaps might even spend in his presence. Mithrun's still largely uncaring, but he's made progress in expressing his preferences lately. Your reaction here, your stare — would this be something that drove him to avoid you in the future?

You’re stuck paralyzed. His expression doesn't change even as you fumble with the shirt and drop it on the bed between you. 

Yet, he's waiting. His eyes are watching your face, expression open in a way it usually isn't. He's making space for your own reaction, you realize, and the nerves bunch up in your stomach.

You broach the topic in the only way you can think of. “How did you… get those?” You ask, and the knowledge that this is too blatant, too personal, makes your heart beat into a frenzy. Your skin feels cold and clammy — he's staring at you with his gray-dark eyes, flitting down only to pick up his shirt. Which, you take and start folding, and ignore how his hand finally drops back to his side. His very exposed side. The skin of his abdomen is where your eyes follow (because of the movement of his hand, because it dropped there, of course) and your breath catches in your throat at just how much there is to see, how his soft waist has scars there too. 

Mithrun stays silent for a moment. His eyes glance at your arms, down your torso to your legs. “How do you think?” He asks, sparing a look at his own forearms and their marks — as if, from the past, he had grabbed on, dug in, and dragged. 

You're quiet. It doesn't feel right to say.

Mithrun knows anyway. “After losing my title of dungeon lord,” he says, and you think, what? The confusion must not show on your face, because he continues. “I didn't want to recover. I didn't want anything. Any reminder of what I was sent me into a frenzy. I'm sure you can understand what I mean.”

Now you understand. You understand better than you want to admit. You weren't a stranger to emotions so big for your body — panic choking through your throat, anger burning a hole in your chest, grief so heavy you couldn't move off the floor. Frenzy or not, you had been there. You, too, had wanted that hurt.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and set his folded shirt on the nightstand. “That must have been hard for you.” You move a hand to his wrist, trailing down his skin until your hands are entwined. It's a gentle gesture, less of a grip and more feeling his flesh against yours. Mithrun doesn't move to grasp your hand more than a brief twitch of his fingers, but even this is more than enough for you. 

It's as if the contact has unlocked his thoughts. “The demon was all I could think about.” Mithrun's face has an uncertain expression etched onto it, and you know he's trying to make sense of his emotions. “Before I wanted to kill it, I couldn't stand the mention of it. I only realized recently that I wanted it to finish the job.” He doesn't react to his words at all, not with his posture nor his hands, but you can tell from the distance in his eye — half-lidded, unfocused — that he's reminiscing. An x-shaped scar on his throat trembles as he speaks, his voice soft and raspy. You wonder how much he had to force those words out into the open.

The scar bobs as Mithrun swallows. You wish you could reach out and soothe the motion.

There's a moment of quiet before Mithrun lets go of your fingers, pulling his hand to rest at his abdomen. Rejection pangs through your chest and you try not to let it show on your face, schooling your expression into careful neutrality. Yet, Mithrun's not done moving, because he shuffles down under the plush gray covers of his bed, turning his head to you. He doesn't say anything nor nod his head in any way, but you can recognize what an invitation looks like from him. 

Your lounge pants are the first thing to go, namely because you can slip them under the covers faster than Mithrun can get a good look at your skin. Next is the shirt, and you turn away from him as soon as it's off. You fold these delicately, then place them on top of Mithrun's clothes on the nightstand. A few seconds after this is all it takes for you to turn the lamp off and shimmy underneath the covers, burying yourself up to your shoulders. Moonlight fills the room in the lamp's absence. Your expression is carefully calm, and your quick breathing can be explained by the way you're both undressed next to each other. Your right shoulder is pressed against his left — Mithrun's warm, so warm, and you want to curl into his body and stay there forever.

Yet you’re still — too still — and Mithrun draws a breath. You were too fast with getting undressed and not letting him see. “You asked because you're the same as me,” he realizes, and you know it's not a question. 

“Yeah,” you say, and you wonder if he can feel how you've tensed where your bodies are touching. “Didn't you know?”

Mithrun looks, looks down — you feel as if you've been drenched in ice. “Wounds are versatile,” he says. “I don't read into others’ bodies.” It's hard to believe him — you know what you look like, after all, but you suppose that many others wouldn't take Mithrun's scars as self-inflicted if all they knew was that he was often in combat. Maybe you had been primed to recognize what these wounds had looked like. Maybe your eye for hurt was more keen than most.

“You're not like most people, then,” is what you come up with. Something deep inside your chest is throbbing, some ache that formed when the scars did and never quite went away. “They usually know just by looking at me.”

Mithrun’s silent. He's silent often, like when he's cooking noodles in preparation for opening his shop. But he's never silent while staring at your arms as if he's had a revelation, and this new quiet makes your abdomen flip with a decided nervousness. 

“I suppose you understood more than I realized,” Mithrun says, and you nod your head.

“I think so.” 

It's still horrifically still. There's too much tension in your throat to swallow down, and each breath aggravates that hurt in the chest even more. You move your left arm — the one not pressed to Mithrun's side — to press over your wild heart.

Mithrun must sense your restlessness. “Relax. It doesn't change anything.”

Right. It made no sense for it to change anything, not with Mithrun's own scars. You nod. You still can't look at him.

“Yeah,” you say. “There’s no reason for me to be nervous.”

You hear Mithrun’s head shift towards you again, skin brushing against the pillowcase. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his expression turn contemplative. He's silent for another moment before he speaks, voice soft in a way you've never heard before.

“You're still attractive to me,” you hear him say, and this is what gets you to finally look up at him. His eye is focused on you, moonlight hitting his face through the window, and there's something so picturesque about how his wavy hair spills over the pillow, how his eye is twinged just slightly silver. Breath catches in your throat as you're entranced by his visage, and Mithrun turns closer, pressing his chest to your shoulder. His fingers come up to hold the side of your face, the curve of your jaw, and his voice is reverant when he confesses, “still beautiful.”

The ache beats once more in your chest, then falls away, dislodged. For now, it's been calmed, and goosebumps rise up on your skin. “Thank you,” you whisper, and even that tiny breath is shaky. “I think you're beautiful too.”

Mithrun hums some vague sound and you see the hint of a smile rise on his lips.

He still can't fall asleep without being coaxed, and your heart's beating far too quickly to rest. But for now, it seems that you're both content to lay next to each other, trading kisses, skin to scarred skin. He's gentle, sweet when he wants to be. You can't help but delight in how lucky you've been to keep him.

Mithrun is soft against you — so delightfully warm — and you discover that feeling his body against yours is more comforting than you ever believed it would be.

[papiliotao]

・❥・DICTIONARY OF LOVE

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Ayaka, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer (Scaramouche), Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: love through their eyes.

♡ — Content: fluff, very very light angst(?)

♡ — Warnings: spoilers for some characters' backstories

♡ — A/N: honestly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I was able to keep each part relatively concise. Also, one of these parts is just me being down bad for one of the characters (I'll leave who it is to your imagination hehe). Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy the fic!!

To ALBEDO, love means patience. He's well aware that he's not the most energetic or expressive person. There are moments where his social battery is low, and he needs to immerse himself in his own world more than anything. Whenever this happens, you sit in the snowy landscape of Dragonspine, watching Albedo as he drags a brush across a canvas, causing inky strokes to bleed across the intricate composition. You wait in silence, intently peering at him, observing every movement of his arm and flick of his wrist. The frigid air stings your cheeks, but Albedo's presence is enough to cease the chills that threaten to wrack your body. Once he finishes, he turns to you and smiles softly. Albedo thanks you for waiting for him. Your understanding means the world to him, and despite the fact that you insist you need nothing in return, he still feels the need to reimburse you by taking you back to his camp in Dragonspine where he cuddles you until you feel warm again.

To AYAKA, love means acceptance. After long days of being surrounded by people who idolize her instead of seeing her as a friend, your presence makes her feel like a human being instead of some faultless goddess. Although she appreciates the individuals who think highly of her, she loves how spending time with you feels so easy in comparison. With you, she has no image to maintain. Formalities and etiquette are thrown out the window when she is with the one she adores. Despite the fact that you know she's not a perfect person, you're still hers, and that makes her feel secure. You're special to her because you accept all her flaws instead of ignoring them, yet you love her nonetheless.

To KAZUHA, love means tranquility. After all the storms he has encountered in his lifetime, he needs someone who can help him calm the raging tempests in his heart, and that someone is you. Peace — it's a feeling reminiscent of the serenity that courses through his veins when he basks in the last ephemeral rays of sunlight with you by his side. It’s a sentiment that is evoked by the gentle lapping of waves on sand as the two of you walk along a pristine shoreline, hand-in-hand as the sun sinks below the horizon. And most importantly of all, it's found in the sense of stillness that settles over him each night as he falls asleep with you in his arms. The moon acts as a witness to your love, curiously glancing down at the two of you as Kazuha holds you close and whispers sweet nothings into your ear until you drift off into slumber. When he is finally left alone with his thoughts, Kazuha wistfully gazes overhead and thanks every star in his sight for leading him to you.

To TARTAGLIA, love means war. He is a fighter by nature, so needless to say, he will fight as many battles as it takes to protect you. He knows it's not easy nor safe being romantically involved with one of the Fatui Harbingers. Numerous foes have tried to take you hostage and use you as leverage against him. However, Tartaglia is always there to protect you whenever his enemies try to strike from the shadows. His love for you and his contempt for those who attempt to hurt you fuel a fiery rage that urges him to show no mercy. By the time he is finished with them, he is certain that they will never try to harm you again. In Tartaglia's eyes, loving you is like fighting a war, and although the prospect is unappealing to many, Tartaglia is different. The thrill of battle fills him with adrenaline, and at the end of the day, he finds that it is all worth it because you're still by his side.

To the WANDERER, love means eternity. It is a concept he is all too familiar with — after all, the deity who embodies the principle is the one who created him just to cast him aside, initiating the first of several betrayals to come. All the fleeting moments of warmth he has experienced in his lifetime have left him raring for more, but no one ever quite quenches his thirst for intimacy before they abandon him. He wants something lasting, but he's too afraid to voice his desires due to the dubious thoughts that riddle his mind. If the God of Eternity’s affection for him was as transient as the vibrant maple leaves that adorned his birthplace, then who would ever be willing to love him indefinitely? His burning questions are all answered when he meets you. You are able to look past his harsh exterior and see him for who he truly is: someone afraid of the impermanence of tenderness, so when you finally confess your true feelings to him, you make it clear that you plan on staying by his side forevermore. When you make your vow to the Wanderer, he feels a gentle heartbeat thrumming to life in his once-empty chest. Perhaps this time, eternity will last forever.

To XIAO, love means subtlety. It is difficult for Xiao to verbally convey his admiration for you, so instead of expressing his infatuation in a straightforward manner, it is instead a sentiment he administers through lingering touches and shy acts of service. His love is quiet. Subdued, yet passionate all the same, and he will forever be grateful that you never fail to pick up on what he is discreetly trying to say to you. A heartfelt "I love you" is hidden in every small moment, no matter how insignificant it seems. And the way you reciprocate his gestures by preparing his favourite dish, shyly taking his hand while you're sitting together on Wangshu Inn's roof, and inspecting his body for any injuries in what you think is an inconspicuous manner makes his heart race time and time again. To Xiao, love is not something that needs to be in-your-face; it is found when you read between the lines.

Au revoir, mes amis. Also, all of these were supposed to be wholesome, and then Childe came along, and I just said VIOLENCE. I wonder if anyone can tell which one of these characters is my favourite. (Any guesses? /hj)

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[nikki-is-a-nerd]

I Love You So

Synopsis:

Satoru thinks back on how he messed up your relationship on the day that he overheard Shoko and Utahime's conversation.

In a way he should have known that you would find someone better, after all he was the one who pushed you away.

Genre: Angst

Note:

This is part of my 2 week break from star wars fanfiction! But after that, it's back to my usual.

___________________________________

Today was quite slow in school. The students were training with Nanami, there were no curses that needed the help of a special grade, no injuries. It was a calm day, a day that Satoru took to roam around the empty halls, reminiscing good memories. With friends, with someone special. He wasn't even meaning to overhear Shoko and Utahime, he was supposed to make his presence known until he heard your name.

"Utahime, have you heard the news?" Shoko asked.

"What news? Like the local news or hot gossip kind of news?" Utahime asked as well.

"Hot gossip. This is good news, (Y/N)'s about to get married this coming October." Shoko said happily.

"Really? I'm so happy for her. She deserves that. See this proves that leaving this life behind ensures a happy life." Utahime said.

"That's true, Nanami and I received invitations, Mei-Mei too, so you should check your email too." Shoko said.

A moment of silence and all that could be heard was their breathing and the sound of fingers tapping on screens.

"I got it! Oh she looks so cute in the picture. This guy is so lucky." Utahime exclaimed.

Satoru was frozen in place. You were getting married? Has it really been that long? Why did he feel like his heart just dropped? Either way, he teleported away from that hallway. He left and went back to his apartment. He sat down, no sound was made aside from his breathing anyway. He opened his phone, to check his email, he hasn't changed it in years, so you would still have his contact and yet he saw no invitation, no message. Nothing that would let him see how you were now. Social media wasn't your priority, you didn't post much and even if you did, you blocked him. How were you? How's life? Who were you marrying? All these questions ran through his mind before settling on one more question. Do you still hate him?

Satoru in his youth wasn't the best person to exist. He was cocky, rude and mean. He spoke without consequences because, who could hurt the strongest? He wasn't the best lover, nor was he the best person. Too focused on living his life and treating everything as a game. The only person he took seriously was Suguru, his best friend. They were both special grades, bound to be strong together. You? You were a grade one sorcerer, although still strong, it was nothing compared to them. Suguru would reassure you that it didn't matter that you weren't a special grade, Satoru loves you nonetheless. Love, how funny, he thinks now. He realized how much he loved you too late.

During his youth, he knew that he was attractive, that both men and women wanted him or wanted to be him, he knew he was the best. You two used to fight over the fact that he would shamelessly flirt with them even if you were around. His girlfriend. Yet he ignored them all. Recalling a vivid memory of an argument, he swears he can still hear your voice.

"Satoru, have you no decency? You really have to flirt with that girl? I was beside you!" You said angrily.

"So? You're not my wife, stop nagging me." He said frowning.

"Nagging? Satoru, how would you feel if I flirted with other people with you there?" You asked him.

"You wouldn't, it's not like anyone would bother if it's you." He scoffed.

He just said them because he knew it would make you leave him, he didn't think his words through as you slammed the door to his dorm, just whispering how you were going to Shoko. You didn't talk to him for weeks, he remembers complaining to Suguru, calling you a crybaby. Suguru only frowned. Satoru wasn't blind, he knew Suguru held romantic feelings for you, so did Naoya Zenin, but neither tried anything. Suguru respected you and Satoru too much. Naoya was simply afraid of Satoru retaliating. Suguru only shook his head in disbelief at how callous he was. Suguru knew that he was smart but in matters involving love, he was an idiot. A fool.

"You know Satoru, continue to treat her that way and you'll lose her, sooner rather than later." Suguru said as he looked at him.

"I bet I wouldn't even care." He remembers sayin.

Oh how wrong he was. It was a year after Suguru defected when you and he broke up. He remembers shouting but not what he said. He remembers tears but not his. For nearly half a year after the break up, you remained in Jujutsu Tech, completing missions, until you returned from one, a little more bruised, soul shattered and eyes dull. You ignored Shoko's calls to go to the infirmary, ignoring his presence, you just went to Principal Yaga and after thirty minutes, you left his office and went straight to your dorm.

That was the last time he saw you. Apparently you were sent on a mission that involved two special grades. Though you could handle special grades quite well, handling two after exorcising two grade one curses was too much. The higher ups lied about your mission. You left a letter for Shoko and Satoru, Nanami had quit earlier than you. He remembers seeing the neatly written letter and inside the envelope was his gift to you. A handmade bracelet that he had to ask Shoko and Suguru to help him make. You returned it to him. The bracelet he made to help ask you on a date. Returning his feelings, his love. He scoffs once again, Love?

The tears in his eyes that he didn't know had fallen were messing up his vision, his heart ached badly. He clawed at his chest in hopes for it to go away. Then he saw the last words on your letter.

Though I do not regret our time together, I hate you for shattering my heart.

He had no right to weep the way he did. Just as he has no right this time around to wish that you'd let him see you again and perhaps try to get you to love him. Suguru was right. Losing you was painful but knowing that any chances of rekindling your relationship was truly gone.

"I love you" He whispered to nobody but himself.

"I love you, I'm sorry..." His voice cracked.

"I hope you're happier than you ever were with me."

He let his emotions go and let the tears flow out. Love was the biggest curse, but this was a curse he was willing to bear.

[billiethepumpkin]

My Name: Dabi

Kinktober Day 2

Warning: Rated X. This content is intended for those aged 18 years or older. If you are a minor, please do not interact.

Contains: Alcohol/drunkenness. Minor injury. Grinding. Teasing. Hickeys. Nipple play. Fingering. Edging, both intentional and accidental. Vaginal sex. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Slightly aggressive sex. Birthdays. Feelings of self-hatred.

Author's Note: I know that Dabi is an adult, but I'm still an old fuck :)

Also, this is a repost! I wrote this a while, and I loved it. So here it is again.

It had been several days since you had been to Dabi’s apartment. He had asked you to get several things for him, seeing as he can’t be seen in public. He couldn’t put his freedom on the line, just for groceries. And you were happy to oblige, seeing as you’d be going to his house anyway at some point or another. You had been there dozens of times before, maybe even hundreds. It was dark. There was barely any furniture; just whatever Dabi could find in the dump at night, along with one singular small television that you managed to buy him for your most recent Christmas together.

When you got to his apartment, he cracked the door open slowly, carefully, until he saw that it was you. He was so drunk you could smell the alcohol as soon as the door to his apartment swung open. He was shirtless, his hair quite a bit messier than usual. If you hadn't been in love with him, you might've said he looked pathetic. You wondered how much he had drank, but the empty bottle of some sort of alcohol sitting on the coffee table was a dead giveaway. It was a surprise to you. Dabi knew you were coming over. You had this planned for a little over a week. You’d planned to bring him groceries right after you got your weekly paycheck, and that was today. “-ey there, pretty girl,” he slurred, leaning in the doorway for a moment. Worried, you pushed past him with your paper bags of groceries, almost completely ignoring his words.

As you put away the groceries, you take a minute to ponder. Why would he be like this? What had gotten into him? You knew Dabi was a drinker. After what hell he’s been through, he needed a vice, a coping mechanism. And you couldn’t argue that being drunk did help the pain sometimes. But why today, when he knew you’d be here?

Before Dabi had downed his second double shot of whiskey, he had been sulking. Sulking over the anniversary of his birth–today. He was reminiscing on the previous birthdays he had celebrated when he lived with the rest of his family. He remembered the way Natsuo always tried to make a big deal of it. But it never mattered. It never mattered because his father never even so much as glanced in Dabi’s direction–not even on his own son’s birthday. He never told anyone that his birthday was today. And even after almost a year of knowing each other, you still didn’t know Dabi’s birthday.

You put the groceries away, taking your time to organize them as best you could, before you turned to your boyfriend. He was leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, his head leaning completely against the wall. When you turned to him, he was actually pouting. Yes, Dabi, the man who had survived years of domestic abuse, an entire forest fire, and dozens of missions with the League of Villains, was pouting.

You huffed a small laugh before stepping towards him, his back now against the wall, looking down at you. “What’s wrong?” you cooed up at him with a soft smile.

“You hav’n’t giv’n me ‘ny att’ntion,” he slurred. “Doesn’ y’r boyfr’nd deserve s’me love on ‘is birthday?” He let it slip.

And he really didn’t even mean to. He didn’t realize he even said it out loud until your eyes widened with worry, and you asked, “It’s your birthday?!” Before Dabi could even answer, your shoulders sank with sadness. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I had no idea. How can I make it up to you? You know what? How about I make you dinner, hm?”

Dabi slowly, tiredly shook his head. “Don’ w’rry about it,” he whined, his eyes drooping and his hands resting on your hips.

“Come on,” you said. “You have to eat something. It’ll help you sober up. How about I order something?” Before Dabi could even think of a response, you were already calling the takeout place you had shown him on your first date and ordering his favorite food for him. Fuck, why did you have to be so… sweet? And caring? Dabi was trying to pretend it wasn’t his birthday. He didn’t need you going and ruining it.

He didn’t know what to say. You looked so sad, feeling like you had failed as a girlfriend, forgetting his birthday and trying to make it up to him. He couldn’t tell you yet. Dabi needed you to feel better first. Damn, how did he end up comforting you? Oh well, he thought. He couldn't be angry at you for just caring so much. Even if it was ruining his plans of sulking.

Dinner came, and you ate together, watching a TV show on your Netflix account. When your food containers were discarded on the table in front of you, he started to get dizzy from the alcohol, and he laid his head on your shoulder.

“Why’d y’ do all that?” he slurred, his eyes threatening to fall closed.

Your eyebrows angled in worry and guilt. “Well… I just wanted…” you began, “to make your birthday special. I forgot all about it, and I didn’t even get you anything–”

“Stop,” he said, waving his hand. “I’s not y’r fault. I didn’ tell you.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “Why not?” You treaded carefully. You worried that too many questions might cross some boundaries, that he might have done it on purpose.

“I’s not a big deal, m’kay?” he mumbled.

You looked at the floor instead of at him. You waited for some kind of real answer, but after several minutes, it was clear you weren’t going to get one. You prodded further. “It’s just that–”

“I’s none ‘f y’r bus’ness,” he groaned, his brows pinching together. He lifted his head, the room spinning slightly. He stood up, refusing to talk about anything. But as soon as he was lifted to his feet, he lost his balance, falling face-first into the corner of the coffee table. You gasped, and you crouched next to your boyfriend, a small cut just above his eyebrow.

“You okay?” you asked, seeing the cut and brushing the dyed dark hair out of the way. He didn’t say anything back. You offered him your hand, and he reluctantly took it, slowly standing up and moving to the couch. You went to his bathroom and found the first-aid kit–the one you forced him to keep in his apartment for times when one of you was being an idiot. You brought back an alcohol wipe and a bandage. You sat straddling one of his legs with the flashlight of your phone illuminating the space. Once he was all patched up, his eyes remained closed as his head rested on the couch cushions behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked in a whisper.

Dabi shook his head. “Jus’ don’ like my birthday,” he answered, looking down, his gaze refusing to meet yours. And suddenly it all clicked. He didn’t have to say anything else. You were being an idiot. Months ago, he told you all about his father, and you were just now putting all the pieces together. Dabi’s birthday was a not-so-gentle reminder of who he was supposed to be and who he was not. And for that he refused to forgive himself.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your hands resting on the space between his neck and his shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, now gently lifting his chin so that his lips met yours. You kissed him over and over again, one turning into hundreds. The difference in feeling between his upper and lower lip was vast. The top was soft, smooth. The bottom would have felt chapped if you didn’t know any better. His rough hands, outlined with cold staples, slid under your dress and rested on your plush thighs. You inhaled sharply at the sensation of metal against your skin.

He pulled away, and you looked down at him with a longing in your eyes. “You okay?” he asked as your skin adjusted to him. You nodded, and you desperately pulled him back into your kiss. His hands ventured further up your legs, eventually coming to rest on your hips, where the lace waistband of your panties dipped into your flesh. Dabi’s fingers splayed against your skin, the different textures melting into your flesh and making you shiver. He fondled the waistband of your panties, making you involuntarily squirm against him. The friction of his clothed leg against you was enough to egg you on. You grinded your clothed sex against him one more time, and he grinned into your lips. His right hand trailed the outline of your panties against your thigh, and eventually rubbed his thumb against your clit on the outside of your underwear. You sighed into his lips, impatiently waiting for more, wondering what would be “too forward.”

You laced your fingers into his long black hair, gently caressing the back of his head. Dabi let his head fall back, leaving his neck open for you to take between your lips. You pulled away long enough for Dabi to pull his shirt over his head. Due to Dabi’s burns, his neck was much less sensitive than the rest of his body. He could barely even feel the contact your lips were making with his neck. You knew this. You moved to his chest, just below the staples, and Dabi sighed into your touch. He could barely even think straight. He had never remembered a time when someone treated him like you treated him, when someone was as thoughtful and as considerate as you. He could only sit back and watch as you gently sucked a piece of his flesh into your pretty mouth and swiped your tongue over it. He’d never been given a hickey before. Most people were too scared to touch his neck. But here you were, finding a way and making it enjoyable for him.

“Fuck~” he groaned as you let go of his flesh with a pop. “I love you so goddamn much.” He lifted your face and slotted your lips into his. His right hand remained on your still-clothed pussy, but his left hand moved to unhook your bra. He struggled for a moment, trying to concentrate on everything at once, but you helped out by pulling your dress over your head, unhooking it yourself, and tossing your bra to the floor. Dabi had seen you naked plenty of times before. Hell, you had fucked on the first date. But seeing you now through his drunken lens, an even mixture of love and lust behind your eyes, made his cock twitch. He wanted to show you exactly how much he loved you the best way he could.

He took your nipple, hardened against the cool air of his apartment, between his lips. You let your head fall back, hair ghosting against your back. You let out a whine as his tongue swiped over your breast, his thumb gently brushing against your sex through the lace of your panties. Soon, you felt his soft fingertips push your panties into a thin line to the left of your pussy. Now, his thumb brushed against your bare clit, pulling another whine from your lips, longer this time with enough desire to make a saint blush. Pleased, Dabi dipped two of his fingers between your folds and played in your arousal for a moment, thoroughly coating his fingers in your slick, relishing in your scent and desperate to pull more sighs and whines from your love-swollen lips.

Dabi’s lips pulled away from your tit to look up at you as two of his long fingers slipped past your entrance. Your mouth dropped into a pretty O shape, mimicking a moan as Dabi’s drunken gaze met your lustful one. You let the shaky moan escape your lungs as his palm rested against your clit and his fingers curled inside you. Dabi’s lips were just centimeters from your own. Dabi closed the gap, slotting his lips into yours and beginning to move his fingers inside you. Your lack of sounds, however, led Dabi to believe this wasn’t enough. He picked you up and switched spots with you, laying you down on the couch with your legs still spread. He quickly pushed his fingers back into you, curling them again to hear you moan, louder this time from the new position.

Dabi began to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, the palm of his large hand pushing against your clit with each thrust of his wrist. He absent-mindedly palmed the growing bulge in his jeans, too focused on your pretty noises to realize that he could fully stroke himself. “Dabi~” you whined, “you’re gonna make me cum!” Dabi groaned at the name. He didn’t know it bothered him until right now. He’d have to think about it later, the way that name made him feel, especially coming from the lips of his girl, someone he was supposed to love. He’d think about it later.

“Tha’s th’ point,” he growled, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. “Cum f’ me, sweet girl.”

It was the nickname. The nickname had you flying over the edge, the rope of pleasure snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your orgasm gushed over Dabi’s fingers and dripped down your ass cheeks, your moans tumbling over your tongue like dice.

Without a moment to rest, Dabi unzipped his jeans, his dick aching to be set free from their denim and polyester prison, desperate to be buried inside you. He slapped the tip of his cock against you several times, sliding himself between your folds and coating himself in the liquid of your orgasm. When he rested his head against your entrance, your eyes widened. “Too much,” you whined. “D-dab-bi, I c-can’t–”

“Don’ call me that ‘nymore,” he commanded, looking you dead in the eyes. It wasn’t him being bratty or demanding or even the “dom.” The sentence came out of nowhere, without Dabi even thinking. The small amount of worry in your eyes made Dabi question his own words. He swallowed hard, the look in his eyes changing from fiery to soft in a matter of seconds, trying to silently assure you he wasn’t angry.

You were panting and shaking, not-so-patiently awaiting the stretch of his cock against your walls. “W-what do I call-all you the-en?” you stuttered, eyes flashing between his hips and his eyes.

“My name,” he answered, “is Touya.” With no time for you to respond, Dabi–rather, Touya–slammed his entire length inside your waiting cunt. You gasped as his hips collided with yours. Touya’s movements stopped to soothe you, as you whimpered and whined underneath him against the stretch of his member. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, your thighs stretching to allow Touya as close to you as possible. He rested his forehead against yours as he pulled out of you slowly. His right hand came to caress your cheek. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled. “Di’n’t mean t’ scare you.”

You nodded, not quite able to come up with the words to respond. Slowly, methodically, he thrusted into you, his tip kissing your cervix as you let out a soft whine. Dabi let his eyes close as he listened, continuing to move his hips as slowly as possible, worried he might scare you again. “T-Touya,” you stammered. His icy blue eyes opened to find you, staring up at him with as much love as you could muster. Before that moment, Touya hated the person he was supposed to be. With every small reminder, he hated himself a little more for not living up to be that person. But when those syllables came from your lips, he felt loved. He felt wanted. He felt needed. He felt like he was the person he was always meant to be. “N-need more,” you pleaded.

He thrusted in and out of you again, with a little more force and slightly more speed. You let out a loud sigh. Touya’s sobriety was ruined–he got drunk on your moans, your scent, the way your pretty pussy gripped his dick like a vice. “R’lax, pretty girl,” he groaned, nearly through his teeth. “If y’ clamp d’wn on me like that, ‘m gonna cum already.” He slowed, almost to a stop, his cock resting inside you at the hilt, reaching deep inside you. With his left hand, Touya caressed your waist, your hips, anything he could reach. He wanted to be impossibly closer to you. He thrusted into you once again, once he was sure he wasn’t going to bust on the spot.

You did your best to relax, taking long breaths that exhaled in the form of moans and cries. “Oh, you pretty little thing,” Touya groaned, becoming restless. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“‘M yours, Touya,” you moaned in response. “I’m all yours.” The sound of his name–his true name–escaping your lips left him gasping for air.

“Promise?” he asked, looking you in the eyes with the same intensity as before. His thrusting slowed, pulling you away from another orgasm. You sighed, grieving the loss of the previously incoming pleasure. “Promise you’re mine?” At first you thought this was his way of dominating you, like maybe he was going to edge you until he got what he wanted. But when you looked deeper into his diamond eyes, you saw actual fear. Now that you’d said his name, he was terrified. Terrified that he’d lose you. Terrified that, after you, nobody would ever say his name the way you did. Not with pity. Not with disappointment. Not with anger. But with as much love as could be packed into one five-letter-word.

“I promise, Touya,” you whispered. Upon the promise, Touya began to thrust into you with such fury and passion that your body became overwhelmed. Your thoughts were no longer coherent. The only sensation you could feel was Touya entering and leaving your sex as quickly as he possibly could.

Within a minute, he felt your hole pulsing around him. Touya relished the feeling of you. The pressure of your pussy around his cock made him bust unexpectedly. All of the sudden, he was emptying himself into you, the ultimate sign that you were, in fact, his. He continued thrusting, his cock aching from the overstimulation. But he needed you to cum. He was desperate for you to cry out his name again, to be the one to make you feel oh-so-much. He stood up, thrusting into you at a new angle. His thumb swiped over your soaked clit, pulling more pleasure out of you. “Come on, pretty girl,” he groaned. “I wanna feel you cum on me, wanna make you feel s’good.”

Touya’s words washed over you, only adding to the pleasure. You played with your own pebbled nipples, desperate for the orgasm you’d been denied twice now. With every single thrust a moan came tumbling from your tongue. And with a few final thrusts, Touya was emptying himself into you again. The pressure of his cum filling you up made you fall over that final edge into bliss. You cried out, “Touya~!” as your cunt clenched around him with your orgasm.

Touya let out a sigh as you came down from your high. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his length staying inside of you for a moment. As he slowly slid out, you sighed at the loss of contact. He picked you up and switched spots with you, resting you on his lap one more time. Both of you were out of breath, your bare chests pressed against each other.

Touya’s fingers locked behind your back, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. The soft fingers on his left hand ghosted over your back, creating goosebumps on your skin. You smiled into his neck. “I love you,” you said. “Do you know that?” You sat up to look at him, your hands resting on his face. “I love you so damn much.”

Touya smiled up at you gently, the sleep beginning to wash over his body. “I love you, too,” he whispered, your forehead resting against his before you pressed a long, loving kiss into his lips. He suddenly stood up, and you let out a gasp as he picked you up. “Let’s get to bed,” he said, carrying you all the way to his bed, the mattress and box spring on the floor. When he finally rested on the mattress next to you, he covered both of you with his blankets and pulled your head to rest on his chest. You pressed feather-light kisses onto his burnt skin every once in a while. “Y’really wanna be w’th me f’rever?” he slurred, his body still processing the alcohol.

You huffed in a small laugh. “As long as you want me to stay,” you answered, never even picking your head up. You draped your arm over him and rested your hand on the opposite side of his waist.

“So,” he said, “forever, then.” It was halfway a smartass joke, halfway a correction.

You laughed again. “Yeah,” you answered. “Forever.”

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

[hischierswhore]

cindy lou who

i'm back, and just in time for ficmas! this was inspired by sabrina carpenter’s song “cindy lou who”. i highly recommend listening to it as you read 🎄

pairing: lando norris x ex!reader

You, Kika, Alex, Carmen, and Lily all sat around your Christmas tree as you began your Secret Santa exchange. It was a girls' night, and you all thought this would be the best way to spend your final girls' night before Christmas.

The holiday spirit was evident within your cozy little flat, as the elegant pink and white ornaments decorated your tree and the pine-scented candles spread a wonderful aroma throughout your home.

"Oh my gosh, this is adorable! Which one of you got me this?" Lily questioned, looking around at each girl, trying to see who could barely contain their smile.

When Lily got to you, her bright smile slightly fell into a frown.

"Y/n? Is everything alright?" She asked as she rested her hand on yours, the contact waking you from the daydream you were in.

"Oh yeah. All is good!" You gave her and the rest of the group a thumbs up.

Truthfully, you were reminiscing on last Christmas. It was the last one you spent with your now ex-boyfriend Lando. This time last year you were at his house, kissing underneath the mistletoe.

After a few more Secret Santa reveals, the whole exchange was over. You picked up your phone and began to scroll through Instagram. As you scrolled, you saw a glimpse of Lando, leading you to scroll back to view it properly.

I saw you laughing in one of his pictures But you'll be the one with his ring on your finger There's red and green everywhere But I'm so blue Cindy Lou Who

You felt your stomach drop when you came across the photo of Lando... with a girl. She was stunning. Her long brown hair curled to perfection. The smile on her face was bright and huge. Her arms wrapped around Lando's neck. Her eyes weren't on the camera, they were on Lando.

He was smiling back at the girl. You wondered who took the photo, or rather, who captured them in that moment, and why did they want to torture you for the rest of your life?

You turned your phone off, desperately trying to find something to distract yourself with. You looked at the tree, you looked at the candles. You stupidly looked at the picture frame that was placed right in front of your TV. The one that had a picture of you and the girls. The picture that had replaced the one of you and Lando from Christmas 2 years ago. The frame that always reminded you of him.

Maybe he met you somewhere in the desert While he was soul-searching, he found someone better Guess you make him happy like I couldn't do Cindy Lou Who

As the night went on, you began to think of the girl in the picture. When did they meet & was it after what you had assumed was going to be a sort break?

Your breakup with Lando was a result of him claiming that he needed space to find who he truly was. You understood, but you always thought he'd come back for you when he was ready.

Now it seems as though you were never part of his plans after his "self-discovery".

You couldn't ignore the fact that he looked happy with this girl. He hadn't looked that happy with you in a long time. It pained you to see how happy he was without you in his life. His smile, the one you loved to see, was now causing you so much pain.

With your hair so long, lips so red Maybe we met once I forget Scrolling five years back, I'm obsessed Breaking my heart 'Tis the season I guess

After successfully distracting yourself with a Christmas movie that you watched with your girls, everyone was beyond tired and headed home. You dragged yourself to your bed, grabbed your pillow, and put it over your head. You were so done with the holiday season.

You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, when in reality it was just 30 minutes. You knew you shouldn't, but you did it anyways. You picked up your phone and went back to Lando's post. You clicked on the girl's tag and pulled up her profile.

Your breathing faltered as you were met with the brunette's feed: it was basically just pictures of her and Lando. You scrolled all the way down until you were five years back. She was a model, so of course Lando fell in love with her.

Just as you scrolled to the top and refreshed the profile, a new post appeared on her feed. It was a picture of the girl and Lando, her red lips pressed against Lando's underneath the mistletoe. You tried to hold back tears as you looked over the photo, along with the caption.

"meet me under the mistletoe :)"

If you're waking up now in his old bed At his family's house, know that you're just Breaking my heart 'Tis the season I guess

You desperately wanted to tell him how you felt, but it was no use. Lando had moved on and he appeared to be in love, but you were in love with him too. You never stopped, and now there was nothing you could do to get him back.

The snow's gonna fall and the tree's gonna glisten And I'm gonna puke at the thought of you kissin' The boy who I love is now in love with you Cindy Lou Who

~~~

hope you all enjoyed 🫶🏼

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 05

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

Five and I discussed our new plan on the way back to the academy.

“We need to go back, now.” Five insisted as he paced around his bedroom.

I stood by the door trying to distance myself from the angry teen.

“I know..” I pause. “But you already saw how demanding works. And also you're a kid, of course they didn't take you seriously.”

“Why is this eye so important anyway?” I ask.

He huffs. “Whoever has this eye brings upon the end of the world. I need to figure out who it is.”

Every time Five repeats that the world is ending I try to ignore it. But with the D-day getting closer and closer I realize I need to do a few things on my bucket list.

“We need someone else.” He mutters, breaking me out of my thoughts.

He's right, our story wasn't convincing at all. You need a strong narrative to get information out of suckers. So we need a dramatic person who can play a part.

Suddenly it dawned on me. We need-

..

“You know, I am so thrilled to join your guys' spy mission! It's just like old times.” Klaus reminisced with sappy tears in his eyes.

“I don't think we've ever done this.” Five retorts.

I know that the boy wasn't the most excited about getting help from Klaus but I told him if Klaus puts his mind to it, we're getting that information.

Five and I went over to the dining room where Klaus was snoring on the couch. In his underwear.

At first he wouldn't get up, that was until Five offered him twenty dollars and he bolted upstairs to get ready. We trailed after him back to Five’s room where he was waiting on Five's bed.

I love Klaus but his outfit choices have always been questionable even when we were teens.

“What are you wearing?” I asked disgustedly.

I did not receive an answer because Five heard a noise and peered his head out the door.

An annoyed look on his face appeared when he turned back around to us. “Vanya's here. Klaus hide.” He whispers.

Klaus gets up from the bed and dashes around the room, looking for anywhere that's big enough to fit his lanky body. I point to Five's closet.

He contorts himself to fit inside and closes the door behind him. Just in time too because Vanya walks into the room.

“Thank god, I was worried sick about you two.” She expressed her uneasiness.

I frowned. “Sorry, we left without saying goodbye.” If only I wasn't dragged by that little boy I would've loved to talk to her more.

“No look. I'm the one who should be sorry.” Vanya turns to Five. “Yeah, I was dismissive, and I– I guess I couldn't process what you were saying. And I still can't to be honest.” She stutters out.

I couldn't tell if it was an act but Five’s face turned almost sad. “Maybe you were right to be dismissive.” He says.

I'm not sure where this acting was when we were at Meritech. But I match his hurt look.

“Maybe it wasn't real after all. It felt real. Well like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind.” Five continued.

Five is interrupted by a loud crash that comes from the closet. I ran over to stand in front of it trying to distract from the noises Klaus was making as they kept talking.

“Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to. Look, I used to see someone. A therapist, I could give you her information.” Vanya shares.

Five is quick to feign a smile. “No thanks, but I think I'm just going to get something to eat. It's been a long time since I've had good food.”

Vanya nods and steps back out of the room.

As soon as Five goes back to the door to make sure that she is gone, the warm look on his face disappears and his permanent scowl returns instead.

The closet behind me starts to shake and I take a step away hoping that Klaus doesn't decide to fall on me.

His curled body leaps out of the closet. “That was so… touching!” He trips over fallen junk from the closet. “All that stuff about family and Dad and time. Wow!”

“Will you shut up, she'll hear you.” He yells.

“I'm moist.”

“What the hell Klaus.” I scoot further away from him.

Five takes a moment to look him up and down. “I thought I told you to put on something professional.”

The outfit he put on was a green button-up shirt with frilly red-lined sleeves. Honestly atrocious.

“What? This is my nicest outfit.” Klaus cries.

“Let's go look at the old man's closet,” I suggest pushing Klaus out of the room.

Five groans before following us out.

“As long as I get paid,” Klaus exclaims.

“When the job is done.”

He stops us. “Okay, but just so we're clear on the finer details. I just gotta go into this place and pretend to be your dear old Dad. Correct?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I replied.

“What's our cover story then?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Five gives him a puzzled look.

“I mean, was I really young when I had y/n? Like, 16? Like, young and terribly misguided. Then yada yada some years later you came along, Five.” Klaus rambles putting his hands on his chest.

“Sure.”

“Your mother, that slut.. whoever she was. We met at.. oh! The disco.”

I cackle at Klaus’s backstory but Five couldn't look more concerned.

“Remember that.” The man snaps. “Oh, my god, the sex was amazinggg.”

“What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain.” Five turns to go down the stairs.

Klaus holds out his pointer like a stern dad. “Don't make me put you into time out.” He yells.

..

“Like I said to your son and daughter?” The same doctor questions us from before.

We arrived at the same part of the building but this time the man had the decency to bring us to his office.

“Yes, these are my children,” Klaus replies affirmatively.

He now had on one of Reginald's many suits; it made him look the part.

“Yeah, can't you tell?” My hand messaging my temple as I throw that in, trying to mask my sarcasm, cause well none of us looked alike.

“Well, like I told your children earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential.” The man emphasizes each word to us like we are all babies.

Klaus sat in a chair across from the man's desk and I sat in the other, but Five stood up in the middle of us with his hands on the doctor's glass desk. Getting ready for round two of his yelling match.

“Without the client's consent. I simply can't help you.”

“Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name.” Five yells.

The doctor looks defeated. “Well, that's not my problem.”

I’m sure Five wished his powers were laser eyes instead of teleportation because of how he was staring at the man so intensely.

“Sorry. Now, there's really nothing more I can do, so–”

Klaus looked up from his lap. “And what about my consent?”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone turns to look at him.

“Who gave you permission… to lay your hands on my son?” Klaus cried.

“What?” Five, the doctor and I all say at once.

“You heard me.”

“I didn't touch your son.” The man states matter of factly.

Klaus slowly gets up from his chair “Oh, really? Well, how did he get that swollen lip then?”

“He doesn't have a swollen-”

The man didn't have time to finish his sentence because Klaus suddenly swung at Five and slapped him in the mouth.

I hide my expression with my palm and watch.

He inhales sharply. “I want it. Name, please. Now.” He slaps his hands onto the doctor's desk.

The man stutters trying to think of something to say. “You're crazy.” He replies.

Klaus fakes a chuckle. “You got no idea.”

He picks up the snow globe on the man's desk. “Peace on earth? That's so sweet.” He reads out loud.

He then smashes the snow globe into his head causing everyone to let out a shriek as it breaks into tiny pieces. I cringe looking at all that blood on his head.

He screams out. “God that hurt.” Water from the snow globe dripped all over his face.

The man doesn't break eye contact with Klaus but hurryingly reaches for the telephone on his desk.

“I'm calling secur– what are you doing?” The man yells out but Klaus takes the telephone right from his sweaty hands.

“There's been an assault… in Mr. Big's office, and we need security, now. Schnell!” Klaus screams into the telephone before slamming it back onto its post.

He sighs. “Now, here's what's gonna happen, Grant.”

“It's… Lance.”

“In about sixty seconds two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood and wonder ‘What the hell happened?’ And we're gonna tell them that you… beat the shit out of us!” Klaus rambles.

“While making googly eyes at my young daughter!” He sobs.

Five stares at Klaus admirably.

“You're gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I've been there. A little piece of chicken like you. Oh my god, you're gonna get passed around like a…” He moves his hips in a circle to make a point.

Then shutters thinking back at old memories. “You're just– you're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying.”

Lance almost cries out looking at all of us. “Jesus, you are a real sick bastard.”

Klaus stares at him blankly. “Thank you.”

He spits out a piece of snow globe glass. The look on Five face is priceless, I'm for one so proud of Klaus right now. He never went Broadway but this was pretty close.

Lance rushes over to a long line of filing cabinets. Searching for the information that will satisfy us. Klaus sat on top of the cabinet making the doctor go even faster, fearing for his life.

“Oh, that's strange.” He says.

“What.” Five ask.

“Uh, the eye. It hasn't been purchased by a client yet.”

Klaus jumps off the cabinet and gets up into Lance's face. “What? What do you mean?” He whispers.

“Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number… This can't be right. It hasn't even been manufactured yet.” Lance looks up at Five. “Where did you get that eye?”

Five huffs. He walks away from all of us to the elevator and leaves us with Lance.

I grab onto Klaus to move him outside as he blows Lance a smooch before we go into the elevator as well.

We walk out of the building's doors when Five starts to talk again. “Well, this is not good.” He says.

“I was pretty good, though, right? ‘Yeah. What about my consent, bitch?” He laughs.

“Klaus, it doesn't matter.” The boy sighs and we stop walking.

“What? What, what's the big deal with this eye, anyways?” The hurt Klaus asks.

I grab onto the two men to heal them of their injuries before answering for Five who looks like he's about to explode.

“There's someone out there who's going to lose an eye in the next seven days. And they're gonna bring about the end of life on earth as we know it!” I say, rubbing my forehead.

“Yeah, can I get that twenty bucks, like, now, or what?”

I stare at my adopted brother with my brows furrowed. “You're not gonna question what I just said, at all?”

Five steps closer to him. “The apocalypse is coming and all you can think about is getting high?”

“Well, I'm also quite hungry. Tummies a rumblin.” Klaus wiggles his fingers to imitate grumbling.

“You're useless.” Five shakes his head while walking away from the two of us to sit on the building's steps.

“Oh come on, you need to lighten up old man!” Klaus mocks. I move from Klaus to sit near Five and listen to the rest of Klaus’s spiel.

“Hey, you know, I’ve just now realized why you're so uptight. You must be horny as hell!”

Klaus’s laughter is matched by my own as he sits next to us. “That’s not funny Klaus,” I reply still giggling. Five on the other hand wasn’t amused, he looked deep in thought not even staring in our direction.

“All those years by yourself, it's gotta screw with your head, being alone.”

Five concentration breaks, “well.” He starts. “I wasn't alone.” Klaus and I immediately go silent and stare at him.

“Spill,” I say.

“Her name was Delores. We were together for over thirty years.” The small bit of happiness on Five's face was very easy to see.

“Thirty years? Oh, wow!” Klaus chuckles. “God, the longest I've been with someone.. I didn't know for three weeks. And that's only because I was so tired from looking for a place to sleep.”

Klaus went on like that for a good five minutes rambling about his love life and how hard it was not having anywhere to stay. I yawned in desperate need of a break from whatever this was. And it looked like Five was ready to blink away.

I turned to him and signaled that we should leave by nudging my head to the busy road that was right in front of the building. He nods back at me.

“He did make the most fantastic osso buco, though. It was..”

Five takes hold of my sleeve and we blink from the steps into a taxi. “Don’t stop, just keep driving.” Five demands of the panicked driver.

“Hey! Where’d you guys go?” I hear Klaus yell as we drive past him. Five turns to the window and gives Klaus a wave that makes him instantly stand up and try to run over to us.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, what about my money?!” He shouts but we’re long gone by then. I would’ve felt bad if this wasn't so funny.

Five was bleak at times and angry, and a lot of other things but he had his fun moments. We missed a lot of time getting to know each other but, this made up for it.

“So where to now?” I ask.

“I am going to run, uh an errand. I'm dropping you off at the academy.”

“Sounds good to me.” I smile. I needed this break to rest today. It was exhausting. “Our adventures have been fun, we should do it again.”

He turns to me, “Oh yeah?”

I hum in response.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The sky turned a vibrant shade of dark blue by the time we reached a familiar street, we were almost at the academy. I kinda wanted to join Five on his errand but I didn't say anything.

I paid the taxi driver the spare tens in my pocket for not freaking out and reminded myself that I'd pay Klaus tomorrow too. And walked up to the doors of the Umbrella Academy.

“Goodnight Five!” I call out as I open the front door. But I walked in before hearing his response, only hearing the sound of the taxi driving away.

..

I found myself in a spot I always went to when I needed to escape my ‘father’. It was a storage closet-like room that had a tiny balcony where Ben and I would hang out in the late hours of the night.

But now I was by myself and Ben was nowhere to be found. So I lit a cigarette and stared at the night sky. It’s a bad habit that I picked up during all my time with Klaus, It did help me calm my nerves though.

“Y/n?”

I turned around to see Alison in the doorway. A frown was painted on her beautiful face.

“It's good to see you, I didn't expect you to still be here.” She expressed while sitting down next to me.

“Me neither but I had a busy day chasing around a fifty-something-year-old. Thought I'd stay just to see what else happened around here. Or the truth could be I just kinda missed it around here, I'm not sure.”

Alison nodded. “I'm glad you're here, we haven’t really talked at all I've just been so busy with trying to get in touch with Claire and-“

I briefly cut her off. “Yeah, is everything okay with that?”

“My ex-husband, Patrick is trying to make it seem like I don’t care about this court stuff. Since I'm missing a session of mandated therapy.” She huffs.

“Can I have a cigarette?”

I reached into my black jacket pocket and pulled out the pack. Half of it was already empty but I just bought it before I came here, I guess I need more.

“Wouldn't the court recognize that as like, certain circumstances?” I ask.

“Yes! That’s what I tried to tell him. But he won't listen at all.” Alison groaned, holding the now-lit cigarette.

I smirk. “He sounds like an ass.”

“You don’t even know,” we both shared a good laugh.

“But,” she says while laughing. “What’s been going on with you? I know that's very broad because we haven’t seen each other since my wedding but, have you been doing anything new?”

I look forward to the pitch-black sky. “Yeah uhm, not much,”

Alison thinks for a moment, “Oh! I know. Whatever happened to your boyfriend? The guy you brought to my wedding.”

I froze, my mouth slightly open and the cigarette I held between my lips fell to the balcony floor. “Oh him..”

“Did something happen Y/n?”

“No no, we just broke up I guess.”

Alison grabs onto my hand, squeezing me tightly. “I'm so sorry.” She says.

It’s not that I forgot about my ex, no I couldn’t. I just liked to pretend that he was a part of my childhood nothing more. But in reality, we only broke up about half a year ago.

“We didn’t have the best relationship,” I told her. “He wasn't the nicest guy but I stayed. We were on and off but I officially broke up with him a couple of months ago.”

She fiddled with her curly hair. “I would’ve never been able to tell, he just seemed so nice at the time. I thought you guys were the perfect match. Y/n I'm so sorry, forget I brought him up.”

“It’s okay, I mean you didn't know,” I reassured the woman.

“If you need anything I'm always here for you, you know? I don’t think we were ever the closet but. I'm here for you.” Alison states.

I wasn't sure how to respond, this was all so surreal. Telling someone how I felt was like a boulder being lifted off my chest. I was comfortable enough to do it again.

“Thank you, Alison, I appreciate you.” I grinned

“Miss Alison, are you up here?” Pogo's voice called out. The ape walked into the room as dapper as ever in his suit. “Ah, Miss Y/n you’re up here too good.”

“I was looking for you.” He said to Alison.

We quickly put out our cigarettes and turned our attention to Pogo.

“How did you, uh.. How’d you know I was up here?” She asked.

“Well it wasn't hard, this is where you two would always come when you were upset. I remember it, yes.” He nodded.

I didn’t know that Alison would come here too. All of our childhood I felt myself slightly put up against her when really we couldn’t be more alike.

“Who told you I was.. Luther.” She sighs.

“It was Miss Vanya. She called to make sure you were okay.”

“What happened?” I blurt out.

Alison stretches her legs by walking around the room. “I said some pretty

unkind things to her earlier.”

Pogo shook his head. “She’s your sister. She knows you didn't mean it.”

“Doubt it” Alison scoffs. “She doesn't know anything about me, which is fine because I don’t know shit about here either.”

That was the downside of all of us branching out, we never stayed in touch. If I had moved to a different state I would’ve never known how Klaus was doing and how I could help him. How different my life could’ve been, I mean what if I didn't come to the funeral? Life would’ve died without me having the slightest clue.

“Language”

Alison chuckles at his humor. “Sorry.”

Afraid of just sitting there, I cut into their conversation. “It has been a while since we’ve lived under the same roof, you know?”

They both agree with my sentiment.

“Almost thirteen years,” Pogo said

“Wow,” Alison and I both remark.

“How did you do it? Also in this big house for so long?” I ask.

“Well, one grows used to things, even if sometimes.. one shouldn’t.” He replies, the sadness evident in his voice.

I should’ve visited him, I'm an adult, Reginald can’t scare me anymore and no one was here. I was so close to them but still, I never wanted to come back without a reason. This place was my home for many years, yes, but it wasn’t my first home.

Pogo senses that we’re both down in the dumps. “You two should come with me. I want to show you something. It might just cheer you up,” he says.

..

We followed Pogo downstairs into one of the mansion's many rooms. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen this room before. The hallway was dark with only a few orange lights that barely helped see anything.

The tiny room was filled with rows of old TVs and controls with glowing buttons. Most of the tvs were black but there were a few Pogo must've turned on. Then he went into a box and pulled out a tape. He placed it into the TV closest to him.

The tape played old security camera recordings of us as kids, probably around thirteen from what we looked like. It would’ve been creepy if it didn't make me sad, these memories are some of the good times at the academy that I ignored because of all the bad.

Alison and I gawked at the footage. We sat in two chairs that were in front of the TVs as Pogo talked to us from behind. “Your father stopped recording years ago. But I still come here from time to time. When I'm missing you kids.” He said.

Alison was the first to speak. “Pogo, this is..” she sighs. “Most families have home movies to look back on. We have surveillance footage.”

“I hoped it might cheer you up.”

I laugh. “This definitely does.”

Previous to the new tape Pogo just put in, some of the other TVs had more footage. My eyes drifted from screen to screen soaking up all the cute moments.

“Oh my god look how little we were,” Alison tells me.

One screen was Alison and I in her room trying on Grace’s clothes. “Ohh, I remember this,” I said.

And Alison turns to see the one I'm looking at. “This was so fun! Mom always had the best clothes.” She exclaimed.

Grace's dresses were obviously too big for us, but that didn't stop us. Her clothes were modeled after old housewives of a different time and might look strange and out of date to others. But we loved them.

I moved to another screen of me, Ben and Klaus talking. We were sitting on one of the main staircases. I wish I could freeze time to that moment forever, just the three of us again.

Alison follows where my sad eyes are staring. “I miss him so much.” She said upsetly.

“Me too” I whisper.

The screen next to that was of Vanya, playing her violin alone. You could hear the sound of us children in the background and Alison’s voice while she played by herself. It was the heartbreaking reality of our childhood.

“Why didn't we include her? I mean if anyone ever treated Claire like that, I can’t even imagine.” Alison wonders.

“You were children, Miss Alison,” Pogo replies.

“Yeah.. but I'm not anymore and neither is she.”

Pogo straightens up like he’s getting ready to head out. “If you two aren’t in a hurry. There’s more tapes in that cabinet.” He nudges his head to a large cabinet overflowing with tapes with all different labels.

The man drops the key into my hand. “Make sure to lock up when you're done, things have been disappearing lately. These are too important to lose.”

I tell him I will and Pogo heads back out through the door. But before he leaves he gives us one more look. I turn back towards the screens and rethink back to those happier days.

Alison stands up to go over to the cabinet, she picks up a similar-looking tape. But above the box, there was a rusty tape. The label was gone and it looked scratched up.

“What’s that?” I ask. She opens it and slides it into a screen.

“I don’t know but I guess we're gonna see.” She hits rewind and it starts to buffer before playing. The video was harder to make out than all the other black-and-white films. Alison and I both leaned in and once my eyes focused it was clear what was going on.

“Oh god, Dad.”

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[prettyoddfever]

I just wanted to say, I love your blog. You post so much information that’s not only interesting, but also validating, as someone who sees 24/7 misinterpretations of the band’s history on TikTok (I have an account where I post edits there). I first became active in the Panic fandom literally as the band was splitting up, which was just /amazing/ lol, but I took a huge step back from fandoms/online communities related to my interests when I started college. I recently came back around a year or so ago, because I enjoy making edits and wanted to indulge in my interests again, only to find out that 90% of Panic-related content online has just been overrun with misinformation/Brendon-haters etc. It was honestly jarring for me because so many of the things people claim as evidence of Brendon being horrible (That he assaulted and abused Ryan, that the band split up because Brendon forced Ryan out, that Ryan was basically forced out of the frontman role, etc…), are just so crazy to someone who knows that’s just not accurate! Your blog has reassured me that I am not crazy and the way I remember things is not a figment of my imagination lol. Even though I was very young when some of these things were happening, my older sister was OBSESSED with Panic and I was into whatever she was into, haha, we still reminisce to this day. I have been literally harassed on TikTok for commenting “in defense” of Brendon Urie underneath a post where someone insisted that every time he got near Ryan on stage, it was without Ryan’s consent. I knew that Brendon had “got cancelled” but I had no idea that people were that serious about it… When half of the things they claim aren’t even real. I know it’s not their fault that they’ve consumed misinformation, but there is no changing people’s minds, even with evidence, which is sad to me. It really sucks that newer fans of the band have such a bitter, twisted narrative around the band’s early eras and the split. But so many of the things they reference happened before they were probably born, yet they swear they’re more knowledgeable than someone who was kinda there…

Anyway, I’m sorry for the wall of text, I just needed to get that out and I really appreciate the time and effort you put into your blog! Not only is it just fun to read, but it really takes me back to my growing-up years, and it’s refreshing to see a take on PATD that’s more “normal” in my eyes.

You put this so well oh my goodness. 100% yes to everything you said. I've heard similar things from some other returning fans over the past couple years and I just relate to all of it so much. I mentioned at the bottom of this post how I drifted away from the Panic fandom for about a decade and coming back was so confusing at first. But trying to wrap my mind around everything also helped me understand modern politics in a way, though? Like now I can see how it's totally possible that a large crowd of people can literally invent their own reality, readily believe whatever they hear in their echo chamber, and then willfully ignore facts, evidence, and firsthand accounts if those contradict the narrative they'd prefer to believe.

Sometimes I'm sad for some newer P!ATD fans who could easily spare themselves a lot of stress & perceived injustice by simply learning about the real band & members. But they're free to focus on whatever they want, I suppose. I'd rather spend my time focusing on fun memories and organizing my little Special Interest mess lol. I’m also happy to clarify stuff or try to answer questions if people are genuinely curious... it’s fun to see others who are interested. Anyways, I'm so glad you're still a fan of the band! Sorry it took me months to reply. And I love your wall of text because it means you care. 🧡

[captainlordauditor]

Anyway.

This is the dickbabs break up scene, from Nightwing #87, in its entirely.

Sections of particular note:

Dick: She [Tarantula] doesn't even know what secret identities are for. Babs: Do you? Dick: Excuse me? Babs: Well, you have been a little on the reckless side lately, don't you think? Dick: Did you just ask me if I know what secret identities are for? Babs: showboating at the PD, letting Dick Grayson and you-know-who run around with the same injured shoulder.... Dick: Did you just ask me if I know what secret identities are for? Babs: ....body-tackling armed maniacs in public restaurants...

And

Babs: I'm tired of this, Dick. I'm tired of fighting with you to let me take care of myself, I'm tired of your relentless energy, and I'm tired of always playing "Remember when". Babs: Oh, and I'm really tired of the way you always look surprised when your ex-and/or-potential-psycho-love-interests-in-costume plant a wet one on you. Dick: Barbara, please. What did I do? I haven't seen you this angry since back when your dad got shot and I came to give you the- Babs: Don't you dare? Not one word about the past! Are you even listening to me?

It sounds to me like while Catalina kissing Dick earlier in the issue (yes, without consent, we'll get to that) was the final straw, Babs has been thinking about this for longer- I'd say at least since last issue when she had to call Alfred to force him to stay still while recovering from getting shot. That was also the issue where Babs finds he goes stir crazy if he doesn't have ways to help, and tries to invent ways to help:

And here in #85, Babs' issue with Dick dwelling on the past comes up as well, as does his recklessness:

We can plant the roots of their communication issues much further, actually - here they are in #77, a full ten issues before the break up, having what's clearly part of (actually given the timing I think it's the start of) a long running argument about secret identities:

Now, this one I'll give leeway - Dick is late, he knows he's not going to win the argument, so he ignores her. But it IS worth noting that Babs doesn't feel she's being listened to on a pretty major subject that affects both their lives.

Also going to note this little exchange in #85:

Babs: Yeah, yeah, you love me. Heard it before, hunk wonder. Can I go back to sleep now? Dick: Actually, I was gonna say I crave your touch with every fiber of my being. Babs: [skeptical expression on her face]: You were gonna say that? Dick: I was. Babs: Even remembering that I can't walk and everything, right? I mean, you're not just daydreaming about the good ol' Batgirl days? Dick: Oh, but you were so hot with that big yellow bat on your chest....

This is, in my humble opinion, a really notable exchange. Babs is expressing a very private personal insecurity - she is skeptical at the idea that her partner can desire her sexually with her disability. This is a very realistic way for Babs to feel. The problem is that instead of reassuring her, Dick responds by making a joke, reminiscing about the past (in her mind, confirming the idea that he's in love with someone she can't be anymore), and signing off. Babs is generally pretty emotionally guarded, so it makes sense that Dick might be caught off guard and unsure how to respond when she does open up (especially considering who he was raised by...) but that doesn't mean she can't be upset by exchanges like this, especially given that Dick frequently brings up a past that is now painful for her to think about.

TL;DR: Tarantula kissing Dick might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but I really don't think it was the only reason - probably not even the main reason - Babs broke up with him. Their relationship is messy and riddled with communication issues, and that's what makes it so interesting! But Babs has a right to decide she doesn't want to keep fighting for something that's not what she wants anymore.

[strxnged]

400w. warnings: minor vent, i wrote this on my phone—may be typos

"I'm so tired, Kaveh."

Ruby eyes met yours, slightly widened, but concerned. "I know, Y/N. I know."

You grasped the railing of the lookout, and clenched it. "Is it really just going to be one week after the other like this? For the rest of my life?"

Kaveh took one of his own hands off the railing, and hovered it over your shoulder. "I won't lie to make you feel better." He set it on your back, a bit awkward but well-meaning.

You felt a downward tug on the corners of your lips. "It wouldn't work anyways," you sighed, looking over the evening view of Sumeru city. It was a comforting sight. There was, however bitterness in the beauty. There was bitterness in how you missed having time to revel in it.

"But you chose this life, didn't you?"

You swiveled your head to face him, brows furrowed as if to warn him not to continue. Kaveh saw your facial expression and ignored it.

"You chose this occupation—this lifestyle—this insane sort of every-second-counts mindset. You chose it because you have goals. You're ambitious, stubborn, resilient, and..." He paused, looking you over. "You're passionate. Even if you don't feel it right now, it's there, right beneath your skin, fighting for action. For the pleasure of doing what you love."

"Don't project onto me, buddy," you snapped.

"We're similar."

You didn't want to admit that Kaveh was right. It was like the view before you which you missed so often when all you had to do sometimes was raise your eyes.

"Will I ever get to rest?"

Kaveh shrugged. "I hope so. I think... I guess you'll adapt. You always do. You'll adapt, and remember what you're doing this for."

"Yeah," you said, eyes flitting over the bustling streets below. "Do they rest?"

A group of friends near a shop was chatting away. A woman and her child were sitting on a bench, eating some food from Puspa Café. A man, holding a briefcase reminiscent of Kaveh's, Mehrak, had paused on the street and was looking above the building roofs towards the sun. He looked to be in a trance. Much like yourself.

"I think they remember," Kaveh mused, "to look up."

author's note. it's been a long week, and it's only wednesday. sigh!