#apparently i had a lot of feelings to let out

[trashytracktales]

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

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SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kisses against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work .”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his and and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me fuck you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[chronicsyd]

I'm gonna be so serious, y'all are remembering POWDER and Ekko and not JINX and Ekko when screaming about how much you "wanted Timebomb endgame over Caitvi"

shoving JINX in a relationship with her current mental state is not a good writing choice whatsoever, because Ekko literally had to keep rewinding time because she kept trying to kill herself. If Anything, That relationship would be rushed and fanservice because they would have jumped the gun in 2 episodes vs the 2 seasons it took for Caitvi and showing their ups and downs throughout their whole relationship.

The alternate universe works because Powder doesn't become Jinx and the two don't separate, unlike this universe where the two have been at odds for 7 years and almost kill each other back in Ep 7 of S1.

"But Cait never said sorry!" she didn't really have to, because Vi never stopped being in love with the girl that she Knows Cait is at heart, the Cocktail Molotov scene in Act 2 makes that VERY apparent. Cait saying that she was waiting for Vi to recover to address Jinx is the start of it because Act 1 Cait wouldn't have even Considered doing that, because she was so gung-ho about putting a bullet into Jinx that she Demanded Vi move out of the way for her to do so. She holds herself accountable with the mistakes she's made ("We can't erase our mistakes. None of us." that wasn't just a line targeted at Jinx to prove a point, there's deeper meaning behind it), and moving the guards out of the cell proving that she trusts Vi and her judgment on Jinx is that apology, Caitlyn has always been an "acts of service" kinda person over being a "verbal" kinda person; it's all over the place in S1 but Especially here in S2. But even after she takes Vi's shirt off, you could tell by her eyes and body language that she was most likely going to stop herself again to apologize for hitting her because the wound was in the same spot she initially hit, which was part of the lead up for This wound to even happen, but Vi's the one that just pulls her back in instead.

I'm also gonna add on that Vi thinks she made the wrong choice in trusting Jinx and thinking Jinx's changed because Jinx locked her in the cell and ran away again. So why in the Hell would Vi go chasing after her Again to be met with the same result time and time again? Vi isn't responsible for Jinx's mental health and y'all saying that are just weird. And I think it's apparent that Stillwater probably wasn't even in the top 10 things in her head being with Caitlyn, she was just running wild on emotions that she hasn't allowed herself to feel like-- Ever. And even if it Was Vi probably would have said she wasn't comfortable being in a jail cell of all places.

What was I talking about? Oh right, Timebomb.

Like Yes, it's shitty that Ekko doesn't get a happy ending considering he's the most unproblematic in the entire show. But people tend to forget that at the end of the day, Arcane is a TRADGEDY. It's not She-ra, it's not The Owl House, it wasn't going to be wrapped up in a neat little bow where everyone gets to smile and walk into the sunset with their loved ones, especially considering the fact that this season's being used as build ups to other stories, it's relatively clear that this isn't the last we're going to see of a lot of these characters. When they come back into play? well... who's to say?

But also, let's address that a lot of the Caitvi hate is just straight up homophobia at this point because a lot of people can understand Mel's admission to manipulating Jayce as an apology but Cait's actions we're suddenly braindead and need shit completely spelled out. like good lord I'm so tired of this. Y'all would NEVER have survived Catradora let me tell ya...

(My next post is gonna be a long winded rant about Maddie so stay tuned for that...)

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

hello! welcome to my new fic, i hope u like it! please let me know what y’all think, i have each chapter planned out but i’m not sure when i’ll update again. probably soon lmao 💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪽🌟

chapter one:

leni knew the first time she saw paige again it would feel like a kick in the stomach but to say she felt winded was an understatement. the sight in front of her had her breath stuck in her throat, heart beating out of her chest and her head spinning, she had to rest on the wall to balance herself. it wasn’t out of character for paige to be here. it was frat party at the beginning of the semester. paige was almost guaranteed to be here. but leni would have betted her life that the blonde would’ve come with her friends not the red head, wearing barely any clothes that was latched onto her arm currently.

“you good babe?” leni’s girlfriend, riley asks from beside her. she reached out a hand to rest on lenis back but the curly haired girl shrugged her off, “im fine. just feeling hot. can you get me some water?” leni asks in hopes to have a moment alone with her thoughts to process what she just saw. paige with a girl that wasn’t her. her paige with a girl that looked nothing like her.

despite having a girlfriend herself, leni was far from a hypocrite. a year ago leni was bearing her heart, all but begging paige to turn thier friends with benefits deal into something more serious. they already spent evenings laid together in bed. weekends walking around target or studying together. off days lounging around each others apartments. they were only fucking each other too. what would a title change? apparently a lot to paige.

leni tried for days but paige could not be swayed, shaking her head and furrowing her brow each time leni brought up the idea of them being girlfriends.

“i just don’t do that kind of thing len.”

“what we have right now is good. why change it?”

“i’m focused on basketball, i don’t need distractions.”

leni reached her breaking point, telling paige it was either they make it official or they never see each other again. she couldn’t continue in ‘will they, won’t they’ cycle. leni had caught feelings for paige. feelings so deep she wanted to shout it from the rooftops and it felt like her entire world crashed down when paige said it was best if they didn’t see each other again.

leni cried for days on end. buried under her duvet, waiting and wishing for paige to call or text and say she was wrong. to say she cared for leni they way leni cared for her. but no call or text came and eventually leni had to pick herself up and dust herself off. life doesn’t end when a blue eyed girl breaks your heart.

paige saw leni as soon as she walked in. of course she did. paige would spot leni in a sea of a thousand people. her bouncy curls, longer than the last time paige saw them, her brown skin, still showing the remnants of summer, her dark brown eyes, deep as ever as they flitted around the room. paige also saw the blonde girl next to leni, the way her hand touched her back, the way her lips pressed to lenis temple. paige wanted to punch that girl right in the face.

“where are you going?” camilla, paiges girlfriend asks as paige begins to walk away from her, “just to find a toilet. i won’t be long.” paige lies and she hurries off before camilla can say anything in response. paige wasn’t going to find a toilet. paige was going to find leni and she knew exactly where she would be.

“let me guess. you needed some fresh air.” hearing paiges voice made lenis hairs stand on end. she hadn’t heard that raspy drawl in so long she had forgotten what it sounded like. “you never did like parties.” paige says standing next to leni on the front porch. leni refused to look at paige, staring straight ahead, she focused on a street lamp in the distance that flickered. “i still don’t.” she says and in her head, her voice was strong and brave but her lips betrayed her and her words came out shaky and low.

“why are you here then?” paige asks, ever the curious girl. “i came with my g- a fri-” leni couldn’t bring herself to say the word girlfriend to paige. it was stuck in her throat threatening to choke her. “your girlfriend. you can say it len. you came with your girlfriend.”

“yeah. i did. i came with my girlfriend. looks like you did too. never knew red heads were your thing.” leni all but spits at paige, finally building the courage to look at her. and when she does, the past twelve months of healing and moving on completely unravel and leni feels as though she about to faint.

paige looks the same but simultaneously so different. her hair is still blonde but it’s shorter and a lot brighter, like she’s just had highlights. her skin looks smoother, in fact she’s glowing. leni was sure she’d grown a few inches too, paige was always taller than her but not this much taller. and as bad as leni was trying not to look, it was clear paige had been in the gym. the crop top she wore exposed her toned stomach and muscular arms and leni’s heart rate quickened as memories of those very arms being wrapped around her not so long ago flashed in her mind.

“are blondes your thing or just girls that look like me?” paige retorts and leni scoffs, “get your head out of your ass paige. girls that don’t treat me like i’m nothing is my thing.” paige feels limp as leni says that, did she really make leni think she was nothing?

paige had a difficult time with relationships. she branded herself as ‘not a relationship girl’, blaming her focus on basketball as the reason but paige knew that was bullshit. paige wanted nothing more than to have a girl in the stands cheering for her, to come home after practice and her bedroom not be empty but growing up all paige knew was turbulent relationships and broken homes and she vowed to never hurt someone the way she watched her parents hurt each other. and the only way she knew how to do that was to avoid relationships altogether.

“you weren’t nothing to me, len.” paige defends herself but it feels pointless, lenis feelings were written on her face, she always found it hard to mask her emotions and nothing had changed.

“i’m sorry. what i did wasn’t fair. i was stupid, so fucking stupid. letting you go-” leni couldn’t hear this. not here, not now. not ever actually. leni had gone through hell and back trying to get over paige, just ask her friends who had hugged her while she sobbed, forced her eat when she refused, literally picked her up off the floor multiple nights in a row after she drank enough wine to make her forget paige ever existed.

“paige, stop. this conversation is futile and one year too late.” leni holds her hand up to stop paige from saying anymore. to stop her from saying the words she was begging to hear last year.

“i’ve changed len. i promise. i tried so hard, i worked so hard to change for you. i want to show you that.”

“have you lost your fucking mind? i have a girlfriend paige and so do you. i’m happy. someone loves me, cares for me and it’s not a secret. it’s not behind closed doors. i’m someone’s girlfriend and they’re proud of that. and it’s fucked up of you to say all this stuff now, all this time later. i wasn’t enough for you and that ripped my fucking heart to pieces!”

“you were enough. you are enough. i was just blind and scared.”

leni was fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she didn’t want to cry in front of paige, give her the satisfaction of knowing she still affected leni.

paige couldn’t bare to see leni cry, the way her eyes glossed over and nose turned red, the way her lip quivered made paiges heart pang with guilt because after all, she was the reason leni was crying. “please don’t cry. i meant what i said. i really am sorry. and i know it’s complicated but i couldn’t not tell you this. i couldn’t not at least try it would feel like i’m robbing us of a chance.”

leni has averted her gaze again, there was something about holding eye contact with paige that felt like two hands around her neck squeezing every last breath out of her. it was suffocating and all consuming. when she was around paige, leni didn’t feel like she was in the same realm as everyone else, she felt transported to somewhere far away but she had to bring herself back down to earth before she did or said something she regretted.

“a year ago you looked me in my eyes and said it would be for the best if we never saw each other again and you were right paige. i shouldn’t have come to this stupid party and you shouldn’t have followed me out here. from now on, we go back to how it was before. you don’t know me. i don’t know you.”

“but i do know you len and you know me. so well.” paige does what she’s been dying to do since stepping outside with leni and she reaches out and touches her cheek. wiping a stray tear but her hand lingers and lenis eyes flutter closed at the feeling of paige. a feeling she’s craved for so long now, a feeling she’s dreamt about experiencing again.

paige has always felt a magnetic pull towards leni. the first time she met her, she was intrigued. she wanted to know more about the dark, curly haired girl. they sat for hours the first time they spoke then they ended up in paiges bed and paige got her wish of knowing more about leni. she knew leni so well it was as if she’d studied her. she knew what made her tick, how push her buttons, how to make her feel good. paige could read leni like a book, answering her questions before leni even asked them. that’s not what scared paige though. she knew she could control her feelings. what scared paige was the fact leni knew her in the same way. if paige bueckers was a book, leni had every word committed to memory.

leni placed her hand over paiges, still cupping her face, “paige, i can’t-” she begins to speak but paige cuts her off. “tell me you love her more than me. tell me what you have feels realer than what we had. tell me that and i’ll leave you alone.”

leni couldn’t say that. she couldn’t say any of it because it wasn’t true. she’s never loved anyone the way she loves paige and she doubts she ever will. but leni needed to protect herself. paige hurt her and leni couldn’t cope with that again and she had no reason to believe paige when she said she’d changed.

“don’t do that.” leni says looking at paige, her eyes as blue as ever, round and soft, pulling leni in. “don’t make this my decision. you walked away from me.”

“and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” paige says, eyes flicking down to lenis lips. she wanted to kiss her so bad. push her up against the wall, press her body into hers, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. she wanted their lips to be on each other’s, she wanted to taste lenis cherry lip balm, tongues moving in sync as they meshed into one being.

“a mistake you’ll have to live with. i care about myself too much to risk being destroyed by the whirlwind that comes along with you paige.” lenis voice breaks as she turns away from paige as much as she believed paige was the reason they never worked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she walking away from what she’s always wanted.

“leni please-” paiges voice also faltered as she tried to pull leni back but the girl was strong and determined, “goodbye, paige.”

leni had no time to ruminate over the conversation and just about managed to wipe her tear stained cheeks before riley appeared in front of her.

“there you are! i got your water. who were you talking to out there?”

“no one. no one at all. let’s go dance.” leni says, plastering the fakest of smiles on her face. she didn’t worry that riley would notice because riley rarely noticed anything.

leni spent the rest of the night knocking back drinks and willing herself to stop glancing at paige but it was near impossible. the six foot, one hundred and sixty pound girl was alluring to say the least and with her also staring back, leni was beginning to lose composure.

“kiss me.” leni asserts, grabbing on to rileys shirt collar, pulling her down. riley looks confused but she would never deny kissing her beautiful girlfriend so she presses their lips together, leni deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into rileys mouth but it’s not right. it doesn’t feel right. it’s not paige. and that makes leni feel sick. she’ll never kiss paige again and she’ll search for her in every girl but it’ll be pointless because no one could compare. no one could even come close.

now breathless from a phoney, drunken make out session that left nothing but the sour taste of beer in her mouth, leni pulls away from riley but her eyes immediately go to where paige was stood just minutes ago. but the athlete is gone. the only sign of her once being there was her girlfriend, now left holding two drinks. “i’m going to the bathroom.” leni mumbles and she slips away from riley, leaving her too, with a drink in each hand.

the multiple drinks leni had consumed in quick succession were catching up to her and her body swayed as she walked around the frat house looking for paige. she swung open random doors, bursting in on one too many explicit activities that she wish she never saw. “sorry, my bad.” she muttered quickly closing another door. she continued her search and by the time she reached the end of the hall, with no sign of paige, she actually needed to pee.

the bathroom was occupied but leni couldn’t wait, she knocked on the door over and over, “if you’re in there fucking, get out! i’m about to piss my pants!” she shouted over the music and she heard the lock click before the door slowly opened, “you never were very patient.” paige emerged from the bathroom and leni felt like this was fate. “i was looking for you.” she slurred, glancing up at paige. “you were?” leni nods, her eyes are glassy from intoxication, “i hate you for hurting me.” leni mutters but her actions do not resemble hate, they are needy and frantic as she pushes paige backwards into the bathroom, knocking the door closed with her foot.

“you hate me?” paige asks, hearing those words hurt but feeling lenis touch on her chest as she shoved her against the wall overrode any of that. “uh huh.” leni nods again, her hand now travelling down paiges chest and gripping her waist. “how much do you hate me?” paige tucks a piece of lenis hair behind her ear and leni leans into the touch, “so fucking much.” lenis breathing is ragged now as she pushes herself against paige, the craving she had for this woman was carnal and she doesn’t know how she managed to stay away from her for an entire year.

“you know im sorry. im different now len. hurting you is my biggest regret.” paige caresses lenis cheek, rubbing her thumb in small circles, she missed the feeling of her soft skin under her fingertips, “and this might just be mine.” leni says as she stands on her tiptoes to reach paige, crashing their lips together for the first time in over three hundred and sixty five days.

the kiss is sloppy and heated and influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol both girls had in their systems. paiges hands found lenis waist and she moaned into her mouth as her fingers explored every dip and curve on her body. leni felt like she was drowning and paige was air, she needed as much as she could get, nipping at paiges bottom lip before slipping her tongue into her mouth, saliva mixing to create the concoction that both girls missed so much.

“leni, are you in there?” there was a knock at the door and the voice of riley made leni jump away from paige, “it’s riley.” she whispered, eyes wide, “just be quiet.” paige whispered back. “leni?” rileys voice called out again and leni was violently brought back down to earth.

what the hell was she doing? in a frat house bathroom with her ex friend with benefits, kissing her when she had a girlfriend. when they both had girlfriends. this wasn’t leni. it wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t hurt someone. she wouldn’t allow herself to.

“no. this was a mistake. we’re drunk.” leni fixed her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down her tossled curls that paige had messed up, wiping the smudged lip liner from her cupids bow and re-adjusting her shirt that had been pulled down exposing the lace of her bra.

paige watched her silently, blue eyes several shades darker as they glared into the mirror at lenis reflection. leni caught her gaze and for a split second she considered listening to paige and staying silent but riley called out her name again, “im coming!” leni responded and without so much as a glance at paige she unlocked the bathroom door and closed it tight behind her. leaving paige alone and confused, wondering what the fuck just happened.

thank you for reading baddies!! let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for future updates. ILY 💋💋

tag list: @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[revelboo]

reading your posts is the highlight of my day 💖💖

Thank you!

L.G. FUAD Pt 2

Tarn x Reader

• The noise is so soft he almost misses it over the melody, his optics sliding to Nickel’s organic. Realizing that it’s humming along. Little nuisance, even if the sound of your voice is surprisingly soothing. You’re ignoring him, but you ignore all of them but Nickel. Following her around like a little shadow. Likely because she’s the one that feeds you, though that had been problematic to begin with. So fragile that food for other organics makes you sick. He has no idea how you’ve survived so long.

• Purple and pointy is listening to his music again. It’s nothing like what you’re used to, but you like how dramatic it is. No words, just flourishes of sound, crescendos, and a deep rolling beat. You imagine it’s what Vivaldi would have sounded like on crack and given an electric guitar. Weird, but oddly compelling as you make up words and sing nonsense to yourself. You don’t mind the masked one, he’s the one whose hand you’d woken up in, feeling warm and very confused. Then remembering that zombie dog robot abomination. And looking up to see him. There’d been a lot of screaming and he’d just bent and dumped you out of his hand onto the floor and walked away. Tiny blue had eventually found you and you’re almost positive that one is a she and the rest of the terrifying crew are guys, but since they’re alien robots who don’t speak your language and apparently can’t understand you, who knows.

• “A connoisseur of fine music?” He asks since no one else is around to see and you turn to look up at him at the sound of your voice. Knows you can’t understand a word he says, but the others don’t appreciate music or art. All they understand is warm, spilled energon and killing. So he pretends to have conversations with you. And you oblige him by chattering your weird nonsense language at him. “This isn’t his best, but it’s a fascinating piece.”

• He’s talking at you again, staring at you from behind that mask he always wears. You’d only realized it was a mask, because he’d taken it off in front of you once. Only you. For everyone else, it stays on, though you’re not sure why. You wander closer to his peds, neck craning to look up at him. “I still have no idea what you’re saying. I’d like to go home, though.” No response. There never is. As far as you can tell, you’re the crew’s hamster. That was almost eaten by their creepy dog, cause they’re terrible pet owners.

• Bending, he crooks a finger. Pleased when you huff at him but come closer and let him touch the top of your soft head. Drawing back when you reach to touch his servo in return, unsettled by that soft, warm hand on him. On your wholly unwarranted trust. That innocence is going to get you killed, but you’re just staring up at him. Chattering before you sit against his ped and start humming again. And he carefully scoots you away, ignoring the bemused look you shoot him.

Previous

[untilhiseyeheals]

Pretty Performer - Silco x fem!reader one shot

Warning: Smut. Shameless smut.

You opened the heavy wooden door to the bar and stepped cautiously into the warm, dimly lit room, already filled with people and bustling with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Taking in a deep breath you let it fall shut behind you, the sound of the heavy wood hitting the frame drowned out by the constant hum of voices and background music of the bar. You looked around, unsure if to just make yourself at home and prepare for your upcoming performance as this decision was justly taken from you by the grab of two nimble but strong hands that dragged you into the bar. “You came! I’m so excited! I had to beg beg beeeeeeg Silco to invite you to perform, you know, the bar doesn’t usually do live performances but I have been listening to your stuff alllll the time when I am tinkering and I just had to have you play here!”. Two long blue pigtails swung through the air as Jinx dragged you eagerly towards the little prepared stage in one corner of the room. A breath caught itself in your throat as you were well aware of what a dangerous environment you found yourself in, even with this situation being painted by a welcoming atmosphere, you couldn't help but feel a little on edge. “Thank you, Jinx. That really means a lot to me. I’m glad you like it. Hm… Is there any song in particular that you like? I can perform it for you, you know?” you managed a smile, thinking it's probably best to make as good an impression as possible with one of the most dangerous people around. She had already dragged you all the way over to the little makeshift stage as she whirled around to face you, eyes glowing with anticipation. “Animal Cannibal”, she exclaimed without a second thought and you smiled knowingly. Of course, one of the more, well, interesting songs. “Great choice. Will do!” you lifted your hand to your head and gave a joking salute as you turned to prepare the stage for your gig.

When the background music in the bar started to fade out and the lights dimmed, centring at the corner of the room you and Jinx found yourselves in, she jumped up onto the stage and grabbed the mic. “Hello and welcome everyone to The Last Drop’s first-ever live performance! No, we don’t care if you asked for this and we certainly won’t take any requests! Now lean back, lean forward, or to the side. Dance, stand, sit, drink, do whatever you want because you cannot stop what’s about to come! Give it up for (y/n)!” she shouted into the mic, twirling it around and pointing towards certain individuals that apparently had some sort of a reputation in the bar, as they gave a knowing smile and shrug before returning the attention to their glasses. She then jumped off the stage and joined the small crowd that assembled in front of the stage. Not much, by any means, but that only served to soothe your nerves that started to act up quite a bit. You couldn’t help but huff out a breath in disappointment as you let your eyes scan over the people in the crowd, not seeing him anywhere. Of course not! What were you thinking? It’s better he wasn’t here right now, the last thing you needed was the attention of arguably the most powerful and dangerous man of the Undercity on you. You took in a deep breath as the music started playing and decided to just go and get this over with.

So you started to sing. "I bite at the hand that feeds me. Slap at the face that eats me. Some kind of animal cannibal. Animal. Cannibal.” When the music started playing, the strain washed from your nerves and your muscles loosened from their tensed state. Your usual persona was swapped out to your on-stage persona, much more confident and slightly suggestive than your normal self. You can’t help it. You sang the song in a sultry voice, letting your hands roam your hips and down towards your legs as you scanned the room through half-lidded eyes. You didn’t catch him, too engulfed in your performance to notice the set of eyes that were glued to your form as you traced along the hem of your black dress. One eye blue and cold as the deep ocean, the other seemingly opposite a struggle of black and ember, like darkness fighting to engulf the flames of a smouldering fire. And he was watching you. Intently. Eyes never leaving you, he studied your movements, listening to your sultry song that you completely let yourself sink into. “How do I meet the strangest men? They always seem to find me.” How fitting. If only you knew that possibly the strangest man had become totally lost in your performance, in the way you seemed to ignore everything and everyone that existed in the world, becoming one with the song you performed and feeling the lyrics as if they were your own personal story.

That's what you were. A performer. So you opened your eyes, straightened up and let a dark, dangerous gaze skim through the first row of people looking back up at you as you sang the next words. “Who knows how some people turn to strange ones. Is it up to me to make them into dead ones?” a sickly grin spreading over your features as the last words left your tongue, hands raised to your neck, drawing a slow line once across as your tongue skims your teeth and licks over your sharp canines. You were looking dangerous, psychopathic, insane, for only as long as it fit the part of the song you were singing. A perfect performer. It was only between this verse and the upcoming last chorus you let your eyes wander further out, scanning the entirety of the room, eyes having become used to the glare of the lights that were turned onto you as your gaze fell on the man standing at the outer corner of the bar right next to the stairs up to the second story where the offices were located. You moved your head back from the microphone so as not to let the entire audience hear the sharp breath that you took in as you noticed his eyes locked attentively onto you, expression unreadable. He always had a certain look of anger, fury, and general disdain on him that made your skin tingle. As you studied his features a bit longer you noticed that this look was not the only thing you could see in his eyes. They were darker than usual, pupil dilated and fixed upon you, the grip on his glass unnecessarily strong as his knuckles turned white with the pressure he put on the poor object. He seemed like a predator stalking his prey and a set of strong goosebumps washed over your body as you realized with full force that in this scenario, you were the prey. It was a dangerous look that normally would have you avert your gaze and cower into the corner with the sheer force it seemed to emit. But not when you were on stage.

You drew in a final, long breath before it was time to finish the last chorus of the song, stepping closer to the microphone again, your eyes never leaving his. If anything, this drilling gaze of his only spurred you on in your performance. “I bite at the hand that feeds me.” you lift one of your hands from the microphone and bring it up to your mouth, slowly dragging it across your lower lip, opening your mouth and biting down hard as you show your teeth at the bite, letting your fingers slowly graze down your chin, dragging some saliva down your neck. “Slap at the face that eats me” Quickly you lift that hand and bring it swiftly down at your cheek, emitting a beautiful slap that reverberates through the room in the microphone. “Some kind of animal cannibal” Your hands continue their way around your neck and down to your collarbone, head leaned slightly to the side, eyes half-open again. “Animal? Cannibal.” You continue your sinful performance until the last note of the backing track has rung out through the room. Only then do you fully open your eyes and stand up straight again, looking over to the spot at the end of the bar. Empty. You huff in frustration and … disappointment? as you take a step back from the microphone and give the audience a dramatic bow.

Jinx was jumping up and down in excitement, dragging you off the stage the second you stopped your bowing and the light in the bar returned to its normal state, background music resuming more quietly. “That was AMAZING! It was EVEN BETTER than hearing it on my big boom boxes over and over again and that’s honestly saying something!”. You found it hard to keep up with her rambling, smiling courtly and nodding along so as not to infuriate the girl you just made so happy with your performance. Although you wished you had made someone else that happy. Your eyes scan through the bar, desperately looking for the enchanting set of eyes that so drilled through you just minutes ago. You couldn’t find him. Defeated you made your way over to the bar and plopped down on one of the barstools, gesturing to the bartender for a drink. Only it’s not a drink that hit the wood of the counter in front of you, but a similar little envelope to the one that fluttered into your room only days ago. You felt your heart stumble in your chest as your shaking hands picked up the paper, nails slicing through the envelope and trembling fingers unfolded the paper inside of it. You read faster than your eyes can manage, stumbling over the words on the page that turned out to be very few, and very direct. Upstairs. Second door to the right. Now. – S. In any other state, you would have chuckled over the way he signed the note as if it wasn’t painfully obvious who it was from. You knew better than to go into that office, what if was a trap? You dared to lay your eyes on him, lost in your performance, you were … lewd, desperate, horny. While your mind was still listing off the unholy effects his mere gaze had on your poor body, your legs already hit the ground and you made your way up the stairs before you could even realize what you had done, your hands knocked against the wood of the office door. “Come in”. A low, rumbling voice beckoned you inside. You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside the office.

You weren’t prepared for what you would find inside. Your eyes instinctively went to his big desk that stood in front of a beautiful big stained glass window, letting in the faint glow of street lights from outside that tinted the room into a hazy shade of green. However, you were surprised to find the chair in front of the desk to be empty. Confused you furrowed your brows as that dangerous voice made itself heard again. “That was quite the performance you put on there. I can see why Jinx took a liking to your… music.” You traced the origin of the voice to the opposite side of the room and your breath hitched as your eyes fell upon the slim figure of Silco sitting on a low plush chaise lounge, legs spread, cigar in hand and those damned eyes locked straight onto you. You felt like you walked straight into the cave of a bear, deep into the mountains, stupid little bunny hopping straight forward into its demise. You couldn’t help the deep blush that spread across your features at the small compliment. If it was a compliment at all, with him anything sounded like a threat. Just as you opened your mouth to thank him, he cut you off with a simple demand. “Come here.”, his voice was low, eyes never leaving you as you made your way over to where he was sitting, unsure where to start or stop or what to do.

Your mind was hazy, his damn smug grin as you got closer and closer drowning out every strand of thought your brain tried to form. It was to no avail. As you came to a halt in front of the lounge, he sat up and leaned forward to a little couch table with an ashtray and two glasses of liquor, pressing the cigar into the tray and taking up one of the glasses, not bothering to offer you the other as he let himself fall back onto the backrest. His eyes studied you intently, you could feel his gaze wander up and down your form and how the little black dress accentuated each and every one of your curves before it ended, making way for equally black stockings, held up by garters in the shape of a heart. Like a perfect little black dress is supposed to, it showed almost a little too much cleavage to be comfortable, eyes drawn to the necklaces around your neck that almost beckoned the gaze towards your chest. You forced yourself to take deep, steady breaths but your body failed you as he took a swig of his drink and set it back onto the table, hinting with a jerk of his head to come sit next to him. You obliged wordlessly.

That’s when you realised you hadn’t even spoken a single word since you entered his office, the air thick with tension which you hoped was sexual nature and he wasn’t going to end your life right here. Hell, not before making it worth it. He seemed to have picked up on your dilemma, offering you a smug grin as he finally broke the agonising silence. “What happened? Swallowed your tongue?”, his eyes skimmed over your face, taking in the effect that his voice had on you, “Pity. Your performance almost made you seem interesting.” Bastard, you thought before you took up all the courage that was left in you, riding the high that was left from your performance and the reminder of how his eyes practically ate you up. In one quick, swift motion you turned towards him, throwing one leg over his and placing yourself over him, knees to the left and right of his, straddling his lap. That earned you a low, dangerous chuckle, as his eyes started at your necklaces dangling in front of him, skimmed over your chest, you swore they lingered there for a quick second, before coming to rest once again on your face. Heterochome eyes locked with yours, and there it was again, this undiscernible look that only hinted at the fire festering behind those eyes. He kept a cool and collected front, always, if he wasn’t seething in anger and exploding like a volcano he was just quiet and very laid back. That was a front. Dangerous one. You, however, were determined to weasel your way through the cracks that you saw forming in his foundation and he let you.

You carefully lifted your hands from your sides and skimmed the collar of his vest, toying with his tie and carefully loosening it a bit. A low rumble came from his chest as his arm was quick to catch yours and pin them down in your lap, holding your hands by their wrists with only one hand and a very, very strong grip. “Tsk tsk tsk…” he scolded as he used the leverage he had over you to push yourself off him to the side, never letting go of your wrists. “Seems like my eyes didn’t deceive me then. You’re a feisty one. I can appreciate that.” Well, it was fun while it lasted, you thought as he pushed you off him and took that as a sign that this night was not going to go your way. “What I cannot appreciate, however,” he continued, voice low and scolding as he used his second hand to fully undo the tie you so carelessly loosened before and bring it over to your wrists. “is someone acting so incredibly unduly in front of all of Zaun.” With that, he quickly wrapped the string of the undone tie around your wrists and tied them together in a strong knot, not being gentle and making sure it was tight. “Looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson on how to behave.” he finished, letting go of your tied arms and letting them drop into your lap again.

“Lean back.”, he ordered and you were in no position to disobey, leaning back on the plush velvet of the lounge, resting your back against the backrest. With a small, approving nod he slid off the lounge from beside you and stood up, bending down towards you. He seemed to be taking in the sight of you, breathing already shallow and ragged from anticipation, anxiously biting your lip, hands tied together by his tie, looking up at him with big eyes that gave no hint of opposition. Just how he liked it. “There. I had a feeling you’d be a quick learner.” he cooed as his bent-down form started to come closer to you until his head was right next to yours, breath warm and tickling your ear. “So pretty and willing, all tied up and submissive it’s almost a shame having to ruin you.” he whispered in your ear, voice low and gravelly, lips just barely grazing your ear. You couldn’t stop the desperate whine that left your mouth, which made his eyes flick towards yours as he slowly leaned back away from you. “Patience.” was all he said, as his long fingers found the soft flesh of your thighs, tracing a line up and down and along the heart-shaped garters. You sucked in a breath, skin tingling at the touch you waited so long for. His hands made their way, slow, oh so painfully slow, up your thighs under your dress, skimming the band of your cotton panties that had a little lace rim on top which his fingers quickly found. You could tell he thoroughly enjoyed feeling up every inch of you, making you wait forever and ever, each touch feeling so painfully slow that you wished you could just grab his hand and drag it directly to your aching clit. He was revelling in your desperation, eyes closely on yours as he observed each subtle change of your facial features as his hands roamed your body. Then he pulled back his hand from under your dress, making you wince at the sudden loss of contact. He smirked a devilish little smirk as he straightened up and sat back down next to you, picking up the glass with liquor as he watched your slumped-down form, already so messy and dishevelled from this little touch. “Stand up.” he ordered, placing the glass at his lips and taking a swig. You rolled your eyes. What was this supposed to be? Did he order you up here only to make you stand up and sit down and turn around like a little puppy? You weren’t having it. With one swift motion, you stood back up on your feet and made a step towards the door of the office.

Suddenly you could feel yourself getting yanked back hard and crashing into his tall frame. He was just sitting there with a glass in his goddamn hand, how did he manage to pull you back so fast? You could only hear a dangerous, low chuckle as you turned your head to look directly into his eyes. Now they really seemed like they were set ablaze. “Thank you, pet. I thought you weren’t gonna put up a fight at all.” his voice was barely a snarl, a sickly grin spreading over his face. Sick bastard. He didn’t want you to silently obey him, he picked you out because you seemed like you had a fire within you, so different from all the mindless idiots he was left to deal with every day. And finally, he got a glimpse of it. Before you knew it, he had lifted your tied hands above his head so that they came back down around his neck, which left you straining with no way to move, your bodies almost pinned together. That’s when his smug grin was instantly washed from his face as you closed the difference and started planting sinful kisses along his jawline, trailing them up towards his ear and down his neck. Your tongue slipped through, you licked your way along his neck, kissing, sucking, tired of this game he wanted to play. You could feel his head snap back as his own arms snaked around your waist and found your ass, cupping your cheeks with his hands and giving them a squeeze. That elicited a husky moan from you, spilling from your lips between the sounds of sucking and kissing the skin of his neck. He maneuvered you back towards the lounge and when you could feel it against the back of your shins he stopped, releasing your ass from his grasp to free your tied hands from behind his neck. Taking a step back which meant you had to stop your assault on his neck, he smirked as he undid the knot around your wrists, tie discarded to the floor in one swift motion. That, however, didn’t mean he allowed you any more control than he wanted to. “Strip.” he ordered, and you were only too happy to oblige.

Your hands found the straps of your dress and slid them down your shoulders, leaving it to pool on the floor. He once again started looking you up and down, although your undergarments were nothing too special since you favoured comfort over looks and, well, you didn’t count on anyone seeing those today. He took a step towards you, piercing gaze never leaving you, as his arms came around your back to unclasp your bra, fingers pushing it off your shoulders to join your dress on the floor. “Magnificent,” he murmured, as he took another step to close the distance between your bodies and started returning the favour of kissing your neck, hands finding your breasts and cupping them. You let out a soft moan, to which he responded with his fingers finding your hardened nipples, flicking and toying with them as his mouth slowly made its way down your neck to your collarbone. Again, he seemed to find special pleasure in making the process painfully slow, dragging out the moment as long as he possibly could, before the warmth of his mouth finally found one of your nipples. His tongue swirled in circles around the hardened bud of your nipple, teeth grazing it ever so gently before he decided he was gentle enough and took it between his teeth. “F-Fuck…” you moaned, hands darting forward to find his perfectly slicked back hair, burying your fingers between its strands, dragging your nails over his scalp. This led to him letting out a grunt against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body that settled right in that ever-tightening coil in your core.

Seemingly feeling this jolt, he let go of your nipple, guiding you to lay down on the lounge, joining you by crawling his way up, pushing your legs apart. You sucked in a breath in anticipation, as his hands found the waistband of your panties, dragging them painfully slowly down your legs and discarding them on the floor next to the lounge. He began kissing his way up the inside of your thighs, getting dangerously close to the wet mess he made of your cunt. Enjoying every second of this juicy anticipation, his mouth made its way all the way up to your upper thigh, directly next to your dripping cunt, nose skimming your folds for just a second, already enough to make you buck your hips involuntarily. He chuckled lowly against the soft flesh of your thigh. “My, my…” he trailed off and suddenly his head turned from the side of your inner thigh and the next thing you felt was his tongue licking slowly up your folds. You bucked your hips again, arms darting back to find his head again, getting a handful of his hair, destroying what was left of its slicked-back state. He ate you out like it was what he was destined to do, tongue swirling in circles around your clit, toying with the willing hole and slurping up all the delicious juices that you had for him. That’s when he felt like that wasn’t enough, and while his eyes flicked up to catch your reaction, two of his fingers joined his tongue. You threw your head back, muttering and moaning a string of words that loosely resembled his name as he slid his fingers into you. They met with no resistance as he pushed them in all the way, curling them up to hit that sweet, sweet spot that almost made you scream his name had you not turned your head and bit your lip. His mouth left your aching clit while his fingers kept relentlessly pumping into you, lifting his head to watch you squirm and hold back noises. “Come on, let me hear you.” he growled, as he once again curled his fingers right where you needed them and thrust them into you. “F-Fuck. Silco. Your fingers feel so good. I’m… I-... S… So close” you muttered against the side of the lounge, breath ragged and speaking made hard by the continuous assault of his fingers that felt like knocking all the air out of your lungs. That only seemed to spur him on more. “Good. Come on my hand for me.”, he ordered and slipped in a third finger, curling them once again, one last thrust sending you over the edge and bringing the knot in your stomach to explode. “Yes… S-Silco!”, you almost chanted his name like a prayer as the feeling of sweet release washed over you, making your vision blurry and your head fuzzy. His hands slowed down their movements, letting you ride it out as you bucked your hips lazily against his hand until he withdrew it.

You carefully opened your eyes and the knot in your stomach began to churn anew as you took in the sight before you. Silco had straightened up on the lounge, still between your thighs, vest slightly agape for a lack of tie, hair dishevelled with strands falling into his face. His face, gods, his face. It was flushed from the heat, his sweat mixing with your juices that coated his nose and mouth and that bastard was grinning as he took the fingers that were just inside you to his mouth, licking them clean of your remnants. You were determined to wipe the grin from his face once again as you tried to use your elbows to prop yourself up and get yourself into a halfway seated position resting on your palms. Well, you made it halfway from the elbow stance to the palms as your arms remembered they felt like jelly and gave up on you, leaving you plopping back onto the velvet cushions of the lounge with the back of your head. Silco watched this and chuckled. “Dear, don’t overestimate your strength. Give yourself a moment.” You didn’t want a moment. As you set to try your endeavours a second time, he suddenly bent back down over you, his arms resting on either side of your chest, face flush to yours. “I said, give it a moment,” he warned, voice low and dangerous again, a glint shimmering through his eyes. You shook your head and decided that if your arms could not support you to steady yourself, you might as well use them to pull him in.

Easier said than done, you lifted your arms and dropped them behind his neck, hands gripping the fabric of his vest on the shoulders. He let out another chuckle and shakes his head. “You won’t let go, hm?”, he cooed as he brought his face closer to yours. He hasn’t kissed you yet. You hadn’t dared to- this didn’t seem like a situation… You couldn’t finish your thought before his lips found yours, hungry, devouring you, tongue pushing its way into your mouth. He didn’t need to ask permission or wait, be gentle, or anything. And he knew. You moaned into the kiss as you felt his tongue twirling with yours, pushing hungrily into your mouth, determined to explore it in its entirety. Even though the kiss was drenched in desire and want, it almost felt a tinge gentle. You were sure you imagined that part. The knot in your stomach tightened at the feeling, itching to be released anew. “S-Silco… Please….”, was all you managed to pathetically wince out between kisses. He broke the kiss and leaned back a bit. There it was again, this grin. “What is it? Use your words, dear.” he spoke, voice dripping with sarcasm. You looked back up at him with the most longing and pathetic look you had in you and said “Please… Fuck me.”

That was all he needed, hands quick to unbutton his pants and sliding them down just enough to free the length of his hard cock that surely was similarly aching to be freed like the knot in your stomach. He was already dripping precum which made you a little proud of yourself, seeing that all this mess hadn’t just affected you. He was human after all. You didn't have a lot of time to revel in that thought though, as he quickly came back down towards you, tip of his cock hitting your aching clit. You winced and at this point, you didn’t care how you sounded anymore. “Please, please Silco”, all you could do was whimper his name in pleas to end your suffering and finally fuck you. He seemed to enjoy that most as he took his sweet time, dragging his tip through your folds, playing with your clit, lining himself up only to let it glide upwards between you again. You had enough. Determined you bucked your hips against him as he toyed with you once again, pulling him in just enough so his head was entering you.

He hissed, seemingly pissed off for just a second before the feeling of your cunt around him soothed all his anger and he couldn’t help but fully push himself inside you. You gasped, and let out an unholy animalistic noise as your hands tried to grasp onto the velvet of the lounge in support. That did it, the last part of resolve he had in him was crumbling at that unruly noise you just let out. He was relentless, quick-paced thrusts deep into you, losing himself in the way your walls clenched around him. Your hands, not finding any support with the lounge, latched onto his shoulders and dragged down his back, nails leaving marks in their wake. The noises he made were impossible to describe and even more impossible to endure. Your own were similarly unruly, you simply didn’t care anymore. There was no way you were withstanding this long, as you could feel your release inching closer and closer. He could feel it too, your walls clenching around him as he bottomed out into you, thrust after thrust, again and again. “S..Silco.. I’m.. I’m gonna..”, you tried your best to form any semblance of words as you felt yourself approaching the edge. One of his hands found your clit, fingers circling over it as he kept fucking you at a relentless pace. That did it and you felt yourself being thrown over the edge as the knot in your stomach exploded again making you clench uncontrollably around his cock. His breathing grew more ragged, thrusts sloppy and losing their rhythm as he fucked you through your high and chased his own. Just as he started to twitch he pulled out and spilt himself all over your stomach, panting heavily, letting out more of these groans and sounds that you would for sure hear in your head for days to come.

He remained hovering over you for a second, lazily stroking himself before getting up and grabbing a box of tissues off the nearby table. You thought he would take a few and toss you the box or something, but he cleaned himself up at the table, discarding the used tissues and heading back over to you with the rest. He sat down on the lounge in front of you, taking one tissue after the other, gently wiping his cum from your stomach and discarding the used tissues… well, into the general direction of the waste bin. You studied his face as he did so, usually furrowed brows relaxed and eyes steadily fixed on his task at hand. For how relentlessly he fucks, kills and acts otherwise he was being… gentle?

[alikuarso]

To answer your question about Fresh: Fresh is actually a parasite! He dresses in his 90's-themed clothes and speaks in a silly way so that others underestimate him. His main and utmost goal is to Survive, and the way he does that is by infecting other people with his parasites and draining the life from their souls. Being seen as harmless lets him get closer to them and gives him easier access for possession. He hopes to eventually take over the multiverse, spreading his parasites in every corner of it and having absolute control.

He also has no emotions. He is capable of them, but for whatever reason he is unable to feel much, besides the rare instance of anger. He does frequently feel fear, though.

He is a bit sadistic, and he likes seeing others suffer. This is because when he takes over someone he drains their soul of life, which causes them pain. And to him, taking someone's body means safety, it means he can survive a bit longer as long as he's snatched their body. So he's come to associate the pain of others as something good.

And he's also aware of the creators/viewers, thanks to an event called the Loveball, which is canon to his character.

Going to copy and paste my own words for this [I was talking to a friend about Loveball]:

"So, like seven years ago there was a fandom-wide event called the Loveball, where people gathered their OCs and had them all attend an UTMV dancing ball. Fresh went, of course. There, he met a Frisk called Pacifrisk. Even knowing who he really was [90's parasite], they still believed he could be good. Before this, he hadn't ever really felt a connection to anyone, or even positive emotions in general. But Pacifrisk's faith in him made him feel positively towards them. This freaked him out. [No Fr@ns though, don't worry. That wasn't the intention for this plot.]

As a result, not only did he try to kill them, but he also went through with his plans: the Fresh Takeover [I forget what it's actually called]. His true reason for attending the ball. OCs were either possessed by the parasites or tried to fight against them. Apparently, some people used alcohol to ward the virus off, as Fresh hates substances such as that.

Fresh wanted to take over the multiverse, with this Loveball being the first step for his total domination.

But then right in the middle of things, a Sans AU [which I totally forget the name of X,D] grabbed Fresh and basically yeeted him into an alternate state of being. One where he could see the creators, all staring at him. An audience.

The Sans revealed the nature of Fresh's existence: That he was simply a character in a story. And if the creators got bored of him, he could easily be written aside and forgotten. Erased. His conquest didn't matter, in the end.

Predictably, this gave him an existential crisis. I'm not sure what happened after, but he stopped invading and went somewhere to contemplate his existence in a depressed state.

Afterwards, he had a new goal: To entertain. To convince the creators that he was worth keeping around. Similar to his previous goal of survival, but now with more dire stakes."

His creator @loverofpiggies has some posts about the Loveball, tagged under either the 'fresh sans' tag or the 'loveball' tag, which I recommend you check out! ^^

But yeah, to answer your question: The reason Fresh fought Ink was probably 1: because he saw it as a good way to keep himself alive and 2: So that he could be relevant and interesting to the viewers.

Hope this answered any questions you might have about him! ^w^

THANK YOU BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY I WOULD HAVE FOUND ABOUT ANY OF THIS OTHERWISE😭😭😭 THAT'S A LOT

Now I want to draw fresh existential crisis mood, That's something I never would have imagined existed

Im still a bit confused about fresh not having emotions¿ but I think I got the idea, but still, why does he feel fear?

I think fresh is becoming my favorite now, help, error do something

(Thank you again for your time✨️)

[rafesfavouritegirl]

I don 't know why people are in a frenzy now over what's speculated to be Drew and Odessa under that umbrella in Aaron's photo dump; if you all read the room, it was apparent they were more than platonic from the jump, especially if they were seen exiting the same hotel in Paris back in January . Many people wanna insinuate that O is a lesbian who has a girlfriend . I guess them thinking it's Quen Blackwell or maybe Billie Eilish, but Quen said 2 years ago that Odessa had a boyfriend on a podcast . She mentionedhow her and O would go on double dates ,and how she was in love. During those times , O was seen with Drew a lot . Ifshe was in a relationship with someone else , why would that believed - to - be partner let Odessa share clothes with Drew , fly internationally just to see him ,and have no other friends involved , and be okay with that ? Wouldn't Drew deny the British Vogue article or Daily Mail one mentioning how him and O were in a relationship ? His own cousin was commenting on a TikTok video , claiming he had a girlfriend . This was the same cousin that was with him in Charleston at the obx4 premiere . Some little girl who was at the Tribeca Film Festival during O's premiere of Fresh Kills that O even follows claimed that O referred to Drew as her boyfriend . O doesn't treat Drew just like one of the guys . Although she may emasculate him and embarrass him ,they're emotionally attached to eachother and at the hip . It worked for them this long to never confirm them being together , otherwise they get more hate ,even worse than the backlash they received from Aaron's photo dump.Because Drew fans would crash out worse than Rudison fans when it comes to Rudy and Elaine . There were already fans threatening to unstan because of the umbrella photo . Drew deleted all traces of O off his page and turned off tags at a point because there were hate pages doxxing his family , sending him death threats , and going too far . Thosepeople make it unbearable for him to feel confident going through fully coming out and admitting what O is to him . He is hypersensitive and doesn 't know how to stand up for himself . O is pathetic to be okay with not having a title , and being allover him, or vice versa . It 's been going on for 4 years now . He 's living in Odessa's old apartment with Jesse . Shedrives his car . They share a Pomeranian dog , and all her friends have become his, and his have become hers . Drew isn't coming off Odessa no matter how bad she plays in his face , embarrassing him ,showing up to his . Premiere looking like a hobo and thenhaving to sneak into restaurants through the back door , or not be visible in public. Zero PDA . They are a shit show . Sheis still pursuing other women like Billie and Manon , and flirty with Quen . He isstill on Raya and following sex workers .These people are flawed and have faults the public may not see . People are so disillusioned with this fantasy . He 's Prince Charming when he's going out like a cuckold.

yall just read this because honestly it left me speachless. applaud this anon because they said it ALL. anon ily you explain lowk everything perfectly

[gothamite-rambler]

It's a start (Harley and Dick start to make amends)

Harley kicked in the door of Joker's warehouse, striding in confidently while wielding her iconic red and black bat. Dressed in a sleek anti-hero business suit, she felt empowered and ready for anything.

Harley (singing): Young and sweet, only seventeen, dancin' queen, feel the beat from the tangerine—why would a tangerine have a beat? Hm... anyways, Nightwing?!

Nightwing: Harley, turn to your left.

Harley turned, surprised when she spotted Nightwing trapped in a cage suspended above the ground. She waved enthusiastically, but he could only raise an eyebrow in response.

Nightwing (correcting casually): Also, the lyric was "tambourine," not "tangerine." It's not about a piece of fruit with a heart beat.

Harley: That makes more sense, thanks.

Nightwing (indifferent): No problem. Could you help me out here?

Harley (gasping quickly when she realized she was wasting time chit chatting): Sure! They set up this cage a good distance from the entrance; makes sense. But why is that vat over there empty?

Nightwing: They were going to fill it with Joker venom, but during the struggle, I managed to dump the original one they planned to use. So, they went off to get more.

Harley's expression shifted from curiosity to amusement as she began to giggle, which quickly morphed into her characteristic cackle. She quickly covered her mouth.

Harley (apologetic): Sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it's how I laugh with the Joker goop effects.

Nightwing shrugged, gripping the bars of his cage tightly.

Nightwing: I've been told my laugh is creepy. Apparently, I have a slight cackle too. They have to give me a break, I had Joker toxin in my blood a couple of times. I’m an adult! I don’t giggle anymore!

Harley shook her head with a smile as she approached the crane mechanism that held the cage in place.

Harley: You had a cute giggle when you were a kid, though. I remember when we first met. I was twenty-six at the time, and you had to be, what, eleven?

Nightwing (nodding): Yeah, eleven and three months. You were in your mid-twenties? You looked way younger back then. Honestly, I thought you were like nineteen.

Harley grinned widely, waving her hand as she maneuvered the crane to move the cage a safe distance from the empty vat, then began to slowly lower it to the ground.

Harley: I was smart, but not graduating from college early smart. Maybe it was the Joker goop on my skin and my obsession with skincare routines. I was tryin' to be like Paris Hilton for a while.

Nightwing (sweetly): Women like that get Botox, which robs us of our natural beauty. You're a bit insane-looking, but I won't argue that you're pretty too. I knew a few lady clowns in the circus that I… went to a lot as a kid and they were all gorgeous and you are too. There you go, elevated your mood for the night.

Harley (surprised by the compliment): Oh… wow, thank you! I wasn't expectin' ya to be nice to me. Are you just doin' that so I’ll actually save ya? Because I'd be helpin' ya either way.

Nightwing (shrugging): No, I’m being nice because it’s basic human decency. I don't trust you, but I've come to that point in my adulthood where I can let a couple of grudges go.

Harley shook her head with a teasing grin.

Harley: That's a healthy mindset. Batman raised ya well. My life before meetin' Joker never taught me to be kind; it was more about cursin' people out. Funny thing is, a couple of heroes have talked about how you're nicer to them than Batman. I thought they had to be exaggeratin'. You were Batman's sidekick and… you know.

Nightwing rolled his eyes.

Nightwing: While I do care about Batman, his antisocialness didn't rub off on me. I think that's what he wanted for me. He's… a good parent, to say the least.

Harley finished lowering the cage to the ground with a quick thud and then walked over, preparing her bat to break the lock.

Harley: I don't doubt that. Oh, stand back! I’m goin' to break the lock with my bat!

Nightwing stepped aside as Harley approached the cage, steadying her bat before slamming it against the lock repeatedly. With each strike, the lock buckled under her force.

Harley (while swinging): I swear I needed a Pops like that. Although college was tough, too! There was this guy, Melvin, who hated me because I kept turnin' him down for dates, and he was jealous I was smarter than him. He even started a rumor that I was sleepin' with my teachers for good grades.

After the fifth hit, the lock finally snapped, and Harley tossed it aside, stepping back to give Nightwing space. He pushed the cage door open, relieved to be free.

Nightwing (sympathetic smile): A vengeful nice guy in college wanted to ruin your reputation over that? I can believe it, sadly. I never actually believed the rumor. I read your case file with Batman once, and you earned your degree before you met the Joker.

Harley shrugged and rested her bat on her shoulder.

Harley: Blind love makes you do stupid, crazy, bad things, like tossin' aside every bit of progress you’ve made in life just to be with a guy who couldn't shut up about how, "One bad day can break a man." Ugh, blah, blah, blah! Lookin' back, he was all talk with that nihilism nonsense.

Nightwing nodded, letting out a soft sigh of agreement.

Harley: Anyways, I’m glad I could save ya, but I’ll give you some distance like you ya asked me to and head off. Ivy says hi, by the way.

Harley spun on her heel, but Nightwing stopped her, even though part of him wanted her to leave.

Nightwing (reluctantly): Well, don’t leave just yet. The Joker’s goons will be back soon, and I might… need assistance stopping them, especially from someone who used to work with them.

Harley turned back, her signature grin wide and genuine.

Nightwing (reluctantly): I might regret this later, but would you like to stay and help me?

Harley (hopeful): Does that mean ya comin' around to forgivin' me?

Nightwing placed his hands on his hips and chuckled.

Nightwing: It'll take time to fully forgive you or make amends. This is simply me being nice to someone trying to change. Just don't touch me, okay?

Harley: I won't, Ivy didn't go into specifics, but made it clear you don't want crazy women makin' any type of physical contact with ya. I get it honestly. I used to work at a dive bar for villains and goons. Not a fun time.

Nightwing (laughing softly while stretching his sore legs): I'm glad she didn't tell you everything and respects that secret.

Harley: Oh yeah, she won't admit it, but she doesn't hate ya . I'm glad she's got another person she "doesn't hate with a burning passion, but tolerates immensely." How was my impression of her?

Nightwing gave her a thumbs up trying not to joke around too much in the middle of a mission.

Nightwing: She always... said kind things about you even before you two got together.

Harley smiled proudly, warmed by his reassuring words. She felt a growing connection to Jason as she considered the idea of befriending one of the Batfam members. Yet, it was Nightwing's kindness and generosity, both towards her and others, that truly illuminated why so many people admired him.

Harley: See, this is a nice start. Jason put me on a probation period with his team, and you… you want me to stay here and help. Man, you boys are somethin' else, but I like that about ya. Ya wouldn’t hurt me like other men would, and I appreciate that.

Nightwing crossed his arms, a furrow of concern etched on his brow. Despite feeling encouraged by Harley's words, he still harbored doubts about her progress. The fear lingered in the back of his mind that one day she might slip back into the Joker's grasp. After all, he'd seen how easily the Joker had manipulated her before and with the right persuasion and even literal toxins at his disposal he had done it with others in the past.

Yet, Harley hadn’t faltered since finally cutting ties with him, and that was admirable. Nightwing couldn’t help but respect her tenacity. He recalled the darkness he had almost lost Jason to—anger, resentment, and the overwhelming weight of isolation had once threatened to swallow his friend whole. If Harley was indeed changing for the better, he didn't want to be the one who could potentially push her back toward evil.

Taking a breath, he reminded himself that everyone deserves a chance at redemption. But the stakes were high; he couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment he let his guard down, it could all unravel. Nightwing wanted to be a source of support for her, but he was also wary of the delicate balance between redemption and relapse, especially when it came to someone as unpredictable as Harley Quinn.

Nightwing (reassuringly): I would have to lose part of my brain and morals if I ever treated you like the Joker mistreated you. I'm... kind of proud of you for actually trying to be a better version of yourself.

Harley covered her mouth, stifling her emotions as she fought back tears. She nodded in understanding before walking over to Nightwing and sitting down on the ground beside him.

Harley: Want to sit with me? We can play cards. I always bring a deck!

Nightwing (slightly amused): Nah, I have to stand and keep watch. They’ll be here any minute, and I want to be ready. You can set up solitaire while we wait.

Harley: I love that game! Nightwing have ya ever been told you’re the best?

Nightwing (nonchalantly): I was born this way, but I appreciate the compliment.

As Harley set up her game, Nightwing stood watch at the door, his eyes scanning for any potential threats. He felt a bit more at ease giving her this chance. It might not be the same as the books Jason was gifted from her, but it was a start—one that he hoped would lead her further along the path of change.

Harley trying (and failing) to make amends with Nightwing

[dc418writes]

|Bump in the Night|

✨Pairing✨: Tim Rockfordxblack!reader

Summary🪄: You can always count on Tim

🚨: attempted break in/breaking and entering, mention of stalking, brief mention of gun(s), language, violence (man-man), ends in fluff tho💕

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope event (I’m so sorry that it’s much later than the deadline/expected😓). Everyone please support the other works that were submitted and I hope you enjoy what I came up with🌸

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my works are imagined with a black reader, all are welcome to read💕*

Trope: friends to lovers

Hearing the familiar address come across his police scanner, Tim couldn’t care less about the lawyer that was supposed to be under his surveillance. His silver Honda Civic practically floating over the asphalt as he sped towards the apartment complex.

Specifically, yours.

“No apparent injuries to occupant. No ambulance needed.”

Tim’s grip on the wheel slightly loosens at that. Although he was still stressed not completely knowing what happened yet, at least you were currently safe and unharmed. Minutes later, his car screeches to a stop in the parking lot already occupied by a flashing patrol car.

“Detective Rockford?,” the young officer - he still couldn’t remember his name after all this time - asks slightly startled from seeing the usually stoic and aloof man. “What-?”

“Where is she?” His steps never falter and the younger officer - Davey? Casey? - has to lightly jog to catch up with the detective on a mission.

“She?”

“The victim.”

“Oh! Currently with Daniels as he does a final sweep.”

“Still nothing?,” Tim asks as they both finally arrive on your floor from their ascent up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the elevators out again. There was always something wrong with this place which is why he tried urging you to another complex.

“True it’s not perfect, but it’s not terrible. I’ll be fine Tim,” you assured with that sweet smile that could warm the coldest of hearts.

“Just some shifted furniture, nothing missing yet. We tried dusting for prints, but perp was smart enough to use gloves.”

Walking in to see your nervous expression - lip worried between your teeth as your arms wrapped around yourself - had a storm of emotions swirling he’d never experienced all at once. Relief that he could physically see you were unharmed. Rage at whoever did this. Finally, a sense of protectiveness wanting to make sure this never happened to you again.

By any means.

“T-Tim?,” you asked finally meeting his eyes. Immediately he’s crossing the few feet between you to hug you close. Gently rocking you back and forth as you savor the much needed comfort.

“Let’s uh give them some privacy Kaz,” Daniels whispers. “Kazinski!,” Tim thought as he finally remembered the man’s name. Wow he was way off.

“What happened?”

“Well,” you sigh, “I came home and the door was cracked open. Something didn’t feel right this time though-,”

“Wait, this time? Someone’s done this before?”

You slowly nod. “Well, then again I could’ve accidentally-,”

“We both know you didn’t leave it open. You never leave your door open or unlocked.”

Too many times you were the one reminding him to make sure he’d locked up both his house and car. Always on the go with mind focused on other things, there’s a very strong chance he’d leave his head home if it wasn’t attached to him.

“Why didn’t you call me?,” he asks with deep brown eyes full of concern and slight hurt.

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your case. Plus it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he sighs. Your hyper-independence just might be the death of him. “Grab some clothes and whatever else you need, you’re staying with me.”

“Tim-,”

“If you think I’m leaving you here tonight you don’t know me as well as I thought,” he simply counters sitting in one of your wooden dining room chairs waiting for you to get your things with arms crossed against his chest.

There’s no use in arguing when his mind is set - which tends to be often. All you can do is what he says swiftly turning towards your bedroom and softly padding down the short hall.

-

Phone to his ear, Tim can’t help the smile that forms at your sweet voice. Deep inside he feels like that giddy teenager again excited and in slight disbelief that he finally gets the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in school.

“Hey, just uh wanted to check on you. Make sure you made it in okay.”

“Yep just got the last of the groceries in,” you smile locking the door behind you. “Hey don’t pick up anything to eat! I’m making lasagna.”

This is how it’s been for the past week. Tim checking to see you made it in and how your day had gone before you both discussed your plan for dinner that night.

And he loved the domesticity of it all. Never did he think he’d say that, typically preferring to be alone so he could come and go as he pleased with no one constantly in his ear. But there was something about coming home to warm meals and music softly playing in the background that had an unexpected calm rushing over him.

Then again, maybe all those new things he was feeling - now wanting every day and wondering how he thought life was better without it - was from you.

“Sounds great, I’m gonna be a bit late getting in though so don’t wait on me to eat.”

“Oh, okay.” Your disappointed tone has him ready to quit if it’ll make you happy again. “I take it there’s good news on the case?”

“Yea and new evidence that potentially puts us closer to solving this.”

“And freeing-?”

“That I can’t discuss. You and I both know,” he softly chuckles. At your little huff he can already picture you rolling those dangerously perfect eyes.

“Okay,” you pout, “I guess I’ll see you later then. Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Saying your final goodbyes, he’s embarrassingly greeted by the smirk of officer Daniels while he leans against the doorframe of his office.

“Soo the infamous friend..,” he states with a knowing grin.

“Don’t.”

“Can’t blame you, she’s really sweet. Not to mention beautiful-,”

The mix of annoyance and anger on Tim’s face is enough to stop Daniels in his tracks making him deeply chuckle with hands up in defeat. “Relax, I come in peace.”

“Wishing you didn’t at all,” Tim mumbles causing more chuckles from the man in front of him.

“Don’t think you’ll say that after you see this.” Gently placing the folder on his desk, Tim’s brow raises as he curiously flips open the gray cover. “Pretty sure this is our guy.”

-

You think you’re still dreaming when you hear that first click. Another - followed by a scrape against the hardwood - has your eyes quickly opening trying to register what was happening. You can faintly make out the bedroom thanks to the sliver of yellow-gold coming from the hall light as you slowly sit up. Not finding Tim asleep in his usual recliner in the corner of the room, you wonder if it’s him finally returning home.

“Tim?!”

The heavy footsteps - seemingly pacing back and forth - pause, and you feel an uneasiness creep over you at the momentary silence. A shadow of something to come you couldn’t quite place.

As the footsteps grow closer, that unease sets off alarms at the realization that those steps were heavier than Tim’s. He doesn’t wear boots…

It’s as if the intruder senses they’re caught in that same moment increasing their speed towards your bedroom. Luckily you bound from the bed locking the door mere seconds before they reach the knob furiously twisting and banging against the door trying to enter.

Amid the pounding in your chest and ears, you’re focused enough to lock yourself in the adjoining restroom and lie in the tub with trembling hands covering your mouth. Tears slowly slipping down your cheeks while wishing for the darkness to take you before the stranger can.

On the third hard thud, the room door breaks from its hinges startling you and sending screws scattering to the floor - and no doubt chips of wood.

“I know you’re in here. Might as well come out now, it’s only a matter of time before I find you.”

That familiar voice sends goosebumps down your body and bile stinging your throat.

His laugh isn’t a humorous one stepping across the threshold. Wood creaking and cracking under his weight. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Things could be so much easier if you’d just…listen.”

The echo of your vibrating phone carries into the bathroom making more tears spring from your eyes. Tim would be home any moment coming face to face with this man who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Possibly unarmed not expecting danger in what was supposed to be his safe haven.

A danger you ultimately caused.

If something happened to Tim-

“You run to him, but he’s not even here for you! Huh, some protector.”

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d easily be ready to defend your friend. Fight for him just as he’s always fought for you.

Hearing the bed squeak, you know he’s probably leaning on it to lift the cover’s edge and peek in the space under. Not finding you there, you figure there’s only seconds before he’s barging into your hiding place and doing God knows what.

“Guess you won’t believe me until you see for yourself though.” His tone hushes to just above a whisper taking a step closer. Then another, and you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything about your heartbeat how it surely could be heard thudding in your chest. “Fine with me doll.”

Flashes of what that could mean enter your mind only making you sob harder. A sheen of sweat breaking along your body anxiously waiting on that fearful moment the life you once knew would be over.

Rather than the cracking of another broken door, you’re met with Tim’s gruff voice yelling for the intruder to freeze and allowing you to finally breathe. His trusty black handgun drawn and trained on his target daring the stranger to move. “It’s over Kane. Down on your knees with hands on your head.”

Surprisingly he follows Tim’s instructions, slowly kneeling down on one knee then the other. Once his hands are in the right position, handcuffs are being tightened around his wrist and a solid blow sent to his ribs causing Kane to painfully grunt as he keels over.

“That’s assault!”

This time his cheek receives the punch immediately reddening the tan skin under his left eye - and Tim’s knuckles in the process. “Where is she?!”

Kane just darkly chuckles. “You tell me. Aren’t you the detective?” His smug jokes are no more feeling cold metal against his temple. A quick click signaling how the weapon was ready to fire at any moment Tim chose.

“Last fucking chance! Tell me-,”

He hears your cries the same moment Daniels and Kazinski rush into the bedroom with guns drawn themselves. Immediately they take over, hoisting the slightly battered man to his feet and reading him his rights, while Tim hurries to retrieve you. His heart breaking the moment he sees you visibly shaken in the tub with tears staining your face.

“I’m here honey it’s okay,” he attempts to soothe quickly gathering you in his arms. Your face instinctively buries itself in his neck finding comfort in the scratch of his beard and smell of tobacco mixed with sandalwood and his earlier cups of coffee. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

It’s a few moments before you can find your voice again; even then it prickles climbing your throat and escapes in a hoarse whisper. “H-How did you know?”

“Your coworker told us about him. How he was banned because he came to the job every day bothering you. Daniels looked into him and we found…”

The way his Adams Apple bobs you can tell he’s struggling for his next words. Probably trying to soften a blow that would surely worsen your already destroyed mental and emotional state.

He clears his throat rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm. “There was enough evidence that led us to believe he’d try something. We rushed here as soon as we could.”

Just when you thought your heart had been through enough. You could read between the lines and knew what Tim meant by evidence, and it made that queasy, unsettled feeling return. Kane found the somewhat secluded house of your best friend, who’s to say another of your friends wasn’t next? Your family even.

Hot tears - summoned from some unknown hidden reserve - begin to soak his shoulder as he slowly rocks you back and forth. Tim’s thick arms holding your shaking body tighter. Little did you know it was as much for him as you.

“He-He’s n-never gonna stop…is he?,” you direct more so to the open air. “Everyone I know-,”

“Hey hey listen to me,” Tim gently starts. His hands slightly pushing you away before moving to caress your face so you’d have no choice but to meet his sympathetic and caring eyes. “We got him. He can’t, and won’t, do anything to you or anybody else.”

“But-,”

“Even if - and it’s a very very small if - he tried something, I love you too much to let something happen.”

Maybe it was the overwhelm of emotions from such an eventful night. Maybe it was how Tim cradled your face - practically dwarfed by his larger hands - looking at you as if you were his most prized possession given by some high deity themselves. And maybe it was your hidden feelings finding a hopeful hook to latch onto that he felt the same about you. Either way, you couldn’t stop your lips from meeting his; moving so smoothly together it’s as if you’ve done this plenty of times.

Just pulling back an inch, Tim’s quick to follow smashing your lips together again as if he was addicted already. Inwardly, it makes you giggle. Feeling fuzzy and light as if dancing on the brightest sun ray on a spring day.

“We’re gonna take him downtow- oh..”

Forgetting where you were, Daniel’s voice is a startling reminder as you quickly part turning your heated face away from the bathroom’s entrance. Meanwhile, Mr. Rockford appears dazed attempting to act anything but trying to focus on his co-worker who just said..something important? “Um…y-yea Kane! We gotta-,”

“It’s taken care of Rockford,” Daniel’s answers professionally hiding his chuckles in his rock solid chest. Wait till he gets home to tell his wife this tea. Hell, he’ll have to text her on the way this was too good. “You uh take care of things here. I’ll keep you updated. Have a good night guys.”

And just as he said, Tim’s kept to his word almost a year later. Lying in your now shared bed with you perfectly molded to his side - your new home just outside of town in the relaxing countryside - he presses a loving peck to your forehead careful not to disturb your pleasant sleep. Watching you go so long without, it gives him a new layer of joy that Kane could no longer steal that from you. Your arm slung over his middle, his chest swells looking at the square cut diamond shining on your finger just waiting for you to wake up and notice it. To say yes to the question he’s been hoping you’d give him the chance to ask for some time now.

And down the line, maybe even build your little family giving you both a reason to decorate and fill the empty room across the hall.

[discordiansamba]

he's back at the caldera.

it's a strange feeling. zuko hasn't been here since he was thirteen. before the agni kai. before his father locked him away at the boiling rock. the halls of the royal palace haven't changed any since he left, but they feel different. some of it's just because he's gotten taller since he was last here.

the rest of it...

...it's not the halls of the royal palace that are different. it's him.

"we'll have to see about getting you a new wardrobe, nephew," his uncle smiles at him, "-i can't imagine any of your old clothes will fit."

(he says, as if they don't know his father threw out all of his things after he'd sent him away. he'd been declared dead, apparently. infection took him in the night.)

his old room is empty. uncle hesitantly pats his shoulder, like he doesn't quite know what to do with him. no need to worry, he says. there is some new furniture on the way. in the meantime, you can sleep in one of the guest quarters, nephew.

zuko's not even sure he wants to be here.

he learned a lot while in the boiling rock. some of it was personal- he'd learned that fathers who burn their sons don't actually love them. don't deserve their devotion or loyalty. but the rest? he'd learned the truth about the fire nation. about the war. strip away the gilded paint of the palace, and the whole place is covered with blood and grime.

he feels dirtier just being here.

"nephew?"

zuko jerks out of his thoughts, and looks down at his uncle. he doesn't remember him being so short. he looks older. more worn. there is a deep guilt in the corner of his eyes as he looks at him- like he blames himself for zuko's own disfigurement and ensuing imprisonment. he doesn't know how to tell uncle it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

he doesn't know how much he trusts this man.

his father had stolen his throne from him. if cooperating with the avatar and ending the war got it back, who was to say he wouldn't play along? his uncle had once been a great and fearsome general- his firebending was strong, but it was his cleverness that made him such a threat. the avatar was apparently just a child. easy to fool.

(he knew, because he'd been like that once too.)

"sorry," zuko mumbles, "-i'm just tired."

his uncle frowns, but then nods. he gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before apologizing. he should have known it would be a lot to take in. he'll have someone show you to the guest quarters for now, and we can figure things out in the morning. zuko just nods, and lets himself be guided to a room that's too large for him.

no one locks the door. he's free to go wherever he wants.

(...is he, though? uncle needs an heir. zuko's all he's got.)

another boiling rock au idea is an au where instead of being banished, ozai sends zuko to the boiling rock after his agni kai and claims the prince died in the night due to an infection. by the time zuko's aware of what's going on around him, he's already confined to a cell at the boiling rock. his father doesn't want him. he's a shame to his nation. he doesn't think he can get any lower.

or: zuko grows up at the boiling rock.

very few people there even know that he's the former crown prince, but what they do see is a thirteen year old kid with half his head swathed in bandages, his hair freshly shorn, who has been thrown into the highest security prison in the fire nation. which is pretty fucked up!! zuko goes from pampered prince fed only propaganda all his life, to being surrounded by war prisoners and other assorted political prisoners- as well as just your run of the mill convicts.

it's an eye-opening experience, to say the least!

(zuko's escape attempts are like, a once every two month occurrence. none of them ever work, but he's gotten father than anyone else ever has. this is because no one else is as insane as the kid who was basically raised for part of his life here.)

years later, when the war is over and iroh is sitting on the fire lord's throne, he begins the long process of freeing the countless prisoners of war that the fire nation has imprisoned- as well as the political prisoners. it's a long process- and he decides to begin with the boiling rock, where he knows the chief of the southern water tribe was sent after the failed invasion.

there's no records of zuko at the boiling rock, of course.

or: iroh finds out that his nephew isn't dead. he's been at the boiling rock this entire time. suddenly the fire nation has an heir apparent.

(zuko returns to the caldera for the first time in years, very much not the same person he was when he left- and is unsure how much he can actually trust his uncle.)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I'm straight up frothing in the mouth for these

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

YAY! That makes me so happy.

36 for 🌲:

---

“That was more about you than me, so…”

“Don’t do this,” Eddie sighs. 

“Do what?” Buck demands. 

“This thing you do, where you only acknowledge other people’s problems, like your own feelings aren’t important,” Eddie says. 

Buck sighs. “Sometimes I make everything about me, sometimes I don’t make enough about me. Can’t win with you.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You’re deflecting.”

Another sigh. 

“Eddie, really. I’m okay. Is the hearing stuff a lot right now? Obviously, yeah. Am I crushed about Tommy? I mean… He already reacted like shit to my hearing loss, so… I don’t know. I think I’m mostly just pissed you were hurt.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie says. It’s a lie. He’s not okay. But that’s not exactly Tommy’s fault, is it? “I mean, I did that to him, right? If your research is right.”

Buck looks torn. 

“Look,” he exhales. “I don’t know how much agency Tommy had in what he did. But I know you had none, right?”

“I mean… I shouldn’t have let him in.”

Buck scoffs. “You should be able to open your door to a friend without worrying about that happening.”

“Except apparently not,” Eddie says. “Because apparently this is what I am.”

---

15 for 🧜‍♂️:

---

So Eddie tries to figure it out. 

“So you’re from Pennsylvania,” Eddie says, when they leave Maddie’s apartment. A fact he didn’t know until the two of them mentioned Hershey in conversation. 

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “We are.”

“Why did you leave?” Eddie asks. 

“Uh…” Buck trails off a little. “Just… Well, I just had to get out. Get away from my parents. Figure out who I am.”

Okay, yeah. All the pieces are fitting together pretty well. 

“That’s hard to do, if you don’t have the right support system,” Eddie nods. 

---

27 for ⚖️:

---

How horrible. To need this. 

“Yeah, this is just a random coupon,” Lawrence says when Buck finds himself back in reality.

“Oh, man. Sorry,” Buck says. “My bad. Guess I should’ve taken a closer look.”

Lawrence looks annoyed. 

“Guess there isn’t much reading involved in putting out fires,” he grumbles. 

Buck forces a smile, resisting the urge to make a comeback about how much time to read he will have once in jail. 

“Guess not,” he replies tightly. “Bye, Larry.”

“It’s Lawrence,” he grits back.

“Right. Right,” Buck shrugs. “See you around.”

Or on the news. Whichever. 

⚖️

Back in his apartment, Buck paces. He has a pretty significant dilemma on his hands. Beyond just the Nemesis thing as a whole. It fucking sucks in general, but more specifically, it sucks because of what he knows it means about Tommy.

He doesn’t have to do anything about it right this minute. The job is not to track down people and distribute justice. That’s Nemesis’ job. To look for the really bad ones. 

[wildshona]

Catching Up More

Some of my followers complained that I had left my post just as I find my sister in bed with my husband. I am cruel apparently. Lol.

Anyway it was no big deal. I spoke to Chris about it first thing next morning while he was fucking me. Amelia had sneaked away at some stage without disturbing me. Apparently she had come into the bedroom and asked ever so politely if she could hold her for a while because she gets lonely. Well, she had shared a bed from the age of 6 til this August so I kind of get that.

Anyway Chris didn't mind. Family, right? So in she got dressed in her slightly transparent long nightgown. Chris, of course, was naked and soon had a hard cock pressing against her. He wasn't planning on anything just that natural reaction. Anyway, she apparently asked if he would like her to help him with that and then wanked him off til he came. Him lying on his back and she lying next to him. Then they went to sleep. The after effects of which was that I was barely awake when I could feel him pressed againsst my cunt the next morning.

I said to Amelia later that she could have fucked him if she liked and she went bright red. She didn't say anything though.

Anyway I couldn't hang about. After having a bath and chatting to followers while I was in there, I went out to have a bite and spent part of the afternoon watching Tiff perform at the strip club. The guys seemed to think it was funny that I was there and not dancing and I got a lot of attention. I had to tell them that they were supposed to be sitting with the girls who were selling private dances not with a civilian.

Anyway there was one guy who kept saying he would like to see me strip and he was sort of OK. He lived on the state about a couple of hundred metres away so I went back to his place and did a striptease for him and then he fucked me. He was alright nothing special but it took up the rest of the afternoon. He slipped me £100 as I was leaving. Bless, he thought I was a whore. Well I am, I suppose, just not a paid one. Anyway, I said thank you and pocketed the money. I mean what was I supposed to do - get all high and mighty after I'd had a fuck?

As the flat door closed behind me a girl past me and let herself into the flat - his wife or gf no doubt. Fucking man just can't keep it in their pants. Anyway that was the day before yesterday.

Quiet day yesterday - went to see "Raisin in the Sun" with Richard at the NFT. Had a drink afterwards at his place but no sex. He has been working hard on a briefing he and Chris, and me it seems, are having next week with two guys who are apparently briefing Trump's transition team on European affairs. And he is 70, give the guy a break.

[bisexualbrainrots]

Okay so I didn't expect to be so inspired by this post (plus my tags), but hey, what a hiatus does to someone right? @unfuckablebogtroll thanks for the inspo!

So, here's a snippet of whatever this will be (haven't finished outlining the whole story yet) also I know nothing about how social workers work in the us, so i just did a lot of google searches to write this, let's suspend our disbelief lmao:

“I’m here to inform you that from now on your son, Scott Howards, is going to be legally put under your care and will be moved into your residency, we have made an extensive background check…”

Buck wasn’t really paying attention anymore, two words running through his mind.

Your son.

Your son. 

“What do you mean son?” he had just interrupted the social worker and yet, she didn’t seem so taken aback by his clear state of shock.

“We tried to contact you these past few days, didn’t you receive our calls and email?” 

That made him immediately go back and look for his phone, quickly checking everything as he went back to the front door.

Three missed calls and an email sent yesterday. They weren’t wrong, but why did it feel like they were?

“Okay… but I don’t know anything about a kid, wh-who is the mother and why am I supposed to keep him now?” 

Tara explained it all, as quickly as she could, while still keeping a soothing tone in her voice. She clearly had experience in working with situations like this one, or at least some similar, based on how calmly she explained that the mother, some woman named Jessica Howards, passed away a couple of weeks ago and that there was no immediate family that could take care of Scott. The grandparents had passed away two years ago and Jessica didn’t have any siblings that could take care of the kid, so the next (or first really) on the list had to be the biological father.

Evan Buckley was a mess. Nothing in his brain was really computing, not even when the social worker told him about the boy, a six and a half year old kid who despite being named Scott, everyone just called Scotty.

“I-I…” 

“I’m sorry but, how did you find Evan? And where exactly is the kid now?” Tommy had taken the lead, something he knew by now to do whenever Buck’s brain was being useless. He held his hand, rubbing his thumb against some of the knuckles in an effort of grounding Buck, which worked slowly.

“We found a letter in her belongings, it was apparently never sent but dated back to 2018, probably around the time Jessica found out she was pregnant. We also had to do some digging based on the information and found his social media which, well, led us to this moment” she sounded exhausted, it probably took them a lot of hours to even find who Evan was, it was something Tommy could respect, that level of dedication. “And Scotty… he’s actually here, I brought him in the car, you don’t have to worry about much since he had a nap today and we explained all of this to him as best as we could. He also has his own blanket and favorite toy with him, it’s been really helpful to calm him down”

Tara mentioned the documents she had in hand and that seemed to snap something in the couple’s heads. They’d been so shocked at the news they didn’t notice the bundle of papers she carried. Tara once again explained everything thoroughly, that those were all the legalities Buck had to sign in order to be granted guardianship of Scotty, and asked if they could get inside to sign papers and let the boy inside the house.

Tommy nodded and took the lead again, telling Buck to get inside with Tara while he would check on the kid. Tara agreed, stepping inside with Buck who guided her towards the dining table, while Tommy stepped into the social worker’s car.

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE