#but I like to think he was waiting for someone else who could look after his baby

[hoshifighting]

tutor!woozi (part 2)

check the part 1 (kinktober bonus)

WARNINGS: +18, smut, (oral f. & m.), throat fucking, penetrative sex, mentions of body fluids (cum, spit)

after that night, for all the times you’d wanted to text him, your ego kept its foot firmly on the brake. if jihoon thought you’d just come crawling back after his little remark, he was dead wrong. it didn’t matter how much your body craved another taste of him; no way were you about to give him that satisfaction. besides, it wasn’t like you were the only one who enjoyed that night, despite his attitude. if he wanted it again, HE’d have to come to you.

over the next week, every hallway encounter was a battle of wills. you’d pass by him with your friends, glancing away just slightly so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. and while your friends couldn’t help but notice the way jihoon’s friends looked at you as you walked by—waiting for the smirk you always used to throw his way—you’d hold your chin up and act like he didn’t even exist.

the whispers had started up again, too. after all, you and jihoon had been seen together plenty at the start of the semester, supposedly “studying” for a class you knew you didn’t even share. his friends had even toasted him over some rumor that tutoring wasn’t the only “learning” happening during those sessions. and now? they watched you like they were trying to figure out if you’d switched interests, especially when they saw you walking through campus with someone else’s arm casually slung over your shoulder. jihoon’s friends wore confused expressions, and if jihoon himself noticed…well, he didn’t give a single clue.

but it was getting harder to ignore it. especially tonight.

it was 9 pm, and you were dressed and ready for a night at the local bar, hoping a little drink and dance would be enough to take your mind off him completely. heading out, you made the mistake of cutting through his dorm hall, almost jogging to keep the tension from catching up with you. maybe he’d be out. or maybe he was too busy doing something else. you didn’t care. but as you neared the end of the hallway, a hand caught your arm, yanking you backward so quickly that you stumbled.

before you could react, you found yourself inside a dorm room, the familiar smell already cluing you in to where you were before you could fully process it. jihoon’s hand was still around your arm, the dorm was silent, the noise of the hall muffled as the door clicked shut behind you.

“where are you running off to, dressed like that?”

your pulse was racing, but you gave him a steady look, shrugging your arm free of his grip. “does it matter?” you smirked, turning as if to open the door, only to feel him step even closer behind you, blocking the way.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, crossing your arms.

you knew you had his attention, and now, for whatever reason, it looked like he couldn’t hold back anymore. jihoon opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, but he bites his tongue, his gaze dropping to the side as if the walls would have a solution for him.

“what’s wrong with me?” he finally retorts, jaw tense. “you had to ignore me that hard in front of my friends? couldn’t even throw a glance my way?”

you let out a genuine laugh. “weren’t you the one who told me not to reach out to you unless i wanted a ‘good fuck’? well, sorry, but didn’t seem worth it.”

his eyes flash. “really? ‘cause you seemed pretty into it at the time,” he counters, almost daring you to deny it.

“maybe i was.” you shrug. “but maybe i got over it.”

jihoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a half step forward, closing the space separating you. “over it? you think you can just get over it that easy?”

“why not?”

he lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “you’re full of it. bet you thought about that night as much as i did. don’t. lie.”

your heart races, but you lift your chin defiantly. “if i’m full of it, then so are you, mr. i-don’t-need-anyone-reachin’-out-to-me. didn’t think you’d care if i ignored you. you’re all talk jihoon.” you tease, looking up at him, daring him to prove you wrong.

“all talk?” he scoffs, his mouth inches from yours, but he doesn’t close the gap. “maybe you need a reminder of how ‘not worth it’ i was.”

before you can reply, his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you close as his other hand tilts your chin up. his lips brush against yours in the faintest tease of a kiss before he pulls back, just enough to keep you wanting.

you let out a frustrated huff, trying to close the distance, but he holds you in place, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face. “not so fast... you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“you know i did.”

“so admit it... admit you wanted me to come after you.”

your pride fights to hold out, but the way his fingers dig into your ass meat, the way his voice drops just for you, it’s impossible to resist. “fine,” you whisper back. “i wanted you to come after me.”

he’s leaning in, lips parted, ready to crash into yours finally when your hand presses against his chest. he freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, searching. “bad boys don't get kissed.” you mock, savoring the way his expression falters.

he recognizes that phrase. he opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but he just closes his eyes, breathing out a low exhale through his nose, clearly biting back his response.

but the fury in his eyes returns, darker, and without a word, his hand slides up to the back of your neck, pulling you down with a grip that tells you exactly where this is going.

you let him guide you onto your knees.

“fine,” he mutters, voices gravelly, fingers grazing your jaw. “don’t need your kiss, anyway. got a better idea.”

his thumb drags along your lower lip, pressing until you open your mouth for him, and he can’t hide the hungry look that flashes across his face.

“this mouth of yours,” he mutters, thumb slipping between your lips. “always running it, always pushing me.” he watches intently as you take him in, tongue curling around his thumb, obedient despite the defiance in your eyes. “bet you’ll think twice about mouthing off when you’re choking on my cock.”

he undoes his shorts string, sliding it off, and before you know it, he’s pushing the fabric down just enough to free himself, his cock standing hard, thick and flushed in front of you.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his length along your lips, smearing precum over them like lipgloss as he says, “you tap my thigh if you need a breath, got it?”

you nod, mouth already watering as you part your lips wider, letting him guide himself between them. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the sharp tug, and then he starts pushing forward, filling your mouth inch by inch until he’s pressing against the back of your throat.

he doesn’t ease up. he moves faster, driving deeper until he’s hitting that spot that makes your throat clench around him, your eyes watering instantly. spit starts to collect at the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he pulls back only to push in again, even deeper this time, his cock stretching your throat wide, demanding every inch of space.

“all that attitude… gone.” his hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he starts thrusting with a rough rhythm, hips snapping forward. “bet you’d do anything to prove me wrong now, wouldn’t you?”

he’s relentless, each thrust pressing your mouth and throat to their limits, your gag reflex triggered with every push. you feel spit pooling, slipping past your lips as you struggle to keep up with him, swallowing around his length even as he reaches deeper, his cock twitching at the tight, involuntary clenches of your throat.

you’re practically dripping, reduced to whimpers and gasps as he fucks your mouth, his hips rolling forward again and again, no space left for anything but him. when he pulls back for a second, a trail of spit stretches between your lips and the head of his cock, and he groans, wiping the mess over your cheek before plunging in again, going even harder.

“so pretty like this,” he mutters, watching as your eyes grow wetter, each thrust forcing a new wave of spit down your chin and neck, over his thighs. your fingers gripping his thighs for balance, and he smirks, giving a particularly sharp thrust that has you choking, throat convulsing as a line of spit drips down your chin. “that’s right. take it all.”

he starts slowing, grinding his hips forward, keeping himself pressed deep as he lets out a low groan, feeling the way you tremble. and then he thrusts one last time, deeper than before, pushing himself right to the base. he lets out a ragged breath as he stills, his cock twitching as you feel him tense, holding himself there, filling your throat as he spills into you, viscous and hot.

you swallow as best as you can, the bitter taste coating your tongue, but he doesn’t let you pull back right away.

you let the fullness press down on your throat until the edges of your vision begin to blur, the air thinning, everything swimming. you tap his thigh rapidly, a faint, desperate plea, and just as your lungs burn hottest, he releases, pulling you back with a hand steadying your shoulder. you slump onto your heels, shoulders sagging as you gulp down air, your head swimming with the remnants of his hold on you.

his hands stay firm on your shoulders, keeping you steady as you breathe, your throat aches, stretched and raw, the sting of his rough pace lingering with every shallow gulp.

as he maneuvers you onto the bed, his hands slide down impatiently and your dress and panties are gone all in once. he pauses for a moment, taking you in, his gaze raking over the sight of your swollen lips and sultry eyes, glazed with that barely-there smirk. 

he cant do this right now.

he grips your arm, twisting you to fall chest-first onto the mattress, hips lifted up as his arm curls around you.

“you—” you scoff, voice raspy, “can’t you fuck me while looking at my face?”

he lets out a low laugh, leaning close to your ear as his hand slides down your back. “oh, i think you’ve had enough of my face for tonight… plus, i think you look even better like this—bent over and whining.”

you couldnt even have a second to roll your eyes, a comeback on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already there, pressing into you suddenly, stretching your pussy in one hard, unrelenting thrust that punches the breath right out of your lungs. a cry rips from you, loud and hoarse, and you brace yourself against the mattress, fingers twisting into the sheets as your whole body shakes.

"that shut you up?” he breathes, hands digging into your hips as he sets a bruising pace. you can’t even catch your breath, every thrust leaving you reeling, gasping for air. tears prick at your eyes, spilling over as he hits that spot, so precise it’s maddening.

“fuck—s-so deep—” you choke out, incoherent as you press your cheek to the sheets, gripping the fabric so hard your knuckles ache. his fingers dig into the meat of your hips, pulling you back to meet every thrust, his balls slapping your clit making you convulse with everythrust. 

“thought you wanted this, yeah?” he taunts, leaning down. “thought you liked it rough. what, too much for you now?”

“n-no—” you manage, though the word comes out in a broken sob, your voice betraying you. he’s unrelenting, snapping his hips forward with every word, and you can feel yourself falling apart, the way he’s not holding anything back. it’s dizzying and yet you can’t help but crave it, want more, need more.

“thought you could handle it, acting all cocky,” he sneers, giving your ass a hard smack that makes you jolt, a fresh tide of tears spilling down your cheeks.“crying for it. pathetic.”

you let out a choked, breathless sob, the humiliation only heightening the need simmering inside you. “p-please…” you whimper, unable to do anything but plead as he keeps driving into you.

“oh, now you’re begging?” he laughs. “all that attitude, all that talk, and now you’re nothing but a crying mess on my bed.”

another broken cry slips out of you, and he chuckles. his hands trail down your spine, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding you, steadying you in the haze.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he coos. “all desperate… should’ve known you’d like it this way.”

you can’t respond, can’t do anything but let out a helpless, broken cry, body arching, straining against him as you feel your orgasm approaching. and even then, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, keeping you there.

“you thought you could come in here all high and mighty that night.. now look where that got you.”

“shut up,” you manage to gasp as he snaps his hips harder, the sound echoing in the small space. “you’re—” another thrust cuts you off, drawing another whimper from your throat.

“i’m what? too rough for you? too much for that little mouth of yours? you’ve got no problem talking back when you’re not getting fucked, huh?”

“i said shut up!” you cry out, though your voice is shaky, betraying you. “you’re just—oh my god—”

“just what?” 

“i hate you,” you whimper, even as your body betrays you, arching into him, chasing that sweet friction.

he can hear the contradiction.

“sure you do,” he laughs softly, his breath warm against your skin.

the moment you squeeze him harder, makes him wince, his cock feels so sensitive, after that last mind-blowing orgasm, and he can’t help but throw his head back, his breath hitching in his throat as he fights to control himself.

you’re lost in your own world, eyes shut tight as you cling to him, and he uses that to his advantage. with a smirk curling on his lips, he pulls out slowly, relishing the way your body protests against the emptiness.

“n-no, jihoon!” you whine, instinctively reaching for him. you grab his hand from behind your back, intertwining your fingers with his, a silent plea not to tease you anymore. 

“c’mon, jihoon, just stop teasing me already.” you push your ass against his hips, a cheeky slap echoing in the room. 

he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on, when your existence is enough to make his blood run hot. as he lowers himself behind you, he can’t help but watch the way your pussy clenchesaround nothing, how your curves seem to invite him in. 

he leans in, letting his breath ghost over your skin before he dives in, his tongue swirling around your dripping pussy. you cry all cute on his sheets, like his tongue was a sweet and massaging reward after he destroyed your cunt with his thick lenght.

he lets your clit rest under his tongue as he dives the tip of the wet, pinky muscle, between your folds. just to flick the tongue down again and take the throbbing nerve inside his mouth, making you sob.

his tongue dances across your folds, the slickness of your cum coating him. his mouth is warm and inviting, eager haven as he drinks you in. he alternates between languid licks that tease your puffy lips and insistent flicks that make you roll your eyes. 

your hands tangle in his hair from behind, pulling him closer as you urge him on, the silky strands slipping through your fingers. his fingers tighten around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he plunges his tongue deeper, swirling it around inside you.

your body is a symphony of slickness, the remnants of your cum coating his chin and the skin around his mouth. he dives back in, tongue swirling around your entrance, licking up every drop of your honey before turning his attention back to your clit.

“i’m so close, jihoon,” you whimper. “that's it!”

he responds by sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers push into you, the pressure of them stretching you just right. 

as if on cue, you feel that big hot bubble in your lower belly snap, you cry out, each pulse of the orgasm making you tighter around his fingers. 

jihoon couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he watched you get up from his bed, your movements quiet and subdued after your intense orgasm. the post-orgasm glow faded too quickly.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled you back down onto the bed. you landed softly, your eyes wide and innocent as you frowned at him.

“i’m… leaving?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

he exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he fought against the frustration. “you’re only saying that because of how i made you leave the last time, aren’t you?”

you shifted slightly, looking away as if the truth was too difficult to face. “maybe..” you admitted softly, and that single word made his heart sink.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “i miss those tutoring classes, you know? i didn't mean to push you away like that. it’s just… i think—”

“you think?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “you told me not to come after you unless i wanted a good fuck. not very delicate.”

“that was a mistake,” he insisted, as he searched your eyes. “i didn’t think it would end up like this. i thought we were just messing around.” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “but i want more than that. i like having you around.”

you looked at him, your expression softening just a little. “so, what? you want to tutor me again? pretend like we didn’t just…” you trailed off.

“no,” he replied firmly. “i want to be honest with you. i want you to want me, not just as a way to fill some need… just like i want you.” he paused, gathering his thoughts.

“so you’re just going to keep me here, like this?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“if you’ll let me,” he replied. “just stay.”

“you really think it’s that easy? just because we had one good round?”

“it’s not just about the sex,” he said, getting nearer. “i want to explore more than that, but only if you’re willing.”

“and if i’m not?” you asked.

“then i guess i’ll have to work a little harder to change your mind,” he teased lightly.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your lips. “good luck with that, jihoon. i’m not that easy.”

“i never thought you were,” he smirked, leaning closer. “but i’m willing to put in the effort. so, what’s it gonna be?”

you bit your lip, “maybe i’ll stick around for a little while longer,” you replied, leaning back into the bed with a teasing smile.

“good choice.”

[thealbatrovss]

waiting // logan howlett x reader

summary: scott and jean get engaged. logan seems happy for them. but old insecurities start bubbling to the surface.

one shot: angstyyyyyy, insecure reader, happy ending of course, not proofread

word count: 1k+

authors note: getting back into writing so here’s a quick one for ya’ll. Enjoy!!!

masterlist

When he made his way towards her, with a big grin on his face, you had to get out of there.

You bumped past friends and colleagues, weaving through the bodies like a hedge maze. The room closed in. Your stomach was raging with alcohol and fire.

It was so childish. Running away from your friend's own engagement party. This night was about them, not you.

But, Logan wouldn't stop talking about how happy he was for them since they made the announcement. You were happy too. Of course you were. They were like family to you. But, was he really content with everything? Sometimes, thoughts that he was settling would cloud your mind.

You’d only been dating for little over a year now, and well, Jean was still Jean. The Jean he loves. Or loved. It was becoming too hard to tell, your head starting spinning.

The night air hit your face. It was cold, too cold to be out at a time like this. But at least there was space. Space to hold yourself on the mansion's steps and think about everything swirling in your mind.

You knew holding her up on this pedestal wasn’t fair to her, to Logan and especially yourself. But sometimes, wounds that were once sealed up and packed away, came around visiting again.

He spent years harboring feelings for her. You just stood there and watched it. Until one day, you were grabbing a late night snack from the kitchen and saw Logan sitting at the table.

And he was no longer sulking. No longer chasing after someone who was always going to pick someone else. He smiled, and told you to sit and have a beer with him.

It wasn’t an odd request. You too were friends after all. But, you ended up spending the entire night talking. You asked him about his past and he was completely honest. He asked you about yours, barely ever looking away from you as you rambled on. Logan had a soft smile on his face the entire time you talked.

The two of you moved closer together as the night progressed into the early morning. By the time students began pouring in for breakfast, your chairs and shoulders were touching. He walked you to your room that day, asked you out to dinner. You had your first date at a bar. Jalapeno poppers and chicken sandwiches. The waiter accidentally spilt his tray of drinks on Logan trying to squeeze through the aisle.

When Logan kissed you for the first time in his car, you could feel the sticky drinks stuck to his leather jacket and skin.

The door creaked open behind you. Footsteps stopped at the steps above. You could smell that familiar wood and cigar smoke. It has stuck to you ever since that night in his car. “Its fucking freezing out here.”

You brushed away a fresh well of tears, hoping they’d dry quickly so he couldn’t tell. “You’re right about that.” You sniffed. But it was your voice that gave it away.

“Whats going on?” He sat down next to you. “Could you look at me?” He moved your hair away from your face, fingers grazing the wet skin. He paused. “Can you please talk to me? Why are you crying?”

You tried brushing his hand away, making yourself smaller against the stone wall. You pushed the side of your face into the rock, like it would magically make you disappear.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know whats going on.”

“I’m just drunk.” You tried to play it off. Not good enough.

Logan shook his head. “No. That's bullshit. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

The air kept getting colder. You started shivering. Logan cursed underneath his breath, taking his jacket off and draped it over your shaking shoulders. The simple gesture made you feel even smaller. “Do you ever wish things could be different?”

Logan looked at you confused. “What kinds of things?”

You sat up, knees facing away from your boyfriend. “The people you let into your life.”

“No.” He answered quickly. “I only let in people who let in me. Like you.” He smiled at the memory of spilt beer and messy kisses in the parking lot. “So no. Why? Do you?”

You huffed. “I find that hard to believe and I hate myself for it.”

Logan sat there bewildered. You’d always been open and honest with him about everything. You even opened up to him about your insecurities surrounding his relationship with Jean the first few months into dating. The realization washed over him as he watched the party goers mingle inside. “You still think I have feelings for Jean.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

The wind picked up, sending its sharp claws against your wet cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No. I just don’t understand.” He sighed. “Why would you think that? I’m with you. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be.”

The drinks settling in your stomach did the talking for you. “Well, if she wasn't with him things would be a lot different, wouldn’t they?” Your tone was as cold as the wind. You didn’t mean it to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gripped his jacket tight around you. Holding onto it like you did when you first kissed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to accept your love.”

He didn’t respond, just let you continue. His hand started rubbing circles on your back.

“I feel like I’m taking something that isn’t mine.” Maybe if you were sober you could explain it better, but you carried on. “Or, I’m just holding my breath. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

You’d feel more embarrassed without the alcohol running through your veins. But you sat there as tall as you could. Letting the insecurities bubble out in circles of angry shades of red. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. It was what you’ve been bottling up for years now. “Waiting for it to go to its true destination.”

Logan looked up at the night sky. The wind ruffled his short hair. He looked so handsome in that all black suit he wore. One that you picked out just for him. He chuckled to himself, his eyes finding yours with a piercing gaze. He faced those words, seeing past the surface.

“I loved Jean once. That's the truth. But I’ve loved people before her. I’ve been alive for a long time.” He moved strains of hair from your face, resting his hand on your cheek. “But here’s another truth. I love you. Can’t you see that? Right here and now?”

You could see the genuine look in his eyes. You could always see it.

“And that’s not something I just give away. It’s also taken from me. You’ve taken it from me. And I’ve never been happier for you to have it, like I have yours.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be. Just maybe next time, talk to me about this instead of holding it all in.”

You buried your head into his chest. Voice muffled against the dark fabric. “Says Mr. Wall builder himself.”

Logan kissed your head, fighting back the wind and a fit of laughter. “You got me there.”

[mediocre-shark-tales]

The Debut

Masterlist

The news hit the F1 world like a thunderclap—a 20 year old American driver, a complete unknown, was stepping into the Aston Martin seat mid-season. One of the few rookies to join halfway through the season, she was brought in to cover for Lance Stroll, sidelined potentially indefinitely by a severe injury. Speculation about his replacement had run wild, but no one expected it to be someone with almost no public history, let alone a driver no one had ever seen outside their helmet and racing suit. Yet Aston Martin was now ready to unveil her to the world—a driver who had only been known by her number, 66, and the nickname “Daredevil.”

In the week leading up to her debut, Aston Martin teased fans with cryptic photos and voice-modulated videos. Finally, they dropped a fifteen-minute video titled Welcome to AMRTC Driver 66, capturing her first day with the team. It opened with clips of the team speculating about her skill, personality, and confidence, overlaid with shots of her walking through the building without truly showing more than her shoes. Then, as a black screen lingered, the opening chords of “Real Gone” from Cars filled the silence. The video cut to the mystery driver getting suited up, each layer adding to her mystique, until she finally took to the track in the new car. A montage of high-speed laps displayed her undeniable skill and poise until the song slowly faded, revealing her standing still, helmet off, with curled hair framing her face as she turned toward the camera for the first time. This was quickly followed by a long ‘get to know me’ interview.

From the moment she arrived, the paddock buzzed with whispers. Her face was unfamiliar to the veteran drivers, but rumors hinted at her racing roots from leagues around the world. The fans, media, and even her new teammate waited with bated breath, eager to see if this newcomer could hold her own against the sport’s giants.

Y/n pov

I stepped into the Aston Martin garage with Marcus, my manager, beside me. My headphones were on, the bass of my favorite race weekend hype playlist thumping as I took in the scene. Mechanics and engineers glanced up from their tasks, eyes darting over to me before resuming their work on the cars and equipment, all in preparation for Practice Day 1. I’d skipped the usual media day—Aston Martin had somehow managed to get the FIA’s approval for me to skip it, which suited me just fine.

Marcus guided me through the bustling garage, giving me a quick rundown of everything before leading me to my driver’s room in the Aston Martin hospitality suite. As I took a seat, nerves bubbled up—I still hadn’t met Fernando Alonso. As confident as I felt in the car, the idea of meeting a living legend, someone who’d been racing since before I was even born, was something else entirely.

For as long as I could remember, Fernando Alonso had been my idol. I’d spent years studying his every move on the track, even adopting his aggressive, calculated driving style until I’d eventually developed my own. But knowing that I’d be racing alongside him—that I’d actually get to learn from him first hand—felt surreal, like stepping into a dream I’d chased my entire life.

That all changed the moment I actually met him. As I walked into the garage, fully suited up in my fireproofs with my helmet tucked under my arm, I could feel the weight of the moment settling in. After a quick weigh-in, Marcus led me over to Alonso. For a few awkward seconds, he barely glanced my way, his focus elsewhere until someone pointed me out to him. Around us, everyone was smiling and looking expectant—everyone except him. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to be thrilled about my arrival, but his distant, unreadable expression stung in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

As I approached, He looked me up and down with the slightest hint of a frown.

"So, they think you're ready to jump into this mid-season?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I wonder if you actually understand what that means."

I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," I shot back, trying to keep my tone even.

He raised an eyebrow. "A lot of drivers think they’re ready," he replied, his voice cool. "But being ready means more than just showing up with confidence. Winning is a mindset, an instinct. It’s not just something you decide you have one day."

I felt my hands tighten around my helmet. "Maybe it’s not something you decide—but it is something you prove. I’m here to race, not get your approval, and I’ll show you on track that my style is nothing like what you've seen before."

A spark flashed in his eyes, though his expression remained unchanged. "We’ll see if your style is worth anything," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just remember that here, being good isn’t enough."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and headed toward my car, trying to shake off the sting of his words. As I disappeared around the corner, Fernando watched me go, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Once my car was ready, I climbed in, settling into the seat as the engineers moved in to strap me down. Glancing up at the screen, I watched past race footage from this track with this very car. They wanted me to see what I’d be up against—what I needed to match and, ideally, surpass.

A moment later, Marcus crouched down into my line of sight, flanked by two guys—one older and serious, the other younger, with a bit of a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N, this is Ben,” Marcus began, gesturing to the older man. “He’ll be running your radio. But he’s also training Landon here,” he nodded toward the younger guy, “to be your personal radio engineer. Since there’s still a good part of the season left, you’ll need someone who gets you on and off the track. Landon’s been watching your last F2 season, studying up to learn your style. Today’s practice sessions will help you both adjust to your new roles together.”

I nodded and gave them a thumbs up—they wouldn’t hear me over the helmet or the noise of the garage anyway, but my excitement was clear.

It was finally time. My doorman stepped out, giving me the signal that I was clear to go. I eased the car forward, carefully navigating my way onto the main pit road. Aston Martin’s garage was positioned right at the front of the entrance, but it also meant the longest stretch before merging onto the track. As I rolled past each team’s garage, I felt eyes following my every move, curious and assessing. They’d all heard the buzz about the new “mystery driver,” and now here I was.

Once I hit the open track, becoming the first car out on the tarmac, my radio crackled to life with Landon’s voice. “Okay, Y/N, this session is all about finding your sweet spot with the car. If anything feels even slightly off, let me know immediately. For now, just get comfortable with the track. We’ll start gathering real data in the next session.”

I pressed the radio button and replied with a quick, “Yes, sir,” a grin hidden behind my helmet as I pushed down on the accelerator, ready to make my mark.

I took a deep breath, the roar of the engine and the blur of the pit wall filling my senses as I pushed down on the accelerator. The Italian GP track spread out before me in a symphony of curves and straightaways, each turn already embedded in my mind. I’d studied this circuit obsessively—every corner, every curb, every shift in gradient. But now, with the Aston Martin beneath me, I could finally feel it for myself, each bump and nuance translating through the car with perfect clarity.

As I took on the first few turns, my instincts kicked in—a mix of smooth control and split-second aggression. Where other drivers might ease off in preparation for a hairpin, I’d mastered the art of late braking, letting the car edge just to the point of losing grip before snapping it back with a calculated shift in weight. I slid through the Variante del Rettifilo, cutting a sharp angle through the chicane, my hands steady as I kept my foot down. Each move, each turn was a test, not just for me, but for the entire team watching my data back in the garage.

The name Franco Colapinto kept flashing in my mind. I knew he’d have an impressive debut mid-season, and I could feel a competitive drive swelling within me as I attacked the track, eager to match and even exceed his potential mark. Exiting the second Lesmo, I made a mental note of how much grip the car could hold, the feeling just right as I powered down the straight toward Ascari. I couldn’t afford a single misstep. If I was going to prove myself, this was my moment to do it—full control at breakneck speed.

“Looking good, Y/N,” Landon’s voice crackled through the radio, but I was already focused on the final corner. The Parabolica curved ahead, inviting me to test my limits, and I didn’t hesitate. I took it wide before tightening on the exit, feeling the car grip to the line as I pushed the throttle to the max, the car launching down the home straight. 

“Love you, Landon, but please don’t speak before I’m accelerating out of the corner,” I said quickly over the radio, just as I straightened out and hit the next curve.

There was a pause before his voice crackled back, a bit sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting behind my helmet. “No worries, I’ll have you perfected in no time.”

With that, I settled back into my rhythm, feeling the weight of the car and every detail of the track imprinting itself in my mind. Soon enough, the first practice session came to an end, and I guided the car back to the pits. As I parked and the engineers moved in, I took a moment to pull off my helmet, still buzzing from the thrill of my first laps. This track, this team, and this car were quickly becoming home.

Time Skip -

Race day had arrived, bringing the tension and thrill of my F1 debut, but the sting of yesterday’s qualifying disaster still lingered. I’d ended up in P18, an unfortunate consequence of a poorly timed red flag that left the five of us at the back with no real shot at setting a solid lap time. I tried to brush it off as I prepared to join the rest of the grid for the drivers' parade.

Dressed in team gear, I wore one extra item that had become a part of my ritual. A few months ago, I lost my mother to cancer, and since then, I’d made sure to honor her at every race. Something on me, whether it was my gear or my helmet, would always bear a symbol of her favorite animal: the sea turtle. She had chosen it after learning the turtle’s symbolism of wisdom, endurance, and trusting one’s path, all qualities that described her so well. On each of my helmets, a small sea turtle was etched into the design. And when I wasn’t wearing the helmet, I kept a sea turtle necklace with me, its pendant filled with a touch of her ashes, as if she were here with me, watching over this pivotal moment.

I slipped on my headphones, tuning into my “reminiscing” playlist, letting myself reflect in the few quiet moments before the chaos. “How Do I Say Goodbye” by Dean Lewis filled my ears, a song that resonated now more than ever. My F2 team had given me the remainder of the season off after my mother’s passing, telling the media I was undergoing intense training for my reserve role. Nobody outside my close circle knew the truth, and it felt like a private thread of grief I carried alone, my mother’s memory grounding me as I faced the reality of my first F1 race without her.

I followed the line of drivers, hanging back, unnoticed by most. No one had approached me—not to chat, nor to dismiss me. They’d fallen naturally into their cliques, small pockets of friendships built over countless races together. The trailer pulled up, and I was the last to step aboard, taking a quiet corner near the back. My gaze drifted over the crowd as I toyed with the sea turtle pendant around my neck, a small comfort. If there was ever a moment I needed my mom, it was now. I imagined her smiling at my awkwardness, maybe even scolding the guys to show a bit of gentlemanly grace. Her humor and warmth were all I had left to keep close in this overwhelming moment.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I pulled off my headphones and turned to see a smiling Franco Colapinto standing there, his easy grin contagious. My smile mirrored his as I placed my headphones around my neck, grateful for the distraction.

“Hola! I’ve been waiting to get a chance to talk to you,” he said, his tone smooth and friendly.

“Hey! I didn’t think anyone would come over,” I replied, surprised but pleased. “It’s nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling about today?”

“Excited and a little nervous, to be honest. It’s not every day you get to race in Formula 1, right? I’m sure you feel the same way.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of camaraderie. “Definitely. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m ready to show what I can do out there.”

Franco's eyes sparkled with encouragement. “You’ve got this! I saw your lap times from practice; you really have a gift. Just stay focused and trust your instincts. We’re in this together after all.”

“Thanks! That means a lot, especially coming from you. I know you’ve been making waves already too,” I said, my confidence growing.

“Just trying to keep up!” he laughed, his energy infectious. “How about we make a pact? Let’s push each other out there and see how far we can go. We might even surprise some people!”

“Deal!” I grinned, feeling the excitement of a budding friendship. “I’d love to have someone to share this experience with. After all, it’s always more fun with friends.”

Franco nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Let’s catch up after the race too—maybe grab a bite? I think we could both use a little downtime after all this craziness.” He blushed slightly, the nerves from the question filling him. 

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. As we exchanged a few more words, the nervous weight on my shoulders lifted, replaced by the warmth of a new friendship that made this moment feel just a little less daunting.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, we were dropped back at the paddock. With no distractions, I headed straight for my garage, ready to change and get my head in the game. As I pulled on each piece of my race gear, my heart thudded louder, like it was syncing up with the pulse of the race track. I pressed play on my go-to race day anthem, letting "Real Gone" by Sheryl Crow blast through my headphones on repeat. If this song didn’t put me in the zone, nothing would—it was basically my theme song at this point.

Finally dressed, I took out my helmet. Today, I’d be wearing something special. Up until now, I’d been using my usual helmet, but today was different. This one was for my mom. The design was everything she’d loved: a watercolor sea turtle on each side, painted in her honor. And the top? Like Max’s iconic lion, but this time, it was the face of a sea turtle, wise and serene, watching over me. I could almost hear her laugh as I ran my fingers over the shell details. This one’s for you, Mom.

Leaving the driver’s room, I headed towards the garage, spotting Fernando getting weighed, his usual intense focus evident even with all the last-minute prep happening around us. I gave him a nod, but he was too busy to notice. The team was buzzing, everyone moving with that pre-race electricity.

Before long, I was strapped into the car, staring down the rows of vehicles lined up before me. Silence filled my helmet as I mentally ran through my race strategy. My goal was clear: make it into the points. It wasn’t just about my debut anymore; it was about proving that I belonged here. I’d shut up the critics, the doubters, the ones who said I didn’t have what it took. One pass at a time, I’d show them exactly why I was here.

With just minutes left before the race began, the team pulled the last of the covers from my car and gave it one final check before stepping back off the track. A calm washed over me, the nerves melting into pure focus. It was time.

As the lights went out for the formation lap, I pressed the pedal, feeling the power beneath me roar to life. One by one, the cars in front began moving, and I eased into line, the vibrations of the track buzzing through my hands and up my arms. As I made my way around the circuit, I took in the crowds, fans pressed up against the barricades, flags waving, people cheering, everyone vying for a glimpse of the action before the real race even began. Some held banners and signs with drivers’ names, a few even with my number and the sea turtle logo—my symbol.

I could feel the weight of all those eyes, every fan, every camera trained on the car, and I let it sink in. This was it. For a split second, my mind flashed back to all the hard work, the sleepless nights, and every lap it took to reach this moment. I had something to prove to the fans, to the team, to everyone who’d doubted me. But right now, the only thing on my mind was to trust my path—just like the sea turtle my mom had loved so much.

As the formation lap came to an end, the tension in the air shifted into something electric. The cars lined up on the grid, engines rumbling in anticipation, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through me. The lights began to sequence, and I focused on the start, visualizing my strategy for the race. This was my moment, and I was ready.

The lights went out, and with a roar, I launched off the line. The initial surge was exhilarating; I was quick on the throttle, feeling the car respond to my commands as I made my way into Turn 1. I immediately positioned myself on the inside line, expertly avoiding the chaos of the cars jostling for position. I could hear the crackle of the radio as Landon encouraged me, reminding me to stay calm and focused.

By the time I reached the first series of corners, I was already gaining ground. I overtook a struggling driver on the outside, timing my move perfectly as I accelerated past him, narrowly avoiding a collision. The thrill of passing my first competitor sent a rush of confidence through me. I could see Franco up ahead, holding steady in P15, and I set my sights on catching him.

As I maneuvered through the tighter sections of the track, I began to find my rhythm. I was in the zone, my mind clear, my instincts sharp. Every corner felt like an opportunity, and I seized each one with determination. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every pass I made, and I could feel the energy fueling my drive.

By the end of the first five laps, I had already climbed up to P15. The rush of adrenaline pushed me further as I entered the sixth lap, where I saw two cars ahead battling for position. I took advantage of their fight, threading my car between them at just the right moment. It felt like a dance, fluid and precise. I could hear Landon’s voice in my ear, excitement evident as I made my way to P12.

With each lap, I continued to push, my confidence growing as I settled into the flow of the race. I navigated through the midfield, expertly carving my way around each driver that stood in my path. Before I knew it, I was in P10, and the battle for the final point was heating up. I had Franco in my sights, and he was locked in a fierce duel with a driver ahead. I took a deep breath, my focus zeroing in on the track ahead.

As we approached the DRS zone, I positioned myself perfectly behind Franco, ready to capitalize on the situation. The moment the DRS activated, I unleashed the power of my car, speeding past him as I made my way into P9. A rush of exhilaration flooded over me—I was in the points! I could hardly believe it. The realization that I had come from P18 to P9 within 2/3s of the race filled me with a sense of accomplishment and the determination to keep pushing forward. With my mother’s spirit guiding me, I 2ould fight for better positions. 

The final laps flew by in a blur, each corner, each straight a chance to cement my place in this race. I held P9 fiercely, defending against anyone who dared to challenge me, pushing the car to its limits while staying calm under pressure. As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief and triumph washed over me, the weight of the entire race lifting in an instant. My radio crackled with life, and suddenly the cheers of the team filled my helmet, their voices a symphony of celebration.

“P9! Absolutely incredible, y/n!” Landon’s voice shouted, brimming with pride. “You did it, you’re in the points on your debut!”

I could hear Marcus chiming in, his excitement nearly drowning out the others, “You’ve made history today. Unbelievable drive—everyone here is beyond proud!”

A smile broke across my face as I took a moment to let it all sink in. The crowd’s cheers blended with the voices in my ear, my heart racing with pure exhilaration. I lifted a hand in a quiet tribute to my mom, feeling her presence there on the track. This was just the beginning—I’d proven I belonged here. 

Pulling into parc fermé, I powered down the car, feeling the silence wrap around me as the engine’s roar faded. Just as I started climbing out, I heard someone shout my name over the buzz of the paddock. I turned and saw Franco charging toward me, a huge grin plastered on his face. Before I could react, he reached me, practically tackling me in a bear hug as he lifted me off my feet and spun me around.

“You raced beautifully, hermosa!” he yelled, his excitement infectious. I couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in his energy as he set me back down.

“And you! That defense was insane—I thought I’d never get around you!” I replied, still catching my breath. We grinned at each other, peeling off our helmets and balaclavas, both flushed and exhilarated.

“Seriously,” he said, eyes bright, “for a debut race? You were unstoppable. I knew you’d make waves, but that was something else.”

“Thanks, Franco,” I said, feeling the pride and relief mix with a new rush of excitement. “And I know that won’t be the last time I’m chasing you down.”

“Can’t wait for it,” he replied with a laugh. We shared a nod, silently acknowledging the start of something bigger between us. 

As we pulled away, someone called out for us. I turned, and to my surprise, racing legend Lewis Hamilton was walking over, looking exhausted but with a warm, genuine smile. "That was spectacular from both of you," he said, nodding at Franco and me. "I can’t wait to watch the highlights later. You both defended and overtook with skill today—I’m excited to see how you both keep improving."

Franco and I exchanged a quick look of shared amazement and thanked him, both of us a bit starstruck. Just then, Alex appeared, pulling Franco aside, leaving me with Lewis.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I actually wanted to have a word with you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you earlier, so I thought now might be the best time—when your spirits are high and you’ve got a bit of space to breathe.” I nodded, curious, as he continued.

“I know it can be tough to find real allies here,” he said gently. “Especially as someone who stands out in a sport that doesn’t have many like you.” His words hit home; I’d felt the isolation creeping in, even with the excitement of today’s race. “I went through a similar thing when I started. I want you to know, if you ever need a friend or someone to talk to, I’m here. Whether it’s for advice, venting, or just someone who gets it—don’t hesitate to find me.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me, and I managed a smile, feeling the pressure I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying start to lift. “Thank you, Lewis. That really means a lot,” I said, trying to convey how much his words reassured me. He gave a small, understanding nod, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

“Anytime,” he said with a kind smile. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Just keep your head up.” With a reassuring nod, Lewis turned and walked back toward his team, leaving me standing there with a sense of both calm and determination. I took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, feeling a surge of confidence. 

Gathering myself, I turned and headed back to my team’s garage, the noise of the paddock buzzing around me, but somehow, I felt more focused than ever. As I walked, a few crew members caught my eye, giving me nods and pats on the back, their own excitement mirroring my own. 

I saw Marcus waiting with a grin, surrounded by engineers who all looked just as thrilled. I knew I’d made a mark today—not just on the track but on the people who believed in me. And as I joined them, I couldn’t help but smile.

[discordiansamba]

in a small room in the earth king's palace, someone groans and sits up. he presses a hand against his head. it feels... groggy for some reason. he can't quite remember where he is, and how he got here. he must not be fully awake yet. he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and slowly, he recalls himself.

...oh. right.

his name is lee. he's... earth kingdom, born and raised in ba sing se. his mother died in a house fire when he was thirteen. his father works as an assistant to a minor minister in the earth king's palace. he lives in the middle ring of ba sing se with him. he works as a tea server. he still doesn't quite remember...

...oh wait. yes he does.

he'd... he'd been in the earth palace with his father for some reason, though he couldn't... wait. he remembered now. he'd been given the chance to serve the minister he worked for tea. it was a rare opportunity...

...oh. he'd fainted.

lee groans and covers his face. at least that explains the headache. he must have hit his head on the way down.

there's a knock on the door, and moments later, his father enters. for a moment lee just stares at him, before he exhales in relief. his father smiles at him and tells him he's glad to see him awake. he already had the healers look you over. it was just a case of exhaustion. you didn't sleep at all the night before.

...yeah, he remembers that now. he'd been too excited. too nervous.

after all, the earth palace belonged to princess azula now. the fire nation had taken over in a coup, deposing the earth king. it's scary to think about, but it has very little to actually do with lee. he's just a commoner from the middle ring.

he apologizes to his father for making him worry. his father just laughs and squeezes his shoulder. he tells him to go wash up- and that if he's feeling up to it, there's someone else who has requested his services while he's here. it turns out the minister was so impressed with his service, that he'd praised him within earshot of ba sing se's new ruler.

...he's going to serve the princess of the fire nation tea.

it's an odd feeling. his heart clenches with anxiety. with fear. with... anger? he tries to shake it off. he also feels extremely honored. enemy nation or not, princess azula is still royalty. this is the chance of a lifetime. now that he started thinking that way, a bud of excitement slowly formed in his chest.

he let his father guide him to a small washroom, where he splashed water on his face. he paused, looking at his reflection in the mirror and tilting his head. strange. it... almost felt like this was the first time he'd ever seen his face. he huffed. there was no way that was true, of course. he'd only lost vision in the one eye after the fire, not both.

he brushed his hair, trying to get as much of it to cover his burn as he could. it was getting longer, but it wasn't quite long enough yet. he smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothing, taking in and letting out a deep breath. he steps back, and takes in his appearance in the mirror once more. he's wearing his finest robes, of a deep forest green. he hopes it will be passable enough for the princess. they're made of a heavy material, but...

...he feels... light, he suddenly realizes.

his father smiles at him when he exits. you look like you're in a good mood, son. lee nods. he... is, actually. he doesn't know how to describe it. it's almost like... like some burden has been lifted off of him. he feels... free, almost. which is a strange thing to think, he admits, when they're now under fire nation subjugation.

"hm," his father strokes his beard thoughtfully, "-i suppose you are happy, then."

lee blinks. happy?

...he is, he realizes. he's... happy. why wouldn't he be? he's been invited to personally serve tea to royalty. it's something he never even would have dared to let himself dream of. his father gives his shoulder another fond squeeze, before leading him to where the princess is waiting for him.

his sister the princess is sitting in one of the palace gardens, with two other fire nation girls. he does not recognize them, but for some reason he feels his fingers twitch. they are staring at him. the princess looks up at him with a smile, and his left eye twitches. he and his father bow to the princess and her companions.

"i've been told on good authority," princess azula says, "-that you're quite a skilled tea server. i simply had to see for myself."

"you honor me, your highness," lee says, "-i swear i will not disappoint."

"no," she smiles, "-i don't believe you will... lee, was it?"

"yes, princess," he says, "-my name is lee."

(a strange feeling washes over him as he says that. yes, he thinks. he's lee. he has always been lee.)

[deadhands69]

A New End: The Bet

MDNI

this one is sfw but the series contains eventual smut

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/(eventually afab?) reader

Warnings/Content/etc: swearing, mentions of violence, destruction destruction destruction, eventual spoilers, and eventual smut.

intro - (this is part one) - part 2 soon

A quiet chatter meets your ears as you enter the open living area. A few more people have joined in the few weeks after you’d moved into the league of villains headquarters which really livened up the place. For a room of villains, they’re a lot more entertaining to be around than you would have expected. You were worried it would be similar to your time at UA, but people were actually nice to you here.

Most of them.

The leader, Shigaraki, still hasn’t warmed up to you. Tensing every time you enter the room. Never quite looking you in the eyes. Your ideas were always held under higher scrutiny than the others. You’re not sure if he has higher expectations of you because of the information he expects your quirk to provide or if he just hates you, but with how he treats everyone else you've started leaning towards the latter. Fortunately, he rarely leaves his room - still recovering from some injuries earlier in the year. 

In any case, your quirk hadn’t warned you away from him which allowed you to hold out some hope that maybe he just needs time to get to know you.

Considering that half the league are practically homeless, it had become a daily occurrence to wake up to a full house. No one seemed to mind, especially Kurogiri who is currently brewing another pot of coffee for the group. You still weren’t close friends with anyone but the company is nice.

“I’ll bet it’s a boyfriend,” you overhear Toga exclaim, “I wonder if he’s cute!”

“Or she. Could be a girlfriend,” Twice adds. 

“What’s your bet?” Compress asks someone just behind the wall out of your sight, “where do you think [y/n] goes every night?”

From your vantage point in the door frame, they don’t realize you’re there yet. You pause at the sound of your name to listen a bit longer.

“Don’t know and don’t care,” Dabi retorts, “not my fucking business.”

“What if he’s the boyfriend?” Toga grumbles under her breath.

“Fuck off, I have better shit to do every night than date anyone.” And Dabi has a trail of bodies as alibis, you note to yourself if anyone tries to suggest that again.

“Alright,” Compress announces theatrically, “and now that everyone’s placed their bets-”

creakkkkk

The floorboards announce your presence as you shift your weight. 

Fuck. Eavesdropping time is over.

“Morning,” you say as casually as possible to the group of villains, most of them looking anywhere but you.

“Good morning,” Toga responds cheerfully. Without missing a beat she adds, “do you have a boyfriend?” “What? No…” you mumble while pouring yourself a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the empty spot between Spinner and Shigaraki.

“How about a secret love?” she presses again, this time nearly leaning over the table for an answer.

You laugh at the thought of announcing any secret over a crowded table before shaking your head and becoming very interested in the coffee mug in front of you. “Dirt-Cheap Donki-Oote” it reads.

Shigaraki scoffs to your right. Clearly he's bored of this conversation. He'd never come to your defense so you know he’s not changing the subject for your sake, but you’re still glad when he brings up the next mission instead.

That night, you sneak out a bit more quietly than usual. You had to wait longer for nightfall, considering that it's midsummer, but it should be worth it. Following the dark streets in the industrial area you’ve been living in, there are still a few new places you’d like to check out.

It was a silly hobby, really. You took it up years ago during your time at UA when you really needed it - you just never stopped. 

Upon arriving at your destination, you pause. No premonitions, safe.

Carefully, you cross the footprint into the demolished structure. Steel beams wrap up around you, twisted from failing to keep the concrete upright.

Up to now, your life was always planned out for you. Even more so with your future-based quirk. Getting glimpses of what’s to come always leaves you waiting for life to happen. Or worse, on stand-by until you know if you’ve successfully changed your fate or not. After a while, it felt like your whole life was being lived out ahead of you without a break. 

These buildings aren’t like that at all though. There’s something calming in the rubble that draws you into the present and keeps you here. It feels final. Finished. Everything that was waiting to happen here did, now it’s a modern ruin. A reminder of things that have already come to pass. There’s tranquility in that destruction. Some people touch grass, you prefer crumbling concrete. 

Finding a nice spot in the wreckage, you settle in for a while. 

The following night, you debate going out again. It was a long day of mission planning and you’re exhausted. You won’t be able to join said mission as your quirk was deemed to be more useful from afar, but regardless, you’re expected to sit in on all the meetings in case any visions present themselves (they didn't.) Sinking into your bed, it’s warm and comfortable. You could easily stay but the lure of tranquility calls to you. 

Out the door you go.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re nearly there. Footsteps echoing through the empty street, you glance around the abandoned buildings for your specific destination. A bush rustles behind you, causing your head to snap back.

Nothing. 

Probably just the wind.

Suddenly, a vision strikes you. Alarmed. Yet you don’t feel any danger. If you keep walking, Tomura Shigaraki will follow you down the street and enter the building behind you. Knocking a rock off a concrete block, startling you just enough that your quirk is giving you the heads up. Not the most exciting prophecy, but you know he’s there now. 

“You can come out, Shigaraki!” you call out in the general direction of his hiding place, “I know you’re there.

Slowly, he rises. A few leaves tangled in his hair.

“How?”

“Quirk,” you respond. Surely, he is who the group sent to follow you and confirm the guesses from their bet yesterday morning. 

“Come on.”

Hesitantly, he follows. 

You wonder how he managed to keep up earlier, considering that both of his legs are still recovering from being shot. He's not limping but certainly doesn't look like he's having an easy time walking. You slow down a bit. 

Approaching the address, you're starting to feel nervous. This is all to calm down, but the prospect of an audience is daunting. On second thought, he's wearing a literal hand on his face so he's not really in a place to judge. And even if he does think less of you, he couldn't hate you much more than he already does. Right? 

Surprisingly, his presence doesn't affect your experience much. He gives you space, sticking to the other side of the caved-in shell of a warehouse. 

“Why?” Shigaraki’s crimson eyes follow you through the space. Watching your fingers as they trace over fractured pillars and contorted metal.

That question. You’ve dreaded anyone else finding out what you do every night for that alone and here he is asking like it's not a big deal. What are you supposed to say, ‘I like being around demolished shit’? On second thought, yeah. That could work.

“It makes me calm, being here.”

“You like…decay?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah, I guess so,” considering your audience, you decide it wouldn't hurt to elaborate.

”There’s nothing to wait for - it’s already been destroyed. This is it.” 

His face doesn't give anything away, peering between fingers before staring back at his feet while he shuffles through the open area. 

“No wonder you’re here,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Did you win the bet?” you ask on the walk back home. 

“Bet?” he considers for a moment, “Oh. No. No one won.”

“What was your guess?”

“Being alone,” he winces slightly after stepping over a curb too quickly for his injured leg to keep up, “but they said that wasn't specific enough so I changed it to ghost hunting.”

You laugh, “ghost hunting??”

“It's not the worst guess. Magne thought you were an exotic dancer.”

“She has a lot more faith in me than I do,” you snicker mostly to yourself, “could you imagine?”

He says nothing. 

Suddenly, you remember you're talking to your fairly stern boss and not a friend your age. It's easy to forget when you're also roommates, the lines blur easily. 

Change of topic. 

Unfortunately, decay is all that comes to mind so you go with it. 

“Tell me about your quirk, how does it work?”

“You actually want to know?” he replies in the same incredulous voice as earlier. 

“Yeah. You decay things but obviously not everything. You were holding your phone earlier.”

“My pinky was off.”

“Huh?”

“I have to touch things with five fingers.”

“Got it. Did it take a lot of practice to learn your quirk?”

He laughs eerily, “No, definitely not. I never really practiced, I just kind of used it.”

Ah. Got it. Not asking on that one, you catch the implication. 

This conversation has to be so boring to him but at least you diffused some tension.

“I could show you, sometime,” he says quietly, still not looking directly at you. “If you want.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“That works.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You would say that.”

Maybe you're imagining it, but you almost think he's smiling under that hand. 

After last night, you thought you made some headway with Tomura Shigaraki but your working relationship remains the same as ever. All day, he laid into you for your ideas. Glowering over the table every time you so much as looked at him. When it came time to leave for the evening, you were absolutely convinced he’d back out - remembering how much he can’t stand you. But that wasn’t the case. Here he is, closely following you for the second night in a row. 

“Where do you want to go?” he asks. 

“I have three places saved to check out on this street,” you bring up the saved places map on your phone, “does that work for you?”

“Why not one of these?” he gestures towards the rows of abandoned buildings surrounding you, “doesn't have to be destroyed already, that's the point right?”

Oh. Yeah. That could work. 

You nod. 

“Pick one.” 

“Wait, really?”

“It's all the same to me anyways,” he watches as you consider your options. 

“Uhm, that one,” you point, “the one with a lot of windows.”

“Okay, stay back here.” He's already halfway across the street. 

Reaching a hand out, he touches the building as nonchalantly as he approached it. Cracks fracture from his fingertips, spreading over the entire structure. Within half a minute, the whole thing collapses loudly. A cloud of dust hangs in the air above him. He looks unphased. And it's… Hot? 

No, you think to yourself, it's just surprising. That's all. You'd just never seen him use his quirk before. 

Still, you have to admit - he's powerful. 

Quickly, you cross the street to join him. 

The freshly dusted concrete reminds you of the smell before rain, just sharper. Shards of glass glisten across the space, 

You spend a few minutes taking it all in. 

He simply watches you. 

“We've gotta go,” his quiet but direct voice urges as he shoves the hand from his face into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Hey!” you hear in the distance, as the two of you break into a sprint. 

You don't think it's a hero, probably some low level security guard but it's still best to not get caught. Especially with a wanted villain. Of course, Shigaraki could easily take him out but he's probably already called for backup so it doesn't really fix the issue. 

Running down the street, you're about to round the corner before your quirk screams at you to take another way. Yanking the shoulder of his hoodie, you pull him to the first door you run past. It's not budging but he dusts the lock quickly, pulling you inside. You thread a piece of rebar through the inner door handles just in case. 

Footsteps grow closer and you realize just how many windows your chosen hiding place has. Your quirk didn't warn you against it though? 

A pull on your arm brings you to a dark corner. Shoulder to shoulder, you're huddled out of sight. The street lights illuminating just enough to cast a streak of light over his face. 

It occurs to you now, you've never really seen his face. Especially not this close. 

He's younger than you thought. Considering that he's the leader and Girian introduced you, you assumed they were around the same age. Turns out, Shigaraki is a lot closer to your age. 

When he's not glaring at you, his eyes are really pretty. Dark red and striking against the pale of his skin. The thin skin around his face is dry and littered with scars. You hope it doesn't hurt. 

A minute passes as you admire his beauty, completely forgetting not to stare. 

Based on his expression, you'd think he was bored but the nervous itching and chewing the skin on his bottom lip gives away some anxiety. It's nice seeing he's actually human. 

With this new realization, you're acutely aware of the closeness. The way his shoulder brushes against yours. You can practically feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of both of your clothes. 

“What?” he asks, bringing you out of your trance. 

“Nothing,” you respond, feeling your cheeks burn. 

“We should probably go,” he jumps to his feet, “sounds like he went that way so let's find a door on the other side of the building.“

You follow him through the maze of hallways before coming to a way out. An old fire exit sign hangs from the ceiling above, long since burned out. 

Locked again. 

He shrugs and effortlessly crumbles the entire door for you to pass through. 

You had it right earlier: he's definitely hot.

m.list

[this was originally two parts but they were both short so it made more sense to make it one]

[wolfstargazer]

Moving Staircase - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 484

The worst thing about the staircases moving was who you could be trapped there with.

Remus dreaded being forced to make small talk with someone he didn't know, asking if they'd had Potions on a Thursday together in second year, or trying to remember what the latest scores of Quidditch were in order to use that in conversation.

When the words ran dry, he'd often stand, hand in pockets, studying the paintings that lined the staircase, waiting for stairs to stop moving. He wasn't rude. He'd always say a polite goodbye before rushing off in the direction of the common room to try and shake off the awkwardness of what he'd just endured.

That Thursday evening, the staircases were quiet, and so Remus felt fairly confident that he should be able to go on his way unscathed. That is until he reached the fourth floor, and the staircases shifted, and Remus found himself stuck with a Hufflepuff girl he thought he recognised.

"Hi," she said quietly. She had a round face, and round eyes, and was carrying a pile of Arithmancy books.

Remus smiled and nodded at her books, "How are you finding it?"

The girl looked down at the books.

"I thought I might like it and tried it for a while, but it turns out magical numbers are just as mystifying as the Muggle ones to me," Remus continued.

The girl said nothing. She had pursed her lips and was shuffling a little on her feet, eager for the stairs to finish changing.

Remus, ever keen to put others at their ease, tried to catch her eye and said, "I think we had that class together before I gave it up?"

"I don't think so," the girl said in a quiet voice.

Remus studied her face, confused.

"I'm certain I recognise you from somewhere though," Remus said. "Are you sure?"

The girl flushed and said, even quieter than before, "That's not where you recognise me from."

She lifted her eyes, and they found Remus'. All of a sudden, Remus could place her. The Astronomy Tower. Three weeks ago. He'd gone up to collect the books he had left. He'd burst in without thinking after dark....

Two forms, pressed against each other, in the dark recess of the tower. A girl, this girl, starting when the door had creaked open and hurriedly rearranging her shirt.

And a boy, with grey eyes and unruly, mussed hair, had given a breathless bark of laughter as he tried to call after him as Remus had hurriedly backed out of the room, "Moony! Wait!"

"Oh. Right." Remus could think of nothing else to say. The girl stared down at her feet. Remus felt an uncomfortable feeling fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

He studied the paintings. A lion and a lamb. A shooting star. A lightning struck tower. And waited for the stairs to stop swinging.

[starkwlkr]

there’s love if you want it (sv5)

there’s love if you want it don’t sound like no sonnet, my lord — the verve

I wait for you masterlist

DECEMBER 2010

The FIA Gala was starting to bore Sebastian. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all it was him who was being honored. He kept looking down at his watch wanting time to go by faster. Why? In a couple hours, Sofia Barrett was leaving Monaco and he didn’t want her to leave without saying goodbye.

“You’re doing it again.” Christian Horner whispered to Sebastian. He was of course referring to Sebastian’s foot tapping.

“Sorry.” Sebastian apologized. “Listen, I don’t want to see rude . . .”

“I’m sure no one will notice if you leave a few minutes early, Seb.” That was all it took for the German to excuse himself and make his way to the nearest exit.

From his seat, Mark Webber chuckled and sipped on his champagne. “He is so whipped.”

Luckily, Sofia’s hotel was near the gala so Sebastian had the ‘brilliant’ idea of running in his dress shoes all the way to her. If it was any another person, he would no even try, but this was Sofia Barrett and for her, he would run like his life depended on it. When he finally did make it to her hotel, he ran to the elevator, but the door had already closed in his face.

“Fuck! Fuck! No!” Sebastian shouted. He felt like he was running out of time so he started pushing the button for the next elevator. As he kept pushing it, he heard his name being called by the sweetest voice ever.

“Sebastian?” He quickly turned and saw Sofia with her suitcase by her side. “I’m pretty sure the gala is still happening. Why are you here?”

“You were leaving. . .” Was all he managed to say. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

Sofia’s lips turned into a smile. “Are you going to get in trouble for leaving early?”

“Probably, but I think it’s worth it if I got to see you.” Sebastian replied.

“The world champion getting in trouble just so he can see me? You’re something else, Seb.” Sofia laughed.

“Are you going to Iceland?” Sebastian asked. He remembered her mentioning Iceland a few months ago, something about a family member getting married there.

Sofia slowly nodded. “Yeah, but I’m going to London. I’m spending Christmas and New Years with my boyfriend and his family.”

Her words hit him like a truck. Boyfriend. Since when? She never brought up that word ever. He was beginning to think it was some sort of prank set up by Mark to get him to confess his true feelings. It had to be a prank! When did she find a boyfriend?

“Oh. You’re dating an Englishman?” Was all he could say. Out of all the words in the world, he decided to say that.

Sofia laughed. “I promise he’s a good guy. He’s already met my parents and sister. They like him.”

“That’s . . . Good. But what about that MotoGP guy? What’s his name? Casey?”

“Casey is a friend. Always had been.” He noticed a little anger in her voice. Sofia got annoyed whenever someone brought up her friendship with Casey Stoner. The media assumed it was more than a friendship, but her and the Australian were simply friends.

“I’ll see you soon. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, champ. Love you.” Sofia placed a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek as she gave him a hug.

“Yeah, you too.” He cleared his throat. “Have a safe flight. Call when you land?”

“Time zones, Seb.” She reminded him.

“I’ll wait. You know I always wait for you.”

And he did. No matter what, Sebastian Vettel always waited for Sofia Barrett.

@forza-pastry @distancedss

[joyride-time]

Why’d Gil Snitch On Tarvek: Theories

Gil inherited a few things from Klaus. One of them is a tendency to avoid expositing. Among other things, he’s very closemouthed about his childhood. Because of this, we don’t know much about Gil as a kid or his mindset from Gil himself.

So why did he snitch on Tarvek about his intel stash and believe Klaus was right about him for over a decade? Some theories:

1. He’s Just Not That Into Him Theory

Why does Gil refuse to believe Agatha is the Other, but decide his father is right about Tarvek when they got caught looking for Gil’s family tree? Occam’s Razor (that thing can cut through anything!): Gil didn’t like Tarvek as much as he likes Agatha.

It’s hard to disprove it because there's no one else to scale Gil's relationships with back then except Von Pinn and Klaus, whose relationship with Gil is totally different. Gil didn’t know Agatha as long as he knew Tarvek at those points, but you can like someone you don’t know. Nothing requires Gil to have liked Tarvek as much as Agatha. Tarvek was Gil’s best friend… out of zero other friends. How much does Gil have to like and trust Tarvek to recruit him for the family tree search? Who knows. Tarvek is the one who cracked the safe in the flashback, and we don’t know if Gil could do that himself back then. The information they were searching for was something Gil probably wanted to tell everyone anyways. And they have their Paris interactions to get to know each other better in the future.

2. Klaus-Gil Dynamic Swing Theory

Klaus is always right… that’s something Gil doesn’t seem to have questioned before he discovers Klaus’ mistake with Agatha. At seven years old, Gil trusts Klaus’ judgment more than his own. At twenty-two years old, Gil is more critical of taking everything Klaus says at face value. He’s also got a whole decade of change and growth behind him. In Book 2 Gil and Theo have this exchange: “You sounded just like the Gil I grew up with.” “I’m not,” Gil said flatly. “Too many things have changed. I’ll never be that person again.” He smiled and punched Theo in the arm. “But I can remember the important bits.”

So it's a different Gil making different judgment calls.

3. Suspicious Sturmvoraus Theory

It’s Tarvek. Even when they’re on better terms Gil (and Agatha) are suspicious about him working at multiple purposes. Tarvek initially approached Gil to make him his minion at the age of seven. Tarvek also thinks that Klaus told Gil about Tarvek’s family, so Tarvek himself may have told Gil very little about them, or censored what he did share. If so, having a sudden info dump about their many sins probably didn’t help anything. We also don’t know what kind of schemes Tarvek got into where Gil could see them, but Gil does know that he got a secret hiding spot. And that he’s extremely good at lying. So he looked at Tarvek and decided yeah, he's probably lying to him.

4. Trust Issues Theory

Before Tarvek, Gil had really poor relationships with his peers. Or at least, any positive ones he used to have were broken off. Present day Gil is a very friendly guy, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Gil tried to make friends… maybe even succeeded… and then they fell apart. If so, it wouldn’t be strange if part of Gil was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something made Gil want to custom-build his own, very dependent friend construct. Definitely not a surfeit of healthy relationships with his peers.

5. Perceived Vulnerability Theory

Agatha needs protection from what Gil can see in the first arc. She’s a female Spark in an Europa where they all disappear if not well-protected. He meets her at one of her lowest points and works to build her up. Their second meeting had him pluck her from her house after she got sedated. She gets more dangerous afterwards, but Klaus does a poor job at explaining things and is very clear that leveling the town she's in to kill her is an option. Tarvek is a prince and the son of a powerful Spark, on a ship where both qualities are enormously important to their peers. They may be hostages but neither felt very endangered by it. Book 4 also states that Gil had “done his best at the time to get Tarvek sent away”, which could just be referring to ratting him out, but could also be a sign that Klaus’ first impulse was not to send Tarvek back to his family, which makes Tarvek seem even less in danger. Gil thinks if he sides against Tarvek Tarvek will just get sent back home, where he’ll continue to be a prince… and how bad can that be? Whereas with Agatha he saw a little fledgling who was going to be someone’s personal property fighting hard to avoid that. They're very different perspectives.

I'm curious what other people's theories are, so please share if you feel like it.

[celestialmantdonna]

Mantis didn't think that her willingness to help, to make Vossler confess after what happened, was a big deal. She wanted to help others, and if she could do so in any way, she would.

She wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply nodded and quietly thanked Basch when he said her actions were admirable before she left with Gamora. She couldn't blame Vossler's actions on all of Dalmasca, and everyone else seemed to condemn his actions at the moment.

Quill waited for Basch and Ashelia to leave the room before he did, and after slamming the door shut, a manifestation of the lingering anger he felt after the assassination attempt on his teammate, the Star-Lord left as well to return to the Benatar and talk to Rocket.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Mantis smiled at Munoh again after they told Soryn that Basch had approved of her help. She was lucky to have the being's support, and she would happily work with Munoh to get all the information they could extract from the traitor.

Gamora crossed her arms when Vossler demanded both she and Mantis stayed away from him. They didn't want to see him either, but Mantis wanted to get him to tell the truth, and... it wasn't like Vossler would confess spontaneously.

Gamora was a little surprised when Munoh revealed themself to her, but since both Mantis and Quill had seen them, and they had helped Mantis, she wasn't as shocked as she could have been by the glowing, floating presence of the being.

As Mantis offered to remove her influence over him, his suspicion was more than evident, and for a moment, she didn't think that her attempt to lure him in would work. However, it did, and the empath couldn't help but think that he was not that clever for someone so boastful.

He warned her? Now? To warn someone was to tell them about a possible danger beforehand, and Vossler had already tried to take her out. Had she been anyone else, Mantis would've digged her nails into the skin of his face before telling him that she had saved his life twice; first time by telling the Guardians not to kill him, second time by not commanding him to drop dead in that moment. But unlike Vossler, she didn't act out of ego. So instead, her palm was gently placed on Vossler's cheek as she gave a simple order in her mind. Something that to many would be far scarier than a heated fight.

Tell us everything you are trying to keep secret.

She had made the guards tell Raminas that Vossler would confess because he would. Mantis wanted to see him again before his trial to make sure he would do so, and if anyone accused her of lying, of making things up or forcing Vossler to say things that weren't real... Munoh would take care of that.

At least Vossler would stop wailing now. He would be too busy pointing out his own treachery.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Drax walked with Groot for a while, admiring the Royal Palace of Rabanastre and its beautiful surroundings.

He was visibly protective of the young Guardian, especially after what happened with Mantis. He knew the guards were keeping an eye on them, but he wouldn't attack them. If the guards were wise, they would realize that the Guardians had not landed there to pose a threat.

The threat had come from within the palace's walls.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

"No!"

"Man, c'mon!"

"No! Fuck that!" Rocket insisted.

Arguments weren't uncommon in the Benatar, especially between Rocket and Quill. After reaching the ship, Quill had told Reks that he needed to talk to Rocket in private, although he knew what Rocket would say: no, we are not going to fight for Dalmasca, fuck no, personally I do not fight for those who try to kill my friends, call me crazy, I'd rather fix the ship and get outta here, thank you very much, we will not return.

"Dude, you think I wanna do it?" Quill retorted. "I don't! But we need to! Don't you remember what I said when you asked me why I'd want to save the galaxy?"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?!"

"That's not what I said to you!"

"If we stay here any longer those assholes will try to kill Mantis again!" Rocket snarled. "What do ya want me to say, huh? Oh, yes, we will go to war for you! Sure, use us as your doormat while you're at it, anythin' you need, let us turn around so you can shove your mighty swords up our–"

"Okay, enough! We're not doing this. This is the kind of decision we should make together." Quill sighed and crossed his arms. "I think Mantis should have the last word." As much as he wanted to use his authority as leader and Captain of the Guardians, he knew that the assassination attempt had been on Mantis.

Rocket glared at him and then he kept working on the small, shiny green object.

Another Time, Another Place (A Hollow Universe In Space) || closed with tarnishedxknight

@tarnishedxknight continued from here

The Guardians stood there, letting Captain Basch formally introduce them to King Raminas. They all then bowed respectfully except for Rocket, who only did so because Gamora pushed his head down. They trusted Basch for the most part, as he assured them no one would hurt them after telling them to leave their weapons at the ship. Quill and Gamora were the first ones to leave theirs; Drax didn't want to leave his knives, but did so after Mantis looked at him, while Rocket pulled a comical amount of retractable weapons from his pockets.

As they followed Basch, Mantis had stayed behind for a moment to approach Vossler. She felt much better after Munoh sent her some calm energy, and she smirked at the man. Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, her antennae aglow. "Whenever you open your mouth to say something unkind, you will wail like a baby. Honestly, it might be more coherent than anything else you have said," she whispered. She patted his cheek twice as if to seal her whimsical behest, and hurried to follow the Guardians as Basch guided them through the palace of Rabanastre.

Quill straightened and cleared his throat to speak to the King. Mantis took his hand; Quill was a little confused, but he allowed it since he knew she wasn't feeling great.

"Your Majesty," he said, once again lowering his voice in an attempt to mirror Basch's formal tone and presence, hoping it would make the King like him more. "We come in peace. We thank you for your time, and we apologize for occupying one of your docks. I think I have–" He stopped talking rather suddenly, and swallowed. "Uh... I think... I have..."

What was happening was that Mantis was frantically reading his thoughts as he spoke, using her powers to interrupt him because he was going to say he had the perfect stuff to make up for it, wanting to show the King some Terran music with the Zune. While Terran music was excellent, Mantis knew not everyone would like it, nor find it an acceptable form of apology.

"I have no excuse," Quill said instead. "And I have to... shut up... now."

[tadpolebobatea]

Day 4 - MY BABIES, *THE* DADDY-DAUGHTER DUO (sticking billy in a cute powder blue waistcoat was such a good idea)

Manga spoilers (deranged raving also) below the cut

They are so so everything to me, Billy sacrificing ludicrous amounts of his own emotional wellbeing for tatianas sake and Tatiana rightfully calling him out for hurting her in the process and not letting her help him. Billy is surrounded by people who love and want to help him, but he’s exactly the same and lives to bear other peoples struggles. I adore the different interpretations of protecting someone and helping someone as an act of love and as … a lack of appreciation for their own strength.

The found family squidginess. I’m truly obsessed with how much they care for each other. Billy gives her a sense of purpose when she’s miserable and hopeless and billy gets a surrogate for the daughter he never got to raise.

They complement each other really well too, billy is dedicated but he’s jaded with the world and can’t see the potential in other people, Tatiana is young and kind of a brat but she completely trusts the rest of Union, even while billy is going full villain.

I just think they’re neat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[bo0zey]

my manager has kids:(😕 but i have a new resident doctor crush soooo;)😳

[dtchloedecker]

Chloe smiled as Lucifer brushed his hand against hers. She didn't think that was intentional at first, but given that this was the second time he did it, she figured it had to be on purpose. It felt nice knowing he'd be watching her during her visit. She nodded at the CO at the door to the interrogation room and he opened the door. There sat Kinley in his holding cell a little too calmly for someone who got sentenced to life in prison. Like it didn't matter that he'd tried to manipulate her to kill Lucifer or had three people killed so Lucifer would show his devil face. "Thank you for coming," he said to Chloe when the door sat behind her. Just as soon as he started speaking, Chloe wanted to punt his stupid bald head across the parking lot. Instead, she kept her voice calm and even, but kept her disdain in there. "I only came to tell you to stop putting in requests to speak to me. We have nothing to talk about." NOW Kinley looked nervous, desperate even as he stood up. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't have much time. They're going to transfer me back to Rome to be tried there."

Like I'm supposed to care? Out loud, Chloe let out a huff. "Can't say I'm sad to see you go," she said with disinterest as she slowly circled around the holding cell so she was standing directly in front of Kinley. "There is something you need to know," he said, but Chloe would hear it. "No, there is something YOU need to know," she said angrily. "You were WRONG about Lucifer. He is a GOOD man. One might say that he's even an angel." Biologically, Lucifer was still an Angel. Devil face or not, that didn't change. He wasn't perfect, but he was still good. Flawed, but good like any other human.

"I need to warn you about the prophecy," Kinley said as if he didn't hear a word Chloe just said. "Prophecy?" she shook her head at the old, bald priest. Was he going for an insanity plea or was he just bonkers? "You see, I thought that the prophecy was about you, Chloe," he explained. Chloe rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated look at the one-way mirror, which she knew Lucifer was watching from behind. She was done with this. She started making her way back to the door as Kinley droned on. "But, I realize now that I could've been wrong. If it's not you, who else could be Lucifer's first love?"

Chloe froze as she was about to knock on the door to be let out and then turned to face the old coot. Eve. Kinley definitely noticed her because it looked like a light bulb went off in his head. "You know who it is, don't you?" He asked in an eager and slightly creepy voice. He reminded her of a roly-ploy humanoid Gollum/Smeagle as he walked up to the bars of the cell where she was standing to be closer to her. "Is she here?" he asked. Chloe remained frozen. She didn't want to answer. She didn't care for Eve, but she wasn't going to throw the first woman under the bus.

After a few minutes, Kinley spoke again, drooping the Gollum/Smeagle vibe. "I just need you to hear the prophecy." Chloe had no idea how prophecies worked. Not in reality. She had no idea how all of this celestial stuff worked, but Lucifer did and he was here and he was her partner. Maybe he should hear the prophecy, too. "Alright," Chloe agreed reluctantly. And then Kinley spoke once more:

"When the devil walks the Earth and finds his first love, evil shall be released."

Chloe remained frozen. She had no idea how to respond or even feel. Was this about Eve encouraging Lucifer to embrace his devil more devilish side? No, that wasn't it. Lucifer couldn't just turn evil like that. Maybe it was something or someone else. But, what would Lucifer and Eve have to do with it? Was an apocalypse about to be triggered? Chloe felt very overwhelmed and then knocked on the door to get herself let out. "Detective Decker-," Kinley started to speak, but Chloe cut him off. "I got it," she answered as the door opened. She quickly stepped into the hallway and waited for the couple in question to come out of the observation room.

@lucifermorningstxr

Lucifer was doing everything in his power to demonstrate what he'd said in the garage to Chloe. While he never lied, he also knew the value of his actions, especially to the Detective. He could say things with the fullest honest intent of following through, but he was a man of swift action. He wanted to make it visibly clear to Chloe where he stood while not freezing Eve out completely, either. Again, he didn't hate Eve by any means, but they'd outgrown one another, and he wanted to really make sure things stayed on the up with the Detective. Even the car ride over to the jail was less awkward than it could've been, with the time being filled with the regalia of the partnership's past with Kinley. Leaving out the bit about the poisoning was the silently-agreed-upon best option too, as the pair had already put it past them and were trying to continue to do so with these jailbird meetings, but the detail was trivial vanity when the actual crimes at hand were accounted for. Lucifer even backed the Detective's comment about jail being his punishment, something that even yesterday he'd have let Eve convince him wasn't enough. This was how Earth's rules were. Who says old Devils can't learn new tricks after all?

As Chloe pulled him aside at the prison, he nodded in agreement to her instructions. "You're the boss, Detective!" He'd quip with a mischievous smirk before giving her his most sincere eyes. "I'm here to protect you. Forger the Devil on your shoulder, today I'm just backup. But I will come in if things go haywire. I know you well enough by now to pick up on your cues. Go on, Detective. I'll keep Eve behaved, go do your thing like only you can." He again brushed her hand, smiling with encouragement before stepping back to lead Eve into the observation room. He knew the stakes were high, but he also feared for the Detective being anywhere near that vile excuse for a man, even if this was a legitimate jail. So he'd do as she asked, but the second she needed him, he was ready to act.

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[bunbunlovestowrite]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[tigerincahoots]

WAS HENRY… POUTING? That was a first for Kevin. His head turned to the side as he gave the Detective a good, long look – truly admiring the other man for the very first time. Not that he didn’t know that Henry was attractive. Heck, he wanted to fuck that man’s brains out since the first moment he laid eyes on him. But the concern? The not wanting for him to go alone because he could get hurt? Maybe he was reading too much into the whole scenario. That was what cops did, right? Looked after one another. Had each other’s backs. It was the same back in the military but to Kevin…? It had been a very long time since he had to work with someone and have that very same someone concerned about his well-being.

IT WAS ANNOYING BUT ALSO CUTE.

”I WON’T BE GONE LONG.” Shaking his head, Kevin took a deep breath and after a moment of hesitation, he reached out to lift Henry’s chin so that their eyes could meet. Just the two of them out there. In the middle of a Halloween night and hunting a fucking werewolf who had just murdered an innocent kid. “Chances are he’s long gone but I want to have a sense of the general direction he went.” Maybe search for clues like torn clothes or blood or anything really. That was his job. He tracked shit down to either capture or kill them. “You won’t even have time to miss me.” Not that Henry would miss him but he couldn’t help but to add that little jab to the other man.

”DON’T WORRY.” He truly did not want Henry to worry about him. He was not worth the effort and he didn’t need the concern. Even if that was probably the kindest thing anyone had ever said or done for him in years. “I’m not planning on dying before I have you in my bed, Detective.” Make Henry blush. If he was blushing and thinking the lewdest of thoughts – he shouldn’t be worried about his safety. “So – how about you think about all the things we could do once we have some privacy while I’m gone?” Think about anything else but a murderer being on the loose and his partner going after him solo. Think about anything else but the passage of time as he waited SHIT. When did he become so concerned about someone else’s fucking mental health? “Also – you look very cute when you pout. Makes me want to spank you.” Not that he would – but Kevin tossed a rather obvious wink at Henry before patting the man on the shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, Quinn. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Which was not… a lot.

Kevin was saying a lot of things, and Henry was listening, absorbing it all. He was hearing annoyance, which made him raise a brow; weren't all cops supposed to worry about their partners? But he also heard concern in Kevin's voice. It was a mixed message.

"So, you're allowed to worry about me, but I can't worry about you?" In an ideal situation, neither of them would be hurt, but that wasn't always the case in this line of work.

Then came the demonstration. Henry watched as Kevin began to cut his hand, and his mouth opened to protest, but no sound left his lips. He watched the slice, and the blood, and how the wound almost instantly recovered. The slit closed like a mouth while Henry's was left agape.

"Well, I guess I'll just shut the fuck up then." Henry said with an air of amazement, confusion, and the slight twist of how impressed he was. "That's a handy talent to have as a cop, does it work the same with bullets?"

It would take a while for what he'd just seen to sink in, but Kevin had proven his point. He'd have to ask later about what more there was to the story, because right now he had ten million questions bumping around in his head like a windows screensaver.

"Fine. Go. But you didn't say please." He folded his arms, was he pouting? After all, he wanted to have fun too, but if he got a chunk taken out of his ass it wouldn't grow back. "If you catch fleas you're walking home." He supposed he'd park in his car and wait like a good little pretty boy.

[ramonathinks]

(18+, minors/blank accounts dni)

jealous ex husband gojo who just can't keep stand seeing you with someone else. he hates that you gave up on him, hates that you don't wear your ring anymore even though he does and he wears it proudly.

"you have a date tonight, the girls tell me." busted. you cringe and eye you little daughters, only six the both of them but you told them to keep quiet about the situation.

"yes..." you reply, anxiously awaiting his response.

you could just picture his face now, nose a bit flared and lips pursed. with clenched teeth he said, "alright, have fun." but it wasn't that simple.

he always kept close watch on you and it made you nervous with how simple it left the conversation. "well, i could come pick the girls up before then. about 8-ish?" he asks and you say yes before hanging up.

gojo was always too busy which was what led to the divorce. you'd both married young, 20 and stayed together since but when the girls turned 3 you had enough and just left. he wasn't being there enough for you or the girls and it hurt.

when he pulled up you cursed yourself for getting ready so early. your hair in long curls and a knee length skirt with a small slit on the left leg. he didn't bothering knocking or waiting for you to open the door, he had keys and you knew this so you continued with your makeup.

he was standing there watching you but you ignored him. or tried to but he walked closer and closer until he was right in your face. "how beautiful, you are." he held your jaw and forced you to look at him.

"why don't you ditch this date and come with me?" he asked, bringing your lower reign to his. "don't you miss me baby?" he nipped at your skin and the memories and feelings were coming back.

you had to be strong. you swallowed and pulled his back from you. "you have to stop this, im sure you have someone out there satoru, but she isn't me." you tried to walk off but he grabbed your wrist and brought you to your bedroom.

"y/n, so you think anyone can make you feel as good as i make you feel? don't you know i love you? my feelings never left and i know yours haven't." he rubs you through your panties and kisses you on your lips.

"everything can be different now." he promises, easing his way between your legs. his heavy cock entering you slowly, it was only the tip so far but it was splitting you open. you'd been without sex for two years and now tears were in your eyes.

"you think he can fill you up like me?" he adjusts himself and enters more of his cock into you. he was still so big, you were choking. you could feel him in your tummy and in your throat.

"you're always going to be mine, so stop running." he told you as he jerked his hips. "stop trying to let this go baby?"

"satoru—"

"mommy! the door!" one of the girls yelled.

"shh," satoru brought a finger to your lips and leaned forward to make love to your mouth. it was too much and you both were drooling after just a few minutes, he pulled himself out of you and looked at his wet cock.

"think about what i said." it was hard to forget. you clenched your legs together after you cleaned yourself up, not even wanting to face your date.

not even wanting to face your ex-husband either.