#come on put a little love here in my void

[chuckeroo777]

Slay the Princess- Voice Rankings

Slay the Princess has been one of my fixations for a while, and for good reason. It is such a complex, well written, and funny game. So, why not rank all the voices? Maybe I'll do another one later with the princesses.

13. Voice of the Opportunist

God I hate this guy. Despite being involved in all three of my favorite routes (Razor, Thorn, Dragon), he is the worst. Seriously, despite his best attempts to butter everyone up, he only manages to make himself the most hate-able voice. He pretty much never misses an opportunity to betray everyone.

12. Void Narrator

This is the thing that gives narration whenever the Narrator vanishes. Might not be an actual voice. Honestly, I only included it so that Opportunist could be lower.

11. Voice of the Hunted

He's alright. Never exactly a bad voice to have around, he's mostly rated this low because he's boring. Between his soft voice and one-track mind, there isn't really much to say.

10. The Narrator

Ah, Mr. The Narrator, if that even is his real name. He's exactly the sort of guy you love to hate. His intentions are noble, if misguided. I ultimately believe he is in the wrong, though I can't exactly blame him. He's a lot of fun to mess with. Would probably be higher, but evidence points to him being a false voice, so he loses points for that.

9. Voice of the Skeptic

Skeptic seems like a really good voice to have to solve the mysteries of the construct. Until it turns out he isn't. Seriously, he is worse than the contrarian when it comes to making spiteful decisions. If the narrator says something, he immediately wants to do the opposite. He acts like a know-it-all, but really, he knows nothing.

8. Voice of the Cold

Similar to hunted, Cold is just a little boring sometimes. His calm collected manner is helpful sometimes, but really, he's just kinda there sometimes. He is particularly fun in the grey.

7. Voice of the Broken

A lot higher than I thought he would be. Broken is a simp and a whiner, but he is really funny sometimes. His performance in razor and fury are particularly entertaining.

6. Voice of the Cheated

Cheated is not a helpful voice. He's a salty gamer who would totally sling racial slurs at the narrator if he knew any. The reason he's so high is because he is really funny. Flinching? Never heard of him.

5. Voice of the Stubborn

The second horniest voice, stubborn knows exactly what he wants. He always brings a lot of passion, determination, and drive, though he can be a pain to deal with if you don't actually want to fight.

4. Voice of the Paranoid

Paranoid is a voice that might seem annoying at first, but he is probably the best voice to have your back. Better at deductions than skeptic, better at keeping you alive than hunted, pretty funny at times too, paranoid has it all.

3. Voice of the Smitten

As much as I kinda hate this guy, there is no denying that every word that comes out of smitten's mouth is pure gold. Would probably be number 1 is not for his... uncomfortable behavior in happily ever after, putting it lightly.

2. Voice of the Hero

Sometimes the straight man can be boring, but in hero's case, he is a delight throughout the whole game. Adorably innocent, abundantly reasonable, and always wanting to do the right thing, Hero is a steadfast companion, and is funny to boot.

Voice of the Contrarian

I just love this guy. Contrarian never takes anything seriously, but at the same time, is generally never a hindrance (except in razor, but no one was salvaging that one). He's just here to have a good time, and I love that about him. Only downside is how few routes he shows up in.

Honorable Mention: The Princess

She occasionally slips into the role of a voice in your head. But she is not you. She doesn't count, despite how much I love her.

[sanguepisado]

ENAMORARSE ES CREAR UNA RELIGION CUYO DIOS ES FALIBLE

Precisei que Deus me abandonasse para que eu sentisse a sua presença. Eu preciso matar alguém dentro de mim. 

Me pergunta sobre o meu exorcismo

[funstyle]

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess

Hey y'all! I like to call this game, "Guess what I saw and cant stop fucking thinking about?" Take this because I need them both carnally and I'm sure you do too!

Enjoy :D

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, the reader is annoying and Logan pretends to hate it in a way that seems like he actually does, they should have fucked but uhhh they didn't, lots of tension, pt.2 coming soon hopefully?

PT.2 UP NOW

"Bae i love youuu, you my everythinggg~"

"Can she shut the fuck up"

"I'm your main bitchhhh, fuck a wedding ringggg~"

"Only if you ask her nicely,"

"Nah, I like when he's mean."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me"

The nonstop back-and-forth bickering had been going on for about 2 and a half hours now and the man the myth the legend, Wolverine was getting dangerously tired of it, unfortunately. Your shitty renditions of Sexyy Red matched with Deadpools incessant yapping was becoming too much to bear.

But little did he know, that was exactly your plan.

"Are we there yetttt" You whine from the backseat, sprawled out with your arm over your face.

It had been what felt like days (despite it only being a couple hours as previously mentioned) you'd been driving and the fact that you were in a small space filled with touch-starved testosterone(Wade and Logan) wasn't helping your case.

"If you shut up it'll go faster," Logan grumbles, Wade's chatting only worsening.

"No, it won't, you're just being mean! What's a sexy, super talented, immortal.. sorta, girl like myself supposed to do?" You whine again, an idea soon popping into your head.

If there was anything you loved more than seeing how far you could push this crotchety son of a bitch, it was stirring the pot.

Knowing the idiot riding passenger, a slip-up was inevitable and all it would take was the right pressure applied from yours truly.

"Hey Wade, wanna ask Wolvie what he's gonna do when he gets back? To his own timeline that is." You hum, resting your elbows on the middle console and your chin in your palms.

Ah yes, the fantasy your sick little brain conjured up was almost to fruition. All they needed were a few nudges and you'd all be at each other's throats with as much violent, sexual tension you could dream of.

"Yeah, what will you do if the TVA can fix your timeline?"

Bingo

You lean back, preparing for the absolute bloodbath that's bound to take place as the tension skyrockets.

Now up until this point, you'd be trying your damndest to get into Wolverine's pants, call it 'something you needed to scratch off your bucket list'. Anyway, from the "Mad Max"(as Wade put it) esque part of the void all the way here, you made your fair share of passes.

Unfortunately, all were shot down with a snark comment, the unsheathing of those gorgeous adamantium claws, or a growl...all of which only further fueled your desire. What could you say you liked a challenge?

"What did you say?"

You lean forward, making eye contact with Wade, his head shaking as if to say "No don't don't don't" but you were never good with social cues.

"He said 'IF' sweetheart." You retort, practically kicking your feet as the look in Logan's eyes grows wild, that growl barely bubbling in his throat as he and Wade converse back and forth.

"You shut the fuck up." He seethes, though directed at you his eyes stay focused on Wade.

You fight the urge to say 'make me" but you soon become quiet when Logan really starts to read your buddy in red. Oh, this fucker was definitely projecting...

"And you," He's got an accusatory, gloved finger pointing at the center of your face.

"You got some unresolved daddy issues or something? I don't know what hole or holes you're trying to fill but I can sure as shit tell you the harder you try to get under my skin the more it makes me wanna rip yours off that pretty-looking face." He growls, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

"Now I suggest each of you shut your goddamn mouths until we are where we need to be."

It's silent for a second again and you can feel the bridge about to break...anyyy second now.

"I'm gonna fight you now."

Three...

Logan chuckles, amused at the fact that Wade would even suggest he could getaway with something like that

Two..

And mid-sentence, Wade's fists make contact with Logan's nose.

One.

You scoot back, the car shaking as Wades head makes contact with hr car door and then the radio, each smack of his skull changing the station.

“Omg nooo don’t kill each other you’re both so hot and sexy and cool, nooo.” You yelp, your false concerned pleas falling on deaf ears.

And once the blood from each blow splatters against your face, you feel a bit opted to join in. Besides, he hurt your feelings, he deserved a little ass-kicking.

Question, when three seemingly frustrated and regenerative assholes get into a car fight with tensions, sexual or otherwise, that have been building for about 2 days now, what happens?

You slip past the pair of claws that just barely nick your side as you shove the driver's seat forward, effectively trapping Logan for a moment.

"You did this on purpose! You honry fuck!" Wade shouts, using his elbow to crack your skull and shoved you right back into your spot behind them before you can respond. Logan pushed the seat back again, now trapping you as his claws stabbed through the cushion, impalling you through the back of the seat.

"FUCK! This isn't how this was supposed to pan out in my head!" You yelp, gasping when the claws leave you feeling the worst kind of empty.

"I didn't even do anything he's the one that lied!" You seethe, using the heel of your boot to kick Wade's side in, the crack of bones bringing you much satisfaction.

"IT WAS AN EDUCATED WISH!" He defends, unloading about 3 bullets into your sternum before kicking Logan out the winsheild, glass falling inside and out.

You take a gulp of air, digging the bullet out before locking your arm around Wade's neck and the passenger seat headrest.

"You red-clad cunt! I was supposed to rizz him up, fuck him, and ride off into the sunset with my rugged fucking mountain of a man and you RUINED IT!" You shout, releasing Wade when six separate knives dig right back into you.

Taking the chance, you throw the back of your head at his face before pulling his claws from out your sides and kicking Wade's chest in. Looks like legs were your strong suit today!

"You said you didn't wanna fill any holes, yet here we are!" You growl in frustration, turning back around to shove your boot heel into this man's rock-hard chest.

He only grabs your ankle, pulling you forward, once again skewered by his claws. Your position is less than ideal, any other angle would for sure look l like you were on the receiving end of some damn good strokes.

And there it is, that stupid bloodied grin he gives while he watches your eyes squeeze shut and your head tilt back. A light, yet pained swear left your bloodied lips and the gasp that leaves your lungs when his claws retracted was just as erotic as you'd imagine.

"Would've been better off fucking at this point huh?" You joke, seeing Wade creep up behind the backseat door.

"Maybe." He responds a bit coy, the tension only dying down for a fraction of a second before you're at each other's throats again.

With your help, Wade is right back in the car, and the three of you are now waiting for the next move. Logan's up against the dash, Wade is heaving against the backseat by your side, the two of you manspreading with a dangerously hungry look directed at the man in yellow.

"This is pointless. We're gonna be here for hours regenerating and fucking each other up, but damn if it isn't fun." you chuckle, letting your head lull back against the completely destroyed headrest.

"So what do you suggest, 'sweetheart'," Logan growls, using your little pet name from earlier.

"Oh I think you know very well what I suggest, but I'm starting to believe you just can get it up can you peepaw?" You insult, Logan's face contorting in a sneer.

There's another silence, your gaze locked with Logan's as you both teeter on the edge of regular frustration and the urge to rip each other's clothes off. This fuckers love language was definitely acts of playful violence...if playful meant an absolute bloodbath in this stupid-ass honda odyssey.

"I feel like there's some underlying tension here that I definitely wanna be a part of.

"You shut the fuck up" You speak simultaneously, Wade doing just that.

"So what'll it be, bub. Fuck me or fight me?" You mock, seeing that smile right back on his face.

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

You would like to say that the remainder of the day, into the night, all the way into the wee hours of the morning were spent furiously love-making in the bloody and battered Honda, but that would only be half the truth.

The moonlight had shone so brightly down on the three of you, each movement calculated, as you continued to punch, stab, pick and damn near fuck each other in the enclosed space.

At one point your hands were pinned to the dented dashboard, Logan slotted between your legs, Wade right behind your oddly bent body....accept Wade's gun was at the small of your back and Logan had his hand wrapped tightly around your throat as your legs squeezed as tight as possible.

And at another, you'd been hovering above Logan, hands at his chest while Wade had a fistful of your hair, his grip lethal... a-although your hands were only at his chest cause you were double-fisting two knives that you had wedged to the hilt into each to his pectorals...and Wade was also pulling your hair to get a better angle at your chest since he deemed it was "only fair" considering you were going the same to the man beneath you.

It had only gotten worse, your comments ranging from rude to just plain nasty, and the farther along you went in the night....strangely enough, the better everything felt. The slight accidental/intentional grind of your hips against Logans, or the way you just so happened to fall back into Wade's chest, your bodies pressed so close together you could feel each breath you both took.

"Oh you just don't know when to quit, do you honey?" Logan grumbles, throwing you off him, your positions quickly switch.

"Not in my vocabulary sweetheart." You shoot back, gasping when Wade grips your hair again.

"Yeah, thought you were seeing the pattern ready peanut, she's hard to break." He chuckles, a filthy smile making its way over your bloodied face.

You were practically sandwiched, Wade behind you, his chest to your back, and your legs just barely make room for Logan who was kneeling one leg on the backseat, the other slightly off the edge.

"This is a little unfair don't you think? Feels like I'm about to get tag-teamed." You joke, the moonlight illuminating the current position just enough.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You're sick." Logan scoffs, only feeding into your slight delusions.

"Yeah, I might be sick but you're a hypocrite, You want it too, don't you? I know for sure Wade does, 'cause that's definitely not his gun on my ass." You shoot back, body and brain stirring from the hours of activities.

He doesn't say anything, just tightens he grip he has on your hips.

“Cmonnn, we had our nice,” you glance over at the destroyed radio, your hopes of trying to get the time seemingly crushed.

“We’ll say 9 hours give or take, we’ve already been fighting and none of us are really satisfied.”

You can feel Wade adjust, his hands now secure at your shoulders, massaging the small of your neck with his thumbs.

“We all know what’s gonna solve that and we can put this whole debacle behind us.” You coax, your hips rolling a bit to meet his and he turn his head, jaw working as if he was seriously considering the offer.

And with a finally huff what really sounded more like a growl of last restrained, he’s on you.

——————————————————————-

YES IM MAKING A PART TWO YES THERE WILL BE SMUT BECAUSE WTF YALL. UHHH HOPE YOU ENJOY LMK IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED I. THE NEXT PART!

[falsewordz]

Cuddles

Logan x gn!reader

CW: none, this is just fluff, although reader is shorter than Logan.

a/n: guys I've read too much smut fics for this big fella and all I want now is some fluff. Since I can barely find anything, because you mfks are all so horny for Logan, so here we go. Also this is too short for my liking but I can't be bothered to extend it.

You always enjoyed cuddling with Logan. He was big and warm, his arms could envelope you fully, making you feel loved and secure.

He's like a big teddy bear, the best one in the world, actually.

He could never reject a good cuddle from you. He's always there with open arms, ready to take you in whenever you needed it.

It's late at night and you just came back from a mission. You could feel how sore your muscles were from the stress you put them through, it's like every inch of you begged to be laid down and just stop moving.

It also didn't help that it's late in the night and you could feel the hollowness rise up from the pit of your stomach. The discomfort from your body fuelled it more than you would have liked.

You needed something to fill the void and the desire to have Logan squeeze you in his arms had never been greater.

Unsurprisingly, the front door opened when you were barely a meter away from it. Logan had heard you coming back and how tired you were from the sound of your footsteps, so he was waiting for you at the door.

"Hey." He greeted. You repeated it with a strain in your voice before crashing head first onto him, arms immediately finding themselves around his torso, head pressed against his chest. A content sigh escaped you as you surrounded yourself in his scent.

You're clinging onto him like your life depended on it and he absolutely loved it.

"Rough day?" He asked, while picking you up and heading for the couch.

You hummed in agreement, arms tight around his neck, fully leaning on to his broad chest.

It felt so calming, to be fully within his hold. His embrace had the power to make you forget all your problems.

While your muscles still ached, you weren't focused on them anymore. Instead, your mind was fully caught by his thundering heartbeat within his chest and the somewhat rough breathing above you.

It's so mesmerising.

He sat back down on the couch with you still in his arms, a little tighter than before. He didn't say anything, just showered you with small pecks of affection. That was all you needed really.

Before long, he found you asleep in his arms.

With a tender smile, he picked you up again, this time to bring you into the bedroom and get you ready for bed.

[anaargent]

ANOTHER FIVE PT 2

FIVE HARGREEVESXREADER

parte 1 aqui -> https://www.tumblr.com/anaargent/758436879965274112/the-heaven-is-here?source=share

-Ookay - you say after a long pause, your hands tightly clasped with the new five, who after ending the confusion stated that everything was wrong in this timeline - so shouldn't I be in this line?

-Almost that - he says, still sitting on the couch next to you - you shouldn't be on that five's timeline - with a tone of disdain on his tongue, he points to his five, who was now in commission mode activated, keeping a safe distance from his clone - by the way, you don't look anything like me, I must say my dear.

Five glares at the other, the gears in his head turning, perhaps debating between hitting the clone or listening to him

-so where is she supposed to be, genius? - Diego asks confused, with a defensive tone. Everyone seemed to exist with all the information.

-Max - the new five says unperturbed, his personality was almost as unfriendly as the five from the first Apocalypse - She's part of my timeline, where no disappearance happened.

-So how the hell are you here and she is too "Max"?- Five approaches cautiously - how are we going to trust you?

- As much as I would love to, we don't have time to strengthen relationships here, little brother - Max says smiling as he gets up, pulling me with him - apparently you're not smarter than my family either, so I advise you to hurry up and look for Viktor and Ben, you're coming with me, dear - his tone became softer as he turned to me.

Klaus and Diego stand up together, ready to protest. -Whoa, wait a moment - you say, planting your feet on the ground - where am I going? How will I know you're telling me the truth.

Max keeps a calm look - You'll need to trust me, just like you trusted him - he points to Five. After a few minutes of discussion and a farewell too brief to calm his mind, everyone was ready to try to save the world once again. - Stay sober and take care of yourself - you sniff as you pull away from Klaus' hug, who murmurs a sad "I promise but I don't know if I'll keep my word" - and you too, brother - you jump into Diego's open arms, who was trying his best not to be shaken by the sudden separation.

.

.

-So this is the plan? I'm just going to swallow that shiny thing into the void and that's it? - You mumble in confusion, already sitting in the strange subway with Max - Does it all end?

He turns around smiling, a hint of nostalgia filling his beautiful eyes (focus s/n! This has happened before) - Everything ends, the timelines will be separated, everyone in their places, and you with me.

You let out a nervous laugh and look away from the intense look he gave you to the extremely interesting subway window - It doesn't make sense - You turn back to him - How did I end up on the wrong line?

-Believe me, I've been looking for this answer for years, but you're here now- he answers in a melancholic tone, there was more behind those words, but for now you decide not to press this new five, who seemed more fractured by time than the five you know, as if he had already seen too much of this world, and maybe he had .

.

.

You were standing in front of what looked like a huge slimy ball, with a deformed face and long fingers. Scared wouldn't be an accurate word for what you were feeling right now. Closing your eyes, you put your hands on the ground, where the roots of the giant slide spread everywhere, feeling them move over your fingers. "Come on, girl," you murmured nervously. "It's all or nothing."

Then you felt an intense pain take over your body, tearing your skin to rise to the surface, opening the great void and swallowing everything in that damned mall. Everything was a blurry memory, the void sucking the Durango completely, draining all your strength. When you opened your eyes, you gathered the courage to smile tiredly. It was over, your family was saved. Exhaustion finally set in, taking what was left. You prepared to hit the ground and surrender to the void. But you felt soft hands hold your body, lifting you from the cold floor, pulling you out of unconsciousness.

-You got it my lovely little wife, now let's go home - Max smiled proudly as he wrapped the girl in front of him with his arms devotedly. watching you smile lightly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

[russo-woso]

No space || Kim Little

Requests here. Prompt lists here.

"It's fine, you can just sit on my lap."

Summary You and Kim being so in love

Quick little one :) (sorry I had to do that)

You had made plans to go with it with the team to celebrate the end of the season.

Finishing on a big high, a 5-0 win against Brighton, it was definitely a well deserved night out.

The season has been a crazy one at that.

There were lots of firsts for a lot of people, first debuts, first goals, for you, it was first time being captain.

With Kim being on the bench, Leah out injured, and Katie also on the bench, the armband was given to you.

Although that was a major first, it wasn’t the biggest one.

The biggest one was dating a teammate for the first time.

When you joined Arsenal during the 2021-22 season, you knew who your new teammates were.

Some you knew internationally, Leah, Beth and lotte, some you knew from playing against them, some you hadn’t met at all.

There was one person who you had never met personally but had always been intrigued and impressed by.

The way she played, the way she spoke, the way she smiled, it had you in a chokehold even though you’d never met her.

Kim Little.

When you first met Kim, it was, well you liked to put it this way, love at first sight.

As the rest of the 21-22 season went on, you and Kim got a lot closer.

There was a noticeable age gap between you and Kim by five years but when you really started falling for Kim, that worry disappeared.

And she felt the exact same way. At first Kim was weary of the age gap, but she figured love was love, and she loved you.

Near to the end of that season, Kim bit the bullet and asked you on a date.

She thought it out very well and had noted down over the months which foods you liked and didn’t like, and made a three course dinner for you.

As you were leaving her house that night, you said goodbye and hugged at the door, and as you jumped in your car, you realised you forgot something.

Running back to her door, before you void even knock, Kim opened it.

“Y/N, wait! I forgot something!” Kim shouted, not knowing you were just there.

“I forgot something too.” You smiled, walking closer before leaning down to connect your lips.

That was a long time ago now, and although you thought in that moment you couldn’t be happier, you really could.

Within the past year, you and Kim have moved in with each other, which was perfect.

You were having the highest of highs in your career, having been arsenals top goalscorer, with 21 goals, this season.

So when you were asked to celebrate tonight, there was no way you were saying no.

“Y/N, Kim!” An Irish accent was heard from the other side of the club. “What drinks would you like? First rounds on me.”

“I’ll have a margarita Katie, thank you. I’ll come with to help you carry the drinks.” You told her before turning to Kim. “You go find us seats, baby. I won’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before walking over to Katie who was at the bar.

“So, you and Kim got anything planned for later tonight?” Katie asked, passing the time whilst the barman got the drinks prepared.

“I don’t know. It depends on what time we get back.” You responded, a light pigment resting on your cheeks.

“There’s your drinks, ladies. Enjoy your night.” The barman smiled politely, handing you a tray each filled with numerous drinks.

Making your way back to the table, you helped hand the drinks round before looking at all your teammates, noticing there way no more space left.

“Where should I sit?” You asked aloud, most of the girls looking in your direction.

“It’s fine, baby, come sit on my lap.” Kim told you, gesturing for you to come sit on her lap.

You smiled, walking over to Kim and settling on her lap, leaving a kiss on her lips.

She wrapped her arms around you, attempting to rest her head on your shoulder but with the height difference, it made it hard for her to do that.

“Switch?” You asked and she nodded straight away.

Once Kim was comfy on your lap, you finally noticed the girls all smiling at the two of you.

“You two are so in love.”

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 2 * mv1

you were in the middle of eating dinner alone when you got the feeling of getting punched in the gut

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: i specialise in angst and heartbreak so B)

notes: man i shouldve just written this when my breakup was fresh, because when i tell you my heart was BROKE… (i love oversharing)

(prev) // (next)

your eyes are glued to your phone in your hand, as the other works the chopsticks to grab yourself some noodles. the tv is switched on in the background for some background noise.

the deafening silence in your apartment has haunted you for the past weeks since the breakup. to battle it, the tv is always turned on in your presence to keep you grounded.

you’ve been on instagram scrolling for about 5 minutes when a strange sensation hits you in your stomach. your throat feels weird, and your arms slowly start to feel numb.

you put the chopsticks down onto the plate that sat peacefully on your coffee table. you take a deep breath and lay your phone down on the carpet, looking around the emptiness of your apartment.

it’s the sudden realisation that you almost didn’t have a place to stay after the breakup. you had sublet the apartment your sister when you moved into max’s, and since she got engaged to her boyfriend and bought their own place, you’ve thought about putting it back on the market.

good thing you hadn’t.

it’s the weird void you felt in your chest sitting here all by yourself. being alone has never felt so definite until now.

the silence that creeps up on you every waking moment you’re in here miserably haunts you. you miss the sounds of clicking from max’s driving simulator, or the random clangs of things when the cats were in a mood, and the mews that conveyed dissatisfaction from the food bowl being empty.

your apartment is barely a shell of the home you’ve gotten used to.

you come home to nothing every day. no cats with their affectionate head rubs against your feet, and absolutely no loving boyfriend at the door whose hands cup your cheeks while he greets you with a loving kiss to your lips.

“-max verstappen scores at least three points in the sprint on saturday evening in losail, he will be crowned 2023’s champion.”

the mention of the name makes you lift your head to the tv. there’s your ex-boyfriend in all his glory, spraying champagne and having fun.

being this hung up about the breakup feels almost illegal; like you had the least right out of everyone to be so heartbroken, seeing as you did initiate it.

your phone lights up, notifications from alexandra and kika flooding your lock screen. you admire their determination — you haven’t picked up their calls and responded to text messages in almost 4 days.

you sigh and turn your head, eyes landing on the framed picture of you with the cats. you miss them terribly, almost as much as you miss the man himself. but it’s way more complicated than just dropping by into your old home to visit the cats.

victoria has mentioned to you that it’s no problem if you do in the week, since max is away for a race. you just couldn’t handle the thought to even be in that apartment. you’d just miss him way too much, and you would fold immediately.

but the constant fights that occurred towards the end of your relationship keeps reminding you to stay away. it’s unfair to keep holding on when it hurts you both.

your eyes linger on the frame that’s faced down on your entertainment centre. you have the picture in it memorised: you and max in abu dhabi under the fireworks when he won his first championship.

it was when he had first said he loved you.

how did it dwindle down so quickly? you could have sworn max was everything you wanted in a person. how did his little quirks you once loved about him be the same thing that drew you away?

you glance at the tv screen, the reporter moving on to other news. you’re holding your own hands back from chucking the tv remote at it.

“oh, god,” you mutter to yourself. the tv screen blacks out when you press the button on the remote.

you rub your forehead in frustration, feeling a headache creeping up from the back of your head. it’s the result from crying right before dinner.

the doorbell stops you from grabbing the faced down picture frame to hug— a habit you’ve gotten used to when you and max were separated due to work.

you tilt your head, eyebrows furrowing as you scramble to your feet. you push yourself off the floor and basically drag yourself over without asking who it is.

though, there’s a slight hope sparking up in your chest. could it be?

you unlock the door quickly, a small smile still stretching on your face when you realise who it is. it’s alexandra and kika, plastic bags decorating their hands and arms as they smile sadly at you.

“you really didn’t have to,” you frown, stepping aside and gesturing for them to come in.

“we can’t leave you all by yourself,” alexandra smiles, making a sharp turn for the kitchen.

you follow behind the pair, plastic bags laid down on the table slowly. it’s only then you realise the overnight bags on their shoulders, now neatly piled by the couch.

kika pulls out a bottle from a plastic bag, presenting it to you from where she is with a grin. “i am hoping you like red.”

“if you don’t,” alexandra pauses, taking out another bottle from another, “we have white wine.” she puts it down onto the table, slowly taking out bags of chips and tubs of ice cream. “but if you don’t feel like drinking, we have junk food.”

“we can eat our body weight,” kika smiles at you.

you frown, tears welling in your eyes at their thoughtfulness. “thank you,” you manage to huff out as your tears start falling out of your eyes. “this means so much to me.”

asking max for a breakup was never part of the plan that night. you still don’t even know where it came from because you know that you still want to be with him.

but when his silence filled the tiny room, eyes barely being able to meet yours, you knew that you basically had your answer. you didn’t fight for it any more after seeing the lifeless eyes that once used to be so bright.

maybe he had been beating around the bush. maybe he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to ask you for a breakup.

maybe you asking for it brought him relief, freeing him from the shackles of your deteriorating relationship.

in the flight back home, you were afraid that no one could ever love you as much as max did. but here are your friends, coming over unannounced to take care of you, despite the fact that you’ve been ignoring them.

kika and alexandra engulf you in a hug, one hand patting your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “we’re always here for you.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - We Both Know

Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.

Notes/Warnings: Stalker-ish Ex!Simon; Soft!Simon; Insecure!Simon (a little bit); some smut (18+), fluff, cursing, typos probably

Words: 1642

He’s here. You know he’s here. Not because you can see him or hear him or feel him—he’s too skilled for that—but because you know Simon Riley like the back of your damn hand. And Simon Riley won’t let you go. He has not proven himself capable of letting you go. Not yet, not fully, and if you can help it, not ever.

When you close the door behind you and kick off your shoes, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You’ve spent nearly two months flipping that switch in your entryway, pretending he isn’t somewhere in your apartment. Two months of going about your nightly routine as if there isn’t an intruder in your home. Two months of ignoring the soft shutting of your front door or window once you’ve settled into bed. But you’re tired of playing this game, and frankly, you miss him—the man; not the ghost who has been haunting you, trailing you, hiding in plain sight.

“You've been watching me,” you announce into the void. 

A handful of beats pass but not for a second do you let yourself believe you’re crazy for attempting to converse with blackness and silence. Then the little cord on your lamp is pulled by thick fingers, illuminating the side of the apartment where he stands. He’s a shadow in the corner of your living room, drenched in black from head to toe, skull-printed balaclava included, and it takes everything in you not to rush to his side, shove that piece of fabric up over his chin, and kiss him.

“You've made it necessary,” he scolds; the first words he has spoken to you in nearly sixty-five days. It’s the longest he has forced you to go without hearing his voice, having been attached at the hip since you met; and having that smooth, deep tone in your ear is like soaking your body in a hot bath, sloughing off the wear and dirt and grime to come out renewed and refreshed.

You nod because you know what you’ve been doing. You’ve known your choices would bring him back to you. You hoped, at least. But you also hoped he would give himself and his stalker behavior up long before you would have to call him out. He’s usually much more possessive when you spend your evenings drinking and freely dancing amongst crowds, and the thought of you flirting with other men has always put him in a sour mood. You thought seeing it up close would make his vision go red, but he's held himself back. However, you suppose him watching and following you from a distance is better than not caring to watch or follow you at all. 

“You're not being safe,” he tells you. 

“You mean I'm doing things you're not happy with.”

Simon doesn't respond to that. He can’t, because you’re absolutely right and he isn’t the type to disrespect you by lying to your face.

“You broke up with me to—what was it—‘live my life’ while you're gone? Do you really have a right to be pissed at me for getting a head start?” you ask as you take steps further into the apartment and toss your purse on the counter. “If that's the case, maybe you should've dumped me a little closer to your deployment date so you wouldn’t have to witness it.”

Now you do feel him. You see him through the mask. He’s bubbling inside, the beginning of a boil, because he made a silly choice and doesn’t like to be reminded of his mistakes. He hasn’t exactly voiced that, specifically, but it’s the truth. It was silly. It’s also the truth—though again, not specifically expressed—that he regretted it the very minute he walked away from you, leaving you in tears because he is the one afraid of what will happen when the two of you face his first deployment in your relationship. He is afraid to come back home expecting a loving welcome only to find disappointment if you’ve chosen to seek out the comfort of another man. So, ‘Don’t let me hold you back, love’’ he’d told you. ‘Live your life, and I’ll figure out what to do with myself.’

Simon groans, grumbles, vibrates the room. He begins to close the distance between you until he thinks better of it and halts beside your couch. “I did it because–”

“Do you miss me?” 

“That is not rela–”

“Do, you, miss, me,” you press.

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple protruding under the balaclava. His fist clenches at his side. You don’t think he's going to give you the satisfaction, but then he sighs and says, “Of course I fucking miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Those words heal the bits of your heart that he broke when he left.

“Then don’t be stupid,” you say, crossing the room until your chest is nearly pressed against his. You rest your hand on his cheek, or what would be his cheek if not for the mask. “Don't make us spend your last week here apart from one another.”

With another exhale, his shoulders loosen their rigidity, and in that moment you know you have him.

“Fuck me, Si,” you whisper. 

His eyes flick to yours. A flash burns through his irises.

“It'll just make it harder.” That pathetic argument betrays his actions. One of his palms instantly goes to your waist, gently tracing the curve. The gesture is so natural between you you’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“I promise it won’t,” you say. 

Then your hands slide along his shoulders to grip his biceps and you slowly turn his body until you can push him into a seated position on the couch. He lets you lead. He lets you staddle his lap. He lets you lift the mask a few inches and connect your lips as you grind your hips down, hardening him within his pants. 

Simon’s fingers squeeze your thighs. They travel to your hips, encouraging your movements, before they continue a path up your spine. With his tongue in your mouth, you lose track of his touch for some time until he’s settled on a placement for his hands. One wrapped around your waist, hugging you tight; the other woven into your hair, holding you in place as his kisses swell your lips, verging on bruising. 

“Come on, baby,” you mutter into his ear when you break the connection to breathe. “Don’t you want to be all warm and snug inside me? Don’t you miss how well you fit? Like my pussy was made for you, right? That’s what you’ve always said.”

You know how it sounds. It’s desperate and needy, but you don’t care. You’re begging, not just for the man who sets your body aflame, but for the man who altered the trajectory of your life when he entered it. The man you refuse to live without. 

“Love–” he starts, but his groan from the nibbles you give to his neck interrupts him. 

“You can rest deep in me for a while if you want. I’ll stay perfectly still for you. Or I can go nice and slow the way you like.”

Moving your head back, you stop the shifting of your hips and lock your gazes. You pointlessly wait for him to deny you. Pointlessly because Simon Riley doesn’t deny you in situations like this. The equal balance of your need for one another has made that impossible, so it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he nods in agreement.

Your thumbs delicately guide the balaclava over his nose, but you stop there. Only he removes the mask. It’s his right; his decision to show his face and to whom. You are one of the lucky ones, but you’ve never taken advantage of that gift. 

With one hand, Simon grips the top of his mask and jerks it the rest of the way off his head—hair sticking out in a million directions—as he sneaks his other between your bodies to undo the button of his pants. He lifts his hips, bouncing you on his lap, before you do the same so he can push his pants down his thighs. 

You don’t spend time marveling at the thick column of flesh he’s pumping with his fist. You know everything about his cock. Every ridge and valley from base to tip. Every vein. Every inch of him you have memorized, and you’re too hungry to waste another second without him where you want him most.

When Simon finally slides inside of you, you hum in satisfied delight. Like basking in the heat of the sun after the chill of Winter. Like the first bite of your favorite ice cream hitting your tongue. Like quenching a thirst. Like coming home. 

Simon’s head falls back against the couch and his chest heaves with heavy inhales and exhales. His eyes are closed, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face.

“We feel so good together, Si,” you say, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his chest. “I want this when you return. Don’t you want this when you return?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then why deprive yourself of what you love? Especially when what you love wants you so bad.”

He lifts his head and reaches up to brush his knuckle from your cheekbone to your chin. “I was trying to make it easier.”

Palms cupping his jaw, you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Fuck easy.”

“Love, it’ll be a year. No less.”

“I don’t care,” you swear. You start to rise and then you sink back down onto him. “I'll be waiting for you, Simon.”

[successfulgoddess333]

Shifting💕

This life we’re currently living is the “3D”

This 3D is like

A three dimensional shape

Like a cube etc

In other words it’s physical

(The world is not a cube I hope you get my comparison tho💀)

The only real reality is the 4D because

It created THIS ONE

You’re a master manifestor already

You speak things into existence unintentionally

We humans are more powerful than this fragile shell we are built in

Your subconscious mind is on a level your body and not even this reality

Can compete with

If you’re unfamiliar with shifting

Shifting is the process of shifting your awareness to another reality

Hence the name “Reality Shifting”

But shifting isn’t new it’s been done for decades in other cultures

Way before our time

You’ve got experts like Neville Goddard and trained professionals on YouTube

Who all say the same thing we explain to you on here

It is indeed real and not some thing a bunch of teens created on TikTok in 2020

It is definitely not a trend

It’s something we all know how to do

Here’s how you shift

There’s a lot of methods but I’m not giving you any

You don’t need them

Stop putting power in a subliminal

A tumblr post a person from a video

Telling what method helped them

Bitch the power comes from YOU

When will you learn?

The key to shifting

The key to the void state

The key to Astral projection

The key to success in general or any out of body experiences

Literally comes from

You

Your mind

Which is why I say

Your mind is the most powerful thing there is

It can take you to alternate realities

Experience oob(out of body) experiences

Meditation

Manifestation etc

And what’s the most your physical body can do?

React

The 3D is filed with nothing but results and reactions

The 4D is the mastermind

It’s the one causing the results of this reality

And who’s in control of that

You areeeeee

Your mind doesn’t control you

You control it

You already know how to shift etc

All you need to do

Is lay still

Mind awake body asleep technique

Affirm

There’s not much to it

You’re always shifting

Think about it

If you’re reading this and someone calls you and interrupts you

You shifted

Because there’s an alternate reality where that didn’t happen and you’re still reading this

Another reality where you’re reading this but maybe backwards who knows

There’s infinite realities

Everything you do is a shift and don’t ever feel shitty about Sps

You’re just shifting to a reality where that person is yours and has always loved you it’s not magic it’s not against their will

There’s a reality right now where your celebrity crush or real life crush

Is your soulmate

There’s a reality where you’re allowed to eat whatever you want and never gain a pound

Life is not limited

Only in a reality where physicality is the superior factor is when it becomes limiting

Because we think we can’t do certain things

Maybe not here

That’s why we shift

There’s even things you could do here that’s out of the ordinary

The Universe is powerful it’s been here for yearssssss and nobody knows the truth behind it

Or everything in it

So if we came from something that literally created asteroids and planets etc

What makes you think WE don’t have some type of power?

We inherited it from the universe or you could say God if that’s what you believe

(All respect here)

Just like we inherited our traits from our parents

The universe is our first parent

We are little powerful minded creatures living in a limited reality

But reality shifting is definitely real

You’re not mentally unstable or schizophrenic for believing in shifting

It’s 100% real

Don’t ask me or anyone

To shift or manifest it anything for you

You’ve got a subconscious mind too

Use it

[tb3ih]

APOCALYPSE ⨳ satoru gojo

[ the world is caving in for EX-BOYFRIEND!SATORU--he thinks ]

⨳ word count: 2.7k !

⨳ warnings. post-breakup, non-sorcerer!au, "treating wounds tension" + underlying notes of unfinished love. contains nsfw (MDNI) — oral & fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, missionary, creampie & aftercare (?)

⨳ notes, happy love day to the satoru enjoyers. everyone else... well, maybe you'll learn to enjoy him after this. ( thank you to @ktsumu & @difficultdomains for mothering this fic, i appreciate you both sm <3 )

there is nothing quite like the loneliness of being the strongest. GOJO SATORU doesn't allow himself to pay any mind to the void which separates him from the rest of his kind, though at times he wished he could rid himself of it entirely.

his pace is slow and lacking in rhythm, tall frame swaying and trying to keep him from planting face first into the pavement as his body carries him down the familiar path. the metal in his mouth has yet to subside and the male is nearly on the edge of consciousness until he recognizes the entrance to your apartment building.

he does not knock, simply entering the code at your door knob and praying it hasn't changed since the last time he's been there. and it hasn't, because no sooner after he presses the enter button, the lock clicks and a small chime resonates from the door, allowing him in.

the door doesn't creak, so he swings it open just slightly to allow himself in, but one step into the living room and suddenly he's forced into the wall of the hallway behind him, something cold and sharp pressed against his throat.

gojo satoru has never feared for his life, but the glow in your narrowed eyes as you hold him in place and press the knife against his throat has his soul threatening to escape through his throat. and then something shifts, your eyes changing in emotion and just as fast as you appeared because you're no longer against him, tucking the knife away in its holster and standing before him.

"satoru? what are you doin--satoru!" satoru doesn't remember your embrace being this warm when you catch his collapsed body, but then again he hardly remembers anything at all these days. "oh my god--is that blood? jesus, satoru!"

he hums out a reply, vision a little fuzzy around the edges as he tries to register the dimly lit living room of your apartment. he hears you curse out, muttering about how heavy the male was before setting him gently down on the couch. gojo's vision is going in and out, his consciousness indecisive because one moment, you're gone and the next you're standing over him, brows pinched in concentration as you clean something off his face.

"hold still," you say quietly when you feel him try to move from his position. you're seating next to him on the couch, tying off the stitches at his brow. putting your tools down, you wipe the bit of crimson from his pale face before covering it with a bandage. his cerulean eyes watch you unwaveringly, but you refuse to return his stare.

you may have only one life, but there were things better left untouched.

the rest of his bloodstained clothes remain in a heap on the floor near the couch, revealing that most of the blood you had previously witnessed was not his. you stand, grabbing your first aid materials and putting them on the counter. when you come back, you hold a glass of water in one hand and some painkillers in another.

you set them on the coffee table, sitting down next to him once more to adjust one of the bandages you notice has come loose around his shoulder. "y/n..."

you pause your movements, eyes carefully meeting his. you regret your decision the moment you see the way his irises spill with an emotion you wish you could get rid of as easily as you did your assignments.

"why are you here, satoru?" your voice is so quiet, you almost don't hear yourself. why did you come back? is what you wished you said, but you can't risk reopening a wound you've stitched up too many times.

the male purses his lips for a second, racking his mind for an answer that won't push you even further away from him. "i... didn't know where else to go..." he brings his other hand up to your face, fingertips ghosting your cheek out of fear he might break you if he does make contact. "please, you’re… all i have left…"

you inhale sharply, something forming in the back of your throat. "please, don't look at me like that," you beg, but you don't move an inch as he starts to move closer to you, his hand coming to gently hold your face.

"why?" it is quiet in the room and his face is only a breath away. he is close, too close, but you can't bring yourself to pull away.

something hot escapes your eye, the pain in your chest flaring up again and causing the nerves on your skin to ignite. "because," you start, voice breaking off a little before continuing in a whisper. "i might actually believe that you love me this time."

his thumb catches another tear before it can make it all the way down your cheek. "and what if i said i did?"

"you are a cruel man," you reply, never breaking eye contact with him.

something glints in those beautiful blue eyes of his at your words and you know you'd never be able to get rid of him even if you tried. "then maybe you can teach me a thing or two about being good."

silence settles around the both of you, neither of you wanting to say something that might unravel whatever it is that's built up in these few fleeting moments.

“oh, satoru,” you finally say, a bit of sad amusement tugging at the corner of your lip, “not even hell would be enough punishment for you.”

when his fingers go grab your chin gently and pull your lips closer to his, you can’t even find the strength in you to fight it. gojo pauses, lips moving from your eyes to your lips that are nearly touching his. 

he licks his lips. “then why don’t you show me what is?”

[n]sfw under the cut!

and you’re not breathing anymore. because in that instant you are telling yourself you loathe the man before you as you bring both of your hands to his face and finally push your lips onto his, all the oxygen in your lungs no sooner chased out by everything that is gojo satoru. 

though, you can’t say your partner is any better, because he’s pushing back with just as much force, lips molding against your fervently as his hands move to trail to your waist, lifting you with no effort to make you straddle his waist. you gasp, his fingers digging in just enough for the pain to be delicious as he holds you down against his clothed dick. you can feel the way gojo’s lips twist into a smirk that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, though you didn’t mind one bit. 

when was the last time you’d done anything like this? your hips move off muscle memory, grinding down hard against him at a slow, but steady pace that has gojo groaning into your mouth. your fingers find his hair, combing, tangling, and pulling his soft locks while he breaks the kiss to let his lips travel from your jaw, down your neck, and to the sensitive spot of your collarbone. 

“fuck, y/n,” gojo curses, pulling away to watch you pull off your shirt, lips swollen and pink while his eyes watch you behind a veil of something almost soft. you aren’t a fool though, you’re just as hungry as him. 

his lips attach almost immediately to your chest when you fall back into him, a combination of his incisors and tongue leaving hues of scarlet as his mouth dances across your bare skin. you can feel how painfully hard he is through his pants, the moan that escapes his lips almost making you chuckle when you drag your hand from his face to his chest and finally to the waistband of his pants, palming his length through the material. 

“damn couch is too fuckin’ small,” he growls against your skin, to which you respond by guiding him down to the plush carpet on the floor, the soft material on your skin not nearly as cruel as the leather of your couch. 

he takes your nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before swirling around it with his tongue, causing you to mewl out at the pleasure. “well, i’ve never actually tried to get dicked down on it before, but i appreciate the criticism,” you breathe out, the snarkiness in your reply inciting amusement in gojo as he sees you’ve gone back to your original self. 

“i was wondering when you’d gotten so soft,” he taunts, “thought i’d lost you forever.”

you scoff, “as if i’d let you think you’re the best in the business.”

he switches the two of you, toned arms caging your head in where you now lay on the floor. “prove me wrong then, gorgeous,” gojo says lowly. his eyes look as if they’re trying to devour you in the way that they trail down from your lips to your heaving chest, bite marks and hickies blossoming in reds and bruising purples all over. 

he keeps his eyes on yours when his hand finds the drawstring of your pants, undoing them in the blink of an eyes before hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off entirely. his hand comes to your panties, fingertips ghosting over the already-wet patch of fabric. 

“you know, for a professional,” gojo starts, lips pulling into a mean grin, “you sure do let yourself get riled up easily.”

with one hand you pull his face down to yours by the back of his neck and with your other hand you grab the wrist of his hand pushing it against your aching cunt. “for a professional, you sure like to run your mouth,” you retort, continuing with a bit of impatience in your voice, “if you don’t shut up and fuck me, i’m going to have to ask you kindly to leave.”

at that, he chuckles, pulling your panties to the side to pressing a finger to your bundle of nerves. you shudder at the sudden contact, back arching involuntarily off the carpet as he starts to move. “well i guess i better get to it, then,” gojo chuckles lowly, dipping a finger into your soaking entrance. shifting his position, he moves down so that his head is in between your thighs before bringing his mouth to your clit. 

you hear him curse against you and you sigh, thighs closing in on his head as he starts to working his fingers in and out of you. curling his fingers, gojo relishes the way you shudder involuntarily, walls clenching around his fingers as he speeds up his brutal pace. there’s a familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach and the pleasure flooding your head has the edges of your vision looking fuzzy. 

“satoru…hngh–!” you’re a mess underneath him, hands shaking when they move to tug his hair harder. “s-slow down–please!”

the white-haired male hums against you in reply, detaching his lips from your clit to meet your eyes. “funny how you’re asking me to slow down, but this pussy’s beggin’ to be fucked,” he coos, watching the way you’re swallowing his fingers knuckles deep.

and you feel as if the world is a little off-kilter, the trembling in your thighs intensifying as your orgasm teeters on the edge of crashing down. and it’s just as you’re about to cum that he pulls his fingers from your aching cunt, leaving you gasping and sensitive from the sudden loss of contact. “satoru…?” 

and that’s when you feel it, his tip prodding between your soaked folds, dragging against your entrance with a pace that can only be described as teasing. gojo’s face comes to settling in your neck, one hand pressed on the carpet beside your head to support him while the other continues pressing his cock against you. “‘m still here, gorgeous,” he murmurs into your neck, voice low and a little strained. 

it’s taking everything in him to keep from pushing in and throwing every boundary between you two to hell. the lilt of your voice when you whined his name, the twist of your fingers through his hair, god, even just the taste of you on his tongue–it was driving him mad. 

if this was heaven, gojo would willingly repent if it meant he could devour you.

and when you curse out, calling his name like a mantra, only then does he snap back to reality, your teeth finding his neck when he finally does push in, your gummy walls giving him nothing short of a warm welcome as you swallow him whole. gojo pulls out till it’s just the tip teasing your walls before slamming his hips back in, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with just enough force to have stars dancing in your vision. 

“holy shit,” he breathes, groaning out at the feeling of your nails raking down his back. you feel his muscles flex as he adjusts above you, “i’m going to eat you alive.”

you place a feather-light kiss where you had just been biting down, whispering in reply, “so do it.”

and he’s smiling against your neck when he starts his brutal pace, grinding his hips into yours in a way that has a scream trying to claw its way from your throat. gojo is a muttering mess of moans and curses, the drag of his veins against your fluttering walls sending him into a state of euphoria. 

you feel that familiar tightening in your core, the continuous teasing of his tip against your cervix making you arching into the white-haired male above you, your nails drawing uncertain and indecisive shapes into the contours of his back. “satoru… i think i’m–oh god, please…”

gojo is definitely not thinking straight. from ecstasy washing through his veins to the faint stinging of your nails carving into his back, he wasn’t sure if there was any going back. he can feel the way you clench around him, pushing him closer and closer to his edge by the second. 

“y/n,” he rasps, unable to stop the stutter in his pace of his hips against yours. “...god, you–you’re everything…” this, here–the moment–is everything.

you almost don’t catch what he says solely out of doubt that he even said what he did. you don’t respond, only biting his shoulder to muffle the sound of his name as it comes tumbling off your lips in a scream. your orgasm washes over you and you let yourself go under, body shaking as gojo comes to finish following you. 

and when he does, it comes crashing. hips slowing to a halt against you, you hear him groan, frame shuddering as he empties himself into you. you feel the warm flood your walls, both of your frames heaving for air as you come down from your highs. when he finally does calm down, you’re already fading in and out of consciousness. 

you’re half-awake when gojo rolls off of you, taking his weight and his warmth with him when he gets up and collects himself. you don’t have time to actually feel the difference in temperature because only a few moments after he’s gone, he’s back again, arms locking your tired body against his chest as you’re lifted from the carpet. 

you’re barely hanging on to reality when you feel like you’re being embraced again, only this time it’s a blanketing kind of warmth. “satoru…” 

the male lays perfectly still against you, allowing you to adjust yourself and get as comfortable as possible. the moon peeks in from the sun window in your bedroom ceiling and gojo finds himself staring up at the distant twinkling of young stars galaxies away. 

none of the stars have exploded and the moon appears to have stayed on its course. when he looks back at you, you’ve already drifted to rest, breaths rhythmic and nearly silent as you remain cuddled against him. 

silly of him to think that the world was ending. 

after all, you were right here.

© tb3ih mmxxiv all rights reserved

[robobarbie]

Robo i miss my male wife (Nightowl)

In order to fill my void, what would the Blooming panic Ll’s do when they miss there partner 🥹

dw since I'm in charge of the askbox rn Robo can't put him down we're safe here

Quest will acutely feel those hiccups that happen when there's a sudden void in your daily routine. Putting the second mug back in the cabinet, automatically adjusting to your presence on the couch– or if you haven't met yet, checking the chat client when you're usually online. He's used to loneliness but this is a new one, and he just sort of rides it out, waiting until the day your side of the bed is warm again. If you're married he twists the ring on his finger and stares at nothing in particular for a spell, then sends you a text to let you know he's thinking of you.

Nightowl is the opposite– too much love and energy and nowhere to put them will make him a little chaotic. He makes an attempt to do the things he doesn't get to do as much as when he was solo: takeout joints only he likes, spending way too long shopping for new jewelry, sitting out in the cold and doing studies of interesting buildings. When that doesn't work he sends you a message or six, probably including a pitiful selfie and/or a photo of what you're missing. He counts down the hours on the watch or the days on the calendar and dreams up the ways he'll welcome you back on your return, over and over and over again.

Xyx would send a couple goofy pictures of him or Cat; depending on how far along you are in the relationship, he'll either tell you to hurry up or just say "come home soon, love". He finds things to fill his time– might as well get all his work done now, means more time with you when you return– and when all that is done or stops distracting him, he makes a reservation for something he knows you'll like. Then, he reads, and tries to sink into the book before he can sink into unproductive thoughts. You'll be back. It'll be alright.

Toasty acts a bit like they're used to, falling into their routine before meeting you. More gaming, more browsing, begrudgingly moving their cups and plates to the kitchen. This time, though, they look out the window more, check their phone, drum their fingers on the desk. If you can't call, he plays a video just to hear your voice, then gets a little embarrassed.

[pedrospatch]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these damn things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but heartache this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

[finelinevogue]

parisian love

summary - you are a little self conscious of your feelings in the city of love

word count: ~1.5k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

a/n: harry had been looking too good lately so i had to write a little blurb about him again <3

“Quit it, will you.” Harry interrupted your scary glare towards your waitress.

You humphed and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the little garden chair in the quaint Parisian cafe.

It was a gorgeous day in Paris and you and Harry were enjoying it together on his day off. Touring was always u such a hectic schedule, but Harry always made sure there was time for you.

Today he has suggested going to a cafe for brunch, seeing as all you’d been showing him were the infamous hot chocolates they serve here along with buttery croissants. You’d been waiting for the opportunity to have one, so Harry was treating you.

Only, the waitress was slightly ruining the experience by flirting with your, clearly, boyfriend.

“So you be the bigger person and be the one to quit it.” He replied calmly.

“So you be the bigger person and be the one to quit it.” He replied calmly.

His sunglasses and his hat shielded much of him away from the public, but clearly not enough for the waitress not to be all over him.

She kept making subtle touches to his shoulder, obvious glances towards his open chest where his linen shirt was unbuttoned and you could’ve sworn some buttons on her shirt had been undone since you arrived.

You picked up your hot chocolate and tried to let the smooth and sweet drink override your jealousy.

It wasn’t often that you were a jealous girlfriend, since you had to deal with it day in and day out, but sometimes it all got a little too overwhelming.

Especially in Paris.

All this trip you’d had this deep and unsettling anxiety in your chest. It made your chest feel hollow and your throat really clogged up. Your stomach was constantly full of anxious butterflies and you couldn’t bring yourself to confront as to why.

Harry was reading a tourist booklet about Paris, whilst you sat and people watched.

When you feel his hand cup your exposed knee, due to you wearing a pretty pink summers dress, you turn your head away from the people and focus on him.

“Hm?” You ask.

“I said, do you want to go on a walk after this?” Harry asked again, the first time having gone amiss to you.

“Oh, um, sure.” You gave him a small smile.

“I think there might be a garden around here that we can wander around.” He pointed to a page in the small book he was holding, but you get lost in thought again.

Harry returns to his book and before long the waitress comes back over.

You watched her put her hand on your boyfriends shoulder and look away just as quickly, in case you say something that will get you in trouble.

“Can I get you anything else today?” She asked Harry.

You sip your hot chocolate until it’s gone, having had enough of this.

You stand up abruptly, rattling the table a little. You turn to face the woman and notice that her hand is no longer on Harry’s body, but she is still stood rather close to him.

“I think I’m going to go somewhere where I don’t have to see another girl flirting with my boyfriend.” You say to her and watch her face void of emotions.

You look down at Harry, who looks up at the two of you with the same blank expression. You can’t tell whether he’s angry or annoyed, but you have a feeling it’s somewhere in between.

After gulping down the stone at the back of your throat that threatens the tears, you get up and walk off slowly so not to draw any more attention to yourself.

You sniffle your way out of the café and start heading down the road back to the hotel.

After an argument with Harry, sometimes you would walk off, similar to this, but what always happened is that Harry would follow you. Always a few meters behind, but he could never leave you fully alone after an argument and he would always find the fastest way to make it up to you.

A spare bench was located on the crest of a hill, where the rest of the city could be seen below.

You sat down and held your bag in your lap, opening the zip to find a pack of tissues with shaky hands. You took one out and dabbed at the corner of your eyes lightly, so not to smudge your eye makeup.

The view was gorgeous, but it was easily forgotten about when Harry sat down next to you.

He sat with a couple feet of space between you and as much as he hated it, he respected you want for space.

“M’sorry.” You spoke first, after a couple minutes of silence.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for, baby.” Harry comforted you by reaching one his arms along the back of the bench and stroking one of his fingers, gently, over the back of your neck. It was a reminder that he was really here for you.

At the subtle gesture, you sniffled and dived over to his side of the bench to snuggle up against the side of his body. Your head found home against his shoulder and his head rested atop of yours, after he left a little kiss there. His arm snaked around the back of your body and rested his hand on your outside hip.

You sniffled again and tried to control your watery eyes.

“What’s got you so sad, hm?” He asked.

“I hate being jealous.”

“Why?”

“Makes me look childish and insecure.”

“I don’t think it does, babe. I think it shows me how much you love me. You’re willing to get upset when someone else shows interest in me. It’s weird to say, but I find it comforting that you don’t want me for anyone else. The same as I don’t want you belonging to anyone else. I like you as mine.” His arm squeezes you a bit in reassurance.

“It’s nice when you put it that way.” You smiled, even though he can’t see.

“It’s okay for you to get jealous, Y/N/N. I just don’t like the idea of you getting proper upset over me.”

“You mean so much to me, Harry, i’m just scared it’s to good to be true being with you.”

“Well, how about we take each other for each day we have together and let what feelings we have for each override any fears or insecurities. Hey?”

“That sounds good.”

You both fall silent for a little bit, people watching as the sun sets over the city of love. It’s gorgeous how the sky burns a palette of oranges and yellows, you’ll probably never get over its beauty.

When you start giggling to yourself Harry perks up conversation again.

“What?” He asked with a slight giggle himself.

“Just thinking about how if you weren’t a musician you would make a good therapist.” You relay your thoughts to him.

“Oh definitely. I’d be good at any job.” You can’t see it, but Harry smiled down at you because he is happy now that you are.

“Oh really?” You laughed.

“Yeah. Try me.”

“Umm? A chef?”

“Oui oui. I have watched Ratatouille before.”

“Why are you a French chef?” You asked, giggling away the tears.

“Because we’re in the city of love, mon ami.” He laid on a thick English accent to answer your question, making you prod him in his tummy for being so annoying.

“Okay Chef.” This time Harry tickled you in your side instead. “Stop! Okay, um, what about… A firefighter?”

“You just want to see me in my suspenders again.” Harry laughed so loud that people turned to see what was so funny. You buried your head further into his body until your blushed cheeks passed over.

“Do not.” You counter argued.

“Do too. I know you do, because Lambert showed me his texts with you the other day of you demanding he bring the suspenders back to tour.”

“Ugh. He’s such a snitch.”

“Big Brother is watching you.” He referenced.

“Don’t refer to yourself as Big Brother again, you weirdo.” You laughed at him. You go to hit him playfully on his tummy again, but instead Harry caught your hand in his and brought it to his lips to play. He didn’t let it go afterwards, instead he chose to hold it tight.

Both of you go back to silence again, going back to people watching individually.

The sun had gotten lower now and there were more people coming into the city for a night out. You and Harry were going to be cuddled up in bed watching a Disney movie by the time these people enter their first club. The life of an introvert, you, loving and extrovert, Harry, meant you did very introverted activities together.

“Harry?” You asked quietly.

“Yes, m’love.”

“Can I ask you a question? And before you answer, I don’t mean for this question to start an argument between us but I am just genuinely curious.”

“You’ve got me a little worried now, babe, but go on. I trust you.” He replied and you shift a little in your position to gauge his facial expression.

“When you’re in Paris, o-or France for that matter, do you ever think about Camille? Like, do you get sad about her or feel anything?” You breathed out, but continue just as quickly, “Again, I’m not asking to provoke you, but I’m just thinking that someone of her importance in your life must have left an impression on you. Maybe, in turn, making you think about her at times like this?”

As soon as you’d asked your question, a wave of relief rolled off your shoulders. You couldn’t explain how freeing it was to have asked that. It was like that unexplained anxiety from the past few days had come from that question alone.

“Thank you for asking for politely, baby, first of all.” Harry kissed your forehead. “And since you were honest with me, I’ll be honest with you.”

“Okay.” You nodded a bit nervously.

“I do think of her.” He answered the way you were least hoping him to, but let him continue anyways, “But not in the way you think. When I think about her now I am always thinking of you, too. I rarely do think about her, because why would I need to, but sometimes certain moments will take me back and you’ll be there to get rid of those thoughts again.”

“I-I don’t think I understand.” You say.

“It’s like when we went for a coffee run the other morning and you happened to choose the same coffee shop that I’d been to previously with Camille. In that coffee shop, in that moment, all I could think about was how much happier I was to be standing there with you than I had ever been with her ever. I thought about, and still do, how lucky I am to have found someone that loves me just as equally as I love them.” He paused briefly, “So, do I think about her? Yes, but only because I’m reminded of how much more happiness and love and life I have gained from choosing you.”

You stared at him throughout his tiny speech and a little bit afterwards too. His eyes watered at the sight of yours watering - which you could tell even through his sunglasses.

“I need another tissue.” You laughed out through a couple of tears.

Before you could go diving in your bag, Harry cupped your chin with his fingers and drew your mouth close to his. He kissed you so feverishly that you would think it was your last one ever.

He pulled away with a pout, “I love you. I’ll always choose you. It’s you, forever, baby.” He kissed you once more with force. “Always. It’s a promise.