#like we wouldn’t be doing this shit if you just admitted you were at fault every now and then

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Asher 🥰. He's such a good boy!

That four legged fur baby was such a joy to read about when he took note of his mum as she internally battered herself 😩.

Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. Urghh I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! It was ok in canon because there was no one else. But in this story, which honestly feels more realistic than the canon series 😍, I couldn't stand the image of this. It's just heartbreaking. I get increasingly pissed of at Tommy when he even talks to Lizzie lol. I know it's just a messy situation, and not really his fault, but it hurts me to see Lucy this way. I'm waiting for the day he experiences the same feelings of insecurities, jealousy and heartbreak as she does right now, Lilly! You gotta give us a jealous, moody Tommy to compensate for the the torment you're putting our dear Lucy through 😂.

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully. Oof no, fuck that 😩! Arthur should never make speeches, look what happens when he does 😭.

I'm glad Lizzie is making an effort, and I thought it quite sweet how she approached them with a deck of cards to play a game. But her attitude always has me on edge as much as it has Lucy on edge. I feel like she could completely change her tune at any minute and start making her passive aggressive remarks again. Hmmm, I hope they both stay on their toes with her, and I REALLY hope, Tommy doesn't begin to underestimate her pettiness.

No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened. Ahhh I love how he talks to her 😩❤️. Which only makes this scene even more upsetting for Lucy. Although I don't know much about their relationship, it's clear that their genuine friends that care deeply about the other. But the famous line from the Godfather "it's not personal, it's just business" feels appropriate in this scene.

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. - “We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car. I love that you added this part, because this is exactly what I imagined happened. I would bet money on Tommy just coming to a stop with a huffy "fuck", knowing he's gotta go and get the dog 😂. Just one more animal to their growing zoo 🤭!

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. Ahh, loving the shared despair! And how they both were mutually going through the horrors, spiralling down together. It feels very intune to their whole relationship and their codependency. When one falls, the other rapidly falls after them. Even though it was a powerful scene to read, i think it was the fact that little Charlie saw his parents in this way that ultimately had them stop. They love that boy so much, enough to force themselves out of the pits.

The smut scene was so beautifully written. I'm honestly relieved they've been able to get back to that point where she feels comfortable enough to be intimate with him. They're both so passionate, so obsessed with the other that It would almost feel unnatural to not read about them in this way.

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?” ahh shit, here we go 🤦🏼‍♀️😂. This line reminded of the scene with Freddie and Ada when she says about the moment his balls are empty it's back to politics 😅. Freddie and Tommy are more alike than they'll ever admit! But the problem with this line means...a tonne load more of problems are coming there way. One of the biggest, Tommy's marriage to Lizzie 😬.

Amazing chapter, hun! Can't wait to catch up on the latest one you posted as soon as possible 😍.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: The vendetta may be over, but peace is still but a distant dream for both of them. 

Word Count: 5,769

Notes: Warnings for depictions of trauma, chronic pain, insecurity, smut, and references to torture and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 28: Scarlet Fog

She sat huddled in a corner, watching the celebrations occurring around her as distantly as if she was looking in through the window. She supposed, in a way, that she might as well have been. No one had really paid her any attention throughout the entire gathering.

They were all assembled in one of the big sitting rooms in Arrow House, drinking and chatting and laughing. Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. 

She would have to get used to that: seeing them together. Side by side as their own little unit while she was pushed aside.  

At least Tommy finally seemed happy again.

How horrible did it make her, that she found herself half longing for the time when it had just been her, him, and Charlie?

Of course she did not want Tommy to be miserable. Of course she did not want him and his family to be estranged. Things were better this way, of course they were. She could take it; feeling like she was an outsider encroaching where she was not wanted. Like she was not as valued. Not loved. She’d done it before, prior to the schism between him and the rest of the Shelbys. She could do it again. 

At her feet, as if sensing her thoughts, Asher whined, raising his head. She gave him a tiny smile, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear. His tail thumped against the rug, looking up at her as if to say, I still love you, Mommy.

He’d been glued to her side since they came home, protective on account of her still healing injuries. She was grateful for his presence and companionship. Being alone had gotten a lot harder than it had been previously. 

She supposed she would have to get used to it just being her and the animals for stretches of time. Moments spent alone with Tommy would get even rarer after Lizzie’s baby arrived. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she would see much of him at all. 

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully, trying hard not to read too much into the look, and failing miserably. 

Surely it had to be coming soon. The inevitable. When Tommy sat her down and gently told her to pack her things. That he could no longer be with her. Because he loved someone else. And that someone else had demanded he chose between them. And of course he was going to choose the one he was already having a baby with. Who was loved by his family. Who wasn’t broken beyond repair. Who he could actually have a chance at a happy future with. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Asher nudged at her knee with his nose, trying to draw her attention away from the ache in her heart. With stilted movements, she reached down to stroke his soft black fur. 

Next was Arthur’s toast. A dreaded look crossed Tommy’s face at his brother’s insistence that he take a holiday. The expression only deepened when Arthur raised his glass to peace. Lucy wondered if Tommy was thinking the exact same thing that she was: there would be no peace for them. Not now; not ever. Not with the things that lived eternally inside their heads. 

Once the toasts were done, everyone began slowly making their way towards the doors leading into the dining room. Lucy made no move to follow them, just shrinking tighter in on herself in her little corner whenever someone wandered past her. 

“Lucy?”

At the sound of Tommy’s voice, closer to her than she’d expected–she had figured he’d just head straight into the dining room with Lizzie–she looked up. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her questioningly, shuffling a little closer to her while everyone else drew further away towards the other room. Tommy cocked his head. 

“Are you coming?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she shook her head. Fingers still carding mindlessly through Asher’s fur, trying to focus on the soft pelt to keep herself grounded. “I’m not hungry.”

Tommy sank down into the vacant spot next to her on the couch. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I’m just tired.” Only half the truth. Her cuts and shoulders were starting to ache a little.

He frowned, one hand moving to rest on the cushions behind her back. “You’ve barely eaten since we got back, sweetheart.” When she didn’t say anything, he scooted closer to her. “You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.” Eager to change the topic, she swirled the remainder of whiskey in her glass before downing it, mind fishing for something else to talk about. “What did Lizzie have to say?”

“Nothing all that interesting. Just some things about a few renovations that she wants to make to her house.” She could feel Tommy’s worried eyes still fixed intently on her. 

“This’ll be the first holiday you’ve taken in awhile. What do you think you’ll do?”

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze drew back to Lizzie where she was standing by the doorway, smiling and chatting animatedly with Polly. She’d been nicer to her since the kidnapping, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel a constant level of tension when around her, waiting at any moment for her to have said or done the wrong thing that would cause Lizzie to snap at her. “You should use it to spend time with her. Could even move into her house for a little while.” She looked down at her empty glass, in desperate need of a refill. “Be there for all the big moments in the pregnancy and everything.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Tommy asked. The worry she’d sensed in his gaze had leaked into his voice.

“I’d survive.” A lie, she was pretty sure, but he didn’t need to be burdened with that. 

“You’re still healing.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I know, but…I don’t want to leave you by yourself. If I have to take a bloody holiday, I’d rather spend it with you.”

Sighing, she kept her gaze glued to the floor until Tommy’s hand forced her head up, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, trying to read her mind. 

“I am not leaving you alone.”

“But you should–”

“Fuck what I should do!” His throat flexed, eyes darting towards the doorway to make sure no one had heard him. Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at her, jaw set in that stubborn way she knew meant she’d have better luck picking up an entire mountain than getting him to change his mind. “I’m not leaving your side. End of discussion.”

Shaky sigh leaving her lips, Lucy nodded defeatedly. The back of Tommy’s hand stroked over her cheek. The rest of the family had wandered out the doorway, leaving them alone. 

“Please come to dinner.”

“No one wants me there anyway–”

“I do.”

For some reason, that made her feel like she was about to cry, leaning closer to his side unconsciously. When his fingers ran delicately through her hair, she closed her eyes. “Promise me you aren’t just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

His fingers tightened a fraction where they’d come to rest on her shoulder. “I promise.” He turned her face to look at him. “I swear it on my mother’s grave. I want you with me always. Eh? Every second of every day.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting the words soothe her and abate the raging insecurities inside her. Even if only for a moment. 

“Come on,” his lips moved against the top of her head as he kissed her forehead. “Please don’t make me face them all alone.” His chin shifted against her head, cheek laying against her hair. She huffed out a tired, breathless laugh against his chest. 

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.” 

He took hold of both her hands with a small smile, helping her to her feet and entwining their fingers as they began to follow the route that the rest of the family had taken out of the sitting room and into the dining area. Asher padded along beside them, his ears twitching every once in a while as he remained watchful and protective in demeanor. 

Tommy helped her into her seat next to him at the table, his ankle hooking around hers, the toe of his shoe every once in a while rubbing up and down along her shin whenever she started to get anxious.

Once the meal was over and everyone retired into the drawing room, she wound up seated on a couch with Tommy’s arm around her, her head resting lazily on his shoulder, trying not to doze off despite how tired she was. Lizzie eventually approached them timidly with a deck of cards, shyly proposing that they all play, and soon enough they had a lively game going amongst themselves and several family members. 

For a little while, she thought that things might actually get better. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy quietly lamented the fact that she’d probably be picking little granules out of her socks on the drive back home as her boots sank into the sand. Overheard a seagull squawked, riding the cool wind that rushed over the beach. Waves roiled and crashed against the shore, lapping across the sand until they almost kissed the toe of her shoes. The sand where they were standing was damp, hardened over with moisture more so than the soft, dry mounds they’d had to traverse to approach the figure already standing on the otherwise abandoned beach when they arrived.

He was just looking out over the expanse of the waves, a huge bullmastiff seated next to him, his lead clutched in Alfie’s hand.

Lucy stared at her friend, confliction weighing heavily inside her. Despite everything, she still considered Alfie an important figure in her life. He’d helped to save her, a long, long time ago. And his position as an ally to the gang had brought with it significant advantages. But perhaps most importantly, she liked him. He was fun, and deep down she really did believe that he cared for her and Tommy. 

Just not enough to stop him from betraying them when the price was right. 

“Alfie, did you know that they took me?” she asked, voice hoarse. The salty wind whipped at strands of her hair, leaving them to dance around her face. Alfie, who until that moment had hardly turned his head to look at them, finally glanced over at her. 

“No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened.” He said, looking at her regretfully before turning back to stare at the rolling waves. Lucy swallowed painfully at the truth in his voice, a little of the weight lifting from her shoulders at knowing that her friend had, at the very least, not been involved in the horrors that had been enacted upon her. 

He and Tommy talked for a while more. Well, Alfie talked, Tommy mostly just listened, and then Tommy pulled out his gun from inside his coat. Lucy turned away, face contracting, unable to watch. 

The pieces fell into place at Alfie's revelation of his cancer diagnosis. So he’d wanted them to kill him, then. Or maybe he was just saying it so they wouldn’t feel so bad after it was done.   

She was still angled away from Alfie when he turned sharply on Tommy with his own gun, so she had no warning when a bullet suddenly skimmed across Tommy’s side. Tommy pulled the trigger of his own weapon on instinct, and a sizable chunk of Alfie’s face was blown off. Both men collapsed backwards onto the sand. 

“Tommy!” Lucy lurched towards him, ignoring the way that the sudden movement pulled on her stitches. Her knees hit the sand, trousers growing damp from the moisture as she knelt at Tommy’s side, hands hovering over his torso. He groaned softly, legs kicking in the sand, damp granules sticking to the side he’d fallen on. 

“I’m alright,” he mumbled, hand going to his side. Blood stained his palm when he drew it away. “I’m alright, it just grazed me.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at where Alfie laid on his back, unmoving. Cyril was whining softly in distress, nosing at Alfie’s face. 

“I think he’s dead,” she said softly, not wanting to go over and actually check. Tommy swiped a hand down his face, gripping her hand to let her help pull him from the ground. She eyed his side worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He drew his coat in tighter around himself, suddenly looking very small and fragile. “I’m fine,” but his voice was anything but, rough and rasping in his throat. He took one look at Alfie’s body and cringed away, arms squeezing tighter around himself. Lucy watched as his head bowed, sorrow etching onto his features. For a second she thought that he was going to cry. “Come on.” With a jerk of his head, he gestured for them to head back towards where they’d parked the car. 

Shuffling to follow him, she curled close to his side, the pair of them beginning to slow trek off of the beach. The lump in her throat kept building every time she looked back at the figure splayed out in the sand. A few sniffles left her, and she hastily wiped her nose on her sleeve.  

“He fired to force you to shoot him,” she noted quietly as they walked. With how close they’d been, there was no way that Alfie would have missed his shot like that if he’d actually wanted to cause Tommy legitimate harm. 

“Yes.”

She tightened her arms around his bicep, cheek squishing against the soft material of his coat as she sought refuge from the chilly air against him.  

They got about halfway down the beach before they both stopped at the same time. 

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. 

“We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Three months passed. 

Lucy healed slowly, the scabs of her injuries scarring over into rough, pale bumps on her otherwise smooth skin.

Tommy knew that she was horribly self conscious of them. Really, he was pretty sure that she thought them far worse than they actually were. She was still beautiful to him, even if the sight of the criss-crossed marks all over her back triggered sorrow and guilt to wash over him at the reminder of the pain she’d gone through.  

Slowly, she was able to do more. The stitches were removed and the bandages came off. Her shoulders were still giving her trouble, but according to the doctor, that would always be the case. He tried his best to help her, giving her massages and bringing her ice packs on the days that the pain was particularly bad. Applying salves that Polly sent over to help relax and soothe the muscles. By all accounts, she was considered healed. At least physically. 

And yet she was worrying him. Hell, he was worrying him. 

Golf. Fishing. Both were things he’d heard that other men liked to do on holiday, but he only got to the sixth hole at the golf course before throwing his club across the green field, not out of frustration, but from sheer boredom. The entire game was so…useless. Lucy had raised her eyebrows at him from where she was leaning against the little green plaque that displayed the hole number. 

“You know you’re supposed to hit the ball with the club, right?” she’d asked. Tommy shook his head, yanking out a few notes to pass to the caddy carrying his clubs. 

“We’re going home,” he mumbled, draping his arm around her as they started the walk to the car. “This is ridiculous.”

Fishing hadn’t fared much better. They’d been sitting by the bank, Lucy leaning into his side, eyes staring numbly out at the pond. For a second, the world was quiet and peaceful. 

But the silence only made things worse. There was no sound to drown out the noises in his head. The horses and gunshots; the screams of men dying around him. 

An explosion suddenly boomed around them, and he dove to the ground, taking Lucy with him as he sent them both crashing half into the pond in an attempt to use the bank as a source of cover against enemy fire. One of his hands curled over his head while his body pressed hers to the ground, attempting to shield her from the perceived danger. It wasn’t until more sounds–gunshots, not explosions like he’d originally thought–and the barking of hounds, erupted nearby that he realized it was simply a hunting party passing by, and not the war returned with the intention of swallowing him whole. 

“Tommy?” Lucy asked, voice quiet. She had grabbed onto the front of his shirt in surprise, her eyes wide. 

“Shit.” He leaned off of her, water sloshing around his legs, damp grass and dirt clinging to his arms where he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Sorry.” He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, embarrassment burning its way across his cheeks.

“It’s okay.” She made no move to pull away, despite now standing nearly up to her waist in water thanks to him. Her head cocked a little when he flinched at another echoing crack of gunfire from the hunters. But she didn’t say anything, just reached out to flatten her palm on his chest. “Sweetheart?”

He finally snapped his head around to look at her. Fear suddenly seized at him as he processed how he’d practically grabbed and thrown her into the pond with him. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“What? No,” she shook her head. “I mean…my socks are wet now, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He’d helped her up out of the water, and quickly gathered together the fishing gear so they could head home. The fish weren’t biting anyway, and he didn’t want her sitting around in wet socks and trousers and catching a cold.  

They arrived home to find dinner ready for them at the table after they’d changed into dry clothes. Not that either of them touched most of it.  

Lucy had gotten almost as bad as him about eating. Where she once almost always cleaned her plate, she now often left it three fourths of the way full before pushing it away. And that was on the days that he was able to convince her to eat at all. Her body weight had dive bombed. She was even smaller than usual; so skinny it scared him a little. 

He could feel Frances watching them worriedly from the doorway, hands clasped together, lips set in a firm frown that only deepened when they both rose from the table and went into the drawing room to finish off their evening with two large bottles of whiskey and gin shared between them. 

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. He’d lost count of how many times he’d cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently against his chest, stroking her hair until she finally calmed enough to fall back into a fitful slumber. 

She’d draw him into bed to make love, only to push him away a few moments later, sobbing and burying her face in her hands. The phone would ring, but they never answered it. Even during the middle of the day, they kept the curtains drawn, the lights dimmed. Everything was easier in the dark.

They drank, and cried, and held each other, and drank some more. The cycle repeating over and over. He knew that they were both spiraling downwards into a deep dark well. But he did not know how to pull them out of it. 

Ultimately, it was not really him who gave the push for something to be done about things. It was Charlie. 

He was sprawled out on the floor, so drunk he was almost going cross eyed. Glass, from the objects he’d knocked to the floor during his tumble, had sliced into his palms, blood running in thin rivers down his hands. Lucy was kneeling beside him, reaching out to try to get a look at where he’d cut himself. Despite her movements being as uncoordinated as his thanks to her equally drunken state. Her makeup was a smudged mess around her eyes, black smears trailing down her cheeks from when she’d been crying earlier. 

The door creaked open, and Charlie peeked his little head in, and their eyes met. A look, not of sorrow or confusion, but complete, all encompassing disappointment crossed his little boy’s features as he took in the image sprawled out before him. Tommy swore that there was a hint of contempt in there as well.

“Charlie,” he choked out, trying–and failing–to scramble to his feet. Lucy’s head snapped around to fix on the boy, who was quickly ushered out by one of the maids. The door closed between them with a sharp, final click. 

Tommy managed to finally heave himself to his feat, injured arms crossed around his middle. Shame, hot and violent, bowled into him, and he folded at the waist, face collapsing in on itself as tears rushed into his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks. 

Never, never had he wanted Charlie to see them like this. But now he had, and that was something that would never be able to be undone. 

“Tommy,” Lucy pulled him into her arms, letting him bury himself in her chest while he mentally collapsed almost entirely on himself. Her fingers petted at the nape of his neck and down his back, trying to soothe him as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed against her. 

The next day, he called Polly.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy retreated to bed when Polly came over in the evening, mumbling something about being tired. Tommy didn’t try to stop her. She still felt so fragile, he was worried that if Polly took any of her usual swipes at her, it would cause her to only crumble further in on herself. So he’d just sent her off with a gentle kiss and a promise that he’d join her as soon as he could, watching to make sure that Asher followed her as she climbed the stairs.  

“Lizzie wants to see you,” Polly informed him not long after they sat down. Tommy’s stomach roiled with nausea, quickly looking away. 

“No.”

“Tom, she’s showing,” Polly tried again, but that just made the sick feeling in his stomach surge. The mental image of Lizzie’s belly protruding as his baby grew inside her elicited nothing in him but dread. The idea of having another child was completely overwhelming, and he was often struck with constant worry at how it would affect Lucy once the baby finally came and he would have no choice but to spend more time with Lizzie.  

He’d spent an awful lot of energy these past few months actively not thinking about Lizzie and the baby that would arrive in but a few short months' time. But Lucy…he had a feeling that Lucy spent far too much time thinking about them. She’d said some things, whispered mumbles while she was drunk, that made little sense to him. Things about how he should leave her. That she was bringing him nothing but unhappiness. How he could be happy with Lizzie if he just gave her a chance. He didn’t know if she was aware of the things she was saying, or if she even remembered uttering them after she’d sobered up. No matter how much he tried to soothe or contradict her statements, she always circled back to them. It was like an infection that was not actually getting cured, the symptoms only battered back for a little while by his reassurances before flaring up once again. He did not know how to entirely eradicate the insecurities brewing inside her.

“I don’t want to see Lizzie, Pol.” He looked down, ashamed at the words despite their truthfulness. He felt her looking him over, examining his reaction carefully. Ultimately realizing that now was not a good time to push the subject any further. 

“How’s Lucy?”

That got him to look up, brow lifting. “Since when do you care?”

Polly shifted awkwardly in her seat, it being her turn to look away. Tommy frowned, the almost apologetic look on Polly’s face uncharacteristic, especially when it came to anything involving Lucy. 

“Pol?”

 “Aberama says that I’ve been too hard on her,” Polly sighed. Tommy blinked, too stunned to speak for a moment. 

“You been talking with Aberama a lot lately?” he finally asked. Polly shrugged, squirming in place, clearly uncomfortable, looking for a way to dodge the question.

“How is she?” 

He wetted his lips, fingers twitching around his cigarette. “Not good.”

“Francis said that she isn’t eating.”

“I can count her ribs with my hands when I hold her.” He mumbled, glancing at the drawn curtains that hide the outside world from view. 

“After what Luca did to her, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she’s broken down. Took you right down along with her.”

He bristled. “It’s not her fault–”

“That’s not what I mean,” Polly shook her head. “What I mean is that, if she hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss, she would have been able to keep you from spiraling as well. Like she has before. You’re right. It’s not her fault. It was just shit timing, is all.”

“I don’t know how to pull her out of it, Pol.”

Polly fiddled with her fingers. “I think it’s time you both came back to work. Rattling around idly in here is clearly helping no one. Having something to focus your minds on will help.”

He nodded slowly, heaving out a breath. Polly stayed to talk for a little while longer, offering a few more sage words of advice before gathering up her things and leaving. After she was gone, Tommy spent a long stretch of time sitting and staring at nothing, the cogs in his head starting to slowly spin. 

Jamming his cigarette into the ashtray, he stood, making his way to the stairs and towards the bedroom that he shared with Lucy. 

She was already curled up under the covers, on her side with her hands pressed flat onto the pillow and her cheek resting atop them. Asher was laying in his dog bed in the corner, his big head on his paws, eyes watching them worriedly. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tommy reached out a hand to rub across Lucy’s forearm. Her eyes opened slowly, head cocking against the pillows.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he moved his hand to stroke her face.

“How did it go?”

“Fine. She thinks we ought to go back to work.”

“Mm,” Lucy sat up slightly. “Probably not the worst idea.” 

“Mhm,” he moved his hand to play with her fingers, tracing the places where she’d picked a layer of skin away while nervously fidgeting. The nervous habit had thankfully mostly ceased since they’d gotten her a replacement set of rings for the ones Luca had taken from her. It was not until Tommy had first noticed the little scabs on her fingers that he realized the importance of her having something physical to busy her hands with. Otherwise she started picking at herself.

“You’re scaring me, love,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone gentle and non-accusatory. And yet still Lucy’s lower lip started to tremble, tears filling her eyes. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I know; I’m sorry. I…” her chest rose and fell deeply with her breaths. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” his fingers curled loosely around her wrist. “We’ve both fallen apart these past few months.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’ve done a shit job at taking care of you.”

Lucy frowned, sitting up fully, reaching out to cup the side of his face. “That’s not true. You’ve kept me alive.”

“I think that’s the very definition of the bare minimum, love.”

She shook her head. “With where my mind has been at sometimes, Tommy, it’s no small thing that you’ve managed.”

He let her words sink in, both hands raising to take her face between his palms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gave him a weak, not wholly convinced smile, and he kissed her insistently. 

“I mean it. I love you.” Forehead laying on hers, he breathed in the scent of rose perfume that lingered on her skin. “We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, angling her head up to kiss him again. Tommy trailed his hands carefully down her body, skimming them along the curves of her breasts, lowering to loosely hold her waist.

They’d had sex since the doctor deemed her fully healed. But he still felt the need to handle her as gently as possible; too worried about accidentally hurting her. The first time, he’d spent over an hour worshiping her body, placing kisses to each and every one of her scars, taking his time to make it clear that he still found her as heart-stopping beautiful as he did the first day that he saw her.  

He took the same care now, delicately undoing the ties on her nightgown and sliding it off of her shoulders, lips pressing into her soft skin, following the raised lines of her scars. A groan left his throat when her fingertips sank into his hair, massaging his scalp when he dropped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

That grip on his hair only tightened deliciously as he advanced lower, laying her down on the bed and spreading her legs so that he could lay between them, nosing at her cunt, breathing in her delectable scent before leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her clit. 

Her sounds were so pretty as he ate her out, the hand in his hair helping to steer him to where she needed him most. Watching her through his lashes, Tommy had to stifle a smirk at the way her head fell back against the pillows when he sank a finger into her, crooking it so he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her moans go up a pitch. 

When she came on his mouth, he grabbed greedily at her thighs, lips parting in an attempt to drink her all in, begging for everything she had to offer him. 

“Fuck, come here,” she half pleaded when he raised up on his arms above her, reaching out to drag him closer, slotting their mouths together with her release still clinging to his lips. Her hands pulled at his clothes, his own moving eagerly to help her to remove them, covering her body with his once he was bare. 

“Ready?” he asked, hand wrapping loosely around his engorged cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining up. 

“Yes. Yes,” she chanted, arms winding around his neck. He entered her slowly, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort while he pushed forward. The warm embrace of her cunt remained to be like nothing else he’d ever experienced before, her walls hugging around him, so tight and perfect there was to be no doubt that they’d been made for each other. 

The combined sounds of their pleasure echoed throughout the room as they started to move. Lucy’s head tipped forward, burying in his neck, her soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin. His eyes rolled in his head everytime she squeezed around him, and he slipped an arm under her to rest between her shoulder blades while he rocked into her steadily. He kept his thrusts at an even, gentle pace, taking care to go slow with her. She knew that she could stop him at any time if she needed, and no matter how lost he may have been in his own pleasure, he always took care to be mindful of her reactions to his movements, on alert for any indications of pain, discomfort, or fear. 

“Tommy–” her nails scratched at his shoulder, not enough to break the skin, but just enough to sting. His hissed at the contact, the idea of being marked by her sending a thrill through him that had his cock twitching inside her. 

“Just like that,” she whispered when his tip brushed against her g-spot. “Just like that; don’t stop.”

He grunted deeply, doing as instructed, feeling a surge in his balls as his own release drew nearer. Slotting a hand between them, he started to work on her clit again, rubbing it in small circles carefully timed with his deep thrusts. Her walls squeezed around him, even tighter than before, and he had to grit his teeth and focus hard to keep from coming prematurely.

With a cry and a tightening of her legs around his waist, Lucy came, a hand at the back of his head guiding him in for another kiss while she squeezed and gushed around his sensitive cock. Tommy moaned into her mouth, following her right over the cliff, stilling as he came deeply into her. His mouth continued to work, kissing her slowly and sensually as they rode out their climaxes and steadily started to come down.        

After, when they were laying together in the dark, Lucy in his arms with her head on his chest and her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo of her name that he had emblazoned on his forearm, he began to tell her of the new plan that had started to take shape within his mind. 

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?”

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[agents-are-dicks]

I hate having to explain to a stubborn 55+ year old that when two people are constantly arguing about something without trying to talk and understand and comprise, nothing gets solved. The problem doesn’t just go away bc you refuse to acknowledge it. The hurt doesn’t just cease to exist bc you don’t care enough. It just leads right back to arguing again.

[womenloverlmao]

Spencer Reid NSFW Alphabet

He's so babygirl

Im not adding warnings or like whats included because this is all over the fucking place and yeah that's nobody's fault but my own but still

Dont like it dont read it, dont complain.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He thinks it's so fucking important, he could probably go off on a rant about it, too. (But let's be honest, he can go off on a rant about anything.) He thinks it creates an emotional bond, shit like that. Even though he's the sub, he does like to take care of you after you take care of him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite (and yours of his) are his hands. He knows he knows what to do with them, driving you absolutely crazy. He also 100% teases you with it too, just saying. He can be insecure sometimes about certain things, but he knows them.

He loves your thighs and tits. Let's be honest, we all know he's a boob guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cries when he climaxes sometimes.

Also he either likes cumming in you or on your tits. (Bro is obsessed with the tibbies)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes steals your panties, but he puts them back (after washing them) and you don't really notice. He also knows how to hide it so like

This one you know about, he was getting INTO it and he got a work call that he had to pick up while he was still inside you. A couple whimpers were let out when you moved against him and it was so embarrassing but no one besides you two know. they thought he was sick because he is a sickly victorian child

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bro is not experienced at all, he was a virgin before you, but he knows what he's doing from reading so fucking much about literally everything. Sure, he might be awkward at first, but once he's done it once and is sure you like it he's pretty good at everything.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes when you're on top, but his favorite is when your legs are thrown either around his waist or over his shoulders as he absolutely pounds into you like a bitch in heat.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

there are moments where even when he is balls-deep inside you you both can't help but laugh. he sometimes spews random facts and he can't shut himself up so it can be really a mess but you both love it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It all depends on your preferences. He keeps it relatively short, but if you need it shorter he'll do it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It's 100% Intimate, even if it can be silly sometimes. it's just different, in your own way, really.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he's on his own in a hotel room and you're back home and he needs you, he'll do it. Most of the time he needs your voice to do so, but he knows when you go to bed, and if it's before that he will call you but if it's not he'll do it on his own. If you send him pictures of yourself? uses them. he won't admit it, but he does.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mommy kink. I don't need to elaborate.

Orgasm Denial

Overstimulation

B r e e d i n g.

Degradation but only a little, you have to add praise to it and then it's fine.

Kinda like possession?? But not like in a keeping you or him locked up, in a 'you're mine' way.

Hair pulling.

Probably into pegging

Nipple play on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom. That's pretty much it. He gets to thinking too much anywhere else. He gets too into thinking in the bedroom, how do you expect him to fuck you in a bathroom shawty

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You in his clothes. Dirty talk. Sometimes it's nothing specific, and he's touch-starved so he can act like a teenager.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like he would stay away from bondage after Hankel. Before then, he would be fine, but chances are this all takes place after so yeah no. Same reason for spanking and shit. It may look like he's super kinky, but there are more things he wouldn't do than things he would.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes when you give him head but dude would do anything if you let him eat you out. He's absolutely amazing. He has your body memorized, so like

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can do whatever, but when he's trying to make himself cum (normally after he's made you cum and leaves you super fucking overstimulated but he wants to cum so badly) he's fast and like holy f u c k. but he knows how you like it, so before then it's whatever makes you cum quickest so he can cum. also random but I forgot to put that he always makes you cum first.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Will do them, but prefers having time with you and that shit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is but if it's something listed up there it's a no. He could try different things but there are many things that he just wouldn't do.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Can go like three five-minute rounds with breaks in between them, but when he's doing it on you he will probably overstimulate you to no end just trying to make you feel good.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have anything but if you wanted to do things with them, they could be implanted.

If you got a dildo he would let you use it on him after a little bit of convincing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on the day and if he's being a dom or a sub, but even inside of those it depends. He leans more submissive and loves to please you, but he is 100% a brat and will tease you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is l o u d. he can be quiet but he will whimper, moan, whine, beg. (bitch in heat I'm not sorry)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves listening and being the sub while being the top. Like... do you get what I mean?

Also one time he was in you, rubbing your clit, trying to get you to cum and he said 'Did you know about 75% of the clitoris is inside the body' and you actually burst out laughing and yall had to stop what you were doing and like gather everything and make sure you didn't die while he was inside you again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5 inches, and thick. like, ripping your vagina from the inside out thick. (why am I set on this hill please murder me slowly)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It wasn't high. until you came around, then he is just like EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY turned on. it's physically impossible, or it should be.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If it weren't so icky in his head he could probably fall asleep immediately afterwards, but he has to clean it up and then he can fall asleep.

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman. 

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

 The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?” 

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood. 

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.” 

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.  

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

  AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time: 

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

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[reinerszn]

good boy ! — e. landry & mean!reader

content warnings: nsfw/smut, sub!ethan, afab!reader, unprotected sex, p in v!, e is super needy, mentions of bodily fluids (cum), e has a breeding kink, praise, established relationship, e calls reader momma, last of it is sorta rushed sry:(, if there’s anything else lmk! ♥︎

xylea’s note: literally over 2.5k words :O proofread once, sry for any mistakes. longer part for this! also, for all my works i envision it with chubby!reader :p but feel free to use your imagination baby!

ethan’s attention was not at all focused on the movie anymore. he couldn’t help but feel bothered and frustrated that you were denying his needs. he needed you so desperately, why couldn’t you see that? “be a good boy and you’ll get rewarded as soon as they go home, okay?” your voice was so sweet and promising, it got ethan’s hopes up. he nodded furiously.

some time had passed and it was already 11:24 pm. ethan was more than desperate now given it felt like it had been forever and time was going so agonizingly slow. “momma please.. just need your touch,” ethan gave you a pout, eyes filled with distress. “movie’s almost done e, just wait.” you continued to shut him down every chance you got. the pout was still visible on his pretty face. “stop poutin’ baby,” you whispered softly to the curly-haired boy beside you, hand caressing his inner thigh. ethan’s breathing hitched a bit from the sudden touch. so cute.

20 or 30 minutes had now passed and the movie was now done. you sighed softly in relief. “go switch on the lights, e.” he whipped his head at you, embarrassment visible in his eyes. he was still painfully hard and he knew it’d be visible to the others. ethan shook his head from side to side. you rolled your eyes and got up to do it yourself. “ugh, that movie was shit, tara,” mindy got up from the floor, reaching out her hands for anika. “you wouldn’t understand mindy!” tara snapped back. i chuckled softly at the two who were bickering their mouths off. “alright! why don’t we go home now, huh?” chad chimed in, attempting to stop their stupid argument. “ethan, you gonna stay?” chad looked over at ethan who was desperately trying to cover himself up with the blanket without looking suspicious. “u-uh yeah.. you go ahead and leave, i’ll stay.” chad nodded as he made his way over to the front door with tara, mindy and anika following out as well. both you and ethan waved a goodbye to the four as they left. you locked the door and looked back at ethan.

“you should’ve just listened baby..” you slowly made your way to the back of the couch, sitting your plump ass on the edge of it. “i- they would’ve saw!” he began to ramble on about how worried he was if his friends saw how hard he was for you. “that’s your fault for being so desperate. i mean, why were you even so needy in the first place baby? what made you so worked up, huh?” you looked at him so sweetly, even giving him a small pout as you hopped off the back of the couch to make your way towards the curly-haired boy. “i- i don’t know. you just make me get all worked up and excited i can’t help but crave you momma..” ethan admitted, looking down at the couch to avoid eye contact with you.

you took hold of his jaw firmly and made him look at you. “look at me.” ethan’s eyes widened, surprised from the sudden action. would it surprise you if you knew that his dick just twitched at the very act you just did? “s-sorry momma.”

“mm.. do you still want your reward? do you think you deserve it?” your eyes were locked with his and you could’ve swore you saw hearts in his eyes once you had mentioned his reward. ethan nodded his head furiously, curls softly bouncing from the motion. “p-please momma. i’ll be good, promise. i won’t even cum til’ you tell me, please?” all he could do was babble out promises that you knew were going to be broken by the time you touched his painfully hard cock that throbbed for your touch. “oh really?” your voice was lower than usual, a bit huskier as well. your eyes were filled with burning desire and you couldn’t help but think of ethan’s pretty cock spurting out his cum all over your hands. he bit his lip, nodding once more. “if you say so baby.. better stay true to your words.”

you straddled yourself onto his lap, hips sitting on his. your hands were wrapped around his neck as your lips were on his, kiss filled with such desire and passion yet with a sense of love and warmth. he melted into your touch and his brain had gone all mushy, no longer being able to think about anything else but you. ethan’s breathing began to get a bit erratic and would falter as he felt one of your hands travel down his chest and to his achy cock that was restrained in his grey sweats. he pulled away softly, desperately needing air. “momma please,” he whined out. ethan’s whines and whimpers were nothing but music to your ears. they sounded so heavenly and beautiful as they fell off his puffy lips that you would gently bite on whenever you’d feel like it. “please what, e? use your words.” obviously you knew exactly what he wanted but it was just so much better to see ethan beg and plead for it. “please touch me momma, ‘m so hard it hurts and it’s so achy,” his lips jutted out, giving you another small pout as his big eyes gave you that adoring puppy-like look. seeing him fall apart like this always made your heart swell and arousal form between your thighs. a cunning smirk was plastered on your face.

one of your hands slipped under the waistband of his sweats, squeezing his cock that was being held back from his boxers. you earned a groan from ethan as he threw his head back. “fuckkk.. momma.”

“what baby? that feel good?” you squeezed his cock once more, hand softly palming him afterwards. ethan nodded his head frantically as more whines and moans escaped his lips. “can’t hear you,” you said in a sing-song tone, teasing the writhing boy. “feels too good!” he managed to choke out between breathy whimpers. your palming became much more powerful, pressing against his achy cock. his body jolted as he slapped his palm against his lips, attempting to muffle his pretty sounds. “no no.. let momma hear you,” you stopped your motions and swatted away his hand from his mouth. needing his lips on yours once again, you kissed him, feeling ethan groan into your mouth. your hips were rubbing against his, cunt grinding down on him. you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t just as desperate as your boyfriend who laid beneath you. ethan’s hips began to buck into yours, gravely needy for your cunt or at the very least, your hands wrapped around him. “please.. please please pleaseee,” he continued to babble out, desperate for you.

feeling just as eager as ethan, you got up to slide your pyjama shorts down, leaving yourself in your pink and lacy panties that ethan adored. you then went to slide ethan’s sweats and boxers down, just enough to see his cock. his tip was red and leaked with pre-cum, slapping and twitching against his stomach. you cooed at the sight, feeling so lucky to have ethan at your mercy like this. “so pretty baby… you want momma to help you?” you cocked an eyebrow at him. “yes— please i need it so bad.. just need your touch,” he whined out, adams apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly.

being such a generous girlfriend who always nurtured her sweet boyfriend, you couldn’t help but give in a bit. your hands were wrapped around the shaft of his cock, stroking it gently just to tease. ethan threw his head back once more, mouth agape as his pretty sounds fled his mouth. his physical reactions that his body always made, due to just your touch, never failed to get you all thrilled. “sucha good boy, making those sounds for momma..” your hands picked up their pace, going a bit faster than ethan had anticipated. he gasped loudly, eyes closed shut. “momma.. need your cunt,” he’d slur on his words, saliva forming on the corners of his mouth. his mind was blank and he couldn’t think straight at all. all he knew was that he felt good and needed your cunt squeezing all the cum out of him that he had for you. “soon baby.. keep being a good boy f’ me.”

ethan’s breathing hitched, abdomen clenching tight which indicated that he was indeed close to gushing out all of his cum on your hands. your pace had gotten slower by the second and came to a full stop.

ethan absolutely hated when you would do this and be so mean to deny or ruin his orgasm. “why’d you stop?” he whined out softly as he opened his eyes to look at you, “was so close momma.” you couldn’t help but smirk at the curly-haired boy who had a slick of sweat covering his forehead. his curls started to stick onto his forehead, covering his brows. “because baby, i don’t want you to cum yet. want you to fill me up,” your hand slid your lacy panties to the side as you were too eager to fully take them off. his eyes lit up with joy and his heart swelled at your words. he loved painting your gummy walls with his cum, filling you up to the brink with everything he had.

still straddling his lap, you lifted yourself off a bit, grabbing hold of his cock to align it to your slit. your cunt was practically drooling for ethan’s cock. a small hiss left your mouth as you sunk down, trying to adjust to how stretched out you felt.

ethan was big in length, a bit smaller in girth, but to you he was perfect either way. the way he fit into you, filled you up to the brim, moaned and whimpered out your name with such delicacy, would kiss your sopping cunt with his cock like he’ll never ever get anything like this ever again.. it was all so perfect and made you so cock drunk for him.

“fuck baby.. makin’ momma feel so good,” you felt ethan’s hands squeeze around your waist, slamming you down all the way to the base of his cock. you winced, feeling him brush against your cervix. you kissed ethan to muffle your noises and melted into his lips. his heartbeat grew faster as he placed one of his hands gently on the back of your head, kissing you more frantically as he leaned into the kiss. he needed you.. craved you.

“hnngg.. momma, ‘s so tight,” he said in between kisses. his hands lifted you up with ease and slammed you back down. “ah, ah- no touching.” ethan pulled away from the kiss to give you one of his pretty pouts like before. you smiled softly at him before bouncing all over his cock, making his face immediately contort in pleasure. a series of small whimpers, gasps, and ‘fuck’s left his puffy lips. his hands softly grabbed onto your hips, squeezing the warm and soft flesh, not being able to take his hands off you. as much as you wanted to swat away his hands, you couldn’t and you could no longer deny his sweet desire for you. he was being a good boy after all and just for you.

ethan’s stomach began to get tight once again, abs contracting. “w-wait.. wait momma i.. i wanna fuck into you, please?” he felt you stop bouncing, sitting down all the way to the point where your cunt took him at the base. “of course baby.. did you need me to lay back?” you questioned the curly-haired boy, eyes fixated on him. he nodded his head quickly as he pulled out, waiting for you to scoot over that way he can get you into the position he was dying to fuck you in. you couldn’t help but find it so adorable how excited he was. you sat on the side of the couch, eyes attentively watching your boyfriend move around.

he got off the couch and stood in front of you, taking hold of your pretty, plump legs. ethan’s hands pushed your legs against your chest, practically folding you like you were nothing but his little toy that he desperately wanted to please and be a good boy for. your tummy was so cute as it formed into two rolls; ethan absolutely adored it and probably would’ve came at the sight beneath him.

he slid in your tight cunt with ease, your slick covering him once more. a groan left both yours and ethan’s lips as he stuffed his cock into you, bottoming out. he took a quick moment to regain himself and by the time you knew it, he was fucking into you at such an animalistic pace. his thrusts were so deep, brushing against your cervix. all that you could say were a bunch of ‘fuck’s as your mind went hazy, no coherent thought in there! your hands clawed against e’s back, leaving pretty red marks that complimented his skin. “fuckkk ethan!” you felt ethan’s head nuzzle into your neck, peppering small kisses all over as his hips still drilled into you. that familiar knot began to wind in your lower stomach, threatening to break any second now. “‘m gonna cum babyboy.. momma feels so good,” you cooed out as your eyes were screwed shut, manicured nails still scratching at his back. “please, please cum,” he whispered into your ear, kissing it afterwards. his hips continued to drill into you, a bunch of stamina still running through his body. the knot came undone, snapping and you couldn’t help but clench around ethan’s cock. tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your rosy cheeks as your jaw fell slack, mouth agape.

“am i making you feel good momma?” he softly asked, tone sweet and innocent. the recognizable knot that once formed in his stomach before began to appear again, fast. he knew that with just a few more thrusts in and out of your sobbing cunt, he’d be spilling his cum all inside of your pretty womb. you nodded your head eagerly, “yes baby.. making momma feel so full,” you purred out, giving him reassuring caresses on his back with your thumb. “you gonna cum baby?” you could tell from his staggering hips and his unsteady breaths that he was so close to spurting out everything he had for you. ethan bobbed his head eagerly, whimpering out a small ‘mhm’. “good boy baby.. fill me up,” you cooed out once more. with just a few more thrusts of going in and out, like he had anticipated, repeatedly abusing your cunt to his full power, he collapsed; weight all against you, gushing out his cum inside your gummy walls. you could feel the thick, warm ropes of cum paint your insides and you purposely fluttered your cunt around him, just to milk out everything he had for you. gasps and stutters fell off of ethan’s puffy lips, hot breath against your ear.

as tired as you both seemed, ethan wanted to fill you up to the point where you could no longer take it. he planned on doing it. of course, he knew you would no longer deny him of his desperate wishes and needs and you would let him do whatever, given you were close to being too fucked out to notice his antics.

“we’re not done yet momma.”

[cherry-pop-elf]

Late Night Cutie Pie

Newt Scamander X Knight Bus Worker! Reader

((Can be read as platonic))

While working on the bus, a famous little face pops itself into the open doors. A sweetheart that’s been stressed out of his mind, and you do what you do best. Help those in need. Along with show you might have a talent for Nifflers, on top of a talent for flustering Magizoologists

Warnings: very adorable fluff, tooth rotting fluff, fluster newt, newt being painfully adorable, and of course TEDDY SHENANIGANS

“Ooooo we got a celebrity joining us tonight-!” You heard you coworker, a talking head, shout to you. You wondered who that could be, as you finished tidying up the beds. Ready for whatever lost soul is needing a good rest. Pillows fluffed, blankets laid out, and wheels oiled to keep people from flying.

“Oh no no. Im not celebrity-“ A almost timid voice would speak, as you hurried down from the upper floor. Once your shoes hit the ground, your eyes went wide with who they landed on. A man in a blue jacket, fluffy hair, and a suit case in hand. Newt Scamander. In the flesh.

“No way-“ You whispered, before those big blue eyes were on you. He gave a shy little wave, before rummaging in his pocket. Pulling out his ticket, and snapping you back to reality. As instinct, you were quick to sort it out. Not even needing to look at your hands, as you kept them on him. Snip, snap, POP, done!

“Normally we never pry, but uh. What’s a guy like you doing on a bus like ours-?” You asked. You were a Knight Bus Worker. You had to be social, after all. So being direct with people, no matter the face, is an important skill to have. One that was leaving him embarrassed.

“Well, seems you know who I am. Guess you can kinda put two and two together. Not many people trust that I’ll keep my friends under control.” He admits, with a smile that said it hurt him. They were animals. Not their fault after all. You won’t lie, though. It’s touching how he would simply turn those people away. Compared to following their rules, and leaving his friends behind.

“I mean, we’ve had the shadiest people come on here. Better to have Hippogriff shit on the bed than human shit. Least with a bird like that, you know they couldn’t help it.” You would put, rather bluntly, which had him smile. Knowing he wouldn’t be a burden to anyone on the bus, given you were being very direct with him. Compared to sugar coating, or babying him because of his Hufflepuff nature. People tended to do that, and even he was getting annoyed. A welcome change it was.

“I’ll take you to the upper floor, so you can have more room. Not a lot of people go up there, because of motion sickness. So you’ll have plenty of room to stretch your legs-!” You comforted, as you were making his night. A place to actually rest, and work with his care. You were just his angel. He wanted to hug you so badly, and you can tell with his arms tensing. Once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff.

“Bring it in-“ You reassured, and he nearly lifted you off the ground. Made you wheeze, but you couldn’t deny it. Hufflepuffs gave the best hugs. Not many people liked to treat you more than part of the bus, so it was a very nice change. Felt good to get a hug.

“Truly, I am so grateful. Be nice to sleep in a bed for a while. Not to say I do not enjoy nature, but we all live in certain environments for a reason after all." The older man said, when he finally set you free. Must be so hard, world traveling. Maybe he was home sick, so he was back in England for a while. Maybe animals were in need. Who knows! You just know he needed rest.

"Come on up then." You would escort him to the second floor of the double decker bus, and would lead him to a freshly made bed. You also made sure the frame was secure, wheels smooth, anything that could cause issues in his stay. Just wanting him to get some rest. As you did, you were not aware of Newt having a panic attack behind you. The moment you turned; he quickly hid his suitcase. Smiling big, with eyes darting everywhere.

"Doing alright? Seem a bit shaken, what's up?" You asked, as he keeps his nervous smile. A tug at his collar, before his eyes were now staring at something behind you. That made you raise a brow, before you slowly turned around. Just as you did, something jumped on you. You gave a shout, before you were tumbling into the once Hufflepuff. Both of you crashing to the ground.

"TEDDY-! NO! WEVE BEEN OVER THIS-!" You heard him shout, as you were helped up. Now you had a niffler choking you out, given he was dangling off your lanyard. Now knowing it was a niffler, you weren't upset. Your lanyard had many shiny pins and buttons. It can't be helped.

"Aw, you want a pin?" You cooed, as you soon scooped the little gremlin into your arms. Him still holding the lanyard, as Newt calmed down. Surprised to see Teddy calm as well. Just looking up at you with those big eyes. Sparkling with desire. You knew what to do, given many a child has ridden the bus. For one reason or another.

"Here is a nice shiny pin, all for you." You smiled, as you rummaged in your pocket. Soon you had a pin in hand, designed to look like the knight bus. With glittery windows, that made it sparkle like stars. That had the niffler let go of the lanyard, and make grabby hands for the pin. Into his tiny hands it went, and he hugged it tightly. A little chirp of happiness, before it went into his pouch. Safe and sound. Now he was satisfied, for the time being.

"Amazing..." Newt whispered, before he would take Teddy back. The little guy was quick to pull the new possession out, and showed it to his dad. Newt gave a 'ooo' and his eyes sparkled all the same. Just like a father, to a toddler. Melted your heart, to see a bond. How he kissed Teddy's head, and he gave chirps of joy.

"You have a talent for animals, I can see it clear as day. Teddy is always a handful, but like that you had it under control. No panic, and quick to find a solution. Amazing." He praised you, resulting a heavy blush on your face. What a praise and honor it was. Newt Scamander, praising your skills.

"Toddlers and nifflers are basically the same thing." You brushed off, before the bus was quick to make its sharp stop. You didnt move a inch, of course, but the father and son went flying. You winced, when Newt slammed into the window. He did, however, made sure to keep teddy wrapped around his arms. Pressed into his chest, so that the little thing suffered as little damage as possible. Such a pure soul.

"There is a reason we have complinetry sleeping potions and pain killers. Check the bedside table, back to work I go!" You waved goodbye, with Teddy waving bye as well. Since his dad was busy with new back pain.

Just like how it always was. Taking tickets, escorting newbies, comforting lost children, punching a drunk here and there. A typical night for the bus. As it was getting closer to the end of your shift, you would go and check on the famous celebrity. Up the stairs, and to the second floor.

There he was. His brief case locked to the bed frame, with an enchanted chain, and his coat hung up. His face pressed into the pillow, showing his knocked out face. Drooling, in a much needed rest. All the while little Teddy was snuggled close to his father. His face tucked under the man’s chin, and tiny hands hugging his dress shirt close. Safe, under the man’s arm.

You would sneak over, and make sure the blanket was pulled high enough for him and Teddy. Poor souls needed it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he would spend a few nights here. As if you would complain. The company would be needed, and who knows. Maybe a Pest Control guy would be needed. Sure get wild animagi coming in sometimes.

With Newt tucked in, and adjusting the pillow for Teddy, you would return down the stairs. All to be teased by that talking head for growing overly friendly with the celebrity. All it took was a flick, and he was spinning. That had you laugh, as you stretched.

Never a dull night, on that bus.

[muchtooold2]

I’ve recently discovered the part of the internet deeply devoted to defending Mystra in BG3 and I get she’s a long standing lore character but it feels like we played a wildly different game.

And I just know in my heart of hearts that if Mystra were male and Gale were female I wouldn’t have to keep reading some variation of “well it’s fine she did nothing to stabilize a ticking time bomb in the chest that would have wiped out an entire city because it needs to feed on the weave despite no real evidence this actually hurts her at all” or “actually it’s Gale’s fault he tried to return what he thought was part of her to her because he was an grown adult who should have known better despite the fact she did not tell him and he did not know it would have hurt her and is horrified to learn this in act 3.” Like, this isn’t me woobifying him. I love Gale and know he can be self-absorbed, his ego is big, and if left unchecked his personality leads him to become the literal God of Ambition. But he’s not like a power hungry schemer. His ambition and desire for knowledge (things Mystra likes!) got the better of him and since he is also insecure he decided to try to do an ambitious thing and prove himself to a goddess. He knows and admits that’s on him! But he (and players) are still allowed to be mad at the fact he’s kicked to the curb to maybe blow up a city to learn a lesson Mystra does not bother explaining until she’s literally forced to because he did not kill himself on her command. And people are allowed to find their relationship wildly inappropriate and toxic and abusive because based on the game you play, it is.

I don’t think it’s bonkers to say that in this situation, Mystra—a literal goddess who met Gale when he was probably somewhere between 17-22 years old—was wrong to have a relationship with him, that it was a toxic and abusive one and that is on her as the entity with more power in every way, that she was petty for letting him languish for a year and being willing to potentially let him kill a whole city while he was trying not to die by eating magic shoes, and that telling him to kill himself is a dick move. And people are like “well according to DnD lore she’s just protecting herself and she was only resurrected after he was a teen” are doubly annoying because bg3 doesn’t give a shit about the canon timeline considering Durge would be like…10 if they cared.

And I know it sucks if you like love Mystra in DnD lore and this doesn’t align with her or whatever but bg3’s themes of “hurt people hurt people” and “power over others is something easily abused if you’re careless” also applies to Mystra. With the sort of exception of Selûne, the game also feels pretty clear on the idea that gods Do Not and Cannot Care About You. The game you play is showing a toxic relationship (and I will say she is not as bad as some people say she is, like she is a goddess operating with some blue-orange morality) and if the genders were flipped we would not be having this discourse.

[darkbluekies]

I'm sorry to bother you, I just wanted to see the Yandere's reaction when they found out that their S/O has a lot of scars because of their father who was a very abusive man with their mother and their S/O when she was just a child

Warnings: abuse, murder, beating someone to death with a lamp, celebrating a death, bruises, dragging someone behind a horse, beheading,

Silas: 

Would become furious. Everything suddenly clicked into place, all your out of pocket behaviors. He would set out every man he could find to make sure your father paid the price for what he did to you, while rescuing your mother in the mean time. She would get her own little house with Silas’s guard staying around 24/7 to make sure nothing would happen to her. Silas would stay with you the entire night, just to talk to make sure that you wouldn’t feel lonely. He would hold you close and let you talk about your childhood, giving you reassurance. 

“He will never get close to you and your mother again. If he does, I will strangle him myself. Might do it myself, actually. My men are just toying with him a little right now. What they’re doing? Let’s just say that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

Dr Kry: 

He would notice it when you change into the hospital gown. His heart would sink down to his stomach. He would ask you about it, and if you decided to tell him, he would sit with you and reassure you that nothing was your fault and that you were safe at the hospital. And then, he would kill your father when you were sleeping. If you didn’t tell him, he would dig out the information himself, until he got the answers he wanted … and then he would kill the father. Dr Kry wouldn’t admit that he had done it. After all, he is the sweetest doctor you’ve known, he would never have done something. But he would smile every time he thought about emptying him of blood.

“Why I’m smiling? I’m just thinking about some memories. How are you feeling? Still thinking of your dad? You shouldn’t be, it only brings you pain. The bastard’s dead now, and he will never hurt you again. Never again.”

King Edmund:

Would have had your father dragged through the gravel on the front yard behind a horse while he stood on the stairs with his arms crossed. He would have enjoyed seeing his face scratched open on the small stones, creating a bloodstream behind him. When Edmund would have been satisfied, he would have gone over with a sword, cut his head off and kicked it around like a ball. The body and head would be burned — nothing should remain of him. Then he would return to you and hold you tightly, kissing your head over and over again. 

“I have obliviated him. He can never return. He will never hurt you again, my jewel. Do you know how much I enjoyed hurting him? I would have loved for you to watch his suffering, but you are in no state to see that. His ashes will be used in the shit bin. That’s what he deserves. I will have everyone who knew about his deeds on you beheaded and hung at the city center. I promise. The one daring to shield that scum will be dealt with.”

Jerry: 

You would have been at your childhood home and she noticed that something was wrong. You accidentally let out that your father was a horrible man. She would shoot up from the couch right then and there and grab the nearest weapon, this time it happened to be a lamp. You ran after her, but couldn’t stop her from beating your father to death with the lamp. She would turn to you and her mother and wipe her forehead from sweat. She would reassure the two of you that the two of you get the best protection. Her men would move your mother far away, give her a new identity and shield her, all on Jerry’s demand. Jerry would lay down on the couch when you got home and hold you close to her breast. 

“He deserved this, and you know it too. Bitch deserved even more than that. You’re safe now. How about we celebrate this fucker’s death? Some champagne? Some cake? The bitch is dead, finally! Get up, let’s go buy fireworks!”

Hedwig:

First, she would hold you in her arms, crying with you, and then she would call up her hitmen. That man would not be alive in the morning hours. You would get the news from your mother and Hedwig would pretend to not know anything while hugging you. She would smile behind your back and look worried when you looked at her. The two of you would go pick up your mom and have her stay with Hedwig until everything was settled. Hedwig would take such good care of your mother. She would buy her presents and sit with her in the evenings to talk to her, to let her clear her head. 

“Your mother is doing okay, Y/N, don’t worry about her. How about the three of us go on a little trip together. You have both deserved it so much. I love you so much, and I cherish your mother a lot. I want her to understand how much I love you and your family. He’s gone, and now it’s time for the two of you to get the life you deserve.”

[erikftglitter]

Sorry [e.k] [two]

Erik is truly sorry. 2/3. [part one]

You felt your entire body shudder as Erik pulled up to the familiar black gate. You felt a small tingling inside of your stomach on the entire way here. You and Erik rarely argued so you were a bit anxious about what he had planned for tonight.

Erik is a natural dominant man. Prior to Erik, sure you had guys who could choke you, or make you feel good sometimes, but they were not the dominant that Erik was. Come to think of it that is probably why you two rarely argued. The last argument ended up with you crying on your knees as Erik fucked your face.

You felt the tip of his dick repeatedly slam to the back of your throat. Fresh tears were running down your cheeks but his movements did not halt. He knew your limit and this was not it. Maybe, just maybe, if you had not called him a “B.A.N” under your breath then you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

You were used to your previous unhealthy relationship and Erik stopped that shit once and for all. In the beginning he knew the small stuff that was clearly coming from a place of prior mistreatment. He was patient and that’s how you two ended up being together. However, what you said to him was not warranted and he wasn’t going to be sweet about it.

You didn’t know that he heard you until you heard his game console power off. Not pause but completely power off. You felt like a piece of tuna cornered by a shark. But you attempted to play it cool and simply ask, “what’s up?”

Erik shook his head and finally approached you and grabbed your hand tightly, leading you back to the living room area. You understood his urging and slowly got to your knees. Of course you’ve sucked his dick in this position many times before, but this was different. There wasn’t going to be any encouragement. He sat his arms up on the back of the couch and pulled his pants down.

“I’m a what sweetheart? Let me hear you say it on this dick since you so bold. And take that shirt off too.”

So here you were shirtless, titties bouncing, as Erik pushed your head further and further down his dick. Spit, tears, and slobber gathered all around his dick and you began to use your hands to stroke him as you sucked. No other man in the world would’ve had the upper hand to do this to you, but then there was Erik.

The tears this time were from embarrassment. You knew he didn’t play that so you had nobody else to blame. Almost as if he read your thoughts he spoke quick after. He fisted a good chunk of your hair to pull you off of him.

“We don’t do that shit. Okay?”

You nodded your head and even though you were a nasty mess, Erik still looked at you with those alluring eyes. This time you were the one to start it back up. You wanted to apologize for the error and the low moans coming from his mouth encouraged you to go on. He came soon afterwards with long ropes of cum lubricating the back of your throat and you swallowed it all.

“Get upstairs.”

The sound of the car doors unlocking stopped your flashback. You didn’t do anything wrong but your natural submission to Erik conflicted your feelings. Still, you didn’t open the door, as there’s a whole other story about what happened when you did that.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence to the his front door. He had to let your hand go in order to unlock the door and you frowned at the lack of warmth. That’s when it hit you. You loved Erik. Yeah you two were together for a little while and were committed to each other, but the sudden realization that you haven’t seen or felt his warmth for days troubled you.

“Come on.”

Erik’s voice stopped your thoughts and you reattached your hand to his. You glanced down your hands and back to your eyes. You couldn’t read his expression but you know that he read yours. Erik always knew what you wanted and how you felt, so this entire argument was his fault for being too stubborn to admit his wrongdoing. However, he was confident that after tonight you would forget all about it.

You walked to his bedroom and gasped at the rose pedals and flowers laid out. Heart shaped chocolate, wine, fresh fruit, and candy covered the bed. You felt your bottom lip begin to poke out and you knew the tears would soon follow. Erik watched you closely, stepping out of his shoes in the process.

You practically jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. Your man. Your man. Your man.

“Don’t do that again. I was so worried about you!” You scolded in the midst of your tears. You patted your face in attempt not to drag your makeup down.

“I won’t baby and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse to make you sit up and worry about me. Not talking and seeing you for days hurt a nigga’s soul. We can’t be doing that shit.” His arms wrapped around you tightly. He’s just happy that he got his baby back. You had no clue the lengths he was going through just to make sure he was forgiven.

He softly placed you down in the one corner of the bed that wasn’t completely decorated. He bent down to give you a quick kiss before taking your heels and panties off. You felt the sudden cool breeze on your heat and began to squirm. He lifted the dress up and grunted once he finally seen what rightfully belonged to him.

This time Erik fell to his knees.

You could already feel the electrifying feeling in your spine as you waited on him to get closer. Erik did not fall restless so you knew that if he was going to apologize that you were gonna be here for a while.

In one motion you felt his thick lips place a kiss on your lips. You couldn’t help the moan that followed. Erik’s lips curled into a smile when he felt your body shudder. He used his hands to expose the skin of your clit and began to lick and suck on it. In a couple of minutes you were already a withering, squirting mess.

He was far from finished. “That’s one.” You heard him growl. Realization hit you that he was not leaving your legs until you got nine more out. By your second orgasm you began to cream. Erik’s tongue was lapping your clit over and over again and when you tried to push him away he tightened his grip on you.

Instead of allowing you to rest he pushed in two fingers and watched as your pussy opened up to them. He thrusted them upwards in the motion that he learned made your back arch and kissed your pussy lips as he did so. You were melting underneath him. Yelling out all types of obscenities. By orgasm four you squirted again, thanks to his fingers curling up repeatedly. He wasn’t satisfied even though he heard the screams leaving your mouth.

Again, this was your fault. You told him that you never came from oral sex once you two began dating and having open conversations. By the next day Erik had made you squirt all over his backseat. His detailer never asked any questions, but your face still flushed when Erik made you ride with him to pick the car up. “Look at how much he scrubbing. You soaked them seats mama.”

So every time that Erik ate you out he took it to the extreme. You were not allowed one or two orgasms. He praised you and that meant that you needed to cum on his tongue at least five times. But if he was counting then you can expect that number to double.

You looked down to see Erik’s eyes closed as he pushed you to your limit. His tongue darting in and out of your folds, arms keeping you still, and your clit was damn near swollen from the attention. You were never ignoring this man again. Your body jerked when you felt an unknown feeling at your entrance. That wasn’t daddy.

In a swift second the object began to vibrate and your body thrashed.

“E-Erik! I can’t!” You yell at him and he just smiles. Your body arching up to the vibrator thrusting in and out of you got his dick rock hard. He was enjoying the view.

“I’m just trying to say I’m sorry baby.” He said smugly. He knew that you were putty in his hands and he loved every second of it.

“Just cum one more time for me.” And you did just that. With two more thrusts from the white toy you were a mess. Nipples protruded, tears freshly falling down your face, and pussy completely drenched. You knew that Erik loved to eat your pussy but tonight had your thoughts so slurred that you weren’t making any sense.

“Now arch that back.”

[part three]

[arclundarchivist]

[Spoilers C3E103] Can we talk about…

How some of the party and members of the fandom are just kinda… ignoring how bad things are right now, and it’s wholly Ludinus’s fault??

Like there is this focus on what comes next, and Ashton’s belief that things will somehow *just get better*, but look the fuck around at what Ludinus did when it just comes to him reaching Predathos.

Wards destroyed, resurrection fucked, transportation and communication hamstrung.

They Key is mangling the leylines to the point where not matter *what* happens magic is going to be altered in a way it wasn’t before.

And that’s not even getting into the aggressive alien army he’s now letting run roughshod across Marquet.

If the Gods die/vanish, why is there this concept that those magics will just be fine, when shit is already fucked from his manipulations?

Something *ate* half of the Turst Fields, a farming community that was a staple for all of Tal’Dorei.

Desirat is free, which for those not in the know was trapped beneath a volcano directly next to Beau’s hometown and was the source of about of the geometric activity in the region. I can’t imagine things went *well* there.

*Something* sent sea monsters racing in fear towards the shore in Nicordranas, I’ll give you three guesses.

We saw what happened to that bastion in the Grey Valley, *what the fuck do you think has happened at Bazzozan* the former seat of the Demon Lords?

The Empire of fucked five ways to Sunday.

The Horn of Orcus may be waking up the dead beneath Vasselheim.

And that’s just the shit *we know about*

Is all of that just, what, gonna go back to normal if the Gods die/go away? Fuck no! Now I’ll admit, that doesn’t mean things will go back to normal if the Gods are victorious of course, but I wild bet good money shit would be easier to handle if a vast chunk of the world wasn’t also going through a vast identity/cultural crisis.

Also shit since we’re on hypotheticals let me ask another one.

Folks talk a lot about how divine magic will be fine if the gods vanish, not really acknowledge the colossal amount of trauma and confusion that will afflict every culture as they are abandoned/lose their gods, and we don’t actually know what kind of effect that will have on clerics.

What about the arcane?

Matt never said the Arcane predates the Gods. (Not that I’m aware of anyway.)

In fact if anything Downfall hammered home that the arcane is a creation of Tengar. They leave or die, what happens to it?

Also, shit think about this, wouldn’t the Gods want all the power they could to possibly survive Predathos? Now the Arc Heart, the gifter, not the creator, it seems, claims to be fine with being finite.

You wanna know who isn’t?

The Spider Queen, who if how things were presented in Downfall are true, claims to have given arcane magic to the Arc Heart and regrets it.

Do you think *she* wouldn’t snatch that back out of spite to give her even a bit of a chance to survive? She’s the *most* Betrayer, Betrayer.

I just can’t grasp Ashton’s mindset at all, or those that seem to be agreeing with him and I’m just staring at all the shit that has already gone wrong and wondering how shit doesn’t just get infinitely worse if such a colossal and drastic change takes place.

[da1e3e]

˗ˏˋ𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 ´ˎ˗

| ⋆ Sypnosis: As you were one of Enhypens main female back up dancers for “Bite me”, you were always Ni-ki’s partner. But being his partner wasn’t always easy… being as you knew he hated your guts… or so you thought..

| ⋆ Pairing: Idol!Ni-ki x Fem!reader

| ⋆ Genre(s) : Enemies 2 Lovers, angst, fluff

| ⋆ word count | 3.3k

ⓘ Warning ⓘ - Not proof read, Mild make!out session

⋆ Out of breath, you fan your shirt releasing the hot air out. “Okay team, we got it down- just a few more times and we can leave” Jungwon announces with a panting smile. You smiled at the thought of dancing a couple more times, being as you loved dancing. Everyday you would eat,sleep, and breathe dance. But unfortunetely… your smile fades when you get back in your spot with Ni-ki. You couldn’t even begin to start with the way this man didn’t like you as his partner. He never spoke to you like the other members did, and he even went as far as to bully you sometimes. But of course, you don’t ever go for that shit.

As the music began to play, you got into your mood. Feeling the music and lyrics sway around in your head, your hips followed them prefusely. At this point in time, you didn’t acknowledge Ni-ki… until he grabbed your arm, snapping you out. “y/n- what are you doing?” the male growls, locking eyes with you. You did everything right- you didn’t see what the problem was… but if he wanted to start problems “I’m dancing- what do you mean what am I doing... the fuck” you furrow your brows at the male, snatching your arm back. Scoffing, He approaches you slowly, begining to tower over you. He looked down at you with the most deapan look on his face, almost as if he was ready to swing at any moment. “Who do the fuck do you think your talking too? hmm?” the male snarls back, gritting his teeth. Before you could even begin to answer that question, Jay comes from behind Ni-ki, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him away from you. As Heeseung did the same to you, you both didn’t unlock eyes, until one of you bent the corner. You didn’t know what his problem was- every time ya’ll practiced he had some shit to say… you wondered if he just wanted to assert his dominance or whatever- which was fine, but one thing he should know is… you we’re not a push over…

As Heeseung made you sit down at the island, he got you some juice from the fridge. He knew you we’re upset, so he didn’t want to do anything but be supportive. He knew just how fast Ni-ki could get angry, so he understood. “Here y/n, drink this love.” He speaks softly, passing you a glass of apple juice. “Thank you.” You coo, sighing as you took a sip of it. Once you set the cup down, you pause, and look at Sunoo. “Sunoo? .. Am I a bad partner?” You question, feeling like you were in the wrong. I mean it would make sense if you were— because Ni-ki only ever got mad at you first… “pfft- no. Ni-ki just doesn’t…” he paused before sighing. “Ni-ki just doesn’t like what he doesn’t trust, if you get what i’m saying.” He admits, looking at you with assertive eyes. He then sighs, looking over to your glass as well “And it doesn’t help that your fighting back with him either.” I mean that makes sense, but your just not someone who would take back lash for something you didn’t do wrong. But at the same time, you knew it would’ve been better to keep your mouth shut and just apologize. Maybe that’s why he hated you so much… “But I mean, I wouldn’t let Ni-ki scold me either so I understand.” he chuckles, rubbing small circles on your back. He gave you a warm smile assuring that everything was okay.

After that, Jungwon called it day so that everyone could calm down. You felt as if it were your fault, so vowed to give everyone an apology in the morning. Right now, all you could do was take a nice shower and get some rest for tomorrow’s dance practice.

As the next day rolled over, you felt much better after sleeping. With a skip in steps, you make your way inside the dance practice room, meeting with all the members and other back up dancers. “Ah!- y/n, good morning.” Jungwon chimed, making his way over to you. You smiled, waving back. Now was the time to make amends. “Can I speak to you for a second Won?” You spoke, as the male came before you. He nodded, pulling you to the side. “What’s going on?” he inquires, starting to looked concerned. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday… I didn’t mean for practice to end so—” As the male smiled, he interupted your sentence, giving you a slight hug. You melt in his vanilla scented arms, sighing with a smile. He then retracts, his arms still holding onto yours. “It’s okay y/n, I know how much of a hot head Ni-ki can be… so I decided to let you both cool off. It’s really nothing.” He finishes, letting your arms go. You nod, saying nothing else. Everyone else was making it seem like Ni-ki was the one that was the one with a temper, but you knew it wasn’t just him… it was you too.

As everyone got in their places, setting up, you went to yours- walking up to a irritated Ni-ki. You sigh, woosah-ing yourself before finally being the first and speaking to him. “Hey Ni-ki… I just wanted to say that I was—” You start, but couldn’t finish- as the male cut you off. “If you apologizing I don’t want to hear it.” He growls, shoo-ing you off. Your head bucks back, as shock comes over you. You were about to open mouth- when you realized you were supposed to be the bigger person today. For once you were actually trying to take the fault- and he didn’t even give a flying shit. Well, if it was gonna be like that- fine. You didn’t care either. You shake it off, knowing at least you tried.

As the music began, you tap in the zone. This time, you wanted everything to be perfected… just so Ni-ki wouldn’t say anything. With every move you did, you made sure you touched him without attitude even when you wanted to, as well as trying not to glare at him. As he placed his hand on your hip, swinging you around- he grips your hip with an almost paining force, making you almost wince. But you pulled through, completing the full dip. His hands were so so soft looking, yet so powerful- it was scaring you lowkey…

Once that part of the practice was over, Won gave you guys a break. “Okay everyone take 10. you guys did really good! Great job y/n.” He looks over to you, as everyone did a small clap. You bowed towards the male, giving him heart hands and thanking him, along with everyone else. As soon as Won dismissed you, Ni-ki instantly let go if you, almost shoving you. He left off as if he was in… a hurry? You watched as the male basically stomped off, not saying a word. Damn, he didn’t like you that much?? What exactly did you do that was so bad… you just didn’t understand… and now… you needed answers. There was just absolutely no way you were gonna keep dancing with him if he had a problem almost everday.

Following the male, you shadow him hoping he wouldn’t notice. As he walked around the building, you notice his pattern behavior become a little wonky… it was like he was turning corners just because. Did he know you where following him? I mean if he did, Ni-ki defininetly would’ve said something by now. right? Eventually he enters a room, and before you followed him in, you peeked around the corner making sure it was clear. You see the male sitting down at couch, man spreading and leaning his head back begining to relax. You flip back embarrassed, feeling your cheeks heat up. The way he- and then- why- oh my goodness. For once in this life, he had an expression other than angerThis was definitely a bad idea. You begin to walk away, covering your freshly pinked face. Those answers were just gonna have to wait.

Just as you begin to walk away- you feel hands grab you from behind, pulling you. You try to scream, but nothing but air comes out. You panic, begining to struggle within their grasp. You kick and sway your arms, but nothing worked. Before you know it, you were inside the room Ni-ki was in, except this time he wasn’t on the couch and you heard the door close and lock behind you. The only thing on your mind right now was… what the fuck is happening?

With one swift motion, you were pinned to the back of the door. Ni-ki’s fearsome eyes locked on you, as yours also locked on him. From the way his lip was balled, you could tell he was already mad. “Were you following me?” the male inquired, his low voice sending shivers down his spine. Usually you’d buck back by now, but this time… you felt like if you did that would be the end of you. You both we’re alone, you we’re miles from the dance practice room, and the building was practically empty 24/7… everything needed for a murder to happen. To keep safe- you lie through your teeth. “n-no.. i got lost looking for the bathroom-” You look to the floor shamefully, fidgeting with your fingers- hoping he would take the lie. He scoffs, backing away. He then goes back to the sofa he was once spread out on, sitting back in the same spot. Before you began to leave, you stood their for a second. You think hard on the situation… wondering why he didn’t do anything to you while he had the chance. I mean it’s not like you were asking to get beat up or anything— but then you think, maybe he’s not even like that foreal. He may be agressive but he doesn’t seem like the type to actually fight women. For some reason, he started to intrigue you now. Now… you wanted more answers then before.

“Ni-ki. I have a question.” You blurt out, still standing in the place he left you. You grew back into your confidence, now knowing he wouldn’t be foul enough to fight or murder you. “I don’t care, leave.” the male’s low tone echoes through the large room. You become silent, wondering if you leave or not… but no. you didn’t back down to no one. “Why do you hate me so much? I mean all I do is dance with you… and you treat me like I’m Korea’s most wanted criminal…” You finally let out, letting your hands fall to your sides. You were no longer afraid, but now irritated because you so desperately wanted to solve this problem. As you lock your eyes on the male for answers, he sits up- placing both hands on his lap. A grin appears on his face, sending a second set of chills up your spine. You could the from the way the grin came slowly on his face, it was devious. “Your so annoying…” he sighs, pausing for a brief moment- then standing up. 

“But if you really want to know…” He began to make his way towards you, stopping his sentence once more. Your heart starts racing, making your nape pulsate. As he got closer, you backed more into the door than you already were, and before you knew it… he was hovering over you. You clenched your fist, ready to punch him whenever you needed to. You both had locked eyes, making your soul sink into the ground. What was he gonna do next?? Help?

His hand then grips your chin, lifting it up to face him. Your mind is telling you to swing at him, and launch a full blow to his face… but you don’t. You couldn’t. It was like he had you hypnotized.. which was even more alarming. Leaning in, you could feel his moist breathe faning your ear. Your lips began to tremble from the rush of anxiety, coming from how close the male was. Ignoring it all, he finally whispered in to your ear… “I hate you because… your always teasing me with those alluring hips of yours…”. Your eyes grow wide in shock, as he brushed his lip with his thumb, backing away. Your body became hot, as those words replayed in your head, over and over again in your head. What.the.fuck.was.that.- you think, going crazy in your head. You stood there frozen, trying to comprehend everything that just happened. What did he mean… “teasing me with those alluring hips”? …. A timer on his watch then goes off, signaling that the 10 minutes you guys had for a break was over. “Now move so we can go back…” his now cold tone demands, begining to open the door. You look at him, moving to the side, and with that he was gone. You were still shook- but you knew you had to go back.

For the rest of practice, you tried not to think about what the male said, but it was truly hard. I mean, he went back to his old aggressive ways as if it never happened… so you wondered even more what his statement meant. You were so confused, but what was worse was… now you felt a little flustered everytime he would put just one finger on you. There was absolutely no fucking way…

Once practice was over, you gather your stuff- getting ready to head home. Before you left though, Heeseung stops you right in your tracks with his radient sunshine energy. “Hey! good job out there queen, you nailed it.” He cheers, giving your shoulder a little tap. “Thank you Heeseung, it means alot.” You smile back, rubbing your arm. Hee was the best, always encouraging you. “So, I was wondering…” he dragged with a sweet smile, making a brief pause before starting again— but only this time he was interupted by Ni-ki’s attitude. “Heeseung if you don’t mind, i’m trying to go home.” He spoke coldy, the most irritated expression on his face. It was way worse than earlier…

Heeseung then sighs, looking down, then back at you. “I'll see you later then y/n.” his smile faints a bit. You felt bad that Heeseung had to deal with Ni-ki, but you knew that it wouldn’t phase him. They were brothers after all. But anywho, it was really none of your concern. You pack the rest of your stuff up, and headed home.

After that, the next few weeks began to become so busy. It was finally time to start recording for the music Video. Everything was going smooth, you had no injuries, and your dancing spirit was still intact. You hadn’t forgotten about the whole thing with Ni-ki… but you had no choice but to move past it. On the bright side though, You and Heeseung started hanging out on a regular. He became best friend material for you, making you smile and giving you encouragement every time you needed it. However, it seemed your happiness was the cost of Ni-ki’s… at least that’s what it felt like. He never smiled, he never spoke, his appearance even began to become… darker. Word around HYBE was that him and Heeseung had a huge fight one night, and they haven’t spoke ever since. You knew Ni-ki hated you… and at first you hated him too- maybe to the point you would’ve fought him foreal… but seeing his drastic change made you feel nothing but horrible… especially since he was your partner.

Before it was time to film, everyone was getting ready including yourself. You had on a nice slim red dress, with a red scarf covering your face, and a slicked back bun to top it off. It was truly a dream for you to be there and to be able to dress like this. You noticed how everyone was laughing and talking- having the set full of excitement, when you remembered Ni-ki. You knew it wasn’t in your favor to check on him… but you knew you had to.

After finding the dressing room he was in, you crossed your fingers- openening the door slowly. To your suprise, you see him sitting in front of his vanity mirror with his head down, and his arms laid limp by his sides. Your heart drops. You instantly think the worse, rushing over to him, shaking him to open his eyes. You snatch the scarf from your mouth, begin to breath heavily. “oh my god- Ni-ki!!!” you scream, as the male eyes shot open, jumping back from your sudden actions. “Yo! y/n- what the fuck!” he snaps, rising out of his chair. You back up, watching as his brows furrowed. You’ve never been so relieved to see those brows sitting in an upright position like that. “Oh my- thank you jesus—” you breath a sigh of relief, grabbing your heart. Before you could respond, Ni-ki grabs your arm, yanking you to him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! coming in here interupting my meditation—” As he scolded you, you yanked your arm back, getting mad as well. “Well i’m sorry if I fucking care enough about you to come check on you to make sure your alive!” the male then scoffs, throwing his hands in the air “Why the fuck would I not be alive y/n—” You interupt him, tears forming in your eyes. It was time to start expressing how you felt… how you’ve cared about Ni-ki for so long. “Because you’ve changed Ni-ki! When i seen how… I don’t fucking know- depressed you’ve gotten I got scared okay! people lose people to depression everyday- and I may not like you- but at the end of the day I still care asswhole!” You shout, as tears began to fall down your cheeks. You start to uncontrollably cry. You felt so stupid for being so vulnerable in front of him, but it had to come out. As he looked at your broken figure, he grits his teeth, snatching your arm back pulling you closer to him. He watched as your facial expression changed to a shocked one, looking at you one more time before…

He planted his lips right on yours, taking in your tongue in his mouth like he was waiting forever to do so. You want to resist- but before you can it was already to late. You had melted in his touch, not wanting to pull away. As you leaned back, Ni-ki followed you, until eventually you were bent over a dresser. Not pulling away, Ni-ki places you on the dresser, begining to make the kiss more devious. It was like he was starving for you… and now that he had you- he was not letting go. “Your so… annoying..you know that?” He mumbled in between kisses. “If being annoying means I care… then I’ll be annoying as fuck…” You mumbled back, wrapping your arms around him. You didn’t ever want to let go…ever.

After that, eventually you both became unstuck to each other, as you did have a music video to film. After that, you and Ni-ki talked about everything, and even decided to be a couple. From start to present. Apparently, Him and Heeseung fought because Ni-ki demanded that Heeseung stay away from you, but Heeseung didn’t even see you like that… which made him very offended, thus why they only took a small break from each other. As to which, It made total sense. Ni-ki had always liked you… he just didn’t appreciate the fact that you were such a show off in dancing. He didn’t like the way everyone else was able to see those ‘alluring’ hips of yours… which made him go rogue. Everything was just so misunderstood foreal… but that didn’t even matter to you in the long run. What mattered was that, even when you knew you didn’t like him, you still believed that you could someday understand him… and who knew that, that day would be the day you decided to be understanding.

Now you both were a happy couple, and even though he was still mean, you always bucked back, as you’ve always did.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 9

MASTAPOST

Byleth trembled as the Guard gathered in the barracks later that night. He had been found floating belly up near the top floor after having sounded the alarm.

It wasn’t his fault! T-there was a s-s-SIREN. Right there! In front of him! It looked thin and waspish and starving, and he was sure it was gonna maul him to death right then and there. Did you see the teeth on that thing?! Byleth shuddered. His hand went to cover his gills. Imagine being chomped on the neck by that stuff. The stuff of nightmares.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he wasn’t the only one terrified. Well, that was a little misleading. Byleth stood at attention in line with his fellow guardspeople, awaiting dismissal. The debrief was long and agonising, hearing details about how the siren lurked around unnoticed for hours, but most of his comrades were just irritated, or even disappointed. He glanced to the right, where Ableth was nursing his wounds from trying to tackle the little demon, and he wasn’t even fazed! Like, holy shit. If the siren got that close to him, he’d probably shit his pants right on the spot!

No, the one who was terrified was apparently the local administrator, currently having a ‘conversation’ (more like a shouting match) with their commanding officer out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“It was a child! A baby! Do you even begin, begin to comprehend how bad this makes you, and by extension, me, look?! King Arthur will have our heads! Our heads!”

Their commander audibly sighed (which was a big yikes, considering how patient the guy was even on a bad day). “I understand your concerns, administrator, but this guard have done the best they can. The siren child was armed with weaponry the likes of which we have never seen before, and the raids have been tireless besides.”

“Blah blah blah blah do you even hear yourself? Maybe if you had trained these grunts better they wouldn’t have been out-matched by a toddler!” Byleth took offence to that. He’d like to see the office suit face up against that monster!

“Only one man was hurt, and he’ll be disciplined for his recklessness. The child did not set out to attack anyone, he was only stealing supplies, and fled when resistance appeared. It’s the same story as ever.”

“It sounds like your guards are as incompetent as ever!”

“The sirens have no way to access such advance weaponry. Do you understand what this means? If we don’t speak up, what will we do when a proper war band appears, each bearing these weapons? How many towns will they have razed before your dead spirit will be ready to admit the consequences of this cowardice?”

The administrator sputtered. The ridiculous loss of composure, and the raucous laughter of Byleth’s friends helped sooth the abject terror of a hundred more sirens appearing out of the ravines. By Poseidon spare them!

Line breakening~~

With the adrenaline running low, Damian ran on fumes as he twisted through the ravine, tracing back his fin-strokes to the cave where he’d left Phantom. Against all odds, he found it, and almost cried in relief. Throwing his newly acquired loot to the floor, Damian let his body drop like a cold iron, and passed out.

Danny felt pain. Like, all over. Everything hurt. Normally he’d be able to heal any injuries he got while siren fighting, and what a blessing that was. He wasn’t sure just how dense his parents could be, but he didn’t want to test it. The aching agony all over his body reminded him just how little he ate that morning, and man was he regretting it. Stupid Skulker and his stupid hunting dog dolphins. His stupid hunting doglphins. And stupid Damian for making him come close.

Well, that was a little harsh. He couldn’t blame the kid for believing the dolphin propaganda. They had a tight grip on the world, man.

The smell of blood prickled his nose. Danny shot up, fully awake. “Damian where ar-”

There the kid was, collapsed against the rocky floor of their makeshift hideout. Beside him, bags and satchels spilled out with food, bandages and weapons?! Guilt rocked up Danny’s body. Did Damian go hunting for food while he was unconscious? The kid’s tiny body was littered in bruises, and raw patches where the scales barely healed over. His sail was bent at an awkward angle too. Where the hell did he go?! Where did he get weapons?

No wait. Danny came closer and sniffed the loot closely. You had to be kidding him. There were Atlanteans nearby?! Part of Danny very much doubted the idea that the Atlanteans, probably the number 2 siren haters in the world aside from his parents, would just hand Damian a gift basket if he asked them to. So he stole from them?

Jazz would call this catasrophising, but she wasn’t around, so Danny felt pretty justified in panicking a little. Like, what was he thinking?! The Atlanteans would’ve skewered him without a second thought.

A small whimper caught his attention. Danny’s mental disaster train screeched to a halt. Damian was shivering, violently. Oh right. It was like, midnight or something in a deep ocean ravine. The kid was probably freezing. And if he wasn’t healing, that meant he was low on nutrients, and even lower on body heat.

Right, needed to care for the kid. Crap. He was planning on staying near the surface for most of the trip. A blanket was big and cumbersome and he didn’t have much storage space on him.

But goddammit if he let the kid freeze to death on his behalf. Resigning himself to a fate of being bitten once Damian woke up, Danny picked up the tiny, fragile guppy, and tucked him underneath his fins. As Danny began to eat his fill, he wondered just what kind of person he was going to be swimming across two oceans with, to be brave enough to go out singularly into the unknown…

Damian awoke to the sound of chewing, and gentle purring. He missed Alfred the cat. Poor kitty. He probably missed Damian too. It’s ok, Damian can make it up to him. He’ll give the little kitty all the pets and grooming he could ask for.

A weight settled on his hair, and- oh… oh that was so good. He didn’t know Alfred could pet him too. Maybe this was one of the good endings to his life, one where he’d spend life as a kitten, without a care in the world. That would be so nice, just being there and safe and warm. The hand stroked and straightened his hair, and it snaked down to where his ears were and scratched them. It was pure heaven. Damian thought that such a place would be forever closed off to him, but maybe the world had decided to be kind…?

“Woah, you’re actually lowkey super adorable like this.” Alfred said. Why did Alfred the cat sound like a pasty-faced teenage boy? He’d always imagined him like the real Alfred: prim, proper, distinguished.

“You sound strange, Alfred.” Damian mumbled. The hand scratched his ear again, and Damian’s purring intensified. “Please return to your proper voice at once.”

“Dude, I have no idea who that is.”

Nonsense. Damian had named his cat after a very distinguished man, and let him know it every time he saw him. How could he not know his own name?

“That is preposterous. You are Alfred the cat, my esteemed pet and loyal member of the family.”

Aflred the cat snorted. He snorted. “Oh my god that is so gold. I’m going to hold this over you literally until you grow old and wrinkly.”

Damian felt… offended. That was so mean! Why would Alfred the cat say such a thing, to him, Damian, his owner and friend! Damian always made sure to treat his pets with the care and respect they deserved, and this is what he got!?

“B-bad kitty. You will be disciplined.”

And Alfred the cat just kept laughing! Alright, the air of relaxation evaporated as Damian started getting annoyed. He opened his eyes, ready to teach his wayward cat some manners when-

The last 24 hours caught up again. Before him was not Alfred the cat, as he had thought, but Phantom completely healthy again, lying on his back, laughing his heart out. Almost literally, too. Damian watched as Phantom’s still beating heart, and water-filled lungs bounced and jiggled inside his chest cavity with each half-choked laugh. It was mesmerizing, and kind of nauseating.

Suddenly Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Phantom!” He cried out, voice almost cracking. Phantom tackled him into a hug, and Damian only put up a token resistance. It just felt so… right. “You are… You have recovered from your injuries.”

“It’s Danny, actually.” Phantom, er- Danny, said, voice soft, quiet. Almost vulnerable… “Danny Phantom. Most people just know the Phantom part.”

Danny… Daniel…. “I was foolish. I should not have ignored your warnings. Forgive me, Daniel.”

“Hey now, don’t you start picking up the Fruitloop’s habits. It’s never Daniel. Just Danny. Daniel’s a randomass human name, but Danny’s mine.”

“It does not change the fact that it sounds like a nickname. I… I do not do nicknames.” Damian said. Normally he paraded this fact as a matter of pride. With Richard, Drake, even Kent. Now, with Daniel encompassing his body in warmth, he felt strangely small.

“And I don’t do self-deprecation. So what about a deal? I’ll forgive you, if you promise to call me Danny.” The older boy said, voice leaving no room for argument. And yet, the playful tone underneath it gave Damian something akin to comfort. The way Richard did in the early days, despite Damian’s barbs and open threats.

“Very well, D-Danny.” Damian forced out. The name felt alien on his tongue. “This is a privilege few can boast to.”

Daniel- no, Danny, chuckled again. “You sound like a kid saying a swear for the first time and they’re really scared of being caught.”

“I am not a child.” He was never allowed to be.

“You are crazy though. And reckless. And that’s coming from me!”

Ah, so Danny figured it out. “You noticed the smell of Atlantean.”

“What were you thinking? They hate sirens. With a capital H.”

“I will not apologise for my actions in there. You needed food. It was my own poor judgement that got you injured, so it was my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “I’m really trying to channel that ‘angry because I’m worried about you’ energy that my sister does, but you’re making it really difficult. Now I just feel bad.”

“They posed no threat to me. It was an easy operation.” Damian said. Danny sighed again.

“What am I gonna do with you? Outside of taking you home, that is.”

“For one, you could unhand me.” Damian’s words were hollow, even to him.

“And let you freeze to death? No chance. Now come on. The sun’s about to rise, and you need your breakfast.”

“Have you eaten enough yourself?” It would not do to let this foolish teenager hurt himself for Damian’s sake again.

“Dude, I’m like triple your size and age right now. It’s my job to be worrying over you.” Damian harrumphed.

It felt nice to be cared for again.

LINE BREAK BABY

Bruce hung up the phone. Dick was about ready to riot, and the others were on a wire-thin line too. It was one of the most exhausting calls he’d done in his life, but it had to be done. He wasn’t going to leave his family in the dark, not after Jason.

It wasn’t just he who had potentially lost a son, however. In his hours of maddened searching, he’d glossed over the fact that the son of local siren hunters, the Drs Fenton, had also gone missing. Tim was already on the case, sifting through thousands of hours of CCTV footage to analyse the kid’s behaviour of the course of the last six weeks. Two unrelated boys going missing at the same time. And one boy had been displaying suspicious behaviour for months before hand. Something was up.

And so Bruce straightened his tie. He refused to wear any form of black. Not now, not yet, while there was still hope to be clung to. His trip to Fentonworks was in part to share condolences, and in part to investigate. Wherever Damian was, the clues lay somewhere surrounding Daniel Fenton.

He just hoped Damian had to be ok. If this hope died, Bruce felt like he might die with it.

[malum-forev]

Congrats on 1k followers 💓 I am so happy for you!

And can I please request the “stranded” prompt from your bingo game?

Just imagine Bucky and reader not really liking each other and being stranded somewhere after a mission. The tension, the intrigue, the fluff! Ugh I’m excited ❤️‍🔥

Much love, Meg (espinosaurusrexex) ✨

Hiii thank you thank youuu!! ❤️‍🔥 Here's the "stranded" prompt! I hope you like it <33

*

Your legs felt heavy as you walked deeper into the forest. The “simple” mission Sam sent you on had taken you from morning to afternoon and now, into the night. You found yourself trying to ignore the ache enveloping your body as you dragged your exhausted body through the damp ground. Whoever said nature gives you peace and makes you feel grounded is an idiot. 

Stupid Sam, with his stupid mission, and his “You’ll be in and out in an hour, two tops.” You thought. 

On paper, it looked easy. You were supposed to go to a warehouse that was used as a training camp during the war somewhere in Vermont. There had been a couple of reports stating weird things were happening, there was talk of more super serum and information taken by Hydra being hidden there. But someone must have been tipped off because when you got there, everything was gone. Well, almost everything. Before you got to the warehouse, whoever was getting rid of the evidence clearly wanted to get rid of you too. Blinding gas tanks were detonated and they’d wired bombs to the landing strip, the quinjet completely destroyed. 

You always had a Plan B, of course. A safehouse some miles into the forest that bordered the area near Montreal. 

Your shoulders dropped as you saw caught sight of the small cabin. The sigh you let out was the first thing you’d heard in an hour, apart from the sound of two pairs of boots crunching down on the dropping leaves.

Bucky turned to look at you but you kept your gaze forward. You were in absolutely no mood to talk. It was his fault you were here but you knew he would never admit it. 

You walked up the old wooden stairs and stopped at the door.

“Are you waiting for the door to magically open?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest.

Your hand covered your eyes. “You cannot be serious. Sam gave you the key for the safehouse in case we needed it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bucky shrugged. “And I put it in my backpack.”

“And where’s your backpack?” You asked, annoyed. 

Bucky looked over both his shoulders and spun around once. “Does it fucking look like I have my backpack?”

“You lost the only thing you were supposed to keep track of?” You groaned. 

“Well I’m sorry, I was trying to not get killed by the fucking bombs!” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

You put your hand up, conveying a clear stop talking or I’ll kill you message, and knelt down. You took a couple of paper clips from the inside of your vest and straightened them to try and pick the lock. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier and more effective to carry a lockpick set?” Bucky asked. 

You stopped working on the lock to take a deep breath. We do not kill innocent people. You repeated in your head. Even if they’re not so innocent and they’re assholes.

You were able to get the door open after a few minutes. You took in your surroundings as you came in and turned on the lights. There was a landline phone at one end of the small cabin and a couple of medical aid kits, a couch on the other side of the four walls and a small table with two chairs next to it, but that was about it. You looked out the window and into the night, there wasn’t anything to be seen. Miles upon miles of trees, a good hour and a half away from any sort of civilization. You were truly stranded. 

“This place looks like shit.” Bucky said. 

Five words, that’s all it took to ignite the fire that had been lightly burning in your being. 

“Really? Because I think this place is incredibly charming.” You said, your words dripped sarcasm. “This was actually my idea of a perfect Friday night! Go on a mission, have you mess everything up by not checking if the place was decked out in bombs and having to walk almost two hours to a safehouse.”

“How is this my fault! You were the one who wanted to land the jet closer to the warehouse.” Bucky’s tone rose, his chest heaved. 

“Oh don’t you try and flip this situation around.” You warned. “Because the problem starts and ends with you being selfish! And because of your idiotic need for individualistic recognition and praise, we're stranded!”

Bucky was fully ready to let his wrath out on you but just as he was about to tell you why you were the problem, he saw a stain on your light grey vest. He furrowed his eyebrows at the large dark stain. 

“What happened to you?” He asked, getting closer and lightly tracing over the spot.

A painful shriek slipped out of you as you felt the pressure, Bucky stepped back. 

You grabbed one of the kits and dropped your body on one of the chairs. With a groan and a wince, you took your vest off and pulled your shirt up, tucking it under the wire of your bra. 

You teared the packaging for the antiseptic wipe and tried to clean the area. The large gash on the skin covering your ribs was still leaking blood. 

Bucky sat down on the chair next to you and pulled your chair closer to him, taking the wipe from your hands. “C’mon let me do it, I’ve got a better angle.”

You threw your head back and hissed as he pressed the wipe to your wound. 

“How’d you even get a cut like this?” Bucky asked, his usual frown softened a worried look taking its place.

You shrugged your shoulders. “What did you say earlier? I was trying to not get killed by the fucking bombs. Couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned upwards slightly. 

You took sight of the man in front of you. The warm light cast intricate shadows on Bucky’s face. You could see his frown lines but you also took note of the small wrinkle on each side of his lips. Smile lines. You thought of the few times you’d seen him smile. You’d seen him give out his fake smile many times at press conferences or Stark events, but Buck’s true smile- the one you knew was hard to get out of him- you had only seen once or twice in passing. There was that one time when Sam finally broke him down with a cheesy joke, Bucky’s whole face would light up and an ear-to-ear smile would reveal his pearly whites. You had noticed your breath hitching when you saw him, not that you would ever admit it. 

A smile of your own threatened to appear as you saw how his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth, concentrated on treating your wound.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?” Bucky said in a soft voice. He took the needle out of the packaging, you needed at least three stitches. “It’s making me lose my focus.”

“Sorry.” You whispered.

“S’okay.” Bucky mumbled. 

You felt your mouth open without consulting with your brain. The question on the tip of your tongue. “Tell me a joke.” 

You don’t know what came over you but you asked it. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the lack of blood. You saw Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and his jaw tense. His expressive face went through all the emotions.

“A joke?” Maybe he hadn’t heard correctly, you definitely didn’t say that. How could the woman with whom he’d spent more time arguing than actually talking ask him to tell her a joke. 

“Tell me a joke.” You repeated, it was too late to back out now. 

“What’s a prize old people can win for aging?” Bucky asked, his eyes focused on finishing up your stitches but his brain was elsewhere. 

“What?” 

“Atrophy.” His celeste eyes looked up at yours and there it was, a smile. You knew you probably looked dumbfounded but there wasn’t any other expression you could make. Now you knew why Bucky didn’t smile as much, that man could start a war if he wanted to just by flashing a quick smile. 

You let out a light laugh. “That was a really bad joke.”

“I’m out of practice, I can’t remember the last time someone asked me for a joke.” Bucky bit his bottom lip. 

“You should smile more often.” Bucky’s eyes widened at your words. 

“I-I should?” He stuttered, quickly finishing the last stitch. Taking a bandage strip and placing it over his work. 

“You have a really nice smile.” You said and watched as his cheeks turned red. 

With a cough, he stood up from the chair. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Thanks, it’s- been a long time since someone’s said that.”

“Am I the first person to tell you you have a nice smile in 70 years?” You asked. 

“Well- I – when you think about it-“ Bucky’s brain was frying, he had no idea what to do in this situation. He’d begged Sam not to put you two together in a mission for this exact reason. You were extremely irritating to him but at the same time he couldn’t help but want you. Want to be near you. You had the ability to make him angry in a matter of seconds but make his pants feel tight with just a couple of words. The devious smile playing on your lips only made him harder. 

“I’m gonna call Sam to see when he can pick us up.” Bucky gulped. 

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

[solivagantingrebel]

MW3 SPOILERS

Writing under the cut.

A letter from a dead man (to another) —

[Soap left a letter for Ghost, just in case the worst happened— and turns out, it did.]

To Simon Riley,

I guess saying I’m sorry is the best way to start things off here.

Don’t ask why I got the impulse to write this, alright? Last mission got me thinking a lot. It got me thinking about life, about you, about myself. Realising that I loved you, and you love me too, got me thinking even more. We could’ve died, Simon. Died without knowing how much we fucking loved each other too, Jesus. Talk about a sobfest.

Took a lot of courage to admit it. I saw that you struggled too, L.t. But I’m glad we did, even though it wasn’t the most romantic place to say it. While we were hiding from enemies too, for christ’s sake. But that’s what got us to say it and I don’t regret it one bit. Especially not the part afterwards.

Okay, getting sidetracked here. What I wanted to say is that I’ve always known, Simon. I’ve always known that you were mine and I am yours. I plan on making it official too, gonna take you to the nicest place and have the fanciest meal before I get down on my knees. As long as you didn’t beat me to it. Knowing you though, maybe you will.

But that’s not what we’re here for, are we?

You’re reading this now because I didn’t make it. I don’t want to think about it, about a future where I can’t see you anymore, but if I haven’t burned this and it’s in your hands, then that’s what happened. We didn’t get married either. Because I promised myself to write another letter if we had. Our line of work, gotta be prepared for the worst, you know?

I’m sorry.

Whatever happened, I’m so fucking sorry.

I’m sorry for making you feel like this again. I know you’ve lost a lot, went through a lot of horrendous shit you shouldn't have, came out of everything a Ghost for fuck’s sake, and I was really, really hoping it wouldn’t - won’t happen to us. But it did. Because you’re reading this, I know it did.

I owe you so much, Simon. I owe you a cosy little place of our own, I owe you a kiss every day you wake up and every night you close your eyes, I owe you hugs, lots of them, whenever you need it. Whenever you don’t need it too. I owe you my heart, my soul, my entire being, every single little thing that you can take. It’s yours anyway. I owe you so much. But I couldn’t even give you myself, my name, my anything now.

Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of it.

If anything, it’s probably my fault. Blame me, okay? Put everything on my name, curse me to high heavens and hell, enough to have my body rolling in my grave and all. Don’t let me rest even after my death. Anything but blaming yourself for this. You’re not fucking allowed to put this on yourself, do you understand? I’m haunting you if you do. Better watch out, Simon Riley. Especially if you want a good night’s sleep or a good cup of tea from here on out.

Jokes aside. You know I tried, right? I would’ve fought the world with my bare hands for you, pretty man. Would've wrangled death and crawled to your side at the expense of fuck everything. I’m just. Sorry, I guess. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t rip my heart out and hand it out just for you to hold.

Fuck. My eyes are tearing up. Don’t mind if there’s some dried up tears on this. I’m trying. Really am, but I don’t know what’s worse, Simon. I don't know. Imagining a world where I can’t see your bonnie face again, or imagining you alone after everything. Bloody fuck. I don't think any amount of sorries can fix this. But I’ll say it again.

I’m really fucking sorry, Simon.

I love you so much, you daft old man. I love you beyond anything I could say, write, do or express. I love you so much I would’ve done anything just to be a John Mactavish Riley and stay by your side.

But you’re reading this.

And you know I can’t.

A lifetime’s worth of sorries can’t fix this, I know. Gonna kiss and hold you extra hard the next time I see you, L.t. Sorry in advance, even though that’s probably the ‘past’ for you. I’m planning to yank that mask right off, press my lips against every square inch of that pretty boy face and tell you how much I love you until you get sick of it. Until you have to force me away, probably grumbling and asking me what’s wrong because you’re not used to it.

You’re not used to being loved, are you?

I love you so much.

I don’t know what to do with this love sometimes. Death can’t stop it either, if you’re wondering. Know that my heart was bursting with it till the end. Know that you were probably the last thought in my head. You’ll always have my love, my soul, dead or alive. What we have goes beyond life and death. You know that, I know that. Wherever I am, if there’s even ‘anything’ beyond, know that I’m missing you to hell and back, Simon Riley.

Don’t be eager to follow me. Please. I want you to live. You’ve been dead for so long, it hurts my heart to even think about you returning to how you were before me. Empty eyes, not letting anything or anyone close, a sad fucker underneath that brooding mask. Pretty too but you already know that. Don’t be a stubborn shit about this, I’m waiting for you. There’s nothing else for me to do.

I don’t know if you’ll get it too but I’ll keep the rings I bought for us next to the letter. Proof, maybe, I don’t know. I want you to have it. Keep it safe. Took a lot to get your size right, couldn’t even risk asking directly because you’d know immediately, smart fucker. Did you know you’re starting to sleep like a log these days? Felt like yesterday that you woke up to the sound of paper shuffling from the other room. Here you are, sleeping like a wee bairn without knowing any better. Anyway, you’re mine.

I’m yours.

Always have been, always will.

Take care, Simon.

PS: I love you.

PPS: I love you a lot. Don’t do anything stupid, I know it sounds real hypocritical of me if you’re reading this but seriously, don’t. See you soon, Simon.

PPPS: Preferably not soon-soon. Grow grey hair before you get here, see the world, do everything you want first. Jesus, I don’t even know what you’re doing right now. Don’t mope and waste away, you still have my love, you tit.

Goodbye, for now.

[cherrybomb107]

Okay guys, I actually managed to have a civil discussion with someone on Arcane twt who disagreed with me! Everybody cheer😭😂🤭

But fr tho, I admit that I did quote twt that person in bad faith. A friend of mine made a joke about how Caitlyn wouldn’t have missed(iykyk) and this person’s response rubbed me the wrong way. Think something to the effect of “violence is never okay. Shame on you for joking about this.” So, I saw his response to my friend’s tweet and decided to ask him who he thought the “true villain” of Arcane was. I had a feeling what his answer would be.

He said Silco was the main antagonist (fair enough) but then, ofc, he started talking about how, ultimately, “both sides” were at fault for all that’s happening in the show. Now I know that one’s opinions on the media they consume aren’t necessarily a 1 to 1 with their real life politics, but for the sake of the argument, I’ll ask: what’s this obsession that we, as a collective, have with making things more complicated than they should be?

A lot of times, situations really are messy and complicated. But in this instance, I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think the situation between Piltover and Zaun is complicated at all. I see an oppressor (Piltover) being responsible for the centuries long disenfranchisement of the oppressed (Zaun). Then here comes Jinx, who has been victimized by Piltover for her entire life, becoming radicalized against them, and being violent towards them.

The idea that “violence is bad; full stop” is very dangerous. Violence against an entire group being conflated with violence on an individual level is not good. For example, let’s talk about stealing for a second. Is a poor, starving person stealing from a store that upcharges on necessities “wrong”? In my opinion, no. Is a corporation stealing wages(which is actually the most common form of theft) “wrong”? Absolutely! Now, if you wanna be technical, both examples are “in the wrong”. However, let’s be real here: one of these things is a hell of a whole lot more “wrong” than the other.

But to bring it back to Arcane, why is this idea that “the situation is so complicated, there are no good sides” so popular? There absolutely are! Violence against an oppressor is not a bad thing! I, a marginalized individual, am not anywhere close to being “just as bad” as the mfers responsible for my oppression!!! Why do so many of us feel that way? That doesn’t even make any sense! Stop feeling bad for people who don’t give nary a fuck, nor a shit, nor a good goddamn about you AT BEST! And at worst? They will GLEEFULLY partake in destroying your community!!!

I know the show is ultimately centrist asf(and therein lies the problem) but still!

Anyways, I say all that to say, it’s fine to disagree with people, cause I was able to have a nice discussion with this person, despite vehemently disagreeing with them. But like, I really wanna know WHY these people think the way they do. How could the situation between Piltover and Zaun be thought of as anything but chickens coming home to roost? If you’ve been paying even the slightest little bit of attention to the world we’re living in, and everything that’s going on rn, how could you not apply those same principles to the show?

[lovelyo]

Why Eloise is My Favorite Character

First off, look at that beautiful face. Claudia is deadass pretty. But besides that, she’s the one that has visibly gone through the most character development and it was subtle as well. When I watched season 3 part 2 trailer(garbage like I predicted it’d be) watching Eloise and the maturity and concern she had for her brother, insisting Penelope to tell him, that she can’t lie to him and expect him to love her(which he’ll end up doing anyway but fuck Polin) and even given Penelope a chance to tell him. The mercy she showed Penelope despite what she’s done and the pain she caused her; the trailer made me finally come to the conclusion that she’s my favorite character.

I was iffy bout Eloise at the beginning of season 1. I know many were annoyed with her and said she was a pick me girl—I even thought, “booo, here we go, one of those annoying buffoon feminists who don’t know how good they have it.” She wasn’t annoying, but she sure was self-righteous about women’s roles in society and how they shouldn’t have to be subjected to the marriage mart and all the feminist bible thumping bs and saying this from her ivory tower.

But you know what she did? She walked down those tower steps, willingly left that ivory tower to go expand her views and learn outside of it, something that women in the ton wouldn’t do. She put herself at risk to broaden her horizon.

“You wish to follow your heart. I wish to nurture my mind.”

Eloise didn’t reject Theo’s criticism of her limited understanding and her privileged position. She took that to seek greater understanding beyond what she knows so I really don’t know how in the living shit people think she’s self-absorbed, especially after she starts interacting with Theo.

Eloise is brusque and may come off as abrasive, but she has integrity, is gracious, and is kind-hearted. She sought out LW for a selfless cause: to help Penelope and her family from ruin. She helped LW escape from the Queen.

The times Penelope has come with her crocodile tears, Eloise dropped everything to comfort her despite Pen insulting with her “pretty Bridgerton” comments(but she’s a bad friend, amirite?)

She didn’t see the lower class as beneath her but as people to learn from(but she’s blind to her privilege, right Penelope stan?)

She was one of the few who showed compassion and understanding for Marina's situation. Despite her being sheltered(that a lot of anti-Eloise fans get their rocks off in exaggerating), she knew that Marina was in a shit place and treated shamefully.

She knows there aren’t many women who share her views and thought processes, but that doesn’t stop her from having them and voicing them and hopes that women would also go against social conditioning.

“How else should I be? Married and silent?”

She kept Penelope’s secret for months. She didn’t try to destroy Penelope or get back at her. She just cut her off and moved on with her life. She took the high road in this situation, a thing that some adults don’t even do.

When she realized that her gossiping hurt Penelope, she sought her out, admitted fault, and apologized. That was incredibly brave and mature. She might be angry at Penelope, but she pushed back when Cressida was mean, even apologized to Pen on Cressida’s behalf.. She didn’t push Colin to be cruel to Penelope just because she had a fall out with her. Eloise is A LOT better than me because if I was in her shoes, Colin finding out bout Whistledown would be the least of Penelope’s problems.

Eloise is just a joy to see on screen, especially in S3 where she is literally the only voice of reason and her suffering with this LW business got me weeping(especially since we know Pen will suffer nothing from it). She better have a good conclusion by the end of the season. The show has failed in almost everything this season.

Don’t fail on Eloise.