#like. the idea that she ''missed out'' on the ''good years''

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken pt. 2 (MV)

max verstappen x reader

pt. 1 here

I could be talked into a pt. 3 if people want it

It had been a week since the Austin GP and forgetting about what happened had been impossible mostly because Max would not leave you alone.

He didn't reach out directly, but every morning this week, you had woken up to a new gift outside your door. Flowers, chocolate, coffee, pastries, clothing, etc. You had no idea how he even knew your address.

You struggled with what to do. On one hand, you had missed your best friend for a long time. You missed the inside jokes, the comfort you found in him, and supporting one another. But on the other hand, you couldn't stop thinking about how he threw it all away because he was scared of loving you. You had never been scared of loving him, even if you never said. Well maybe that was hypocritical.

Saturday morning an envelope accompanied the box outside of your door. You opened the box first, revealing a vintage RedBull racing bomber jacket that cost who knows how much. It was cute, you'd give it that. Opening the envelope you froze as you read the letter that sat next to a paddock pass for the Brazil GP.

I know you hate me and you have a good reason to but I will do anything to have you back by my side even if you refuse to look at me. Please come to Brazil, I know it's your favorite track. You can stay on Checo's side of the garage if it makes you feel better.

Love, Your Max

Brazil was your favorite track and in the past you had always travelled down early to experience the culture for a bit before the racing started.

You facetimed Carmen, hoping to talk this through with someone else.

"Hey girl, what's up?" She asked, clearly in the middle of a workout.

"Oh, I can call later if you're busy," you said and she shook her head.

"No, it's okay!"

"Max invited me to the Brazilian GP," you told her slowly and her eyes widened.

"Wow."

"I know, I don't know what to do."

Carmen was silent for a little bit, clearly thinking. "Is there any part of you that wants to make up with him?"

"Yes," you admitted quietly. "But I hate myself for even thinking that. I don't want to just forget about everything that happened and take him back with open arms."

"I don't think you necessarily have to forget what happened but maybe focus on the people you both have grown to be in these last few years. Maybe treat it like you are starting over."

"So you think I should go?"

"Selfishly yes of course," she said grinning and you couldn't help but smile back. "You don't even have to spend time with him. Just see how it feels to be around him."

After hanging up with Carmen, you texted the number Max had given you for his assistant in order to get flights and a hotel figured out.

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

You landed in Brazil on media day and didn't plan on going to the track until Saturday. Max was pulling out all the stops even when he couldn't see you as evidenced by the ridiculously nice hotel he put you in. The view was amazing and laying on the bed was a variety of your favorite snacks and drinks with a card that read "I'm so glad you're here -your Max."

The 'Your Max' thing was working even though you hated to admit it. You spent the next two days traveling around the city by yourself and then with Carmen.

Saturday rolled around and you found yourself nervous to be at the paddock despite Carmen's constant reassurances. You hadn't seen Max yet and you weren't really sure what to say when you did.

Funny enough, the first person you ran into when you made it to the RedBull garage was Christian Horner.

"Y/n!" He said surprised to see you. "It's been a while, how are you? You know my wife is obsessed with your tik tok channel."

"Ahh tell her I said thank you," you replied kindly. "I've been doing well."

"We're glad to have you back," he said and your heart swelled. "It's been a rough year for him."

"I'm not sure I can change that," you said politely and he gave you a look.

"You just being here might," he commented before leaving you to go talk with the mechanics. You wandered around the garage, catching up with a lot of people you hadn't seen in a long time.

Max spotted you as he was coming out of his drivers' room and his heart stopped. Of course he knew you were in Brazil, but he still wasn't 100% sure you'd show up. He didn't think he should approach you so he just lingered by watching you. You felt him watching you and looked over at him, trying to control your breathing and gave him a small smile.

He smiled back before being called off to get ready for the sprint. Leaning against the back wall you pulled your headphones and settled in to watch. Max was doing pretty good, battling with Charles for most of the race. Your face appeared on the broadcast and you smiled to the camera, giving it a small wave.

After the race you checked your phone to see that you'd been tagged in countless tweets.

@.username12312: Was that y/n y/l/n in the RedBull garage? I thought her and Max had a falling out???

reply to @.usernam12312 @.user345: Yeah they haven't been friends for a long time. It had something to do with Kelly

reply to @.user345 @.username12312: oh yeah, you're right! I always liked y/n better anyways

You were amused reading the speculation and decided to stir the pot further. While Max was doing interviews you found Checo in the garage and asked him to take a picture with you. The confused man agreed and you quickly posted it to your Instagram story with the caption: My favorite RedBull driver, good luck tomorrow!

Carmen and Lily both slid up with laughing emojis and you walked back to Max's side, trying to avoid the rain. It was really coming down now and you weren't sure if they would even be able to go out on the track. You found Max a little while later sitting against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of him. You sunk down next to him, holding your knees into your chest.

"Think you'll be able to go out there today?" You asked casually and he looked over at you, clearly excited to hear you speaking to him.

"I would say probably not," he replied. "Maybe tomorrow morning."

"How much longer until we know?"

"Another half hour would be my guess," he said. "I can call for someone to take you back if you want to leave now?"

"No, I'll wait," you said looking down at your phone. You sat in silence for a while and the rain was starting to make you very sleepy. Losing the battle with yourself, you rested your head on Max's shoulder and he stiffened.

Max smiled to himself as you dozed off and the two of you caught the attention of the cameras, the photo soon to be splashed everywhere online. Quali was called off and Max nudged you awake, reaching out to help you up.

"Ride with me back?" He asked hopeful and you nodded. You ran into George and Carmen on the way out and she gave you a knowing look to which you rolled your eyes at.

"You guys should come out to dinner with us," George said. "We're meeting up with Alex and Lily too."

You hesitated, not wanting to miss out but at the same time your social battery was dead. You could only handle so much social interaction before you were craving your warm bed to snuggle into. You started to give in and agree but Max cut you off.

"I think y/n is done being around people for the day so I'm going to take her back."

You looked at him surprised and the realization that he still knew you so well just added more fire to the internal turmoil you were facing. Bidding them goodbye, you followed Max out of the paddock and into the car he had rented for the weekend. The car ride was silent as well as the elevator ride up to your floor.

Max followed close behind you as you made your way to your room and it was starting to irritate you.

"You don't need to walk me to my room Max," you said and he looked at your sheepishly.

"I'm in the one right next to you."

"Are you fucking serious?" You asked frustrated. "I need space Max!"

"I just want you to be safe," he defended and you rolled your eyes.

"From what?" You exclaimed. "Oh yeah, your girlfriend I mean ex-girlfriend is from here. Think she's sending people after me?"

"I don't think that's funny," he said, eyes darkening. "Sue me for wanting you close to me. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"You are the worst," you bit out before shoving into your room, slamming the door.

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

Stepping out of the steaming shower and back into the bedroom you glanced worriedly out the window. You wouldn't necessarily say that you had a fear of thunderstorms but they tended to make you uneasy.

Trying to distract yourself you put on South Park, your favorite show to watch in a hotel, but it didn't work. After a couple of booms you were still on edge. Sighing you got up and left your room, hoping a small walk around the hotel would ease your mind. By the time you made it back, Max was leaning against the wall by your door, waiting for you.

"Can't sleep?" He asked and you nodded.

"The storms."

"You always were scared of them," he teased and you scoffed.

"I'm not scared of them!" Right as you said that, a streak of lighting flashed by the hallway's window followed by a loud crash of thunder. You jumped a little and Max smirked.

"Come on," he said gesturing back to his room. You hesitated and he sighed. "We both know you won't fall asleep alone to this."

Giving in, you followed him into his room. It was a carbon copy of yours and you were amused to see South Park playing on his tv. He climbed into his bed but you stopped short; the scene in front of you reminded you of so many times before. When you traveled with him back in the day you'd often find yourself in his room at night hanging out. You always fell asleep and woke up in his arms, neither of you ever saying anything about it.

Max sat up in the bed looking at you, he knew what you were thinking.

"Y/n," he said softly as he watched you wipe a tear from your eye.

"This is so hard Max," you said, voice breaking. "How am I supposed to just forget?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not even like you broke my heart that day," you said meeting his eyes. "You had chipped away at it for so long that there wasn't even anything left to break."

Max's heart dropped and he moved over closer to where you were standing, so that you were now eye level.

"I was so scared back then y/n," he said and you put your head into your hands. "So scared of failing that I did things I shouldn't have done, like pushing you away to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what?" You said, looking back at him.

"Your unconditional love," he said sadly and you tried to compose yourself, taking a deep breath.

"You acted like nothing happened, I watched you move on with your life," you accused, whispering to him.

"I did not move on, I was a mess. I couldn't eat or sleep for months and I latched on to you in whatever way I could through your videos or podcast. Every picture or video you saw of me was strictly PR."

"But you never reached out, not once in these past few years," you said, starting to grow angry with him.

"Neither did you!" He exclaimed.

"That's not fair Max," you retorted, moving away from him.

"Isn't it though? You accused me of moving on but I watched you do the same. I watched your popularity grow, watched you start to travel around the world, watched you post with other guys. You didn't need me to be happy."

"I needed my best friend!" You yelled and he flinched. "I needed you to be there to call when I got a new deal! I needed you to be there to lean on when I had self doubt! You ruined everything Max. I could never be truly happy celebrating something because in the back of my mind I was thinking about how you should have been there with me!"

Max squeezed his eyes shut, sitting down on the bed.

"I don't know how to fix this schatje," he whispered and you flinched at the term of endearment. "Everything has been so dark for so long. I am okay with you hating me forever. Because even if you just look at me, it'll be a better day than what I've had."

Sniffling, you stared into his red rimmed eyes. "I want to forget about you so badly Max but I can't."

He smiled softly at you before patting the bed.

"Please sleep here tonight, it will make me feel so much better knowing you were well rested. I'll sleep on the pull out couch," he said standing up.

"Just sleep in the bed with me," you said sighing, wiping the tears from your face before climbing into the bed. Max slid in next to you, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you and you drifted off to sleep.

The sound of his alarm woke you up at 4:30 and you groaned sleepily. Max's arms were wrapped tightly around you, his head buried in your hair as he refused to open his eyes.

"Max, you have to wake up," you said and he mumbled incoherently into you. You pried his hands off your body and stood up, stretching. He watched you lazily from the bed, wondering if this was a dream.

"I'm going to go get ready and then I'll meet you back in the hallway in 30 minutes okay?" You asked him and he nodded. Leaving his room you headed back into yours to get ready for the day. Your eyes were still a little swollen from last night but that was nothing a little makeup couldn't fix.

Pairing the new RedBull jacket with a black jeans you gathered all your stuff before texting Carmen about what had happened last night. All she responded was that we would discuss it in person and sent a winky face.

Max looked more awake standing out in the hallway and you both left for the track.

Qualifying was a mess to put it simply. Crash after crash after crash. It was spiking your anxiety to watch and you were just praying that Max would make it out unscathed. He did make it without crashing, but not without controversy.

You grew furious as you watched everyone in Q2 get to finish their laps following Lance's crash except for Max and Esteban. This made him miss out on Q3 for the first time in forever. You knew he was pissed when he got out of the car and his eyes met yours for a brief second. He talked to his engineers before grabbing your hand to drag you with him to over where he had to do interviews.

Standing behind the reporter you watched him try to contain his anger.

“If a guy goes straight into the wall, it is a straight red,” he said. “I don't understand why you need to take 30, 40 seconds for a red flag to come out...”

His voice was rising as he said it and both you and the reporter braced for the impact of whatever he was going to say next. He started to say something but then looked over at you and stopped himself, taking a deep breath before waving off the question.

“I don’t care in all honesty, it is so stupid to talk about. It’s ridiculous.”

He answered a couple more questions about the race happening later and you waited patiently. Christian came to join you and gave you a knowing look.

"I told you that being here would make things better," he said with a glint in his eyes. "I'm giving you credit for him avoiding more community service."

Things got even better after that with Max winning the Grand Prix in what you could only describe as a complete masterclass.

As the celebrations wrapped up, you and Max found yourselves alone in the quiet of the garage, both still processing the day's whirlwind. He glanced at you, a hesitant warmth in his gaze.

Max reached for your hand, gently holding it, as if afraid you'd slip away again. "I'm glad you came, I've needed you here for a long time."

"I'm still not sure where we stand Max," you said unsure of how to deal with what you were feeling.

"As long as your standing next to me, I'll be okay," he said cheekily and you smiled. You knew that your relationship had a long way to go but maybe, just maybe, it was finally starting again.

[withwritersblock]

No Caller ID

~No Caller ID by Megan Moroney~

Author's Note: requested! this is definitely my favorite song by her I think. italics are flashbacks Summary: Y/N and Jack broke up several months ago but he keeps crawling back and her friends are sick of it. Warnings: nothing too crazy Word Count: 1,405 Jack Hughes x fm!reader

It has been six months since they broke up. It wasn’t entirely mutual but neither argued the idea of ending the relationship after she brought it up. Y/N needed space, being with a professional athlete was exhausting enough. But being with Jack Hughes was a whole different level.

But after the relationship ended she realized that it wasn’t a good one. Most of the relationship, he gave her reasons to be insecure. He was constantly going out after winning games, being suspiciously close to other girls. But she was convinced she was overreacting. 

Her friends said he was her kryptonite, she always had a soft spot for him, especially after they were together for nearly two years. 

It was also exhausting because every few weeks he’d give her a call. Even after the several times her friends forced her to block him. The same night, she would always unblock his number and wait for his call. 

She wanted to see him, but she knew she shouldn’t. Her friends were constantly lecturing her and right now was no different. 

While hanging out at her apartment, she received a call from him and her friends saw it.

“He hurt you, more than once and you’re still letting him!” her friend Georgia said. Her four other friends all nod and hum in unison. Y/N rolled her eyes as she reached for her phone. “He’s awful for you, you need to delete his number,” she further expressed. 

It was past three a.m. and she was awake because Jack called her thirty minutes ago. He begged to come over to see her. She sighed as her phone flashed on to show a text from him. It read that he was standing outside of her apartment.

She took a hold of her hoodie and covered her frame, she stepped into the hall, the woodened floor was icey against her feet as she delicately stepped past her roommates room. 

He wasn’t supposed to be coming over, he was still supposed to be blocked. She walked towards the front door. Unlocking the door, she pulled it open to see Jack standing outside of the door. He had a wide grin on his lips as his gaze scanned her frame. 

He stepped inside, delicately shutting the door behind him. 

“I missed you,” he whispered as he reached towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Wrapping her arms around the center of his back, she sunk into the hug; taking in the smell of his cologne. His hand ran along her hair as he shut his eyes.

“Come on, before my roommate hears us,” she whispered as she slipped from his grasp. Crossing her arms over her chest, she started walking away from him, knowing he would follow without a hesitation. 

Stepping into her room, she delicately shut the door behind Jack. He stood in front of her, smiling. “You look so pretty,” he whispered, he shook his head. 

She couldn’t tell if he was drunk. Assuming since it was past three in the morning he was, but usually he was touchy. But he wasn’t. 

“Just come on,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his arm and guided him towards her bed. She sat down, looking up towards him. Holding out his hands, she gladly took them. 

“We should stop sneaking around,” he brought up. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she looked into his eyes. 

“Like get back together?” she asked while shaking her head slightly. He raised his hand up and rested it onto her cheek.

“Don’t you want that?” he asked. 

“I broke up with you,” she mumbled as she scooted back away from him. She leaned her head back against the headboard as she watched him sit down. 

“But you let me in,” he muttered as he reached his hand over and rested it beside her thigh. He leaned towards her, keeping a small distance.

“That doesn’t mean I want to get back together,” she said as she tilted her head to the side. His eyes scanned her features, lowering his gaze towards her lips. 

“Then why’d you let me in?” he asked as he leaned towards her. There was no sign that he was drunk. She wished he was drunk, it would be easier to say no. He leaned towards her. She didn’t move as she stared towards his lips, craving his lips on hers. 

“I don’t know,”  she let out barely above a whisper.

He was like a drug, every time she was around him she found herself intoxicated. She couldn’t breathe, she was so captivated by him.

“Can I kiss you?” he let out barely above a whispered. She nodded softly as her eyes were flickering all over his features. 

Leaning towards her, he delicately kissed her. Her entire body softened once his lips were on hers. He reached one of his hands up and delicately took a hold of her cheek. His lips were soft and comforting. She hummed against his lips as he slowly started to climb on top of her.

“I’ll block him, I promise. I swear that last night was the last time. I swear,” she expressed urgently, reaching towards her phone like a child reaching for candy. Georgia held the phone away from her.

“He was here last night?” Georgia asked, somewhat harshly. Y/N took in a sharp breath, trying to find something to defend herself with but nothing came to mind. “Y/N, girl, come on,”

“He wants to get back together,” she muttered as she avoided the gaze of every one of her friends in the room. They all let out a long dramatic groan. “I didn’t say I wanted to!” she defended. 

“What did you two do last night?” Bethany questioned as she stood up from the couch. Her eyes widened as she looked towards her suspiciously. 

“We just kissed, I promise,” she muttered as she shook her head.

“Kissed like a peck on the lips or did you two make out?” Georgia questioned as she delicately rested Y/N’s phone on the countertop.

“What’s the diff-difference?” she asked as she shyly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh my god,” every girl in the room let out at the same time. 

“You ended things because of how he treated you, remember?” Georgia let out.

He pulled his lips away from hers as he watched her slowly open her eyes. She reached her hand up and delicately took a hold of her cheek. He leaned into her hand, shutting his eyes. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips against her forehead for a second before he pulled back away from her, looking down towards her. 

“I’ve missed being this close to you,” he whispered as he brushed a piece of hair away from her face. She pressed her lips together while looking deeply into his eye. 

“I’ve missed it too,” she mumbled as she ran her thumb across his bottom lip.

“Enough to want to get back together?” he asked as he scanned her features. 

She took a deep breath, “You weren’t a good boyfriend, Jack,” she let out barely above a whisper. He tilted his head back. 

“I was a dick, I know that. Can we start over?” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against her lips for a second. 

“Jack,” she let out as she ran her fingers through his hair, “You shouldn’t even be here.”

He chuckled as he rolled away from her, he laid on his back. Holding out his arms, she stared towards him. His lips fell into a pout as she didn’t lay with him right away. “Lay with me baby,” he let out barely above a whisper. 

Hesitantly, she laid down resting her head in the crook of his neck. His hand glided up and down her body, slipping beneath her hoodie to feel her skin.

“This is starting to sound like an intervention,” Y/N let out jokingly. Her friends didn’t find it funny as she sat down beside Bethany. “He’s out of my system, I promise. Next time he calls, I’ll send it to voicemail and every time after that. I swear,” 

Bethany pulled her towards her. Y/N rested her head onto her shoulder. “Why do you keep going back to him?” Bethany asked as she ran her hand up and down her arm. 

“Because sometimes he actually makes me feel good,” she muttered.

[wonderjanga]

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

A couple of requests

"And this is our red witch?"

You were yanked out of your ordinary environment. You were yanked out of your house. And where were you teleported exactly?

Crawling out of fire was never a pleasant experience.

"Agatha!…" Fuck, you were getting angry. "Agatha!…" You could feel fireball forming in your palm.

"Hey! Is Harkness the only one who deserves your attention?"

You turned around as quickly as you could. That voice was familiar. That tone was close.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Out of the trees silhouette emerged. not even a second, a fleeting instant - you recognized her immediately.

"You've got something on your shoulder." Shoulder, really Rio? You shrugged, too close to your neck.

"Don't."

Oh, you didn't sound confident, Rio noticed. Rio smirked. Of course she did. Centuries you were apart and she still could read you like an open book.

____

"Did you miss me?"

You almost jumped. You forgot whether it was voice of your nightmares or dreams.

Well, the voice sure was as sultry as you remembered it to be. Not only that. You remembered all too well her obsession with a very specific silhouette, with open skin, with accent on her arms.

Rio knew you were looking at her. You were thinking about her.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on her. But it didn't work. Suddenly you stopped.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't allow Rio to get closer. Golden was your protective halo.

"Because of you." Rio was always straightforward. Even after all these years. "Not that easy to track you down. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the affort with the cover and protective spells. Clearly you were thinking about me, baby. Just not in a way I want it."

___

"I'm fine."

Of course, you were not. Your clothes was wet with your own blood. Shard of glass was bigger than you thought. And sharper, clearly sharper.

"I could…"

"Jen, I'm fine."

You let others move faster, you let them out of your sight. Potions were not good enough in this situation. You couldn't heal yourself, the only other option was… no, it wasn't an option.

You couldn't focus on the road. Pain was too much, tension was too much, moving was too much. Your own body wasfinally betraying you. You groaned.

"I definitely like this sound. But not in this circumstances."

Rio appeared just in time to help you keep the balance.

"I'm fine."

You were not strong enough to fight her hands on you.

"Yeah, I already heard that."

You leaned against Rio's shoulder. You didn't want to owe her anything. You were close, dangerously close.

Not now, not after everything. You were losing yourself on the road. You almost closed your eyes.

It was enough for her to barely wave a hand. Wound disappeared in an instant. You inhaled sharply and immediately pushed Rio away.

"You shouldn't have done that." Your whisper hit her harder than any trial. "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

___

This coven was the worst thing you could imagine. Lunatics, has beens, humans, teens. But the worst thing - your ex-lover. You forgot at what point fucking death was a good idea.

Of course you were flooded with memories, with emotions, with tingling in your body. Fuck. You hated it here. Road was never even supposed to exist. You were not sure what spell chose you, but sure as hell Rio influenced it.

"We need to move quicker. Do you understand the meaning of this word." Agatha's voice was annoying as ever. You praised gods for living without her disturbance for so many years. Nothing was fine, while Harkness was around.

"Thief." You muttered. "What did you say, dear?" Lilia was close. Semblance of a companion at least. You bond appeared such a long time ago. "Nothing". You caught Rio's glance. Thief would be a too generous word for Death.

___

All the walking, all the fighting, all the arguing. Those witches were everything but the coven. Still rest andfire were universally accepted. Stories of the old glory were never part of your routine. You needed a practice of protections spells, you needed to think.

The last thing you wanted was to be a part of the old memory between women who hated each other. You tried to change path, but everything was too loud, as if the road itself amplified the voices.

"You took him!"

You've never heard Agatha like this. You yourself caused many cries of agony, but this one was different.

"He was never even yours." how did Rio manage to stay calm and distant?

"He was always mine, I created him."

"You cheated. And you know you cannot cheat me."

That was true. You were cursed while trying to do exactly that, while trying to live a life of pretended normalcy.

___

Of course you knew about history between Agatha and Rio. You were jealous at first. Even of the memory of them together.

But Rio managed to calm you down. You met ages after that affair. There was no reason for you not to believe she was yours. After the fight with Agatha something changed. Rio wasn't with you anymore. On her own she was wondering the woods,for brief moments appearing during vital moments.

You knew this Rio once, not for long.

"You're letting Agatha have all the fun." You didn't have to cheer her up. But… you cared. And it was betternot to upset death itself.

"More fun for her, more bodies for me. It always worked that way."

"Even with Nicholas."

Silence was awkward and not welcomed. You sat near her.

"You were the only one who refused this deal."

"And still you stayed."

Painfully soft. Painfully obvious. Painfully full of affection.

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"It was always too much."

Of course, it was. It was Rio, all about Rio. Even now she wanted to grab you, to possess, to devour. You could practically feel the struggle in her mind. But she chose to be tender.

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[moody-alcoholic]

Bonfire Night

Summary: Ghoap x f!reader established relationship, WC: 6k. All sorts of fireworks going off tonight ;) This is purely self-indulgent, bonfire night shenanigans.

CW: +18 content MDNI. Fireworks, PTSD, mentions of bombs, mentions of injures, description of injures, hurt/comfort, sex, fingering, PiV sex, shower sex, oral (M&F receiving), threesome, overuse of the word cock, reader can’t cook, not proof read/first draft.

AN: This one really got away from me so yeah...

Resources: Help for Heroes Combat Stress

The Missing Piece - Masterlist AO3 Stay safe and enjoy <3

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” You ask sitting down on the sofa between Simon and Johnny. They look confused, you look up at Johnny who’s eyes dart to Simon. 

“Tomorrow is..?”

“Bonfire night,” you say, frowning at them. Johnny smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in the UK for bonfire night.” He says. 

“Not even as a kid?” 

“Scottish.” He says as a matter of fact, pointing at himself.

“King James was Scottish.” You tease, leaning back. 

“What do you want to do?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know, when I was a kid it was hot-dogs and jacket potatoes while watching fireworks in the garden.” 

“One year instead of burning a Guy Fawkes effigy's me and Chloe made stick figures of our exes and burned them.”  

“Then did you dance around the fire and chant curses?” Johnny teases. You kick him and he grabs your feet pulling your legs onto his thighs. 

“Well we’ll probably be able to see plenty of fireworks from the balcony.” Simon says.

“Or we can see if there are any bonfires nearby?” Johnny asks. You lean against Simon as he wraps his arm round you. 

“A nice night in sounds good, I’m not working. I don’t mind cooking.” You offer. 

“Hot-dogs and jacket potatoes?” Johnny asks raising an eyebrow. 

“With so many caramelised onions you’ll have a heart attack.” You say smiling. 

“Sounds like fun.” Johnny says stroking your leg. You hum smiling at him leaning against Simon’s chest as you turn your head to watch the TV. 

—----------—

You’re cooking for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s simple food, jacket potatoes and hot-dogs. The potato part is easy, stab them, wrap them and chuck them in the oven. For some reason though the caramelised onions are kicking your ass.

“I can help if you want?” Johnny asks from the table. You look up at him over the second pot you’ve used today. The other one is soaking in the sink with a layer of burnt onions in the bottom.

“I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.” You huff, looking back down at the onions as you put more butter in the pan. You hear Johnny chuckle as Simon comes into the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Need a hand?” He asks, you look over at him frowning. 

“I said I could do it.” You snap, he holds his hands up going down the step and over to Johnny. 

“Quick Si, she might throw a plate at you or something.” Johnny teases. Simon goes behind him wrapping his arms around his chest as Johnny tips his head. You frown at them, digging your eyes into Johnny. He just smiles, the cheeky grin he always has on his face. For some reason it irritates you and you pick up your glass of wine taking a sip.

“Why don’t you both go and watch the fireworks until I’ve finished.” You say trying to hide the irritation in your voice. You can tell from Johnny’s giggle you’re not doing well. Simon nods though patting Johnny on the shoulder before turning to head for the balcony door. 

“Good idea, c’mon Johnny.” Simon says opening the door. Johnny smiles following him out. The sky is being lit up with all different colours as fireworks explode over London. In the distance larger public displays dominate the skyline. 

Simon leads Johnny over to the outdoor sofa as he picks up one of the blankets and throws it over them both. Johnny leans against Simon his eyes fixed on the sky, Simon hums leaning back throwing his arm over Johnny’s shoulder.

There is no break in the pops and bangs across the sky, the smell of gunpowder is strong in the air, Simon can see other people watching from balcony's. Some of the explosions are louder then others sounding like they’re exploding right above them as shades of red light up the area. 

A particularly loud set of large fireworks go off just on the other side of the Thames. Simon watches them in awe.

“Did you see that Johnny?” Simon asks nudging him, Johnny’s head turns slightly but he doesn’t say anything. No chipper remark or witty comeback.

“Johnny?” Simon looks over at him his eyes wide, his body stiff, his knuckles white as he grips the blanket. 

“Soap?” Simon calls in a slightly harsher tone. Johnny’s head flicks to look at him almost instantly. 

“Fireworks are just colourful bombs ya know.” He says, Simon can see the distant look in his eyes. He straightens up picking Johnny’s hand up. 

“They call gunpowder lift powder in fireworks factories.” He continues, there’s a shakiness in his voice. Simon smiles squeezing his hand.

“Yeah? What else Johnny?” Simon encourages him, turning in so he can pull him further up his chest. 

“Well I learnt that from a guy I trained with. He used to work in a fireworks factory before joining the army.”  

“Pretty bombs huh.” Simon says squeezing his hand again looking out as more fireworks pop across the sky. 

“Yeah, not very convenient as bombs though. I mean could you imagine selling anything that powerful to civilians.” Johnny chuckles.

“Yeah, it would be chaos.” Simon replies. Fireworks explode closer to the apartment building, each one makes Johnny tense. 

“‘Member that training exercise we did once. The one where they filled the fake bombs with smoke?” Simon says pulling Johnny’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

“Yeah, I always forget how much that shite stings your eyes.” Johnny smiles looking over at Simon. 

“Remember Gaz, dropping his gas mask and having to drag him out?” 

“I remember him throwing his guts up.” Johnny chuckles, Simon smiles. Another explosion very close by. Simon watches Johnny's smile fade and his eyes widen. His grip on Simon’s hand tightens. 

“C’mon let’s go inside.” Simon says brushing his hand with his thumb. Johnny sighs.

“I’m fine.” He insists. Simon kisses his hand again.

“Give me another fact.” Simon says smiling.

“Did you know fireworks where created by accident?” Johnny says turning to look out the balcony. He scoots closer to Simon who can feel Johnny's heart pounding in his chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Simon says pulling him closer and kissing him on the top of his head. He watches as colourful explosions fill the sky.  

Smoke is swirling in the air like a thick fog. Simon hears some kids shouting, screaming as the sound of rockets shoot through the air. He cranes his head over the balcony to watch them dodging rockets they’re shooting at each other. He lets out a sigh leaning back as Johnny strokes his hand.

The door opens and you step out. 

“Hey, foods ready.” You say watching as Johnny shoots up throwing his arm round you as you take him to the kitchen. 

“Smells good lass, so you won the fight with the onions?” He says looking at all the toppings you have laid out. In the kitchen, with the cooked potatoes and hot-dogs in buns.

Johnny takes his time to complement everything you’ve made ignoring the mess you’ve created in the kitchen. You promise him you’ll clean it up later. He nudges you telling you not to bother. 

You all sit on the sofa, watching TV while you eat. It’s a Saturday night which means the TV is dominated with game shows and talent shows which Johnny and Simon spend no time giving their opinions on. 

You’re tired from all the cooking and after you finish your food you curl up on the sofa with your head in Simon’s lap while Johnny is sat on the floor between Simon's legs rubbing his belly. He must have eaten at least 4 jacket potatoes, mounted with cheese and beans. 

“That was amazing.” Johnny says reaching over for his beer. Simon chuckles his hand running down your back. It’s nice, your belly is full and you're feeling sleeping, looking out the windows to see the different colours still lighting up the sky.

“It was very lovely.” Simon says. You turn so you’re laid on your back your head resting on his thigh. He looks down smiling at you as one of his hands comes up to stroke your hair. You hum as his fingers massage your scalp.

“Thank you, I’m glad I finally won the fight with the onions.” You say. Simon chuckles looking down at you, his eyes glaze over, there’s a twinkle there though and you smile back at him. It’s nice his other hand coming up to map out your face, his thumb brushing over your lips. It makes a burn rise in your core. You did a good job and you made them happy, that makes you happy. 

“You did good.” Simon smiles looking down at you. You close your eyes humming as Simon’s hand lazily travels down your body to your waist. His thumb dips below your waistband. His hands are warm, making goosebumps rise on your soft skin.

You turn your head back to the TV while Johnny tips his head back leaning against the sofa. Simon’s free hand runs through Johnny’s hair, running his fingers up and down his mohawk. You listen to

Johnny talk about what's happening on the TV, a talent show or something. Simon’s hand runs across your stomach, up to your chest, his fingers brushing over your nipples, the feeling is jarring it makes you gasp and your head looks up at him. He smiles looking back down at you. 

His eyes still have that cheeky glint. Your breathing picks up he doesn’t stop, pinching them between his thumb and finger. You try not to squirm, you don’t want Johnny to feel left out, at least it feels like he doesn’t care for right now.

You swallow hard, your body warm and relaxed his hand working it’s way down from your breast back to your waist. Your hand stops him and you shake your head. He looks at you confused as you tip your head towards Johnny.

Simon laughs and it makes Johnny turn round, your head snaps at him your mouth hanging open your cheeks flushed red with Simon’s hand halfway in your pants. Johnny takes in the scene smiling before leaning forward and pressing his lips onto yours. 

You close your eyes letting him play with your tongue, you can taste the salt on his lips. You’re enjoying this, Simon’s hand works down into your PJ bottoms his fingers pushing through your folds to press against your clit. It makes you moan into Johnny’s mouth. He pulls away getting up onto his knees. 

“Christ, Si you desperate or something?” He says moving from between Simon’s legs to the end of the sofa. You’re not sure what he want’s to do but he looks at Simon and they do that thing where it’s like they’re mentally communicating. Simon shuffles and you sit up his hand leaving your pants you suddenly feel empty. Johnny giggles hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the sofa. 

“Johnny you were full.” You say but honestly you don’t really care, you just want to feel someone's hands on you. Johnny seems to understand gripping the waistband of your bottoms pulling them off with your underwear in on quick action. 

Now you’re definitely sure you know what he wants. You spread your legs for him, Simon turns to face you gripping the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms letting him pull your shirt off. You let them move around your body as Johnny buries his head between your thighs and Simon locks his lips onto a nipple.

All of a sudden your whole body is tingling, goosebumps rising all over your skin as your hand lands on Simon’s head. It’s like their working in sync, each lick of their tongues making you moan. 

You can’t tell which feels better and you don’t care, it all feels good. “Is this your way of saying thank you?” You ask, your breathing picking up. Simon pulls off your nipple chucking, he hums moving his mouth to your lips. His hand coming up to cup your breast. The kiss becoming sloppy as you try to focus on one thing at a time, as your breathing turns into panting. 

Johnny’s speed increases. Simon looks down at him running his hand through his mohawk. His eyes look up but his mouth doesn’t move, his shiny blue eyes, he’s moaning on you sending vibrations though your core.

“Good boy Johnny, you gonna make her feel good?” Simon says his voice low humming in his throat as he grips Johnny’s hair keeping him in place. The frantic sucking and licking you’d been enjoying stops.

Johnny nods and Simon loosens his grip on his hair and he goes back to running his tongue over your clit. It’s deep and long strokes, you don’t even realise Simon has gone back to your nipples until he nibbles on them making you gasp. 

You’re getting close your hand gripping Simon’s hair again. “Johnny.” You cry, your legs squeezing round his head. Johnny chuckles, the vibrations push you over the edge. You cry out cumming as Simon and Johnny ride you through the orgasm, there mouths not leaving you until you chuckle letting go of Simon’s hair as you try to normalise your breathing. 

“Holy crap.” You breathe as Simon and Johnny pull off of you. They look up at you smiling. “Definitely a good way to say thank you.”

“Any excuse for Johnny give you a good time.” Simon says laying back on the sofa next to you. You look over at him palming his cock bulging in his pants. You smile at him pulling your legs onto the sofa, you get on your hands and knees crawling over to Simon.

He can tell what you want as he leans back further on the sofa letting you reach down into his sweat pants pulling him out. You hear Johnny sigh as he runs his hand up your thighs. You smile at Simon pressing your thumb over the tip of his cock, he’s already wet with precum as you bring your lips down letting your tongue circle round the head before thrusting your mouth down.

You feel Johnny stand up but he keeps his hands on you. Then he climbs on the sofa behind you. His hand running down your hips squeezing your ass his thumbs spreading you apart. 

You’re too busy preoccupied with Simon not paying attention to Johnny, just enjoying the feel of his hands on your body. The next thing you know his cock is pressed against your entrance. You’re moaning around Simon’s cock, forcing yourself to take him all the way with each thrust.

Johnny presses into you and you pull your mouth off Simon moaning as you feel Johnny stretching you out. You tip your head letting your hand pleasure Simon, you look up at him as Johnny lets out a moan before thrusting himself all the way into you. 

“Christ Johnny,” you breathe as his hands grip your waist bouncing you on his cock. Simon’s hand reaches down to your clit which makes you clench around Johnny. Your mouth waters as you replace your hand on Simon with your mouth again. 

He hums, his fingers knocking against your clit with each buck of your hips. You’re focusing on Simon, taking him all the way, or at least as far as you can. He doesn’t seem to mind though his moans sending shivers down your spine. 

You’re propped up on one arm with the other hand wrapped round the base of Simon’s cock. Johnny’s breathing picks up and his moans become more frequent, his hips drive into you harder his cock rubbing past your g-spot with each thrust. It makes you speed up your strokes on Simon, pressing your thumb into the underside of his shaft.

“Easy Johnny.” Simon says his free hand resting on the back of your head forcing you to slow down.

“Sorry Si, she feels so good.” He grunts, his hands moving up from your hips to your back. He runs his hands to your shoulders squeezing them before speeding his pace up again. You moan round Simon’s cock which causes him to squeeze your hair again, letting out a moan as his head tips back. 

You’re going to cum, Simon's fingers on your clit and Johnny’s relentless pounding is too much. You clench round Johnny as he slows his thrusts, almost pulling all the way out before pressing back into you.

“You gonna cum love?” Johnny asks between breaths. Simon pushes your head all the way down on his cock and you gag your mouth filling with saliva. 

“Mm-humm,” you moan as Simon lets go of your hair, giving you full control to move your head how you want. You’re chasing your own orgasm as Simon’s fingers press faster on your clit. You’re not going to last longer. You clench round Johnny thrusting your mouth all the way down choking on Simon as you cum.

“Christ love-” Johnny cums too, Simon’s speed on your clit doesn’t slow as Johnny throbs inside you. His hands running up and down your back as you shiver. You pull your mouth off Simon looking up at him smiling. 

As Johnny pulls out you sit back on your knees as he wraps his arms round you squeezing you. You watch as Simon strokes himself and you break away from Johnny straddling over Simon. You reach down gripping his cock and guiding it into you.

Simon sighs his eyes glazing over, as you bounce on his his hands coming down to squeeze your ass. You lean forward pressing your forehead against his looking into his eyes. He lets you control the speed as you take it slower. Then your phone starts ringing. You look over at Johnny who picks it up. You groan when you see the name Amy on the screen. Its work. You sigh looking over at Simon.

“Need to take it?” He asks. 

“It’s work, they probably want me to come in.” You sigh dropping your head and stopping your movement. Now you’re just sat there with his cock inside you. The call ends and you wait a few seconds before it rings again immediately. 

“Crap.” You say letting frustration slip though. 

“I thought you weren't on call.” Johnny asks as he hands you your phone 

“I’m not but it’s A&E on bonfire night, and it’s the weekend.”

“Hey Amy.” You say answering it. Simon smiles at you, there’s a twinkle in his eye as he hums gripping your hips. 

“Hey, can you come in and help, we’re 4 short.” She says, you sigh but Simon starts thrusting his hips in you causes your words to catch in your throat. Johnny chuckles, his hands landing on your shoulders squeezing them.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something, is there no one else?” You ask, as Johnny’s hands work their way round to your nipples.

“I’ve tried everyone, most people have hit their overtime already.” She explains you can hear the desperation in her voice. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. You pull the phone a way from your ear pressing it against your chest. 

“Simon-” you say quietly, he shushes you pressing a finger up to your lips. It feels good you can’t focus on the call tipping you head back and letting out a moan as Simon drives into you harder. Johnny's still playing with your nipples as one of Simon’s hands moves to your abdomen his thumb pressing on your clit.

You almost forget about the call, maybe this is their plan to fuck you so good you can’t work. You snap back to reality bringing the phone back up to your ear. 

“What time?” You ask her hoping she can’t hear the slur in your voice and the wet sounds of sex echoing through the flat.

“Now, until 8am?” She says, you hear another phone ringing in the back ground, and an alarm. You’re too blissed out to care.

“I’ll come,” you breathe down the phone clenching round Simon to stop yourself from actually coming.

“Thank you so much, you’re amazing honestly, we could really use your expertise-” You hum hanging the phone up and throwing it on the sofa as you fall back against Johnny who holds you while you cum, Simon throbs inside you. His fingers pressing into your skin.

“You going to work?” Johnny asks. You nod enjoying the feeling of his hands on you as you come down from the high. You open your eyes looking at Simon who pulls you against his chest kissing your neck. You hum enjoying the feeling before sighing and sitting up. 

“I’m sorry, It’s going to be 12 hours of blast and burn injures. They really could use my help.” You step up off Simon's lap, you can feel their cum dripping down your inner thighs as you walk over to the bathroom to clean yourself up. You really wish you didn’t have to go to work, maybe you could said you were drunk or something. You leave the bathroom heading into the bedroom as Johnny follows you in. 

“How long will you be gone for?” 

“Hopefully I can get off as early as possible. 12 hours max.” You sigh pulling on some underwear and a bra.

“Okay, let me drive you at least?” Simon says coming over to the bedroom as you pull your uniform on. You nod.

—----------—

You let out a sigh as you walk through the front door, the sun is up now turning the sky pink and red. You need a shower you’ve spent way too much time covered in blood and burnt flesh for a lifetime.

It almost reminded you of some of the hospitals you’ve worked at in war zones, people waking around with limbs barely hanging on. The burns are the worst, you can deal with the blood but the smell of burning flesh and muscle is something you think you’ll never quite get used to.

“Hey.” Simon calls behind you as you’re emptying your pockets. You pulled an unused tourniquet out and what seems like half a wards worth of pens and tape. You let out a sigh putting them down next to your keys.

“Rough night?” He asks, you finally look up at him and nod. 

“First time I felt like I was back on deployment. Screaming ward sisters have nothing on angry generals though.” You smile. He comes over to you wrapping his arm round your waist and pulling you up to his lips.

The kiss is soft and gentle something you needed after such a long night. You forget the fact you stink, you let the horrors of the shift wash off you as he pulls you up against him. You kiss him back almost needy, you needed this. He pulls away first his hand coming to brush your cheek.

“Shower? Then you can tell me all about how horrible the shift was.” You smile at him and kiss him back quickly.

“Where’s Johnny?” 

“He had a bit of a rough night. Turns out fireworks so close to home, not really his cup of tea.” 

“Shit, you should have called me. I could have come home, said it was a family emergency.” Simon chuckles.

“Thought you would be having fun arms deep in blown off limbs.” He says wrapping his arm round your shoulder following you to the bathroom. You chuckle as you open the bathroom door.

“Join me?” You invite him raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t hesitate following you into the room as you go to turn the shower on. 

“Let me.” He insists almost bullying you out the way so he can mess with the water. You let him stripping your clothes before coming up behind him running your hands up his shirt. He turns, a smile growing on his face as he sees you naked his hands coming up to your breasts. You hum as he brushes his fingers over your nipples.

You pull on the hem of his shirt, you want to take it off. He gets the idea stepping back and pulling his cloths off as you step into the shower. It’s hotter then you’re used to but you don’t mind it’s nice to get the grit out your hair letting the water soak through to your scalp.

Simon gets in behind you his hands on your hips pulling you back against him, his hands work their way up your body. His hands are soft and slow as she maps your curves with his fingers. He’s not as needy as Johnny, he likes to take his time. Touch you all over before he starts squeezing and flicking your nipples between his fingers. 

He hums into your neck as his hand travels, down your stomach his hands never leaving contact with your body. You relax against his chest as his tongue runs up your neck. His fingers press through your folds running up and down your clit. You can’t help moaning, your hips pressing further against him. 

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your lower back. You turn in his arms and he presses you further into the shower. The water is hot down your back, your feet ache from being on them so long. You reach up on your tip-toes and kiss him your hand running down his chest. 

You run your hand down his cock, your thumb brushing over the tip. Simon moans in your mouth before pulling away to look down at you. His thumb brushes over your lips as you continue to work your hand round him. He presses you back against the wall. His fingers are pressing up against your entrance as you rock your hips towards him. He chuckles and you grip his shoulders. 

“So perfect.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You sink into the kiss as his tongue runs against yours. It’s hot and needy as you wiggle your hips trying to force his fingers in you. He finally relents after what feels like minutes of teasing, pushes his thick fingers into you. You break from the kiss moaning as works them deeper into you, curling them up to hit the oh-so-sweet spot. 

“Simon-” You breathe clenching round his fingers as he controls the speed. His palm presses against your clit as you buck your hips up against him, his cock pressing up against your stomach.

“Feel good?” He asks his voice low almost being drowned out by the running water. You tip your head back panting as he drives you closer to the edge. The steam makes your head feel stuffy as you chase the feeling. Every time you clench around his fingers he speeds up making you gasp and moan into his neck.

“Yes, don’t stop.” You beg as you dig your nails into his shoulder. “Si-” It’s all you manage as you cum on his fingers biting your bottom lip as you moan. You don’t want to be too loud and wake Johnny. 

Simon rides you through the orgasm slowly pulling his fingers out. Your using the wall to support you as your hands fall down to grip his biceps. You look up at him his hair wet pressed against his forehead, you smile at him he smiles back.

You run your hand down his chest to his cock, you wish you could suck him off but there is no way enough room in the shower. At least you would be off your aching feet though. Your thumb knocks against his tip and he twitches in your hand. 

“How’s this going to work?” You ask looking up at him. He cheeky smile comes across his face.  

“Let me,” he says, you frown at him before his bends down hooking his arms under your thighs pressing you up against the wall. You let out a yelp as he holds you like you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs round his back as he slowly lowers you down to the right height. 

“You okay?” He asks moving one of his arms as you lock your hands round his head. Your fingers brushing through his wet hair. He nods and you feel him line himself up with your entrance. You patiently let him do what he needs to do as you hold onto him for dear life. As he slowly lowers you down on his cock it’s like it’s pressing all the air out your lungs.

“Relax,” he says moving his arm back to support you better. You don’t want to what if he slips, he’s holding you up against the wall. “C’mon, I got you, relax.” You sigh relenting and shifting your weight. 

“That’s it,” he says bucking his hips up into you. You moan out as he thrusts into you. You grip his hair, twirling it round in your fingers as he grips your ass pulling you up and down on his cock. You feel so full as you clench round him, he twitches inside you causing you to dip your head into his neck. 

“You feel so good,” you say pressing your lips on his neck. He hums as he bonces you up and down. You’re surprised he’s managing to hold you up as your body becomes slippy with the water. You don’t care though, he feels too good it’s making your head spin, your body relaxes into him your hands running up and down his neck, your head tipping back to hit the wall. 

“Last night wasn’t enough?” You ask panting into his hair. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He says, you chuckle moving your hands to his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss him deep and long chasing the orgasm building inside you.

“Gonna cum.” You say between kisses. 

“Yeah, cum for me. You deserve it.” He pants. You moan out calling his name as you cum your pussy spasming around him. He cums too with one final thrust pulsing inside you. Your head drops against his chest as he pulls out of you lowering you to the floor. 

Your legs feel like jelly and you have to keep holding on to him. He chuckles, turning you round and letting you rest up against his chest as he presses you back under the shower.

He takes his time to wash you, picking up a scrubber and lathering your body with some kind of orange smelling soap. You let him wash you and listen to him as he tells you how good you’ve been for them. How strong you are for working a horrible 12 hour shift, you're almost falling asleep in the shower accepting the praise. 

“I love you.” You say to Simon as he reaches over turning to shower off. 

“I love you too.” He says bringing your chin up and kissing you. 

He helps you dry even though you don’t need It your body feels heavy your limbs feeling like lead weights. You accept the help as he follows you into the bedroom so you can change into pyjamas. Johnny is still asleep snoring softly as you try to be as quiet as possible pulling on clean clothes. You pass Simon the towel, reaching up and pressing a kiss on his lips. 

“Get some rest I’ll wake you up later.” He whispers smiling. You nod heading over to the bed. You pull back the covers climbing in behind Johnny, pressing your chest against his back and wrapping your arm round him. He murmurs tipping his head back as you snuggle under the duvet. 

“Missed you.” He says sleepily grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips kissing it.

“Missed you too.” You say. Laying down into the pillows. He turns round in the bed, his eyes half open as he wraps his arm round you pulling you up against him. 

“How was your shift?” He asks yawning.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you later. I’m tired.” You say his yawn making you yawn too. He chuckles squeezing you tight against his chest. 

“Love you Johnny,” you whisper closing your eyes.

“Love you more.” He slurs his lips pressing against the top of your head.  

—----------—

“Hey love look what we got!” Johnny says enthusiastically coming over to you before you have time to react. You’re still rubbing sleep out your eyes as you walk over to him.

“Sparklers.” You smile as he thrusts the package in your hands.

“Yeah we thought since you missed the fireworks last night it would only be fair to save the sparklers for you.” He says, you look up at him smiling before wrapping your arms round him, hugging him. They didn’t have to do that. Johnny breaks away from the hug letting his hand drop to your waist pulling you over to the door. 

“Hey Simon, you coming?” You ask waving the sparklers at him in the kitchen. He nods picking up a lighter off the table. Johnny’s giddy with excitement bouncing out the door onto the balcony. It’s cold and you’re only in your pyjamas.

You should have got a coat but you’re too wrapped up in Johnny’s enthusiasm. He opens the package handing you a sparkler as Simon comes out onto the balcony. He hands you a jacket and you thank him before Johnny shoves a sparkler in his face. 

You pull the jacket on then hold the sparkler out so Simon can light it. You almost immediately start making circles in the air. You smile letting a chuckle come out spelling out your name in the air. You look over at Johnny who looks like he’s drawing spirals in the air.

You feel a warmth bubble inside you. It makes you think back to your childhood. Funny how such a simple activity can invoke such strong feelings of nostalgia. Simon lights his last moving away from Johnny. You take another step back. 

“Hey, lass.” Johnny calls, you look over at him as he draws a heart in the air. You chuckle copying him. Simon rolls his eyes, holding his out making swirls in the air. You watch as Johnny enthusiastically makes shapes, you smile leaning up against Simon. Fireworks are still going off sporadically but Johnny seems completely distracted. 

“I feel like Harry Potter.” He says at one point waving it around like its a wand. You laugh at him, Simon rolls his eyes. It’s nice being out here with them, you turn to look over the wall at the firworks flying across the sky. 

“Woah look at that one!” You call pointing with your sparkler. You turn to look at Simon and Johnny smiling back at you. Johnny’s sparkler dies out and he huffs throwing it on the floor. 

“Hey, maybe next year we can set our own off?” You smile. 

“I can make them!” Johnny shouts enthusiastically, looking at Simon who looks between you both. 

“That would be awesome, we can pick our own colours, we’ll have the best fireworks show in the area.” You say matching his enthusiasm throwing your spent sparkler on the floor and jumping into his arms.

“I don’t know if that’s strictly legal.” Simon says.

“You’re such a buzzkill LT.” 

“Yeah Simon, Johnny would make the best fireworks.” You chuckle. 

“Maybe, we can talk about it next year.” Simon says throwing his sparkler down. You smile at him letting Johnny throw his arm around you, pulling you against him. 

“It was a good bonfire night.” You say.

“You worked a 12 hour shift.” Johnny chuckles.

“It was a good shift. Let me tell you about all the burns I treated.” You nod. Simon smiles and turns to open the door back inside. 

“C’mon. It’s cold, lets order some food.” Simon says. Johnny follows in after him talking about what food he wants. You take a second to look back out at the fireworks still going off. It has been a good bonfire night, you smile and head inside. 

—----------—

[serv0z]

RAHHH a drawing of all the sillies currently occupying my brain right now. Funny thing is!! My last LN related drawing was posted almost exactly a year ago!! how funny! Close-ups and yapping under the cut

I'm running on 3 hrs of sleep bc i stayed up till 5am to make this and then i had a neurologist appt at 8 so!!! (i got officially diagnosed with adhd or add we win, i already forgot which one he said but i get my meds tmrw!!) I might take a nap after this im so exhausted. ANYWAYS.!!! i love. flowey and clover friendship no one start yelling at me abt how flowey didnt care!!! theyre best friends to me!!!! and it works out as im a clover kinnie nd floweys been my comfort character for years now. we win. I don't think monsters really had binders at first (dont use bandages btw guys, dont be like Starlo was!!11) I think the first time one fell into the trash dump or wtvr someone picked it up and then once figuring out its uses just!! boom!! business!! figuring out how to safely make more and!!! finding ways to accommodate certain monsters with different body types!! esp with the spikes and such. Ceroba def helped Starlo out with his bandages often before they were able to get him a binder. the one where clovers drawing is !! an idea of revived!clover or clover staying in the underground in hiding. Martlet got him that shirt :)) and obv the bell earring is from Ceroba. sorry to all my cotl followers i STILL have no colored the 5 body refs of both narinder and lambert. I picked the colors here on a whim so uhmmm it's not official!!! not yet anyways!! i do like what i used for Narinders fur tho, so that might stay idk yet i hte coloring BNJKNKSD i colored this whole thing on a wild impulse.. thus staying up all night. I think clover would really enjoy waterfall if they were ever able to visit it after or during the whole soul thing. It's peaceful and beautiful and also one of my fav areas in base game sooo :) i missed my LN kids. I reread Raccoons on ao3 and remembered how much i loved them and their silly lil dynamic. im a #1 six defender btw i WILL throw hands if u say some wrong shit abt her. mono, less so bc i think a lot of people have a good grasp on his character now but six is ALWAYS villainized. Has been for years nd it ticks me off bc?? she was right for her actions kinda?? not really?? ofc both characters made bad choices that lead to it but dont disregard her feelings either? idk its a whole thing i cant get into on THIS post. a lot of the doodles are just random moments like Six in the Maw with their bigass keys and locks, maybe its one of the ones to the kitchen and thats why she's rushing :D? Mono isnt really. he wasnt meant to be in the end game room but i wanted funky lighting so do with that as u will. Silly stuff with RK and Six, RCG I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT U HUN <333 I JUST DONT HAVE A DESIGN FOR YOU YET!!! same for Low and Alone </3 RK with the nomes my beloved <333 nd ofc the last dance based on the animation on youtube!!! do not tag any of the ln kids as ship!!! and do not tag clover and flowey as a ship either!! only two im fine with in this drawing is staroba or narilamb oki goodnight

[chaosjunkieman]

Save Me (Five Hargreaves x Reader)

Based on the end of Season 4. LILA AND FIVE NOT CANON.

Warnings: A N G S T. Not proof read, not time line proofed etc. roll with it :D

A/N: uhm yes hi hello? is this thing on? first time writing fan fic for the umbrella academy woooo!!!!! please please please for the love of GOD let me know if this good, bad, ugly or just straight mid. k thanksssss <3

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: She's the missing puzzle piece after all.

“Five what you doing?” She asked sternly.

Lila had dragged her family and her children into the runaway train that Five got lost in. Seeing this pristine train was an unsettling sight. They could hear the Durangos roar in the distance. Time was of an essence.

“You’re going with them.” Five spats.

A look of disbelief washes over her eyes. Looking towards the man she’s loved all these years with tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes. She wanted to pull him close. Comfort him despite this big manly persona he led everyone to believe.

“No.” She states. Crossing her arms in protest.

Above them the chime of the train departure interrupts their conversation.

“Five, no-“ She’s about to reach out to him when he shoves her roughly. She stumbles into the train car and into Claire.

“No! No!” She screams as the doors begin to close in front of her. Fighting against Claire and Lila’s father, she breaks freak from their grip.

She starts to pound on the glass. Tears streaming down her face as Five lets loose the ones he was holding in. The train starts to move. She’s screaming at the top her lungs now. How could he. How dare he go on this journey alone?

The train starts to speed up. Throwing her off her feet. She lands on the floor and curls into fetal position. Their memories running through her head a mile a minute. Her heart shattered. No more shared moments between the two of them, no more laughter, and love. How could she live in a world were he was a distant memory?

~~~~~~~~

She’s pulled to her feet by Ronnie. A cherished family friend of hers when the train comes to a halt. She looks around confused at how she got to where she was. Being with Ronnie and Anita’s family, and Claire. Claire was sniffling, holding on to a ripped and crumpled note that read, ‘take care of my daughter.’ Something in her gut told her that Claire was her responsibility now.

That was months ago.

Instead of splitting off into separate lives, Claire made the argument that they had to live close to Ronnie and Anita. Claiming that some weird intuition told her to do so. So, that’s what they did. She bought a condo not far from the home that the Pitts purchased. The condo felt familiar in some odd way. Like déjà vu. This overwhelming sense of love and admiration flooded her senses when they first toured it. She didn’t even need a day to think on. She put an offer in that same hour, and within that same hour it was accepted.

Claire stayed with her, finishing high school and moving off to college. Their goodbye was tearful and heart felt. Claire promised to visit her during holidays so that way she wasn’t lonely. Despite having their friends to visit each year.

During the summer she found a job within the local city library as a librarian. She found peace and solace in the quietness. The smell of books seemed to fill this whole in her heart. She also started therapy during this time. She had these magical dreams about this man. But he really wasn’t a man. He was a man stuck in a young adult body who had magical powers. Him, and siblings all had magical powers. She dreamt of the world ending. The apocalypse beginning. Being stuck in 1963 in Dallas. But, that boy was always by her side.  

These dreams felt so real some days. That when she awoke she could’ve sworn that the man she was dreaming of was in her room. Only to fade away with the morning sun. Shortly after the dreams began, she started to receive bouquets of flowers each week. The card only ever reading -MH. She had no idea who, or what that meant. The only possible explanation for the H was Hargreaves. But that couldn’t be possible. Hargreaves was the last name of the man she dreamt of. And he wasn’t real..right?

One particular week, she was gifted these beautiful marigolds, nothing else. She had trouble bringing home the bouquet because of how large this particular one was. She fished around the bottom cabinets of her kitchen to find a vase big enough for them. She filled it up with water and placed them in. Something told her that they needed to be in the bedroom with her. She smiled as she placed them on the other side table. They seemed to glow within the room itself.

That night, was the worst of the nightmares she had. She watched helplessly as the man she seemed to have love and his siblings die. But she wasn’t there fully. Like she was a ghost watching a show. Until the Cleanse seemed to reach up at her. Just as her foot was sucked in, she shot up in bed. Breathing heavy she rose out of bed and went to open the bedroom window to let in the crisp air. Sitting on the bench that adorned the window, something from the shadows down below caught her eye. There was absolutely no way what she was seeing was real. The man she dreamt about was below her in the alley way, looking up to her. He smiled brightly before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

Jumping from the bench she ran to her front door. Grabbing the oversized black coat she wore and slipped on her shoes. She rushed down the stairs in hopes to catch him. Her heart racing with each step. Finally busting out of the back door that lead into the alleyway, she sees what she believes is to be his shadow further down.

“Hey!” she yells towards him. The man briefly looks over his shoulder before making a left. Disappearing into darkness again. She takes a deep breath. This is crazy right? Going after a shadow in the dark? But her gut screamed at her to follow. She had to follow.

Sprinting down the corridor she makes the same left turn he did. She sees his shadow illuminated behind the street lamp that was across the street.

“Hey!” She screeches again as she comes up to the sidewalk.

The man still not saying anything turns, and starts to head down a flight of stairs she didn’t even know was there. Gulping, she makes sure to look both ways before sprinting across the avenue. She stands at the top of the stair case. The man’s back disappearing under the overhang. Debating on whether to follow, she decided to. She had come too far without knowing who the hell he was.

She entered into a train station. Too clean of a train station to be atypical city train station. But, the noise of music and rattling dishes pulled her from her thoughts. Around a corner, bright lights illuminated onto the train station tile to which she followed.

As she turned the corner, a bright neon orange sign read MAX’S DELICATESSEN. It was a diner in the middle of a underground train station. Totally not odd. She opens the door to the diner and steps in. Almost immediately regretting it as multiple heads turn her way. Her breath caught in her throat. They were all him. The man she dreamt about. Scared, she was about to step back when one of them from the middle booth rose in his seat.

“Please! Don’t go,” he shouted. Looking flustered as the others of him in the room snickered at his attempt.

“That’s not how you treat this particular guest Five,” The one behind the kitchen counter spat.

He came out from around the counter. Wiping his hands over the waist apron he wore. She looked at him curiously. After padding down his hands, he stood to attention with a smile.

“Miss, Y/N, your table awaits, follow me please.” He said with a wink. A small giggle arose from her chest. Which caught her by surprise.

“And here you are, coffee, black I’m assuming miss?” The man in the apron asks as she settles into the booth seat where the other man was.

“Yes, how did you know?” She asks. Looking between the two men.

“We know everything about you Y/N,” he said with smile before turning on his heel back towards the counter.

The other man who sat in the seat across from her seemed nervous. He was fiddling away with his thumbs. They sat in silence until the man in the apron brought her fresh cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She brought the hot cup of coffee to her lips. Taking a brief sip. Her face contorted at the bitterness of the coffee.

“Apologizes, the coffee is shit.” The man in the apron said with a grin before he made his way back over to the counter again.

Groaning, she set down the cup and pushed it aside. With the empty table space in front of her, she clasped her hands together and rested her chin on top of them. Starring towards the man in the booth who had picked up the newspaper he was reading. Clearing her throat, he peaked from over the pages. With her eyes, she signaled to him to set it down. His eyes darted between her and the paper before sighing loudly. Setting the paper aside.

“So-“ The man across from her coughed as he took a sip of his own cup of coffee. His face mirroring that same expression she did before.

“So, who are you?” She asks. Eyes narrowing. She watched closely as the man gulped and tugged at his tie.

“Five-“ he responded.

“Five?” She repeated.

“Five Hargreaves.” The man stated before her.

“You’ve been in my dreams.” She sighed, lowering her hands to the table. Shifting to allow her back to rest against the backboard of the booth.

“I know.” He stated through gritted teeth. It seemed like whoever he was, was having a hard time being there too.

“Why?” She asks with a stale flick of her tongue. She was growing impatient at this point.

“I’m your husband.” Five responded. His expression briefly softening before turning stark cold again.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” She chokes on her words.

“From another timeline.” He continues.

“Oh spit it out mate!” Another Five from behind the counter pipes up. They all seemed frustrated with the one in front of her.

“I’m your husband, I’mean- we’re all  your husbands. From different timelines. Different points of existence. Each of us loosing you in some way.” The Five in front of her continues. He brushes the bangs from his face and starts to shimmy off the black over coat he adorned. Too similar to the one she was wearing. She notices a cut on his upper left eyebrow. Taking a alcohol pad she had in one the pockets, she opens it to presumably clean the wound. He coughs, making her look at him, and back down to the pad. Confused on how natural it all felt.  

“What do you mean by lost?” She asks.

“You died in my arms on the night we got married.” A Five from one of the corner booths huffs out. Twirling the ring that sat on his ring finger.

“I lost you to a fire,” One of them whispers from behind the counter. The other Fives pat him gently on the back.

“And you?” She asks, turning to the Five in front of her.

“I sent you away.” He bluntly responds.

“This train station that you’re in?” He motions to outside of the diner.

“I pushed you into it with Anita and Ronnie and Claire. To save you from The Cleanse.” His voice drifted off at the last bit.

“The Cleanse?” She asks curiously.

“To much to explain darlin’” A Five from behind her says in a deep southern tone.

“So why am I here?” She questions. Her heart felt whole just seeing the other man in front of her but unsure why.

“I need to get you back to the correct timeline. He’s there, right now, dying with him family. Those are the dreams you’ve been seeing. But I gave him the wrong advice. He didn’t need to die. They didn’t need to die. Youre the final key to stop the cleanse.” Five reaches out from around the table and his fingers graze across her neck. She melts at the touch of his skin on hers, but he pulls forward the chain to her necklace.

It was a Umbrella necklace.

“This necklace,” Five saves slightly tapping the main parts of the umbrella folds that begin to shimmer.

“Has an elixir. It was there in front of me all along.” He sighs.

“But I don’t have any memories of him, of you-“ She starts, and Five puts up his hand to stop her mid-sentence.

“Follow me,” he replies, climbing out the booth and holding out his hands to hers.  

She grabs ahold and he pulls her from the booth. Dragging her outside the diner, she can hear the other Five’s say their goodbyes.

Five pulls her towards the train that was mysteriously there now. The doors opening once they were toe-to-toe with the platform.

“I’m not-“ She stutters, looking panickily between the train, Five, and the entrance to the train station. Thinking about Claire.

“He needs you, now more than ever.” Five whispers. He cups her face between his hands. Turning her towards him.

“What are you doin-“ She asks when Five places his lips against her forehead.

Simultaneously, a blue orb of light starts to engulf the two. And a massive headache came along with it.

“Ah-“ She grunts, pulling away from the man before her clutching her head and tumbling into the train.

“Wait, no!” She screams, still clutching her head.

The train speeds up and almost tosses her to her feet. However, the same blue light from mere moments before shots out around her. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes glow as well. A light blue shade, similar to Five’s.

As the train comes to a stop. She regains consciousness. The memories of her life before returning. The love she felt for the man she spoke with flooding her blood stream. Above, she could hear crashing and the sounds of civilians screaming.

“Cmon’” She whispers, jumping and shaking out her hands.

In a full on sprint, she darts out of the train. Just has her feet reach the tiled platform she blips.

Landing roughly on a set of stairs. Groaning from the fact that she just time traveled technically, she can hear the shouts of others in front of her. Her blurred vision coming clear. She gasps at the sight.

They all were being engulfed in the Durango.

“Y/N? What the HELL are you doing here? HOW?” Five shouts. She can see him struggling against the Durango.

“It’s the necklace!” She responds as the Durango screeches overhead.

“It has an elixir that Reginald hid. Bitter old man!” She curses to the skies.

“An elixir? What are you talking about?” Five screams from his spot.

The look of fear and pain was washed over his features and she wanted nothing more than comfort him. But she had a bigger job to do.

Whistling, she grabs the attention of the Durango.

“Y/N NO!” Five cries out.

“I love you!” She screams as she turns on her heels. A full sprint down the corridor and out the front door.

Her heart hurts at the sight of destruction. But the roar of the Durango pulls her from her thoughts and she continues her sprint down the street. Hoping to save them in time. She didn’t care if she died here. Just knowing that her husband and his family was safe from the horrible childhood they had to endure that they didn’t ask for.

After almost a block away, she stops. Cooing at the Durango to come just a little closer. But, one of the tentacles from the Durango captures her at her feet. Struggling against it, she takes a deep breath. Allowing the puss to climb up her legs. Just as it reaches her waist, she yanks the chain from her neck. The Durango was fulling on top of her at this point.

“Come get it asshole!” She screams. Tossing the necklace towards the mouth of the Durango.

The Durango catches it as the puss reaches above her chest. In the distance behind the Durango she can see all of them sprinting towards her. Five ahead of them. Unable to make out what he was saying, she smile brightly at him as the puss was beginning to swallow her neck. Just as she’s about to see her lover one final time, the Durango glows blue. Screeching at the top of its lungs, it explodes. The puss around her shattering and the force of it shoots her backwards. She’s launched into a street light pole, and the world around her goes black.

~~~~~~~~

She groans as her eyes flutter and try to adjust to the ungodly bright light. Coughing, she tries to move her head around but is met with sharp pains shooting up and down her neck. Softly moving her head to the side, she can see Five in a chair, fast asleep but holding on tightly to her hand. Mustering up all the energy that she could, she squeezes his hand. His eyes fluttering open at the sensation. His hair was longer now, but his features were just as handsome as the day they met.

“Y/N,” Five whispers. Gently caressing the hand he held.

“Where am I?” She asks through a bitter cough.

“You’re in a hospital. We made it.” He laughs quietly.

She grins at his response. The sense of relief washes over her shoulders, lifting some of the pain along with it.

“How did you know?” Five asks from beside her. He had scooted the chair he was in closer to her hospital bed and started to caress her bruised cheek.

“You told me-“ She hoarsely replies.

Five’s gaze softens into confusion when there’s a knock on the door.

“Can we come in?” Luther asks from the door way.

She smiles softly and nods. The rest of the siblings begin to pile into the small room that she was being treated in.

“How long has it been?” She croaks.

“It’s been a year, you were in a coma.” Klaus replies. Sitting next to Five in one of the chairs.

“How did you know I was awake?” She asks.

“Silly goose, I always know.”  Klaus jokes with a smile and swat of his hand.

The siblings catch her up on everything that happened while she was out. Expplaining that their powers are gone for good now. That Lila, and Diegos family was back, and Allison had Claire again. None of them remembering their lives in the other timeline.

Five sat quietly beside her, caressing her hand the whole time. At some point in the night, the doctors ushered everyone out besides Five so they could run some tests. Determining that she was able to go home at the end of the week. Time didn’t matter for her at this point.

After everyone had left, they two of them remain in the same position in silence. She could hear her heart beating in her chest. That same sense of overwhelming love that poured from such a small man engulfed her. She couldn’t believe that she had such a devoting husband after all this time.

“You stayed,” she comments with a small smile forming on her lips.

Five was puzzled as he was pulled out his thoughts, and she repeated her statement again.

“You mean everything to me, after that suicide mission-“ Five pauses and lets out a cold laugh.

“I love you-“ She interrupts him as he goes to continue his sentence. Not wanting to hear any bashed talk from the man.

“I love you.” He responds with a half crooked smile.

Patting beside her, she motions for him to join her on the hospital bed. About to protest, she stops him. Sternly pointing to the spot beside her. With a groan, he climbs onto the bed. As he settles into his spot, she lifts her head to place it on his chest. Her hand resting over his heart. Feeling it beat beneath her made her sigh. Knowing for sure they were alive lifted a weight from her shoulders. She smiled as Five places a sweet kiss on the top of her head. Pulling her impossibly closer then she already was.

Appreciative of the fact that they got to keep each other after all.

[herefortheships]

We see Betelgeuse staring at Lydia's photo right after he appeared to her at the school. I like to think Betel stole her picture way back after his first defeat because it'd help him astral project to bother her. Like, as a tool for petty revenge, not for any sentimental or creepy reasons (initially). It'd explain why he never got a more recent picture. It hadn't been about her pretty face, or any other attractive attributes she'd develop later. It just meant to help him focus. And boy, did that backfire.

It's an interesting headcanon, him using the photo as a tool to be able to manifest around her. But to be honest, I believe he never had intentions to pester her or bother her in any way. Not even in the first film when he was more volatile and scarier did he ever try to harm her. When he turned into the snake, all he did was stare at her like he was taken by her, so much so that Barbara used that pause to banish him before he could do something.

He's always treated her different from any other woman from the start. So I believe he took the photo at some point during the events of the first film, and kept it close to him all these years because he was fascinated with Lydia.

We don't know how long he waited at that afterlife waiting room (my headcanon is that he said "screw this" at some point, stood up and left), but assuming he did wait in that room for a good amount of time, like days, or moths (or even a year or more, the number was pretty long), then he had time to reflect on what happened at the Maitland's house. Their time spent together was considerably rushed; they didn't get the opportunity to talk much, but he did have several months around Lydia, to watch her and get a sense of her.

I think he took that photo when he started forming the idea that he was going to propose to her as his ticket "out for good". Not even to get that thing which he presumably wants the most did he ever try to hurt Lydia; with the context of BJBJ now we know he could have just swapped souls with her and taken her life, but he didn't. (Or maybe he doesn't want to be alive; he may just want to be a ghost that can hang out with the living and never go back to the netherworld lol. But he did say "this dead thing is just too creepy", so maybe he does want to get another chance at being alive. I really want to know what exactly will happen to him if he does marry her. But I digress. Even if he knew about the soul swap he would have never tried it, because, again, he would never hurt Lydia.)

During whatever time he spent at that waiting room after the failed wedding attempt, he had that photo with him and would stare at it for comfort. Now I'm getting this headcanon that he started to realize around that time how her presence was actually really comforting, and he started missing her, wanting to see her again in person. Then he went "screw it", left that waiting room, and made up his mind that he was going to find his way back to that strange goth girl again.

Editing to add: Lydia was the only person who treated him with kindness and talked to him like a person in probably hundreds of years. Notice how everyone is afraid of even saying his name once, and those who do call him, do so to ask something of him. When Lydia first talked to him, she didn't exactly do it to seek out to use him for anything; he did offer to help her if she helped him out, but Lydia didn't approach him with fear nor to ask anything out of him. It was likely his only genuine interaction in years. Of course he wanted more of her, and so, at least he kept her photo (but never gave up on seeing her in person again either 😉).

[lethalbreadkills]

i think the sprinkle mod should be related to sprunki just a thought

i saw them and i went "what if they were younger siblings...." insane ramblings and relationships underneath the cut. oops

OKAY SO. they have names. we named them. by we i mean me and @afuntimepartyy (hi mangy) in order of how they show up in the mod . all colours are used for ease of reading oops Sporen (he ate mushrooms as a child), Radical (well. duh. raddy sprinkle), Clink (head go clink clank), Fun Bot V.2 (v2 for short), Rinkle (i dont have an explanation), Grinkle (gray crinkly kitten), Sprunk (funny), Garnickle (like barnacle), Dipsy (i think its cute), Skip (again, cute), Miss Sun (shes the older sibling for once), Purdle (durple but switched), Mrs Tree (theyre married), Laa-Laa (yellow and sings cute), Tupper (well. like tupperware), Fun Computer (hes not old enough to be a mr. yet), Spinda (hehe), Punkii (it just Felt Right), Biv (i think its cute!), and HACK :]

As for the relationship chart. Well. Smiles. here it is ^-^!!

heh. smirks. Most are self explanatory, these are their younger siblings and they love each other!!

Garnold, quite honestly, is just a good 20 years older than his sibling, and WOW an age gap like that can cause issues with understanding each other. Garnold just doesn't understand the kid, and he's busy with his own (his and Clukr's creations) OWAKCX and Dipsy are complicated because. uh. i'll be honest i didn't read until recently that OWAKCX is like that because Raddy hit him with a hammer and went "ah. that man is an addict isn't he." and went with it ^o^ and it causes an odd relationship with family. they're trying their best, though. they still love each other so much. Tunner and Tupper. Well. I don't have them fully fleshed out yet i'll be honest. Tunner is trying his hardest to bond with Tupper, and she would much rather be left alone and talk to her friends. at the point in life where she just hates everybody, and there's not a whole lot Tunner can do about it. Jevin and Biv. well. he never liked his family anyways, and his little sister following him when he ran away is no exception. she loves him. she wants to be just like him. he wants her to leave him alone and stop reminding him that they're "family", or whatever. Black... well. There's a reason HACK can't feel anything toward his older sibling. Black killed him before he had a chance to grow up too much.

As for Gray and Wenda... funnily enough, they're in very similar boats. They love their siblings, they really do!! It just.. would be so much easier if their "siblings" weren't their children, y'know? (just to specify, they are NOT both gray and wendas kids. they were had separately, we just happened to have the same idea for the two of them, lmao)

[crooked-wasteland]

I don’t know how I feel about the songs in HH, they’re catchy and the vocal performances are good, but the lyrics are really bad and don’t move the story forward, happy day in hell just starts out of nowhere and doesn’t tell us anything new about Charlie’s dream that she hasn’t said over and over in first 10 minutes. Charlie repeats herself so many times in the first episode it’s like she’s a broken record. We’re introduced to the world building and town in hell but the problem is the storybook already told us about hell. If they wanted to make Lilith a powerful presence there should’ve been missing posters or statues of Lilith if she’s was the one to rule hell and empower it with song or even news outlets about Lilith but there isn’t. Also none of these locations ever come up or is important to the story, Charlie forgets about cannibal town and she has to be reminded what it is. The princess of hell whose been living thousands of years doesn’t know about cannibal town?

I was rewatching South Park big and longer the song Mountain Town immediately gives us synopsis of the story and what’s gonna transpire, with the boys getting ready to watch a movie with the moms singing about how South Park is so great because it’s isolated and redneck from city life that their boys are “safe” and innocent while the boys sing how their parents don’t teach them anything and singing merrily how crappy South Park is and the highlight of their life is watching Terrance and Philip. Cartman gets punished and installed a chip that shocks him if he curses for singing Kyle’s mom is a bitch and as a result of the song the towns plans on installing chips in all the kids. you can be a fan of Broadway and musicals but they doesn’t make you an expert on songwriting or storytelling especially if all your doing is just making animatic mv thumbnail for the songs

The idea of how musicals work is one I realized I had to tackle in my essay(s) around the music, and needing to build the concept of how and why musicals have such a distinct formula was necessary for any of my points to land.

It's doubly hard when you are writing out these ideas rather than explaining with examples that people can hear or see right in front of them. Being a written medium, I can't suddenly cut away to a sound, or an example. Being a tumblr blog, I am limited in the amount of media I can use per post.

So I can only hope that my attempt at explaining why musicals are comprehensible to those who lack a robust understanding of musical theory or opera.

Have a sneek peek and do let me know if I failed to get the structure across.

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires 2/9?

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others...) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn't know, even in the descriptions) - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers. I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. Get ready for some push and pull.

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 2/9?

Word Count: 5.1K / 30K+ for now

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, thick and rich. Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his usual black drink steaming beside him. This was his morning ritual—his quiet moment before the mansion came to life. It was the one part of the day he could claim as his own, a sliver of peace amid the chaos.

Then he heard her before he saw her. The soft click of polished shoes on the tile floor, a subtle shift in the air, and a scent that was both unfamiliar and intoxicating. It unsettled him, that scent—it reminded him of something dangerous, something he couldn’t quite place, out of time, ethereal.

E stepped into the kitchen, moving with that effortless grace that always put Logan on edge. Their sharp blue eyes scanned the room before they approached the coffee pot, casual, composed, like they belonged in every space they entered.

Logan’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that got under his skin. Maybe it was how she moved, like a predator—silent, sure, and entirely aware of her surroundings. Or maybe it was the way she didn’t acknowledge him with the same apprehension or deference others showed. No fear, no caution. Just… presence.

They poured their coffee—black, just like his—and took a long sip, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of their lips as they leaned against the counter opposite him. The air between them thickened. For a second, their eyes met, and Logan felt the weight of her gaze, heavy and searching, like she was peeling back his layers one by one.

He grunted, turning his attention back to his mug, refusing to acknowledge the sudden prickle of heat crawling up his neck. But E didn’t need him to say anything. They felt it—the way his focus shifted, however briefly—and they drank it in. It was like fuel to them, feeding something deep inside, something dark and hungry.

“You always this quiet in the mornings?” E finally broke the silence, their voice smooth, too smooth, like they were toying with him, testing boundaries he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Logan’s grip on his mug tightened. He didn’t like how she talked, like she knew something he didn’t, like this was a game and she already had the upper hand. “When I got nothin’ to say,” he muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the dark liquid in front of him.

E made a soft sound, almost a hum, taking another sip of their coffee. Their eyes never left him, as if they were studying him, waiting for something. “Strange. You strike me as someone with plenty on their mind.”

Logan’s gaze flicked up, his eyes meeting hers for a moment longer than he intended. She was watching him with an intensity that made the back of his neck tingle, amusement dancing in those bright, unflinching blue eyes. “You don’t know me,” he muttered.

“Don’t I?” E’s voice dipped lower, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of something deeper, something more dangerous. They set their cup down, the movement deliberate, controlled, before stepping closer. Too close. Logan’s muscles tensed instinctively, his body coiled, ready, but for some reason, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

“You don’t like people seeing through you, do you, Mr Howlett?” Their voice was soft now, yet sharp enough to cut through the thick air between them. “It makes you uncomfortable.”

His brows furrowed, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as an old, familiar defense mechanism kicked in. “I don’t care what you think you see,” he growled, his voice gravelly, rough.

But E’s smirk widened, a flicker of something wicked glinting in their eyes. “Oh, but I do see plenty and it’s fascinating, really.” They leaned in even more, their voice a low purr, words wrapping around him like a net. “The way you try so hard to keep that mask up. Makes me wonder… what happens when it finally slips?”

Logan swallowed, his pulse quickening despite his best efforts to stay calm. He didn’t like this feeling—being out of control, the way she so easily slipped under his skin and played with his instincts. But damn if he wasn’t drawn in, hooked by something primal, something he hated to admit.

E’s eyes flicked over him, slowly, deliberately, as though they were savoring the conflict bubbling beneath his surface. “Don’t worry,” they whispered, leaning in closer, their breath warm against his ear. “I won’t bite. Not yet, anyway.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut, every instinct telling him to move, to get away. But he stayed rooted to the spot, caught in whatever spell she’d cast over him. His breath hitched—barely noticeable, but E caught it. Of course they did. Their smirk deepened, a silent acknowledgment of their victory.

And just like that, they pulled back, their composure perfectly intact, as if the entire exchange had been nothing more than idle conversation. They picked up their coffee cup, taking one long sip, their eyes never leaving his.

“See you around, Logan,” they said, voice lilting with amusement as they turned to leave the kitchen.

Logan stood there, fists clenched, heat still simmering beneath his skin. He watched her go, tension radiating through his body as he tried to shake off the lingering effects of her presence. But he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t over. He was in deeper than he wanted to be—and he wasn’t sure if he could get out.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting warm golden rays over the garden, and for a moment, it almost felt peaceful. Logan jogged down the stone path, his muscles loose from the run, sweat clinging to his skin. The garden wasn’t a place he came often—too many damn flowers. But here, in this quiet stretch of the grounds, he could think. Or rather, try not to think. Fewer people, fewer distractions.

His boots hit the stone in a steady rhythm, the soft whisper of the breeze the only other sound. The air was fresh, almost cool, and he welcomed the solitude. For days now, he’d been trying to shake this nagging tension that had settled between his shoulder blades. It gnawed at him, an itch he couldn’t scratch, a restlessness that no amount of running seemed to ease.

As he rounded a corner, his steps faltered. She was there.

Sitting on one of the wrought iron benches, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, a thick leather-bound book resting on her lap. The sun kissed her deep, radiant skin, glinting off the small obsidian bumps above her hairline, and for a moment, it seemed as if the light itself was drawn to her. Logan’s breath hitched—just for a second, but enough for her to notice. His senses sharpened, every instinct firing off in a way he couldn’t quite control, as if she was a predator waiting, calculating, and he’d just stepped into her line of sight.

She didn’t look up. But he knew she felt him. The air shifted around her, just the faintest change in posture. It was subtle, deliberate—the kind of thing he’d notice in the heat of a hunt. Her fingers turned the page slowly, like she wasn’t in a hurry. Like she had all the time in the world. Like she knew he was watching.

Logan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving. His boots thudded against the ground louder now, as if the noise could drown out the unsettling quiet that coiled between them. He wouldn’t get drawn in again. Not today.

But as he passed, they tilted their head just enough to catch him in their peripheral vision. It was barely a glance, but it hit like a shot of whiskey straight to his gut. A shiver crawled down his spine, one he tried and failed to ignore. Against his better judgment, he glanced back. A mistake.

Their eyes met his, sharp and knowing. They didn’t smile—they didn’t need to. A flicker of something—satisfaction? amusement?—crossed their face, gone as quickly as it appeared. But it was enough to make Logan’s pulse quicken, enough to unsettle him.

“You always in a hurry, Logan?” Their voice slid into the air between them, smooth and teasing, like they already knew the answer. Their eyes had returned to the book, fingers trailing over the page, as though this conversation was just a casual aside to whatever had their attention.

Logan’s jaw clenched. He kept moving, even as something in his guts told him to stop. To engage. “Just trying to get some air,” he muttered, not slowing his stride, not letting her pull him in.

“Air, huh?” Their voice held that same amused lilt, like they were playing a game only they knew the rules to. “Funny, considering how tense you look.”

Damn it.

Logan stopped. He couldn’t help it. His muscles tightened under his skin, irritation flaring hot in his chest. He should’ve kept going, should’ve ignored her like he’d been trying to do since they first crossed paths. But there was something about the way she spoke, the way she prodded at him—casually, confidently—that made it impossible to walk away.

He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What’s your point?”

Their eyes finally lifted from the book, locking onto his with an intensity that made his skin prickle. And there it was again—that hum in the air, electric, thick with something unsaid. Their gaze wasn’t just piercing; it was probing, searching for the crack in his defenses.

“My point…” they said softly, closing the book with a soft thud and setting it aside. They stood with deliberate ease, every movement slow, unhurried, as if they knew exactly how much space to take, how close to get without pushing too far. “…is that you seem restless. Distracted, even.”

Logan snorted, crossing his arms over his chest like it could shield him from whatever she was about to say next. “You think too much, sweetheart.” The nickname came out sharp, deliberate, as if he were using it to keep her at arm's length, a verbal wall meant to keep her at bay.

But they ignored it and took a step forward instead, their smile small but dangerous. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re the one thinking too much.”

Another step, and Logan could feel the heat of her presence, the air between them charged with something he hated to admit was getting under his skin. She stopped just shy of invading his personal space, but close enough that the tension between them was palpable, a tight wire stretched too thin.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Their voice dropped lower, softer, like a secret meant only for him. “That tension… the way the air shifts when we’re in the same space.”

Logan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He hated how right she was. Hated how much he noticed her, how much his body reacted without his permission, as if some primal part of him recognized the threat—and the allure—she posed.

“I don’t feel anything,” he growled, the words rougher than he intended, betraying the lie he was trying to sell. He knew it. Hell, she knew it too.

Their lips curved into a knowing smile, slow and deliberate. “You’re lying.”

They didn’t need to step closer. Didn’t need to touch him. Just the way they said it, with that quiet confidence, made Logan’s blood simmer. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready to spring—but he couldn’t move. Not yet.

“Maybe one day,” they murmured, their voice dropping to a purr, “you’ll stop fighting it.” Their eyes never left his, watching, waiting for that crack in his armor, for the moment when he’d let something slip. And damn it, they were close. Too close.

Logan’s heart hammered in his chest, his pulse thudding in his ears. He wanted to walk away, to tear himself free of whatever hold she had on him, but his feet wouldn’t move. His fists clenched tighter, knuckles white.

“Don’t talk like you know me,” he muttered through gritted teeth, almost a growl.

Their smirk widened, just enough to send another shiver down his spine. “Oh, Logan,” they whispered, their tone dripping with something dark and sweet. “I know you better than you’d like to think.”

With that, they turned, their movements as smooth and deliberate as ever, leaving Logan standing there, chest tight, blood pounding, the weight of their presence lingering in the air like smoke after a fire.

He stood frozen, his breath coming in ragged pulls, his body still tense with that simmering heat they’d left behind. It took every ounce of willpower to shake off the feeling, to force himself to move again. But as he walked, the itch—the pull—they’d left behind only grew stronger, gnawing at him with every step.

And deep down, he knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

The sound of fists pounding against the heavy bag filled the gym, echoing off the walls, mingling with Logan’s low grunts as each strike landed. Sweat trickled down his back, soaking through his shirt, but he welcomed the burn in his muscles. It was another way to keep his head clear—pushing his body until he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the raw force of each hit.

He shifted his stance, throwing another punch, harder this time, letting out a sharp breath. Just as he pulled back for another strike, the gym doors opened, drawing his eye.

There she was again.

Logan’s fists slowed, his attention shifting against his will as she walked in, crossing the room with purpose until she stopped at the bench press. He kept throwing punches at the bag, though his rhythm faltered. She eased under the bar, wrapping her hands around it before lifting a weight that would make most people hesitate, her body moving with a sleek, powerful grace that tugged at something deep in his chest. The bar rose and fell smoothly, muscles straining under her skin but never faltering, her breathing steady and focused.

He wasn’t easily impressed, but there was something about the way she moved—so precise, so damn effortless—that made him pause.

For a moment, he just watched, his brow furrowing slightly. Most people in the mansion wouldn’t touch that kind of weight, but she handled it like it was nothing. A flicker of surprise ran through him. Admiration, even.

He quickly shook it off.

E finished their set, their chest rising and falling as they sat up and wiped the sweat from their brow with the back of their hand. Logan felt the pull before he even realized it, his eyes meeting hers across the gym. Her blue eyes were sharp, sparkling with an intensity that sent a jolt through him. It felt like he’d stepped into her space—invaded it—even though he’d been there first.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, turning back to the heavy bag. He swung again, his fist connecting with more force than necessary, trying to drown out the sudden spike of heat that had crept up his neck.

But it was too late. They’d already sensed it. That brief flicker of admiration—of unspoken curiosity—it rippled through them, feeding that bottomless hunger that simmered just beneath their surface.

Logan could feel it in the air, thick and electric, as if the room itself had shrunk around them. He could sense her gaze lingering on him, watching him, but he refused to meet it. His knuckles slammed into the bag again, harder, trying to force the tension out of his body. But all it did was stoke the fire that had been building for days now, ever since they first locked eyes.

Footsteps padded softly across the gym floor, and Logan cursed under his breath. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. She was getting closer—he could feel the heat of her presence, the way it shifted the air around him, making it harder to focus.

He kept his fists flying, trying to ignore the growing need that tightened in his chest, in his gut, making it damn near impossible to keep his head straight.

“Nice form.” Her voice was smooth, that teasing, silk-like tone threading through the space between them. Close enough now that it was impossible to ignore.

Logan didn’t respond, didn’t stop. His fists continued to pound the bag, but the rhythm had faltered, his focus slipping. He could feel her just behind him, standing too close. Close enough that he caught the faint scent of her sweat, her skin, mingling with his own.

“What is it about you that makes you go quiet every time I try to talk to you?,” they continued, circling slowly, casually, as if they weren’t even trying to get under his skin—but they were. Every move they made, every word, was deliberate. And it was working.

Logan finally stopped, his fists lowering as he exhaled sharply, his chest heaving. He still didn’t turn around, but he could feel her at his back, her gaze searing into him, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

“Not in the mood,” he growled, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Oh, I think you are.” Their voice dropped deeper, the teasing edge more pronounced now, hinting at the heat pooling in his lower stomach. They stepped closer, just a fraction, but enough for Logan to feel her body heat at his back, enough to make his muscles coil with tension. “You’ve been in the mood for days now. Haven’t you?”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every ounce of reason urged him to move, to put some distance between them, but his feet stayed planted. His instincts—the feral part within him—wanted nothing more than to pull her closer. Damn it. Why the hell was it so hard to walk away from her?

“You’re real sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Logan bit out, finally turning to face her. His eyes were hard, but his chest felt tight with something else—something that felt like surrender, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

They were standing close, too close, their lips quirking into that infuriatingly confident smile. “I’m sure of what I see,” they replied, their gaze flicking briefly to his chest and shoulders, before locking back onto his eyes. “And I see a man who’s barely hanging on by a thread.”

Logan’s breath hitched, his hands flexing at his sides. “You got no idea what’s goin’ on in here,” he muttered, tapping his temple with a rough finger.

Their smile widened just a fraction, head tilting as they stepped in closer, their voice dropping to a soft, lingering murmur. “Maybe.” They paused, closing their eyes for a heartbeat before looking back at him, deep satisfaction dancing on their face, as if savoring the richest taste. “But I can feel this.” Their gaze roamed over him once more, a spark of hunger lighting up their features as their hand rose—slowly—hovering just above his lower belly, palm not quite touching but close enough to stoke the fire burning in him through his t-shirt. “That delicious tension building inside you.” The words rolled off their tongue, each one deliberate, dragging out the moment. “The want…” Their voice dropped even lower. “The need…” Tantalizing. “I know exactly what you crave, Logan.” Their eyes locked onto his, piercing and intense, the heat coiling tight in his abdomen until his breath turned shallow.

Logan swallowed hard, knuckles white, his throat suddenly dry. His pulse raced, blood pounding in his ears. He should’ve pushed her back, should’ve told her to get lost—but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when each of her words sent a shiver down his spine, not when the air between them was thick with tension, every inch of space charged with the unspoken need that he was trying—failing—to ignore.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he growled, but even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. Weak.

They leaned in just a little, their breath ghosting over his jaw. “Liar.”

And with that, E pulled away, their gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before turning back to the bench press. Logan stood there, rooted to the spot, watching them walk away, a noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. His fists were clenched at his side, his jaw tight, throat dry, heart hammering in his chest. Every muscle in his body was taut with the effort of holding himself together. The heat pooling low in his gut and that tension between his shoulder blades were getting worse by the second.

And he knew—damn it, he knew—they were right. He was losing control.

Logan’s boots barely made a sound as he moved through the library, the soft thud against the polished floors blending into the quiet. His intention had been simple—find Marie—but that goal dissolved the second he saw her. Seated under the warm glow of a desk lamp, she was surrounded by a stack of documents—papers, brown files—engrossed in whatever work she was doing.

The library, once expansive and peaceful, seemed to shrink in around him. Logan paused mid-step, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck, tracing the line of her arm, down to the way her fingers moved with precision across the papers. Every gesture felt purposeful, calculated—yet there was an ease to it, a control that pulled him in.

He knew he should move. Keep walking. Find Marie and get the hell out of here.

But then E’s eyes met his. Calm, but laced with that flicker of hunger he knew too well. It twisted something deep inside him, tightening his gut, stirring up emotions he wasn’t ready to confront, stoking the fire he tried so hard to put down when he saw them. And the smirk—barely there, just a hint at the corner of their lips—felt like they’d caught him in the act, exposed something he hadn’t meant to reveal.

Logan’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he snapped his gaze away. He turned quickly, moving deeper into the rows of shelves, needing space. Needing air.

But even as he tried to put distance between them, he couldn’t shake the feeling—the awareness that her eyes were still on him. It was like she had a direct line to whatever was churning inside him, pulling on it, drawing it out even when he was trying his damn hardest to push it down.

Behind him, E leaned back in their chair, fingers drumming lightly on the wood. That brief exchange had sent a ripple of satisfaction through them, a confirmation of something they’d suspected. Despite the tough act Logan was putting on, his resolve was breaking, little by little.

And that? That only made the game more interesting.

They returned to their papers, but they weren’t really focused. Not fully. They were waiting, ready for the next time his eyes would drift back their way, because they knew it was only a matter of time.

The kitchen was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge filling the space as Logan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cabinets. It was late, the mansion long since settled into its usual nighttime lull, but for him, sleep still felt a long way off. He reached for an apple on the counter, rolling it between his fingers, the cool skin grounding him for a moment.

That’s when he caught it—familiar and unmistakable.

Spice wrapped in smoke.

His senses sharpened as he turned slightly, watching E glide into the room, moving around him with a deliberate ease. They flowed effortlessly, brushing against him just enough to send a jolt through his veins, lingering close as they reached for a cup from the shelf, not even looking his way. Each movement was unhurried, a silent dance that seemed to say the world outside could wait as long as they wanted it to.

Logan’s heart raced, the tension thickening in the air. He tried to focus on the apple, but his gaze kept drifting back to her. Finally, she poured steaming water over the tea leaves, the fragrant scent of jasmine lazily curling through the air, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. Their hair, still damp from a recent shower, fell in loose waves over their shoulders, glistening under the soft kitchen light, revealing the smooth, rounded tips of their obsidian horns that rose just above their hairline, looking a tiny bit longer than he remembered.

"Late-night snack?" Their voice, soft yet intimate, broke the stillness, the sound of it sending a faint shiver down his spine, already igniting the flames in him. She hadn’t even turned to look at him, but Logan knew she was aware of every move he made.

He grunted, biting into the apple with a sharp crunch. "Somethin' like that."

E stirred their tea, the metal spoon chiming softly against the mug, their attention fixed on the swirling liquid as if it held all the answers. Then they turned to face him, and their eyes met his. For a moment, Logan couldn’t look away. There was something unsettlingly perceptive in the way she watched him, as if she could see right through him, past the gruff exterior and down to the parts of himself he kept locked away. His chest tightened in response, and for just a moment, he hated it—hated how easily she could get under his skin without even trying.

"You seem restless." They took a slow sip of their tea, never breaking eye contact, their voice smooth, drawing him in like a riptide.

Logan shrugged, leaning against the counter, trying to shake off the weight of her gaze. "Got a lot on my mind."

They raised an eyebrow, a faint smile teasing the corners of their lips. "I bet you do."

The air between them thickened, heavy with tension that seemed to wrap itself around Logan, holding him in place. He could feel it—the pull she had on him, like an invisible force drawing him closer even though she hadn’t moved a muscle. It gnawed at him, that frustrating desire to pull away while feeling stuck, as if she held onto something deep inside him, a red thread connecting them, so tight she could pull at it whenever she wanted.

E set their cup down and stepped closer. It was subtle, just a shift in their stance, but Logan felt it—the warmth of her body, the way her presence seemed to fill the room. The soft, floral scent of jasmine with a hint of honey drifted between them, mingling with the heat of their closeness, and Logan’s grip on the apple tightened.

"You ever think about finding a way to… relax?" Their voice dropped, soft and teasing, the question hanging in the air like a tempting offer.

Logan narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching. He didn’t trust easily, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. But the way she said it, the way those words curled around him, made him wonder if she meant every word that escaped her lips—innuendos included.

"I relax just fine," he muttered, taking another bite of the apple, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. Even he didn’t believe it.

E smiled, stepping even closer now. They leaned against the counter beside him, their fingers brushing the surface near his hand, not touching but close enough that Logan could feel the warmth radiating from her. His pulse quickened, a heat pooling low in his belly as his body betrayed him, reacting to her proximity.

"You keep playin' with fire," Logan warned, his voice rougher than usual, like he was fighting to keep himself together. But the usual edge was missing, softened by the heat building between them, the struggle to maintain his composure growing harder by the second.

Their eyes darkened, something deeper flickering beneath the surface as they held his gaze. "Maybe," they murmured, the words dripping with challenge. "Or maybe I’m just waiting to see if you’ll give in."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. Logan could feel it—the tension tightening around them, pulling him in closer, like invisible threads wrapping around his resolve, threatening to snap it in two. He knew he should walk away, retreat to the safety of distance, but once again, he stood rooted to the spot, his body betraying him at every turn. The rational part of him screamed to break the moment, to turn away and shut her out like he always tried. But another part of him, the part that felt the heat of her body and the way her gaze made his heart pound, wasn’t so sure anymore.

E stepped back just enough to let the moment unravel, lifting their cup for a slow sip, their eyes holding his, unyielding. "I’m headed to bed," they whispered, casual words wrapped in something heavier, something that lingered in the space between them like an unspoken invitation. "You should too…" Their voice trailed off, hanging in the air for a couple of heartbeats before they finished, softer, almost suggestive. "Might do you some good."

Logan’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white around the apple. His eyes tracked her every movement as she turned and walked away, her hips swaying in that same deliberate, confident way they always did. But this time, there was a slowness to it, a knowing in the way she left him standing there, like she was daring him to follow.

And for a split second, his body nearly obeyed. His muscles tensed, his feet itching to move, to follow her down the hallway and give in to the pull that had gnawed at him for weeks now. But then he caught himself, stunned by how close he’d come to losing control, to how easily she had him dancing in the palm of her hand, right on the edge of giving in.

Instead, his eyes followed her, glued to the way she moved, the heat in his chest simmering as desire coiled in his gut.

As they disappeared into the hallway, Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His resolve was breaking, little by little, and each time it slipped, he found himself caring less and less about stopping it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

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Angel — Pierresteban (+ Kika)

Pierre has dreamed of this moment for a long time now, if he’s honest with himself.

He’s had a thing for Esteban for as long as he can remember, and they’d had brief encounters here and there when they were younger and single and just reckless enough to mess around with a coworker and close friend without worrying about all the ways it could backfire. But those moments were fleeting, far too rare to ever truly satisfy Pierre — if he could even be satisfied at all.

He’s greedy, and he knows it.

He’s with Kika now, and he’s happy. Absolutely head-over-heels for her, and their love life — and sex life — leaves him wanting for nothing. But, damn, Esteban is hard to ignore.

Especially lately.

Esteban was attractive back in the day, sure. The shaggy hair and lean build, the boundless energy, and his unfailing patience with Pierre, even when he was being difficult, were undeniably appealing. But now, Esteban’s matured into stronger, more masculine features, adopting a polished, well-kept look — even at his most laid-back — and a broad-shouldered build that makes even Pierre feel small. His kindness, however, hasn’t changed. If anything, as they’ve grown closer over the years, Esteban’s tolerance for him has shifted into open affection; especially since Pierre’s softened a bit himself, no longer hiding behind snarky remarks and finally accepting the care and appreciation Esteban offers him — albeit a little reluctantly.

So yes, he’s very much greedy, and he knows it. But he thinks it’s justified when Esteban looks like that. When Pierre remembers just how good he was in bed, how attuned he was to Pierre’s body, and how he could say exactly the right words to make him lose control. He misses it. Misses being held down, told what to do, misses the thrill of it all.

That’s why he brought it up to Kika, after a lot of careful thought and some very cautious phrasing, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea or think he was hiding his true self or using her as a cover.

No, Pierre isn’t gay. Bisexual, yes, proudly so, but not gay.

And, no, Kika isn’t a cover for anything. He loves her more deeply than he’s loved anyone in his life.

Whatever. He’d unpack all those feelings later. For now, he just needed to tell Kika that maybe he wanted to open things up a bit more, take their relationship a step beyond the bedroom.

Preferably not while he’s on all fours, as bare as the day he was born, waiting for Kika to do something.

“God, we should’ve done this sooner,” Kika says. Pierre can’t see her, of course, but he feels the warmth of her breath fanning over the back of his bare thigh. “You’re a sight to behold like this.”

Kika’s fingers start grazing the backs of his thighs with delicate, teasing touches that make him buck his hips back, trying to get more—more pressure, more heat, more anything—but she’s quick to step back entirely, a small, derisive sound escaping her throat to remind him he’s already getting ahead of himself.

There’s a natural confidence in the way Kika takes charge that’s always left Pierre a little awestruck. He should’ve brought this up ages ago — his desire to be dominated and put in his place every now and then. It would’ve saved him plenty of rushed, unfulfilling sessions in the shower, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise.

So when she finally places her hands on his ass, kneading at the flesh the same way he often does to her, his legs nearly give out.

“Might have to fuck you myself sometime soon. Not fair that Esteban gets to have you like this and I don’t.” The pout in her voice is one Pierre knows well — the one she uses when she’s aiming to get the upper hand, as if she doesn’t already always have it. The fact that she’s using it now, when he’s given himself over entirely to her, borders on absurd.

"You like it when I use my strap on you, don’t you?” Pierre moans in response, any hope of articulate speech long gone, and Kika takes his sounds as the affirmation they’re meant to be. “Hm. Maybe next time, I’ll make you fuck me with a dildo inside you. Can’t let you have all the fun, you’ll end up spoiled.” Her fingers start tracing his spine, her perfectly manicured nails drawing shivers down his back.

“Yes. Yesyesyes. Whatever— whatever you want, just— yes. Please, yes.”

“God,” Kika chuckles, breathless and a bit amazed, but Pierre couldn’t care less that she’s seeing just how needy he is. She’d better get used to it anyway. And quickly, considering Esteban’s due to join them soon.

Kika takes a moment to collect herself after hearing the full force of Pierre’s begging, her hands wandering over his back, pressing down just enough to tease him further. He wants nothing more than to be pinned into the mattress, held in place so he has no choice but to take what she gives him. But when she’s ready, she lets him know by dragging her nails down his back a little harder, and Pierre can only wonder why he hadn’t thought to ask her for this sooner.

Her hands slide around his waist, fingers pressing into his skin, nails leaving small indents that make him grip the pillow under his head even tighter.

“I see why Esteban didn’t hesitate to say yes,” she murmurs. “You’re so pretty like this, I don’t know how he’s gone all these years without having you bent over for him.”

Pierre, spurred on by her words and by all the teasing she’s put him through since they’d talked with Esteban weeks ago, tries to grind down against the sheets.

But Kika is quick to pull him up by his hips, delivering a slap to his thigh that leaves a lingering sting and a sharp echo in the room.

It’s the first time Kika’s done anything like this, and if Pierre were a simpler man — or just a bit more desperate — he’d probably come from that alone.

But he’s got a little more pride than that; a decade’s worth of experience being roughed up — properly roughed up — has taught him restraint.

Still, he can feel himself already leaking, and the whimper that escapes him as the sting fades into a warm burn is shameful in a way that only makes him ache even more.

“God, Pierre. I knew you were a slut but a pain-slut? That’s extreme even for you.”

She gives him only a second of reprieve before she brings her open palm down on his asscheek this time, her free hand already at his hip so he doesn’t even think about sinking down onto the bed. Pierre's breath hitches in his throat and he bites down on his lip from the surprise, tasting blood almost immediately.

“Kika,” Pierre says, voice already hoarse.

“What is it, baby?” there’s an abrupt shift in her tone, worry seeping through it loud and clear. “Want me to stop? Slow down?”

“No, no, please don’ stop, I just— Do that again, please.”

Kika doesn’t answer, not really, just hums in acknowledgment and waits a second before striking him again, a little more forcefully so Pierre knows she has committed to giving him what he wants. Pierre can only whine, biting his already abused lip harshly, because he is a painslut.

Kika presses a light kiss over the offended skin and steps away, the empty air behind Pierre immediately feels colder and he whines, high and needy, to try and get her back near him. 

She’s standing next to the bed now. Pierre knows, not because he can see her since his face is half-pressed against the pillow and his eyes are clenched shut, but because she’s running her fingers through his hair as a reassurance.

He doesn’t have to see her to know what she’s doing, either. The sound of their nightstand drawers as they open and close is something Pierre could recognize in his sleep, much like its meaning. So he’s not surprised when he hears Kika uncap the bottle of lube or when he feels the cold drag of the metal plug as she traces the outside of his thigh with it.

This is familiar territory for both of them.

One of the first things Pierre had asked for when their relationship was in its earlier stages and he was starting to feel the restlessness of wanting more was for her to finger him. She’d taken it in stride, as she did with everything else Pierre asked for. He is really fucking lucky to have her.

The first time they tried it at all it’d taken a lot of instruction from Pierre. A lot of “Hold on," and, “Alright move,” and, “Curl your fingers right there,” until Kika muttered a comment about it not being much different from fingering a girl which prompted Pierre to raise a brow in an unspoken question Kika managed to avoid answering by hitting his prostate just right and making him forget all about it.

The first time they used a plug came only a little after that.

Because, although getting fingerfucked by his girlfriend was something straight out of his fantasies, Pierre always found the lingering sensations from it to be yet another tease about something he couldn’t have; not without a lot of conversations, ones he hadn’t felt prepared for yet.

They didn’t even have to buy the plug. Pierre had it stored away with some other toys Kika had eyed with glee when he showed her his little collection. It's always been his favorite thing. A heavy, stainless steel plug that managed to keep him floaty and grounded at the same time with how full it made him feel. It’d been Este's favorite thing too, back in the day. He loved to plug Pierre right after coming inside him, and Pierre was never one to say no to a good deal. Kika, too, took a great liking to it, openly declaring to him how amazed she was that he could take so much, how he was such a good boy for it.

However, it was the first time she was going to be doing all of this when he was in such an obscene position when he knew what would come later.

It was hotter, too, because of that.

Kika starts like she always does, with soft touches all over his ass and just toying with him further. Pierre shoves his hips back towards her, moaning loudly when his naked skin meets the rough fabric of her jeans.

Kika isn’t happy at his antics and she lets him know by smacking him on the side of his thigh, harsh and unforgiving, before stepping away from him once more. Pierre feels like he’s about to cry with how much he wants and how little he’s being given. Kika sighs, much like she does when Simba makes a mess she’ll have to clean up, and lets him just wallow for a moment without saying anything.

“If you’re so hellbent on getting what you want then you probably don’t even want my help, do you?”

Pierre is about to respond, to plead with her, really, not to stop touching him — that he’ll take whatever she wants to give, even if it’s just incendiary touches and nothing else. But Kika is already grabbing one of his wrists, pulling it away from the pillow he’s been white-knuckling for a while, and covering his fingers messily in lube.

“Go on, then. If you want to be full so badly that you can’t even wait for me to do it, you should open yourself, baby.”

She drops his hand over his ass, and it falls like dead weight, Pierre too boneless to exert any control over his limbs.

“Go ahead and make it interesting for me, since you and Esteban are having all the fun tonight.”

The reminder of what’s to come pulls him out of his stupor, and he’s rushing to fill himself with his fingers. It takes less than two minutes before he’s got two fingers inside himself, thrusting wildly — he’s never been fond of moderation.

Kika laughs sweetly behind him.

“You’re gonna make yourself come before me or Esteban even get our hands on you. Is that what you want, babe? To be already fucked out and useless when Esteban gets here? Won’t be too fun for him, I bet.”

Pierre tries to shake his head but is still pressed tight against the pillow.

“Maybe he’ll fuck me then, and we’ll just make you watch,” she says conversationally. Pierre whines, somewhere between a protest and a plea. “No? Are you going to be a good boy, then, and wait for Esteban to fuck you? Or are you so needy that you just can’t help yourself, baby?”

It takes Pierre a moment to push past the fog of his arousal, his brain sluggish with want, and it’s only when Kika yanks his hand away and presses it harshly against his lower back that he realizes she’s asked a question.

“Pay attention, babe,” she says softly, but the underlying warning is unmistakable. “Are you gonna behave or not?”

Pierre tries to fight her hold, but his body already feels like jelly, and his thrashing only makes Kika dig her nails into his wrist, making him bite down on his cheek to keep from squealing.

“I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good, please, just let me— I need—”

Kika rewards him with a light slap to his thigh. “I know, babe, I know. I’ll give it to you, yeah? And then Esteban will too, but for that, you need to stop being so needy, okay?”

Pierre nods as best as he can, and thankfully it’s response enough for Kika, who lets go of his hand but stays hovering over him.

“Go on, then. Open yourself for me.”

And he does, to the best of his ability while Kika distracts him with soft touches and murmured praise, the heat of their bodies echoing between them and searing Pierre’s skin. He’s three fingers deep and dangerously close to coming when Kika stops him again. She silences his complaints with tender touches and light kisses pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Good boy, look at you. You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she says. “Gonna get the plug now, okay? Do you still want it?”

Pierre babbles his affirmative, and Kika kisses his shoulder once more before getting up. His thighs are starting to strain, and he’s so hard it hurts, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

Kika sits back on the bed, and Pierre hears the lube uncapping again. He tries to breathe, hoping not to come just from the idea of the plug.

He gets no warning before Kika presses the cold metal against his hole. This time, when Pierre tries to rut against the mattress, Kika doesn’t stop him.

She has her fun, fucking him slowly with the plug, letting it get to the widest part before taking it back, only to do it all over again. Pierre isn’t sure he can handle much more; he’s already so spaced out, and Esteban hasn’t even arrived yet.

“Kik—Kika, ‘m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” she says dismissively, finally pushing all of the plug in and immediately stepping away.

Pierre could cry.

“Stay still now, babe,” Kika commands. “I’ll go get Esteban, yeah?” She doesn’t wait for his response before she leaves.

Kika, damn her, knows exactly what he likes and where his limits lie. This whole “stay just like that while I go do something else” shtick is one he’s well accustomed to. It’s a test of his obedience and a tease for his exhibitionist side.

And he’s never failed a test of obedience before — not unless he did it on purpose, that is. So, he stays mostly still, shifting a little on his knees to get more comfortable and rolling his head on the pillow so he can press his forehead against it.

Waiting isn’t hard. He’s been waiting for years.

Pierre only knows Esteban has stepped into the room because of his familiar giggle.

He and Kika exchange pleasantries, and Pierre knows, from Esteban’s tone and Kika’s barely concealed laughter, that it’s only to mess with him. He’s so focused on not moving an inch that he doesn’t notice Esteban next to him until his hand maps out his back. Pierre keens at the sudden touch, and Esteban shushes at him.

“It’s alright, mon ange, it’s alright,” he says, “I’m right here. Gonna give you what you want, yeah?”

“Please, oh, please, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good, please—”

“Oh, really?” Esteban says, his hand stopping right at his nape. “That true, Kika?”

“A bit needy but yeah. I’ve seen him do worse.”

“He’s probably just excited. Right, doll?”

Pierre wants to tell him — both of them, really — that he’s been waiting for fucking years for this, but all he can manage is another choked moan that gets a laugh out of Esteban.

“Use your words, baby, c’mon,” he says, and Pierre realizes the one thing he didn’t miss about Esteban was that fucking phrase. “Tell me how badly you want me,” he adds, a little lower.

“Want you so bad, Esteban, please, please, s'il vous plaît—” he starts babbling, but Esteban just tuts unappreciatively.

“Didn’t ask you to beg, honey. Y’know I don’t like it when you’re a slut, yeah?”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

Esteban chuckles, “That’s not good enough, doll. D’you remember how we show we’re sorry?”

And, oh, he does remember. But the apology Esteban is demanding from him is not something he ever thought Kika would see. Sure, he knew he’d get fucked in front of her — that was most of the appeal — but for Esteban to ask this of him…

“Yes, sir.”

Esteban’s hand leaves his nape and leaves him untethered. He has a second to ponder on what he should do next before Esteban solves that for him, saying, “knees.”

It’s a well-practiced command. One of the many single-word instructions that made up most of their vocabulary back in the day; when there wasn’t enough time for proper dirty talk and details. Pierre remembers every single time Esteban dragged him into a dressing room or a bathroom or a supply closet and said the exact same word. Knees. Pierre doesn’t dwell on how the timber of it has changed, doesn’t have time when he has to regain control over his muscles and shove himself off the bed, landing in front of Esteban on his knees, his eyes fixated on Esteban’s boots — just how Esteban likes it.

He regrets his carelessness when his knees hit and drag on the carpet floor, knowing he’s going to be feeling the pain for weeks on end, but he thinks the burn of them is worth it when Esteban pets his hair soothingly.

“You ever have him like this, Kika?” Esteban asks. Kika doesn’t say anything, but she must shake her head because Esteban continues, “Shame. I think you’d like it. He’s so pretty on his knees.” Pierre keens. “C’mere.”

Kika’s heels appear right behind Esteban’s boots.

The next command he gets isn’t spoken. Esteban only has to tap the base of his jaw for Pierre to look up.

The image of both Esteban and Kika towering over him, Esteban smiling softly and Kika looking intrigued, is one he burns into his memory.

“Hi, mon ange,” Esteban murmurs softly, “Fucking missed you.”

And then Esteban’s bending down, his hands cradling Pierre’s face, guiding him into a kiss that feels years overdue. He lets himself be kissed, his own hands coming up to hold Esteban’s wrists in an attempt to stabilize himself.

Esteban’s kisses, if possible, are better than Pierre remembers. So easy to sink into. So good he’d be content with just this — Esteban’s lips on his, kissing him like it’s his life purpose — and nothing else, tonight and forever.

“Really fucking missed you,” Esteban muses a little breathlessly when they part.

Pierre can’t take the adoring look on Esteban’s face for too long. It sets him alight in a gentle fire that feels placeless in this scenario and makes him restless for another thing he can’t have — not yet anyway. So, he looks past Esteban’s shoulder to see Kika already looking at him, equally as fond as Esteban, but the affection doesn’t feel as uncharted when it’s written over her face.

Whatever he did in a past life to earn himself this pair, he doesn’t know, but he’s incredibly grateful for it.

Esteban is the one to snap him out of his trance, turning Pierre’s face so their eyes meet again.

“Look at me, doll. Don’t go getting distracted now,” he says, his fingers digging into the permanent baby fat in Pierre’s cheeks.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Second time you’ve said that today and I only just got here, mon ange. Is that how you’re gonna be all night? Messing up at every turn? Another sorry, sir every five seconds?” Esteban has a talent for sounding demeaning while keeping his voice soft and low. It makes Pierre whimper with how overtaken he is by the need to do better, be better for him.

He tries to shake his head but Esteban’s grip on his jaw tightens, and he can’t do much more than whine another, “Sorry, sir. ‘m sorry, I’ll be better, please,” that makes Esteban scoff and let go of him again.

Pierre falls forward, his hands land on Esteban’s hips, and he looks up pleadingly. Esteban doesn’t even extend the courtesy of meeting his eyes, looking back at Kika over his shoulder.

“I swear he didn’t use to be like this,” he says, like Pierre is just a restless pet.

“He forgets his place sometimes,” Kika says with a sigh. Esteban tilts his head in understanding and looks back at him. Pierre’s grip on his hips tightens a bit, trying to express the plea that he knows Esteban won’t want to hear.

“He better learn quickly, then,” Esteban says. “Belt. Be quick about it.”

Pierre fumbles, his unsteady hands not making the process of taking the belt off of Esteban any easier. Esteban throws his head back, groaning theatrically.

“You’d think he’d be faster with how eager he is,” he says to Kika. Pierre pouts, still fighting a war against the belt loops that seem to be conspiring against him.

“Not all sluts are good sluts, Esteban,” Kika says, making Esteban chuckle.

Pierre finally gets the belt off. He folds it haphazardly and offers it to Esteban with both his hands. Esteban’s looking at him unimpressed. “So you can follow instructions. Good.” Pierre doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, stuck between loving the dismissive edge to Esteban’s voice and chasing after whatever praise he can get. “Go on, you know what to do.”

Pierre nods, his hands going back to fumbling with the button and zipper of Esteban's pants, vaguely registering how the leather belt is tracing the skin on his shoulders. It’s making him shudder, making his job clumsier all the while. It’s a ploy he knows well; Esteban will give him an instruction and then try to distract him from it — genius in a very evil way.

“You know, Kika?” Esteban says. Kika hums, but it sounds further than before. “I’ve always thought he’d look pretty with a collar. What do you think?” Pierre is just about done with his job when Esteban taps the underside of his chin again. He’s barely lifted his eyes to meet Esteban’s when the belt is wrapped loosely around his neck; Esteban fastens it so the excess hangs from his hand.

“I can see the appeal,” Kika says, sounding disinterested as ever. “Maybe one with a dog tag and a leash.”

Esteban chuckles at that. “He’s already our bitch. Might as well make him look the part.”

“Please,” Pierre whimpers.

“Yeah?” Esteban pulls on the leather around his neck, bringing Pierre closer. “C’mon, finish the job that you started.”

Pierre quickly pushes Esteban’s pants down and pulls his dick out, his mouth watering at the sight. He sticks his tongue out and leans forward a little, showing Esteban he's ready and looking up at him for approval.

"Go on," Esteban encourages, "show us you can be a good boy."

Pierre submits to his control easily, allowing Esteban to lead his mouth onto his cock. The weight of Esteban’s dick in his mouth is yet another thing he missed, and he shows his appreciation for it by pulling out all his old tricks — the ones that helped rush their clandestine meetings along.

“That’s good,” Esteban says, his voice smooth and patronizing. Esteban’s praise, though laced with mockery, is more than welcome. Sadly, he doesn’t get to properly cherish it before Esteban gives his next command. “Enough. Stay.”

Pierre stops moving, Esteban’s cock halfway in his mouth. He drops his hands, holding them behind his back without waiting for Esteban’s instruction. He lets his eyes flutter closed, diverting all his focus to keeping as still as possible and being mindful of his breathing and how he’s starting to drool around Esteban’s dick.

It almost feels like a gift. Getting to sit there just holding Esteban's cock in his mouth, finally able to relish it properly now that there's no rush or threat of anyone walking in on them. Pierre pushes away the thought that maybe he's always been a little too into Esteban, and how he's already missing this even as he's right in the midst of it.

A pair of hands on his shoulders do away with those thoughts, though. He can tell it’s Kika by the softness of her palms, meeting at the base of his neck. She takes the belt that's still wrapped around his neck and pulls back toward her, eliciting a whine out of Pierre, making him squirm under the pull of the makeshift collar and the urge to stay still to please Esteban.

“So you just have him sit with your dick in his mouth?” Kika asks.

Esteban nods, carding his fingers through Pierre's hair. “He's an overeager little thing. Kept stepping out of line and saying sorry. Until I got tired of sorry and told him to put his mouth to better use. But then, since he loves sucking cock so much, I thought he could just sit there and take it for a bit, learn a thing or two about patience.”

Esteban forms a fist with his fingers tangled in Pierre’s hair, pulling on his scalp just enough to make it sting. “And it seems he has learned. You’ve done so well for us, pet. I think it’s time you get taken care of. What do you think, Kika?” Pierre whines around Esteban as Kika hums noncommittally.

Pierre's eagerness, if possible, burns even harder within him.

Kika delivers his next instruction, far more polite than Esteban, “On the bed, babe,” with another tug on the belt.

Pierre's dizzy with want and excitement, and he jumps to kneel on the bed before Kika's even done telling him to. He’s confused and a little saddened when only Esteban is with him on the bed, Kika sitting a couple of feet away from them on the chair he had brought up earlier for this exact purpose. He’d been enjoying Kika and Esteban’s teamwork so much, the mixing and mingling of their voices and touches, that he’d forgotten Kika is here only to watch him get fucked.

He’s about to bring out the pout and start begging when Esteban's hands start lighting fire across his skin again.

“Sir, please.”

Esteban’s hands are all over him, running over his back and sides, caressing his stomach but avoiding Pierre’s hard dick. Esteban tuts derisively when Pierre shoves his hips forward, trying to get some contact.

“Thought you were going to be a good boy for me.” Esteban places his hand on the middle of Pierre’s back, his fingers light as they tickle over his skin.

Pierre nods again, ever desperate to please. “I’ve been so good, sir, please. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“Suppose we can’t expect much from a slut like you,” Esteban muses, his hand trailing down Pierre’s back, slipping between his cheeks and pressing on the end of the plug. Pierre holds back a whimper, biting on his lip, clenching his hands. He wants to beg for more but he also wants to behave; he has to be good for Esteban to get what he wants. Esteban plays with the plug some more, pulling on the end and teasing him with it before letting it slip back inside Pierre.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden, doll? I want to hear you.” Esteban reaches a hand around Pierre’s torso to grab his dick, jerking him off steadily. Pierre cries out loudly, hanging his head, his arms shaking to hold him up. It's very little but it's also too much. The onslaught of sensation after coasting by only on light touches, mixed with the still rising anticipation, is enough to have him on the edge in seconds.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to come, sir, please.”

Esteban chuckles a bit, “You’re not allowed to come until Kika says you can.”

Pierre can’t tell what Kika’s response is, too lost in the pleasure washing over him. He’s started fucking forward into Esteban’s hand, too far gone to stop, small pained sounds falling uninhibited from his mouth.

“You’re so good to me, Este baby, I feel so good, please just, fuck—“ He tries to move away from Esteban's hand, feeling his orgasm coil in the bottom of his stomach, closing his eyes as the heat threatens to take him over. “Kika please, let me— fuck, Esteban. I—“

Pierre cries out again, and just before he feels he is going to come he hears, “Go on, babe,” and then he’s releasing all over Esteban’s hand and the bed below him, pained sounds falling from his mouth when Esteban’s hand continues to move over his sensitive dick. He squirms to move out of his grasp but Esteban doesn’t let him, holding him tighter.

“It’s— huh— it’s too much. Fuck.”

Esteban's response is a dangerous thing, whispered right next to his ear. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, doll. Gonna fuck another out of you. D'you want that? Want to sit on my dick and ride me? Show Kika how pretty you are when taking my dick? I bet you look great stuffed full and with your thighs shaking. Imagine the sounds you’ll make, what a pretty show you'll be for Kika."

And Pierre is making more of those sounds now, cut-off whines, choked by the next sound rising from his throat. Esteban presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Let’s give you a little break, yeah?” Esteban says, taking his hands off Pierre. There is another pair of hands on him, cool to Pierre’s hot skin, tucking against his waist and rolling him onto his back. Pierre smiles up at Kika when he falls back into the pillows, closing his eyes when she pets his cheek.

“Do you need anything, babe? Some water maybe?” she asks.

Pierre loves that she's checking in on him. It’s the perfect balance to being roughed up by Esteban.

He shakes his head, gently grabbing her wrist and kissing the palm of her hand before turning to look at Esteban who is still partially dressed, his hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. Pierre licks his lips, eager for what’s going to come next, shifting a little on the bed to feel the plug inside him. Kika’s hand leaves his face, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving away.

Pierre watches as Esteban unbuttons his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders, glancing up at him. He looks almost shy when their eyes meet, some of his dominant persona fading away. Esteban had always been gentle with Pierre afterward, kissing him softly, offering quiet reassurance before they had to leave each other, always making sure Pierre knew he was cared for.

Once Esteban has fully undressed, he climbs up on the bed beside Pierre and cups his jaw with one hand, pulling their lips together. Pierre melts against him, pressing his hands against his chest and waist, elated to have Esteban again after so long.

They linger like that for a while, kissing mindlessly, simply for the sake of kissing and basking in each other’s presence.

It’s both everything Pierre had missed and something entirely new. It’s Esteban, yes, but in a way Pierre had never really had the chance to experience. It’s Esteban giggling into their kiss and tracing his skin, pulling him closer even when their fronts are already molded to each other.

Pierre lets himself sink into it all: the featherlight touches, Esteban’s rushed breathing, and the slide of their lips together. He only realizes he’s been grinding his hips against Esteban’s own when his movements are halted almost forcefully.

Esteban pulls back, and Pierre can see in his face, even before he speaks, that they’re back on track. “I want you to ride me, doll. Do you think you can do that?” he asks, looking for assurance in Pierre’s eyes.

“Yes, yeah, I wanna,” Pierre responds, breathless and eager, his words running into each other with how quickly he's trying to get them out.

Esteban smiles and kisses him again briefly, moving away to settle against the headboard. “Come on, on my lap.” He beckons him with a pat to his thigh, like you would a pet, and Pierre flushes as he crawls towards him.

Esteban stops him. “Ah, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Pierre whines, confused, stopping just shy of Esteban’s lap. He hates this little guessing game Esteban plays sometimes, preferring clear instructions. It’s cruel of him to make Pierre focus on anything other than getting what he needs, while looking pretty for Kika.

Esteban smiles and pets Pierre’s cheek lovingly, but when he speaks, it edges on mocking. “You’ve gotta take that plug out, baby.”

Pierre nods and leans in for another kiss, wanting reassurance. Esteban obliges briefly before guiding Pierre’s hand back, smoothing it over the curve of his backside. Pierre tries to balance himself with one hand on the mattress as he pulls out the plug, biting his lip as he pants, doing his best to follow instructions, even though the bed feels like water beneath him.

“Good job,” Esteban’s voice grows distant, almost disinterested, making Pierre shudder, caught between wanting to earn back his attention or protesting.

“Turn around for me, doll. There you go.” Esteban helps him turn, maneuvering him a bit onto his knees, his legs straddling Esteban’s thighs. “Yeah, facing Kika, just like that. Wouldn’t want her to miss out on how pretty you look.”

Pierre glances at Kika now, pristine as always, sitting at the foot of the bed, legs crossed as she watches intently. Her steady gaze makes Pierre blush a deep red, turning his head instinctively.

Esteban pulls him back, their hips meeting as Pierre whimpers from the contact, reveling in the warmth of Esteban against his bare skin. Esteban’s hands start at his hips, holding him close, then travel up his sides, exploring his skin. Pierre squirms as one hand teases his nipple while the other strokes the sensitive skin inside his thigh. Esteban hasn’t forgotten any of his weak spots.

Pierre glances at Kika again. Her intense gaze amplifies everything he’s feeling; if Esteban doesn’t take him soon, he might lose himself from the teasing alone.

“Sir— let me, please,” Pierre begs, almost delirious, needing more. He tries to stay focused — this is his chance to prove himself, to both of them, he can’t let himself falter now.

“Already falling apart, and we haven’t even started yet,” Esteban murmurs against his shoulder, his smile pressing into Pierre’s skin.

“Please.” Pierre’s voice sounds desperate even to his own ears, and he looks away from Kika’s face as he sees her smirk at his vulnerability.

“Alright, mon ange, we’re going to give you what you need.” Esteban tugs him gently, guiding him. “Sit up for me? There we go, good pet.” He helps Pierre position himself so he’s hovering just above him, and Pierre bites down on his lip when he feels Esteban’s readiness pressing against him.

Pierre sinks down slowly, bracing his hands on Esteban's thighs as he does, shuddering and hanging his head when he bottoms out. He leans back against Esteban slightly and moans at the stretch. It’s not that he hasn’t had a dick in his ass in years; it's that he hasn't had Esteban's dick inside him in years. It still feels as perfect as the first time. Esteban has always filled him up so well, right on the verge of being too much, making him feel proud of himself for being able to take it so well.

Esteban grabs Pierre’s jaw, his fingers pressing into his cheeks as he brings his line of sight back to Kika. Pierre keens at the suddenness of the motion. “I want you to look at Kika while you ride me, think you can do that?” Pierre nods his assent as best as he can with Esteban’s hand gripping his jaw while he shifts back, already trying to fuck himself.

Esteban holds him steady, his lips pressed behind Pierre's ear. “Alright, mon ange, show me you can be a good boy. Fuck yourself on my dick for us.”

It’s a crude show, he thinks, to see him chase his own pleasure so brazenly; the way he can’t find a grip on himself or anything around him, holding onto Esteban’s arm like it’d bring him any balance. He’s never been too careful with sex, always overeager and doing his best to fulfill his cravings.

This is no exception. Pierre sets a frantic pace from the get-go, bouncing eagerly on Esteban's cock, trying to make up for the years of having this need remain unsatisfied.

That was mistake number one. It doesn’t take long before his thighs are straining, and he’s falling forward, barely staying upright. He's too into this, enjoys the feeling of being fucked far too much to try to please anyone but himself. Greed is his fatal flaw, and Esteban doesn’t hesitate to point it out.

“Come on, if you’re gonna be a greedy bitch—" he doesn’t even sound winded as he speaks, "—I think you can do better than that,” Esteban chastises, and Pierre shakes his head, his eyes teary as he rocks himself down, gasping when Esteban grabs his hips and holds him there, his hold punishing when Pierre tries to grind back against him.

“What? You’re tired already? How disappointing. You get so weak for a dick in your ass that you can’t even show Kika how well you take it. What should we do about that then? Hm?"

Pierre really hates the constant questioning. Maybe next time he’ll ask to be gagged, see if that keeps Esteban's conversation at bay. He's here to get fucked, not to be quizzed on how he wants to get fucked. He tries to convey his frustration by shifting his hips some more, letting Esteban know that he doesn't care how; he just wants him.

It does the trick well enough, though Esteban sighs like he’s tired of him.

“Wanna get fucked so bad but you won't even work for it. Spoiled fucking slut is what you are,” one of Esteban’s hands lands between Pierre’s shoulder blades and pushes him down until his face is smushed against the mattress. The change in angle pushes Esteban's cock further inside him, and Pierre keens at the feeling, squirming under Esteban, who's kneeling, tall and proud, behind him. “Can you tell Kika how you feel while I fuck you, or will that be too hard for you, too?” Esteban doesn’t seem to be actually waiting for a response if the way he continues to manhandle him is anything to go by.

Pierre feels like things are starting to fall back into place, though he’s not entirely sure when anything went missing at all. Still, there's something just beyond his reach, close enough that he can taste it, right behind his teeth, but he can't sink his hands into it. Esteban is giving him everything he’s wanted — or everything he thought he wanted. And it's good. Amazing, even. It's bringing him to the edge of delirium, but he can't help but still crave for more.

Maybe if he could have this more often. Maybe if he didn’t have to miss it. Maybe if he could always have it. Maybe if Esteban wasn’t a novelty brought into his and Kika's bedroom for a couple of hours, only to leave again. Maybe if Esteban was a permanent fixture in their life. Maybe then he’d be satiated.

Esteban lifts his hips a little higher and starts to fuck him hard, driving his hips against his own with vigor; it’s all Pierre’s wanted for years now. He's white-knuckling the sheets, letting Esteban do whatever he wants to him, not caring to hide the pathetic sounds that are getting punched out of him with every thrust, sounds that lie somewhere between moans and cries.

Both Kika and Esteban stay quiet, and the backdrop of silence it creates makes the lewd noises E

[wolfjackle]

Have you read Better Halves (and Other Such Falsehoods)? It's really good. Link

Summary:

Danny’s looking at him like he’s crazy. His hair’s dried up into a mess of waves, and there’s some tomato seeds on the corner of his mouth. “You just bailed me out of jail. And you think this is a good idea?”

“I don’t have bad ideas, Fenton. And like you’ve just said, I have collateral on you.”

“So you’re blackmailing me into pretending to date you?”

Tim shrugs. “Or you could just sign the NDA.”

OR

Danny's trying to recover all the shards to an entity's chalice so that it'll stop destroying the zone while tensions rise amongst his subjects- and trying to finish high school.

Tim's juggling his case load, his work as CEO, and does not have time to be embroiled in a sex scandal right now. If that means he has to pretend to date a very suspicious heir to a rival company, then so be it.

It's a mutually beneficial relationship. So what if Tim's becoming a little too intrigued by the illusive, powerful Phantom? So what if Danny can't stand the Justice League for leaving him to deal with all of Amity's problems when he was just 14? That's a superhero thing.

And their fake boyfriend has no clue that they're a superhero.

And a DC one I'm obsessed with right now is A Cruel Trick of the Heart, link

Summary: Tim learned what soul marks were from his parents when he was just three years old and eating his sugary Urkel-O’s.

And a self rec is my own recent fic called Behind the Fortress Walls, link

Summary: Jazz is in love with Dick. He’s kind, considerate, and caring. Far and away the nicest person she’s ever dated.

But she’s lying to him. About so, so much. And he’ll hate her once he learns the truth. Assuming he doesn't get tired of her canceling all their dates first.

When Danny and Ellie go missing, the latest in a series of ghostly disappearances, she's forced to cancel another date. Going to Elmerton to meet up with Tucker and Sam, she will get Danny and Ellie back from the GIW no matter what it takes.

Only...they aren't the only ones breaking in.

In my attempts to get my mind off of current events, anyone have either DC or DPxDC fics they’d recommend?

[butchdykekondraki]

if i think about tgirl norm for more than 5 seconds i think ill just start fucking sobbing

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,